Kiara Imblum

Soundscape I: Child-centered learning/places

Sound Journal

Many of the sounds I included In my soundscape came from the recordings I did at Costco. You can hear carts rattling, the ambiance of mechanical sounds, children laughing, the voices of people, food court sounds, check-out sounds, and the freezer. I took most of my recordings in the food court and checkout area, which was the main focus; however, to add that element of a video game where normally characters are moving around from place to place in some fashion, I added other recordings I took around Costco. I think this helps play off of that playful and mechanical nature of Costco. 

When I think of Costco, I think words like fun, somewhat intense, spontaneous, full of new sounds/smells/tastes, and playful. That's why I decided to go the video game route. I found sounds on Youtube like children laughing and some video game sounds to curate this soundscape to sound like a video game. I also found an AI voice reader and created the sound at the beginning that mimics a "start screen" that you would hear in a game. 

This was fun to try and experiment with. At first I was lost on how to accomplish a creative way of looking at the sounds of Costco. I am not a DJ, nor have I ever mixed sounds together before, so this was a challenge. Some of the sounds are very loud, and I am still unable to figure out how to blend sound and fade them together. Although I had trouble, I eventually settled on the idea of a video game direction. I chose the idea because most children these days are obsessed with the idea of video games. Video games, in essence, are also a way for children to learn technology skills and can be innately playful, which is why it paired so nicely with Costco sounds. Over all, this was a fun yet challenging project.

Sound Map

Soundscape Visualization I: Printmaking

After I did three prints, I also wanted to do a colored print. When I think of Costco, I think of bright, vibrant colors. To me, bright, warm colors evoke energy, just like the sun. I felt these colors would tie in the essence of Costco, as it's a lively and intense environment full of movement and stimulation. These colors amplify that sense of playfulness and energy that my print was trying to draw out. The warmth of the colors invites those who view  the print to imagine themselves stepping into the space and experience the child-centered learning experience that Costco has to offer.

When first starting my print, I had only carved out the TV, the sound wave, the shopping cart, and the game controller. I decided that this didn't feel like it captured the essence of Costco. I also realized that the sound wave was backwards, so I picked up a new sound wave and flipped it before carving it out. When thinking of how I could capture the energy, I listened to my soundscape again. While I listened, I found myself imagining little lines bouncing off every corner in Costco. These little lines are the multiple different sounds that Costco emits. With this realization, I decided to incorporate this into my piece, but coming off of the remote control as it symbolizes the idea of playfulness. 

I created a first print of my second idea. It turned out exactly how I wanted it to be with the lines sporadically coming off the game controller . The sound wave looked better and was the correct way. Due to the ink printing a little blotchy, I wanted to create another print in black to see if the quality would be any better.

Soundscape I: Costco

Soundscape II:

Sounds of the Past: Historical Places

Sound Journal

The first time I ever visited 'A' mountain was my junior year of college in 2018. Before visiting, I had no idea that the mountain itself is a recognized park. I only visited briefly then, driving around the path and back down the mountain, but it spurred thoughts in my head back then: What makes this mountain so special?

Sentinel Peak, otherwise known as ‘A’ mountain, has been apart of Tucson’s history for a very long time. This mountain has had many names. Its Spanish residents during the 17th century called it “Picacho Del Centinela', and the soldiers called it “Sentinel or Picket Pistols Butte” (Pima County Public Library, 2024). It was also called “Warner’s Mountain” due to Warners Mill being at the bottom. One tribe that resided at the bottom of the peak was called “Chuk-Shon,” translated to “at the foot of the black mountain,”  (City of Tucson, 2024) which is where Tucson's original name came from. This mountain had a lot of uses, one main reason being for safety. The O’Odham used it as a way to farm and as a lookout point against those trying to raid them. Soldiers used it as a vantage point, to stay aware of incoming threats. 

The letter 'A' didn’t appear on the mountain until 1915. After a big win during a football game against Pomona College, students from the U of a wanted to put a big A on the mountain in celebratory fashion. They used horses to lug up rocks to then make what we know as the giant 'A' on Sentinel Peak today.

Experience:

During my drive to the top, I rolled my windows down to enjoy how crisp the air was. The peak feels cooler than it does on ground level. I parked on the edge of the mountain, as everyone else does too, and sat on the edge of the rock wall. I noticed the cars and people in front of me blasting music and talking about life.

As I began recording, I walked along the small road, close to the parked cars, to let others pass. There were about 20 to 30 cars and one biker that passed during my hour-long visit at Sundown. They each interacted with the soundscape, the sound of rubber tires rolling through at various paces against the road. I could also hear the low roaring of airplanes passing over head, adding to the soundscape. 

