Seoul Hospital Noises and the orienting din of ambience
I was just today at the clinic (all is well) in Seoul at Severance Hospital and, arriving a bit early for my appointment, I sat in the main hall and watched people come and go for awhile, all hectic with purpose with charts and lab coats and IV trolleys. There was some structure there in their movement, but I wasn't able to see it. So I closed my eyes and just listened. I relaxed and breathed deeply and then listened and more structure revealed itself to me. My mind floated a bit through this noise and I heard the surface structure of phone chatter, squeaky linoleum and hospital shoes, and an elevator ding. It took a minute or two to dig past this. Then, I stumbled across the white noise, that din lingering beneath all sound.
din (dn) n. A jumble of loud, usually discordant sounds.
I find myself wanting to reclaim the word din as something else entirely. Not as discordant, loud, nor even a jumble of sound, but rather a pattern. A sequence that lurches away from chaos and random towards purpose, even if spontaneous. A network of sound. All of these sound agents, these squeaky shoes, elevators, IV trolleys, and phone conversations, are pursuing their own purpose as much they should. But they interact in structural patterns that a whimsical wisp away from melody. An ambient melody of our buildings and cities and purpose-built places. These purpose-built places (these schools, supermarkets, subways, hospitals, and homes) have an audible register and they speak, they breathe in sound. So, naturally I recorded it with my eyes closed.
It takes a bit of time to hear anything, except that ambient whoosh lingering beneath every surface register. A crackly whoosh of air meandering through the building like a persistent whisper. Sound is electric.
Being who I am, I try to relate everything to learning and it wouldn't be hard to make that stretch with this experience. By simply negating one sense (sight) was I able to isolate another (ambient sound). By removing the content from the context (recording the audio and posting it here), I allow you to imagine what a hospital means in this context. How laden it is with culture (Koreans hospitals are rarely quiet places), how naturally reflective these places are (with your body revolting on you), how encouraging or bewildering that can be in context.
So, listen for the din. Find that repetitive structure, that language. Let it speak in whispers and whooshes and let all of that infuse your imagination. Now compare that to one of my favorite work tracks (tracks I categorize as ideal for working with endless writing, music elastic enough to allow for meandering yet taught when it needs to be for mental structure and focus). The name of the track is "Handwritten Map to Sea" by Yuichiro Fujimoto, an artist determined to toy with ambience in ways that make sense to me. I love that the structure for this peace is that din I was referring to earlier.
The contradictions of ambient audio: flip sides of a protest in Mapo, Seoul from the 23rd floor
I posted a few weeks ago on the use of Audioboo for ambient cityscape audio, capturing and geolocating audio clips from various parts of the city. Specifically, I was posting about Seoul, the same landscape I am discussing here. When I first got here (1998-2006), I was enamored by the protest culture. Koreans take to the streets quite often and despite what my intuition was telling me, it never felt that threatening. I would walk close to these protests (even if they were directly protesting American involvement in this or that) and listen in. The sights perplexed me more than the sounds which were passionate, but orderly. I never recorded much back then, either in audio or photography, as I didn't have the technology.
So, how does one know anger from cohesion? Disruption from togetherness? When does an act of definace become an act of violence? What does a protest even sound like? How does hearing a protest orient the listener to the Seoul landscape? It does, in ways that sheer imagery cannot.
In Korea's case, protests are rarely conflated with violence, disruption (except traffic), but they are loud. Protests have occasionally involved the odd Molotov cocktail (at least they did much more when I first got here), but those times have faded. Much more common is the ubiquitous man standing on the truck with a loudspeaker leading deceptively aggressive chants in chorus with protestors. As he has been all day outside my window. Hence this post. First come the sounds of definace and then sounds of emotional camaraderie, of togetherness.
What this post does, in the next two audio clips, is establish that to know something is to embrace a contradiction, to understand that some things can be one thing and their opposite simultaneously. First, we have the protest; then we have the chorus singing, recorded mere seconds apart. The unifying audio element is the constancy of the traffic, a hum and occasional beep from the belly of this composition. A reminder that the city will win by simply never ceasing.
