In my journey as an audio producer, I’ve always been fascinated by the power of sound to shape our experiences and emotions. Recently, I’ve been deeply inspired by the work of Yoko Sen, an electronic musician and sound artist who has been revolutionising the auditory landscape of healthcare environments. Her innovative approach to sound design in hospitals has prompted me to reflect on the broader implications of thoughtful audio production in various contexts.
Sen’s project, “Sound of Life,” which I first encountered through a video shared by Larry Chu at an Networked Society Institute talk, showcases her work as an Artist in Residence in a hospital. This piece beautifully demonstrates how intentional sound design can transform sterile, often anxiety-inducing hospital environments into more soothing, healing spaces. It’s a powerful reminder of how the background sounds we often overlook can significantly impact our well-being.
What particularly resonates with me is Sen’s exploration of “My Last Sound,” where she delves into the idea that hearing is potentially the last sense to fade before death. This concept underscores the profound responsibility we have as audio professionals to create soundscapes that are not just functional, but also comforting and meaningful. Sen’s observation that “unnecessary noise is the cruelest absence of care” has made me reconsider the ethical dimensions of my own audio work.
One striking example from Sen’s research is her discovery of the unsettling tritone – often called ‘the devil’s music’ – created by the combination of certain hospital alarms and machines. This revelation has sparked my curiosity about where else such dissonant combinations might exist unnoticed in our daily lives. It’s prompted me to listen more critically to the environments I encounter and design, always asking: “How can this soundscape be improved?”
Sen’s work also highlights the delicate balance between necessary auditory alerts and a peaceful environment. The story she shares about a child’s life endangered when an annoying but crucial alarm was silenced is a sobering reminder of the vital role sound plays in certain settings. It challenges me to think more deeply about the purpose and design of every sound element in my productions.
As I reflect on Yoko Sen’s innovative work, I’m inspired to apply her principles of thoughtful, empathetic sound design to my own projects in academic audio. Whether I’m producing podcasts, designing interactive audio experiences, or creating soundscapes for learning environments, I now strive to consider not just the content, but also the holistic auditory experience of my audience.
Sen’s approach has taught me that every sound we introduce into an environment has the potential to heal or harm, to soothe or stress. As audio professionals, we have the power to craft sonic environments that enhance well-being, facilitate learning, and create positive experiences.