I walked past two cars blasting music. One group was playing rap music and the other playing country at opposite ends. People come up here to the mountain to reflect and enjoy a sensor view. Those men playing this music were all sitting on the rock wall talking, looking out at the city setting.

The more I sat, the more people came and went. A family came and parked nearby where I sat. The children got out excitedly and ran over to the plaque underneath the giant painted A. I think it was their first time here. You could hear the shuttering of a camera as they took photos of both the scenic Tucson landscape and of themselves. They didn’t spend too much time up at the top. Along with the sounds of families enjoying their time spent here, there is a low roar coming from the cars passing from beneath me. In the distance you can see and hear the highway, and below there are local streets that cars passed by on.

During my visit, I walked some of the paths, my shoes kicking up the rocks, changing the grounds beneath me. These paths were interconnected, some leading to the top of the giant A, some leading around the mountain, and some leading to nowhere in particular. I had no idea these paths existed on top of the A. There were plaques where people could read about Sentinel Peak history, which I watched many children run up to and read.

All in all, this space is used as a community gathering spot, gathering those who have never been here and want to feel apart of the history and those who have been. Although the space has a lot of history, you wouldn’t hear the narratives of the past as those in the presence are making new memories.

Reflection:

Engaging with Sentinel Peaks sounds shaped my understanding of what it is now: a place for people in the community to gather, reflect, discover, and spend time together. These every-day sounds—cars driving, bikes, conversations, music—are a symphony of history and community. These sounds intersect with the proposed sounds of the past, such as the o’odham settlers discussing their own lives or the soldiers discussing orders of the day.

In creating this sound map, I engaged with the theme of community memory and social participation. The sounds I recorded reflect the vibrant lives of those that live in and visit Tucson. The sounds I found from the past are to intertwine the historical sounds to serve as a reminder of the history behind the mountain. Together they encourage listeners to reflect, emphasizing just how important it is to acknowledge the history that shaped our town into what we know today.

Engaging with the Sentinel Peaks sounds shaped my understandings of its social and historical attributes. I became aware of how our present-day sounds filled this auditory landscape, muffling those of the past. The atmosphere being filled with modern-day cars, bikes, cellphone clicks, and music overshadows what this place once was. This was part of the challenge in making this sound map. This struggle shows the tension between urban development and preservation of historical narratives. However, the space itself is a true testament to the resilience of the past.

This project can be a way to elicit memories. If this was used as a tool for the community, people could contribute their own sounds or memories to it. This could help us deepen and enrich the history of Sentinel Peak with community narratives and actions as a form of empowerment for those who may not have had their story told. The sounds recorded and recreated, along with the stories told, are a way to build connection and reflect on the past, bringing in the community to connect our shared identity.

Sources:

A mountain, or Sentinel Peak. Pima County Public Library. (n.d.). https://www.library.pima.gov/content/a-mountain-aka-sentinel-peak/

Sentinel Peak Park. City of Tucson. (n.d.). https://www.tucsonaz.gov/Departments/Parks-and-Recreation/Parks/Sentinel-Peak-Park

Tucson Arizona. LocalWiki. (n.d.). https://localwiki.org/tucson/Sentinel_Peak%3A_%22A%22_Mountain

Sound Map

Soundscape Visualization II: Digital Collage

Soundscape II

Here is my "A Mountain" Historical Soundscape. In the beginning you can hear all of the present sounds including me walking, music from cars, cars passing by, metal clanking from them, people talking, air planes, and bikes. It slowly transitions into some Native American Flute music and ties in the sounds of the past like the horses, soldiers marching, radio sounds, and fire crackling. I transitioned the flute music with some light whistling in the beginning!

Soundscape III: Decolonial Practices

Sound Journal

When I first arrived in the area, I felt a sense of excitement and curiosity. I have never been to or near Saguaro National Park. I know Saguaro National Park holds a lot of history in Tucson, which is why I was excited to visit. Although we did not get to visit the actual park, still visiting the petroglyphs and the area in general helped me feel more connected to Tucson. This place has always been my home; however, I grew up sheltered. I only learned about Tucson's history through my own accord and through classes I took. This experience allowed me to recognize that my relationship to this land is quite different than those who have ancestors or deep cultural connections to it. While I can appreciate and learn about Tucson's beautiful desert landscape, this experience also reminded me to take the time to honor and deselect the people who came before me. 

