Soundwalk in Astoria, Queens

Astoria, Queens is the NYC neighborhood that I have called home for nearly five years. Ask me to visually describe my favorite block or the shabby Chinese restaurant interior on the corner and I could write an essay, but going on a sound walk around the neighborhood enlightened another sense, the sense of hearing. Many keynotes were persistent as I nativagted my way through Astoria, from my front door into the tree-lined streets bustling with natives and transplants from all over. The keynotes I discovered my ears to always get distracted by are not specific to Astoria, but could be heard in any neighborhood in NYC at almost anytime. Car motors running as I walked past a line of impatient drivers halted at a redlight, horns blaring constantly the second the light illuminates green, and the occasional ambulance siren soaring through blocks at a time. All of these sounds, the sounds most New Yorkers loathe and have grown custom to ignoring, sound so much more harsh when intentionally listened to. Rather than evoking the sounds of a well polished orchestra ensemble, the combination of these sounds sound like a heavy metal rock band attempting to wake up their worst enemy. All car horns and sirens aside, I discovered soundmarks the deeper I got into Astoria. For instance, as I walked passed a giant high school, I heard an alarm sound, which lead to an eruption of doors slamming open as metal on metal action released excited teenagers and a roar of laughter and inaudible conversations filled the mice quiet street. A high school this large in a neighborhood this eclectic created sounds much louder than a high school like the one I attended. As I walked back towards my home in this neck of the woods, another sound I noticed for the first time was the sound of dog's claws scratching against the pavement, a sound that became more apparent once I noticed the multitude of signs about cleaning up after your dog and the contrast of piles of dog poop along the way. The sound of the dog's claws was unique in that it made me feel a texture through the creation of the sound, like scrapping nails on a chalkboard. Perhaps both the keynotes and the soundmarks my ears tuned in to can be heard in any NYC neighborhood, or any neighborhood at all, but to me they are the sounds of my home, Astoria, Queens.

Define A Place Project

Livia and I defined the place of Hunter's auditorium. Focusing on the vintage characteristics of the theater, including the restroom sign and red velvet curtains, we contrasted those charming details with the deteriorating effects of time, including graffiti on the balcony and leaking ceilings. To contrast this beauty and ugliness of a place that seems as if it were forgotten, we made creative decisions such as shooting scenes out of focus and using Billie Holiday as background music which evokes the feeling of nostalgia that abandoned theaters embody.

Austin and Livia's Define a Space Project from Livia Horn-Scarpulla on Vimeo.