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?) [1] 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” [3], 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.

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.

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

1. a location (永寧寺)
   
2. 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)
   
3. 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.

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.

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.

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.