Engaging in this decolonization walk challenged me to confront my privilege. It also encouraged me to step into their shoes, making me realize how important it is to listen to their voices and stories. This slow, embodied walk encouraged me to listen and embody historical perspectives of both the land and the people who came before, which made me understand the effects of decolonization. I am grateful for this whole experience as it’s a reminder that I need to continuously take responsibility for educating myself to become an advocate for voices who may be hidden behind the shadows.

Part 1: Tracing the Footsteps

During the first walk, we were asked to connect with the land mindfully, slowing down and thinking about the indigenous people who lived before us in this space. We were asked to keep in mind the sights, sounds, and feelings we got from the surrounding areas. We ended with gratitude to the land. This part made me feel truly connected to my surroundings.

On Monday, I felt extremely excited to visit the grounds surrounding the National Park. Like I mentioned, I had not been there before, even though I’ve lived in Tucson my whole life. When we first got to the area, there was a holy walk called “The Labyrinth” that the nearby church had made. This reminded me of the one my school had made for students to use to take time to be mindful or calm down. From this point, I felt the whole experience ground me. I already found connections to the land.

This first part of the walk asked me to be fully present, taking moments to walk mindfully and connect with the culture. As I’m doing this mindful embodied walk, I feel much more connected and grateful for where we are. The part where I felt the most grounded was when we were asked to close our eyes and touch our hearts, taking time to listen to the landscape. This allowed me to be in tune to the surrounding sounds.

I took several pictures. One picture I took was of the Petroglyphs. When I saw these, I thought of the people who came before me. I imagined the sounds that went on during that time and the conversations that happened. I had many questions. Why were they there? What did they mean? What happened while they were etching? Seeing these ancient art works preserved up high on those towering rocks brought a deeper understanding of the presences of those who inhabited the land. These pieces of history remain embedded in this space despite the centuries of change. This experience impacted my understanding of the land's history by showing me how it holds onto memories and the presence of the indigenous people who lived there.

Part 2: Listening and Touch

Part two focused on the textures and sounds in the surrounding area. We were asked to record sounds both natural and human-engaged, such as our footsteps on varied surfaces or handpicked foliage being dragged on different textures. This section was interesting to explore as it heightened my awareness of the sounds going on in the area.

During this part, I actively listened to the sounds that may have gone unnoticed normally. I listened to the crunches beneath my feet and how they changed depending on where I walked. The wet soil from the rain the day before made some of the sand quieter when I walked on top of it, while the tiny river rocks made loud crunching noises. I noticed the rustling of the trees and even imagined what sounds would be made if there was more wildlife nearby or if I was to put my ear right up against it. I also heard the sounds of birds chirping through the wind. As I listened to these natural sounds with my eyes closed, they helped me center and ground myself in the current present while also imagining the past.

One sound that resonated with me was the bird chirping. The birds chip echoed across the desert, enhancing the sound of the rather quiet soundscape. Hearing the bird chirp felt like a connection to the wild life in the area. It made me feel a greater appreciation for the constants within our desert. I have linked this sound in my submission. 

One texture I played with was a leaf from a tree. This leaf was from a velvet mesquite tree. I did my best to try to draw sounds out from the leaf, both by rubbing it between my fingers and against other leaves, acting as if I were the wind pushing branches together. I decided not to use a pen to try and rub the textures from the leaf. Instead, I played with its shadow against the paper. This activity made me more acutely aware of the quieter sounds that play a role in the soundscape.

Active listening plays an important role in respecting the environment. It also plays a huge role in being mindful, as I could recognize that I was not the only living thing there. Both the tactile exploration and the active listening helped me realize the importance of being fully present to appreciate my surroundings, especially Saguaro National Park surroundings.

Part 3: Embodying Decolonization

The last part involved us putting ourselves in the shoes of people who lived there before us. We were asked a series of questions that revolved around decolonization. We were asked to imagine ourselves in this space, losing ownership and connections to the culture surrounding it.

During the third part, we engaged in prompts revolving around displacement, stewardship, and memory. The first part about displacement was the most jarring. It was hard to think about being forced to leave a place you loved. It’s like someone taking something from you that means something special to you. This loss of connection to the place results in a disconnection from memories and culture. Walking and deliberately thinking about this activity, I found myself imagining what it must have been like to be uprooted from a place that shaped me.

Physically, I noticed myself moving more mindfully around, taking steps both forward and backwards when prompted. I was careful not to disrupt the area too much, keeping the idea of care at the forefront of my mind. This sense of stewardship or responsibility for the land made me feel more grounded and connected in this town I call home. During this walk, we honored both the history and the presence of the future. I took a picture or some far of saguaros and a cross at the top of the hill. Both of these stand tall on the mountains where they reside, symbolizing resilience and hope. It also serves as a reminder of the memories these things may keep hold of.