Defiance
Emotional Camaraderie
With that song, my knowing Korean protest culture was spun right around. The song is old, hokey even, but has an emotional, cultural resonance. It feels like what you sing when you protest. It harkens back to a Korea of the 1960s, unifying generations in resistance. It reminds everyone of the Saemaeul Movement (새마을) (yes, I know it is a protest and not a government sponsored agricultural betterment campaign, but this is cultural nostalgia, people). However much it is about resistance and overcoming great obstacles, it is soft, gentle even. It is a study in contrast to what they are protesting, yet fulfills the conditions of protest camaraderie quite well.
If this doesn't sound like all that much when you listen, please bear in mind that I am on the 23rd floor of a very large building and, as you can tell from the picture, the protestors were nowhere in sight. In fact, they were two blocks behind my building. So, loud indeed and organized and disruptive and together. And a whole sort of other contradictions. And that is Seoul to me, a cohesive host of contradictions that makes for one wonderful sensory mess. We first learn with our ears, not unlike a baby, which is exactly what we are when we enter a foreign environment. And this is Seoul for the ears.
From Donegal to Derry to Philadelphia to Ohio to Seoul: Gallagher genealogy
History is personal. This is a quick narrative of my family's immigration to America from west of Ireland. This is the product of about 15 minutes worth of online research. This means nothing in the grand scheme of things, but it speaks to why we have names, and not numbers attached to our first names. There is a narrative in each of those families and it generally isn't triumphant or heroic or dramatic even; it just is and that is good enough reason to remember for me.
My family name is Gallagher and it is about as common as can be in the west of Ireland, particularly the county of Donegal. I had known my grandfather, but knew little of his father, let alone further back than that. For years, the history seemed to hit a dead end there. I finally came around to doing a little online research via ancestry.com (not sure why I resisted, really; these services exist for a reason). In 15 minutes or so, I had traced everything back to Ireland. This morning, on Skype with my father and mother, we also traced her mother and father's families (the Allens and Erglers, respectively) and also my father's mother's family (the Taiclets) back to Austria and France.
This information doesn't mean much in the grand scheme, nor does it even inform my character at this stage in my life. But I take a quiet satisfaction in seeing it through to the young Patrick Gallagher, aged 16, who boarded a ship in Londonderry, Ireland and made his way to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, most likely scared out of his wits. That journey, and all the subsequent ones since by my great grandfather, grandfather, and father, has led me here. Writing this from an apartment in Seoul, having seen a lot of the world, without a 'home' to speak of, with my wife as companion (in a good way). I now have a story of a journey underpinning that Gallagher of a last name and now, with this antecedent, I see no reason to slow down.
The ship's manifest from the Argentinus, the ship that carried my great great grandfather Patrick Gallagher (aged 16) and his brother (aged 18), both listed as laborers, from Londonderry to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
Dialogue on a pedagogy of simultaneity/contradiction/complexity and serendipity with Pekka Ihanainen
I am having a wonderful discussion with Pekka Ihanainen regarding his article (citation below) on time in online education. We are discussing this primarily through the comments section of the original response to the article I drafted up. I was having difficulty with the size of the comments themselves (small type) so I wanted to bring it back here with a larger screen. I also posted to the comments section of the original response, but thought it deserved some more visibility. Pekka makes some fantastic points regarding the role of complexity and simultaneity in learning (often leading to serendipity), the role of presence, trust, authenticity, and more.
- Ihanainen, Pekka, & John Moravec. "Pointillist, cyclical, and overlapping: Multidimensional facets of time in online education." The International Review of Research in Open and Distance Learning [Online], 12.7 (2011): 27-39. Web. 27 Nov. 2011
I have put Pekka's comments as quotes to separate our dialogue.
I had mentioned that we should be attempting to capture dynamic learning complexity as a natural, organic process (humans are predisposed to complexity; doing multiple things simultaneously). Actions, even seemingly contradictory actions, occurring simultaneously.Pekka responded with:
´complexity of simultaneity lives in coexistence of intricacies"
Coexistence is really important here as yes, simultaneity requires things happening at the same time and those things might be contradictory. Coexistence implies a natural state of complexity, of being compatible with that state. I think this poses a unique view for the modern learner. Dealing with that contradiction and simultaneity and opting for coexistence. Sounds like an ideal paradigm for learning. With all that interaction some learning and innovative thought is bound to happen.
