Digital Luoyang Project Internship Report
Introduction
Recently I had the opportunity to participate in the
cultural heritage project Digital Luoyang, developed
by the Chinese Art and Media Lab at Harvard
University1. A work intersecting
history and art, it seeks to recreate sensory impressions
of Northern Wei 北魏 (386-534) Luoyang 洛陽, then the Buddhist
capital of China par excellence. This reconstruction
effort is based on primary sources, notably the 6th century
Record of Buddhist Monasteries in Luoyang
(Luoyang qielan ji洛陽伽藍記; henceforth the
Record), by Yang Xuanzhi 楊衒之 (d. 555?) [8]
2. The part of the project
concerning here was to recreate the soundscape of the
important Yongning temple (Yongning si 永寧寺), split into
several chapters. This includes sounds of the construction
of the pagoda, sounds of its adoration and ritual activity,
and finally its destruction by fire in 534. The final
product will be part of an interactive website and,
potentially, evolve as part of an exhibition of Luoyang’s
history. My role involved mainly sound design and finally
“soundscape composition” [7], which
presented a series of unique challenges in terms of theory,
research and methodology. In what follows is a discussion
on my experiences in this effort, which I hope will be
useful for similar academic projects in the future.
On Historical Soundscapes
Continuing the above, the Record, written after
the destruction of Luoyang, describes the perceived golden
age of Buddhism and temple building in the city. Apart from
economic activity, the work also points to the sensory
impression that the author had when visiting the city,
including details on sounds heard. This makes the
Record an important source for historical soundscape
studies, with Yang being a crucial “earwitness3” [5] to the vicissitudes
of Six Dynasties China. Among the descriptions provided by
Yang, is that of the aforementioned Yongning temple
commissioned by Empress Dowager Ling 靈太后 (d. 528) in 516.
The seven story pagoda associated with the temple being
considered the tallest building in the Northern Wei realm.
The author writes how the temple apparently had golden
bells (jinduo 金鐸) all around the tower, some the
size of stone pots (shiweng 石甕). On the temple
eaves, some 120 bells were suspended which, during windy
nights, could be heard be heard 10 li 里 (~4 km)
away4. Even the purported first
patriarch of the Zen (Chan 禪) school, Bodhidharma 菩提達摩
(fl. 5-6th century), was impressed by the sounds
emitting from the complex. Apparently moved by hearing the
ringing of bejewelled bells carried in the wind, the
meditation master sang songs of praise and chanted
namo 南無 continuously 5. The
above excerpts instil a rich sonic impression of the temple
during its golden age, making it a particularly attractive
context for historical soundscape composition.
As this project is not strictly one of acoustic ecology, I
interpret soundscape composition more broadly to include
approaches influenced from film and game audio. However, a
basic set of guidelines for soundscape composition, developed
by Barry Truax, were kept in mind in which,
- Listener recognisability of the source material is maintained, even if it subsequently undergoes transformation.
- The listener’s knowledge of the environmental and psychological context of the soundscape material is invoked and encouraged to complete the network of meanings ascribed to the music.
- The composer’s knowledge of the environmental and psychological context of the soundscape material is allowed to influence the shape of the composition at every level, and ultimately the composition is inseparable from some or all of those aspects of reality.
- The work enhances our understanding of the world, and its influence carries over into everyday perceptual habits [7].
Truax suggests that the goal of such composition should
ultimately be to reintegrate the listener with the environment,
in a balanced ecological relationship. This is problematic when
dealing with entirely fictional historical soundscapes, meaning
that a more liberal and experimental attitude to composition
was maintained throughout.
Regarding Methodology
Borrowing from film sound design, the team decided to
firstly construct a script for the chapters, with
particular emphasis placed on individual sounds. The
script, compiled by a gifted fellow sound designer, was
written figuratively emphasising specific moods, with each
event having a date stamp to contextualise it further. This
was bolstered by a detailed spreadsheet of sound events
from sources consolidated by a talented research team,
including their respective spatial context and time. For
example, the entry for “wind sounds,” includes
- a location (永寧寺)
- an excerpt and reference
(“至孝昌二年中。大風發屋拔樹。剎上寶瓶隨風而落入地丈餘.” CBETA
T.2092.51:0999c10)
- a time period (孝昌二年中)6
Additionally the research team engaged with questions
from the sound designers establishing, for example, what
kinds of warning instruments would have been played during
fires. This made sure that specific details were correct,
such as including a wooden watchman’s rattle (mutuo
木柝), over a metal one (jintuo 金柝), the acoustic
difference of which need not too much explication. In
general, the insights provided by the research team proved
indispensable, and represent the foundation for any serious
future efforts in historical soundscape
composition.
