the sound diagrams

Video Exploration by Shubham Aggarwal

Notice how the universe has a certain visual pattern to it? Our planet is round. So is an atom and a sunflower –and that snowball you like to hit your little brother with.

But what if they weren’t? What if we could design a planet, would it still be round?

The universe has an existing design for whatever cosmic reason, but who said we can’t play around with it a little bit? To be honest, experiencing design in forms that don’t already exist, excites the life in me. My work has always been a space for experimentation.

A plague-struck world and a little too much time on my hands, allowed me to dive deep into the world of generative visuals. Right off the bat, I was driven by the idea of abandoning any existing notions of how things should be, and letting the algorithms take over. The result was a mix of everything that I hold close to myself: music, nature, sounds, science – drawn on a piece of paper.

I used a handful of found sounds from nature in order to create visual soundscapes. The base form I chose was circular because, you know, snowballs. The patterns they form are incredibly beautiful and unique. I like to think of them as a type of natural atomic code; of the mountains, of the rain, of the beach.

If we were to send a new Voyager probe into space, maybe this could be on its golden record. For someone who’s never seen the world as it exists or has been forced away from it, hopefully, The Sound Diagrams will empower them to build one.

We don’t always have to consume the world as it appears, sometimes it’s good to just have fun with it.

The Sound Diagrams is a collection of audio-reactive visual patterns from some of nature’s most incredible sounds.

Volume 09

clay | chlorophyll | crimson

Grass is green where you water it. LC’s words float along over Misch’s guitar. It’s a phrase that feels so obvious, and I’m sure those who tend to gardens know this more than most, but it seems to land more than before. The impact noticeable, memorable, echoing through my being. Perhaps we’re ingrained to think it’s greener elsewhere. This patch is the problem and not whether we’re watering it. The key is in the watering. How we go about this practice is what defines our patch of grass. No matter where we go, our patch is, perhaps, the same. Some attributes and characteristics have been changed but the essence is the same: Us.

Stepping into Volume 09 of imprint, marks our third year. I am learning that this patch of green that we have been tending to for the last several years will mould, shift, and sculpt. This depends on how we water it and allow it to take its own shape. It has already happened in wonderfully unexpected ways. There is only so much structure or shape we can predetermine. Beyond that, it will absorb what it needs and reject all that is unnecessary. And perhaps, in this practice, we are changed. Our grass is watered as we water that of our writing, our image making, our practice, our magazine.

From light to dark, rigid to supple, new to old, there is so much in between that is bright and vibrant and unexpected. The practice of our magazine has focused on being open to what we receive; being open to deeply listening to what is shared; being open to work taking us to new journeys. This volume, and this year, will be no different. We will continue tending to it as we have done, learning along the way, from past seasons and present ones.

And yet, I know it will be entirely different.
But still.
It will be watered.