Let me break apart your next comments on PoS into parts so it is more manageable, but I wanted to say first that I think a pedagogy of simultaneity is something I would love to explore with you more.
“1) trust in learning and interaction that produces it even though you don´t see/understand it to happen (de-pedagogy?)”
Yes, a trust in pedagogically fertile scenarios even when complex thought processes have yet to be seen or understood fully. Searching for the optimal environment and then trusting in its transformative effects (even if it seems contradictory on glance).
“2) presence as equal human beings (personal/emotional, cognitive/in terms of content, active/functional presence) (re-pedagogy),”
Absolutely, presence is a big factor here. To be present (intellectually, emotionally, socially, functionally), to actively look for opportunities to be present in complex, challenging environments, there is some pedagogy there for sure. To view learning as process and this first step is trust (in the transformative effects of simultaneity and complexity) and the second step is presence (just jumping right into the madness!). I think presence is particularly important here when dealing with simultaneity, present in multiple viewpoints/activity structures at the same time, even if those produce contradictory results.
3) cyborgic attunement (routine capability to use (social) technology) (en-pedagogy). And when going forward, could PoS actually stand for a pedagogy of serendipities? If I look backwards to my own learning history and "pedagogical events" happened, it clearly seems that all the remarkable ones are serendipitous. And when I think of myself as a teacher educator, all successful settings (assessed by emotional intelligence/intuitively) have taken place serendipitously inside or outside of "the planned instructional pace" or when I´ve had courage to go according to immediate authentic process. So, is the next challenge to figure out more the pedagogy of simultaneity in serendipities/serendipity in simultaneities?”
This is really well written and good for thought. I love the line “when I’ve had the courage to go according to immediate authentic process”. Absolutely, and this speaks a bit to the presence part. To know this complex scenario will transform me, to trust in this transformation and be present in it, and then to allow it to carry me towards authenticity. This all makes perfect sense to me (and it helped clarify my thoughts as well). I do believe this is really the essence of modern learning, this repositioning of self in learning scenarios full of divergence and complexity. Trust in yourself, trust in your learning environments (once they are optimally tuned), and then trust in your compass (a call for serendipity). This process is learning defined.
“Yes, the mobile is the key, but I´m not sure if we should talk about "something mobile" any more. Nowadays (in digitally connected world) all learning is mobile (has it actually always been when examined from an informal point of view?) - i.e. smartphones, tablets, laptops (who is still using PC :) ). The immersive learning has become visible by immersive (mobile) technology. And because of mobility the learning takes place in those pointillist and cyclical etc. spaces, we´ve spoken. Ok, to be honest, it is wise to develop mobile learning and pedagogy contrasted with industrial stagnant (still existent) education :). “
Agreed, mobile is fast losing impact as a defining principle precisely because it is so ubiquitous, but it certainly helps to counter it against an old, industrial model of education. This is a great exchange; hopefully, we can continue to flesh this out more.
(yes, an obligatory Second Life photograph, but one that alludes to learning in complex systems. Trust, presence, acting upon the environment and being acted upon by the environment, a myriad of directions, possibilities, serendipity, even contradiction.)
A Day in the Life: Audio dispatches from Seoul on January 6, 2012; an ambient backbone of a city
As I mentioned in my previous post, I am relatively enamored with the transformative effects of audio on understanding and sensemaking in new environments. I had written about how you can know a place to a point through images and maps (Street View in particular), but audio transforms that knowledge, injects it with an urgency, a sublime, often tranquil sense of place. Audio floods every crevice, every nook of understanding.
I decided to test this out a bit yesterday. I traveled to the south of Seoul to meet with friends and climb a mountain (mostly hike) called Gwanaksan (관악산). Gwanaksan is a considerable hike (took us about 4 hours) and a wonderful way to get some exercise. Mountains are found throughout and around Seoul and it is a favorite pastime of many, generally older people who climb daily.
Along the way, from the subway to the mountain to the taxi I took home, I recorded audio using Audioboo using my iPhone in a general attempt to capture the space of Seoul aurally. I wanted to get at the ambient backbone of the city, the hustle and bustle of the subways transposed against the expansive mountain capped with the rhythmic serenity of the taxi ride home. Audio recordings allow me to tell this story in a way that activates imagination (with only audio and without imagery, you would attempt to fill in the physical visual domain almost reflexively) and refines understanding.