In terms of sound assets, these were limited to readily
available online sources, such as Soundsnap, and Freesound. While the variety of
such assets was generally speaking good, there is a distinct
lack of field recordings from Mainland China. This made some of
the design decisions awkward, in which background ambiences,
for example, used nature recordings from Japan, with Japanese
flora and fauna. This means that some aspects of listener
recognisability and immersion (especially for listeners from
Henan province) was sacrificed to create an otherwise consisted
soundscape. This was further complicated by the lack of quality
recordings of Han-Chinese Buddhism (漢傳佛教), such as chanting
(fanbai 梵唄) and, for example, signalling instruments
like the yubang 魚梆 [9]. What were
utilised instead were field recordings from (what appear to be)
Japanese Pure-Land (Jōdo-shū 浄土宗) monasteries, as found
on Soundsnap. All these points will be rectified in the future
through effort put into in-situ field recording, and the
creation of a dedicated sound archive. While not solving the
anachronism of using contemporary sounds to communicate those
of early-medieval China, this will help further emphasise the
appropriate geographical context.

[1]
Some Further Issues
The sounds utilised inevitably create a sense of
“schizophonia1,” i.e. the split
between an original sound and its electroacoustic
reproduction in a (synthetic) soundscape [5]. However, the goal
here is not to recreate historical scenes as realistically
as possible, rather the idea (in my opinion) is to
communicate historical ideas. It goes without saying that
any historical narrative is not without bias. In this
sense, historical soundscape composition (itself a linear
narrative) is a clear abstraction, in this case for
scholarly investigation and artistic expression. It goes
without saying that this type of composition is no more
transparent or representative than historical textual
accounts. An artistic license is liberally utilised,
presenting any findings through a medium that relies on
generalisations for an intended audience.
Some of these issues can be addressed through a reflexive
approach to composition, involving a critical self-awareness of
the processes of producing cultural representation [2]. Any
results of the work here, while perhaps “factual” to the
composer, are seen as filtered through the individual
sensorium, and its subjectivity’s. Furthermore, they also
filtered through a process of editing, that inevitably enhances
the relevance of certain details over others. As with any
historical narrative, the designers biases are not hidden, but
made integral to the final work. Following Andra McCartney, the
role of a composer is fundamentally that of an ’interpreter of
cultures and places’ [4]. Design
choices are honed through a deep and focused listening, and a
self-reflexive approach to recording, editing and composing.
These processes are freely mediated by time, memory and place,
not only in relation to the composer, but the very subject
matter itself.
Conclusion
The point of this post was to explore some of the ideas
that struck me during my time interning for the Digital
Luoyang project. I believe the project raises important
questions for scholarship related to historical sound
studies, especially concerning theory and methodology. In
this sense, utilising contemporary mixed media materials to
communicate early-medieval Chinese Buddhist ideas will
surely raise a few eyebrows. I nevertheless think that
creative uses of sound, and other sensory mediums, can
complement our methods for such communication. Historical
soundscape composition could potentially bolster a textual
account, itself also having a clear narrative structure,
within a fixed timeline. Future efforts could then involve
fleshing out this complementary role of sound in the study
of Chinese Buddhist history.
Disclosure
This post was written to conform with project disclosure
agreement. Any conceptual musings or findings reflect my
own judgement, and not those of Harvard CAMLab.
References
[1] | Edward A. Burger. One Mind. One Mind Productions, Yangon, 2015. Format: online release, total time: 1h 35m. [ bib ] |
[2] | John Levack Drever. Soundscape composition: The convergence of ethnography and acousmatic music. Organised Sound, 7(1):21--27, 2002. [ bib ] |
[3] | Leon Hurvitz. Wei shou: Treatise on buddhism and taoism - an english translation of the original chinese text of wei-shu cxiv and the japanese annotation of tsukamoto zenryū. reprinted from yun-kang, the buddhist cave-temples of the fifth century a.d. in north china. Jimbunkagaku Kenyusho, 16 (supplement):25--103, 1956. [ bib ] |
[4] | Andra McCartney. Circumscribed journeys through soundscape composition. Organised Sound, 7(1):1--3, 2002. [ bib ] |
[5] | R. Murray Schafer. The soundscape: Our sonic environment and the tuning of the world. Destiny Books, Rochester, 1993. [ bib ] |
[6] | Barry Truax, editor. Handbook for Acoustic Ecology. Cambridge Street Publishing, Vancouver, 1999. Online version. [ bib ] |
[7] | Barry Truax. Soundscape composition as global music: Electroacoustic music as soundscape. Organised Sound, 13(2):103--109, 2008. [ bib ] |
[8] | Yang Hsüan-chih. A record of Buddhist monasteries in Lo-yang. Princeton University Press, Princeton, 1984. Translated by Wang Yi-t'ung. [ bib ] |
[9] | 圣凯. 中国汉传佛教礼仪. 宗教文化出版社, 北京, 2001. [ bib ] |
Footnotes
Another important source includes,
for example, The Book of the Northern Wei
(Weishu 魏書) by Wei Shou 魏收 (507–572), that
includes contemporaneous discussions of Buddhism in
Luoyang
[3].
To borrow Barry Truax’s succinct definition, an earwitness is ’the author of verbal or written descriptions of sounds, usually those of the past.’ [6]
至於高風。永夜寶鐸和鳴。鏗鏘之聲聞及十餘里. CBETA
T.2092.51:0999c10.
[…] 寶鐸含風響出天外。歌詠讚歎實是神功。[…]
此口唱南無合掌連日. CBETA T.2092.51:0999c10.
My own formatting.