This exercise influenced my current view of what decolonization practices in art education were. Decolonization isn’t just about acknowledging the history; it’s about making a connection to the land, envisioning the past, and using sensory and reflective practices to help connect to them. By physically engaging with the land through these tactile and sound activities, I experienced the intentionality of how movement can help educators, like myself, connect students and myself to a space's memory and culture. In art education, this type of approach encourages students to think about the diverse histories and respect the land they reside on, believing that every person and place hold a memory or story.

Sound Map

Soundscape Visualization III: Sound Sculptures

Soundscape III

I chose the Santa Cruz River as the main focus of my third decolonization sound walk. The age range for this sound walk is for young students, grades kinder through about 6th grade. The Santa Cruz River has a rich history and cultural significance to it that makes it significant to Tucson and its people. This waterway served as an important tool for the indigenous people and Tucson's development. The goal of the sound walk is for students to engage meaningfully with sensory experiences of listening in touch as well as reflective prompts and movement to help foster their curiosity and empathy for our natural Tucson landscape. It also serves as the beginning to understanding history and the stories of people that are tied to this river. 

Although I was not able to go on the walk myself yet, I curated reflections that I felt would be age appropriate using the ideas from Dr. Kraehe’s works and research. This was a transformative experience for me. By going on a similar sound walk at Saguaro National Park and engaging in creating my own prompts based the Santa Cruz river, it helped deepen my understanding of what decolonization practices in art education can entail.

My theme was honoring the indigenous histories of the people and gaining stewardship of the land, which helped focus this idea of fostering a connection between our youth and the river. By looking at the river as a living being that has a long line of historical and cultural significance, students can begin to understand things that they may not know about the river. Using these themes, I aimed to challenge the traditional narrative and understandings of the Santa Cruz River. I wanted to allow students to gain more perspective on. Its historical past encourages them to show gratitude, land ownership, and engage with their own identities while being nearby.

Dr. Amelia's Kraehe work on critical engagement with space, identity, and decolonial pedagogy helped shape my understanding of decolonization practices in art education. The prompts I created were designed to integrate her emphasis on counternarratives (Kraehe 2015). With this in mind, I wanted to reflect on the role of the Tohono O’odham nation and its original caretakers of the land. I draw inspiration from Guthrie and Kraehe (2018), who emphasize the role of storytelling in our education. They express this idea of how storytelling can be a medium of expression in a site of radical critique. By engaging in encounter storytelling, I aim to counter the norms and foster an inclusive environment where it values the diverse narratives and creative expressions from all individuals. This aligns with their idea of how counterstorytelling can serve as a “method of healing and regeneration” (Kraehe, 2018, p. 445).

In crafting these questions, this experience is also deep in my personal connection to Tucson. During our sound walk near the petroglyphs by Saguaro National Park, I was initially shocked at how much I didn’t pay attention to the land I lived in. I was asked a series of questions that made me really reflect on the stories of those who lived before, my connection to the land, and the ownership I take on while living here. There’s also this interplay where urban sounds interplay with natural elements, showing the signs of colonization, which just shows how important decolonization efforts are to help recognize the stories and homes that were lost. Its important as we should be intertwining these counter narratives to bring to light the stories that may not be told.

Through my own experience at Saguaro National Park and my own process of creating questions and prompts for students to engage with, I gained insight into how decolonial practices can be applied to our education. Educators can help students critically engage with place in history, twining place-based education and these decolonial practices. By centering my prompts around indigenous histories and creating a shared stewardship, students begin to understand the shared history and ownership that they assume when they live here. The reflective prompts and the art-making strategies and movements become powerful tools to help build deep connections to the land. Students can begin to reflect on their role in where they are and question dominant stories. Moving forward, as I begin teaching in our education, I want to ensure that students not only learn about the world around them but also hear from multiple sides and question their own stance. This sound walk really emphasizes to me the importance of place-based education to help students critically think and engage with other important skills like empathy and awareness.

References: 

Kraehe, A. M. (2015). Sounds of silence: Race and emergent counter-narratives of art teacher identity. Studies in Art Education, 56(3), 199–213. DOI: 10.1080/00393541.2015.11518963

Kraehe, A. M., Gaztambide-Fernández, R., & Carpenter II, B. S. (Eds.). (2018). The Palgrave handbook of race and the arts in education. Springer International Publishing. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-65256-6