Stage 1: The Subway
This was the subway ride from my home in Mapo (마포) to Nakseongdae (낙성대). Fill in the story as you see fit, but for me these sounds paint an environment of structure and space, of being help held attentive collectively by a common journey, of signals and directions.
Stage 2: The Mountain
From Nakseongdae, we proceed to make our way up Gwanaksan over a course of 4 hours. We hiked, stopped, marveled at older Koreans who didn't seem to be struggling in the least. There is wonderful camaraderie up on a mountain with people connected by a familiar pastime. I say this as an absolute positive, but to me (and this is simplistic, granted), but Koreans are a mountain people and they seem comfortable there, at peace. The ambient sound I recorded from the mountain hopefully projects that a bit. The chanting you hear is from the Buddhist temple at the summit in the picture above.
Stage 3: The Taxi Home
After a long climb and a good meal of galbi (갈비), my friends and I parted and I jumped in a taxi for the 15 minute ride home. These taxi rides are wonderfully tranquil moments (if the driver is good), the warmth of the car transposed against the frigid cold outside, the gentle hum of the engine, the repetitive strips on the road zipping past in time. A language of sanctuary. I think a lot of that comes through in this recording.
I am going to record Seoul as often as possible with audio, video, and images, map it, and reuse it a bit. I also need to research more on the use of audio in elearning/mlearning as a contextualization agent as well as an emotive one. I think there is quite a bit of material to be mined there.
Elearning and the torrents of sound; some thoughts on sound in elearning
(this is my track of choice for online study, Jonsi & Alex's "Danell in the Sea". Comforting, inspiration, structure, and the crashing of the digital waves upon the shore. I can't prove it, but I think that structure becomes the pace of my learning rhythm-a kind of metronome)
Working on a research project at the University of Edinburgh that is meant to explore the notion of space for elearners, namely what does it mean to be at a university (in this case, the University of Edinburgh) without physically being there. How do we position ourselves, orient ourselves as elearners? Some fascinating research that is already producing some rich results. However, that is not why I am here.
My fellow research associate and I have thought about the role of sound in elearning and how sound, in particular, orients us towards 'work' or 'study', places us in the mindframe of academia much the same as walking through the iron gates of a physical university might orient the student towards intellectual pursuits. Physical campuses are intentionally designed with this mixture of awe and sanctuary, respect and veneration that accelerate intellectual pursuit and enhances learning.
We, as elearners, do much the same with our rituals and routines and we use sensory inputs to place us in a state of mind, a meditation of engagement if you will. Many of us do that with music and we were surprised to discover how rich a vein that was with our fellow elearners. A consistent mention of sound as orienting structure. Dealing with endless streams of information online, one might think that sound would serve as a distraction. Quite the contrary. Depending on the structure of the sound, it organizes chaos into pattern. It is a primer.
And it defines space in a way. Let's take an example. I go to Google Maps. I study the city of Manchester, UK. I walk the streets in Street View. I orient myself. I know this place as well as I can without traveling there. Then I visit favouritesounds.org and re-imagine the known with the slightly familiar, slightly peculiar sounds of the city. Some are known, but not known in this context. Some are unknown, but a hint of comforting familiarity looms behind them. Others are oblique and discomforting, disquiet lack of sanctuary. Sounds encompasses all like water on pavement. It is a torrent.
So, to contribute my own slice to an aural landscape, or for lack of a better option, I am going to use the iPhone app for Audioboo and record the ambient sounds of my city, my neighborhood, my bizarre sounding elevator. I want to geolocate these (using the RSS feed from Audioboo and running it through a filter of sorts before bringing it to Google Maps) and demonstrate my world of sound. Imagine doing this on scale, a community, national, or even global scale. Imagine the renewed sense of relearning place when confronted with sensory input as primordial as sound. Imagine the applications for elearning orientation and design.
These Audioboo recordings will make their way to this blog in one form or another. Just so you know what is coming.




















