Listening Together: Sound Art as a Praxis for Social Reconnection and Auditory Democracy

Abstract

This text explores the role of sound art in bridging the gap between individuals, fostering social connections within contemporary societies marked by isolation, fragmentation, and commercial pressures. Drawing on Nicolas Bourriaud’s concept of relational aesthetics, the text critiques individualism in modern art and introduces sound art as a powerful tool for collective engagement. It examines “listening together” from both philosophical and action-oriented perspectives, referencing Pierre Schaeffer’s listening modes and Jean-Luc Nancy’s phenomenology of sound. The paper explores how sound art, through its dynamic and immersive nature, allows for meaningful human connections, challenging commercialised art practices and promoting shared experiences. Furthermore, the text highlights Brandon LaBelle’s theories of sonic agency, illustrating how sound can transform public spaces, empower marginalised voices, and create ephemeral communities. The practical applications of these ideas are demonstrated through examples such as protest soundscapes, immersive art installations, and soundwalks, all of which use sound to reshape social relations and challenge hierarchical power structures.

Introduction

When we reflect on the world in which we live, we are confronted with wars, conflicts, societal divisions, and fragmentation. We often experience a sense of isolation and loneliness, embodying what can be described as the anatomy of melancholy. However, on many occasions, we fail to truly feel these emotions. We lack the time or inclination to engage with the world around us because we are either restricted from doing so or overwhelmed by pressure, leaving us with little energy to generate personal value. This energy is drained by the demands of work or the pervasive forces of capitalism. Moreover, the increasing prevalence of superficial distractions or “entertainment” further exacerbates our sense of disconnection. Despite being aware of detrimental effects that these distractions have, we readily accept them, only intensifying our isolation and encouraging a preference for virtual interaction over meaningful engagement with the real world.

As Nicolas Bourriaud asserts, “Human relations are no longer ‘directly experienced,’ but have instead become blurred in their ‘spectacular’ representation. Herein lies the most pressing issue concerning art today.” Since the 1990s, and perhaps even earlier, one of the primary objectives of art has been to challenge the standardisation and commercialisation of modern products and communications in contemporary society. This shift in artistic purpose led Bourriaud to propose a new aesthetic approach—Relational Aesthetics ¹ . In his work, he contends that art in the 1990s
transitioned from a focus on traditional aesthetic objects to an emphasis on social interactions and relational dynamics as the essence of artistic practice. Bourriaud critiques outdated theoretical frameworks that fail to adequately interpret contemporary art, advocating instead for an understanding of art as a medium that creates “social interstices”—spaces for human connection that exist outside of commercialised and standardised systems. These works prioritise participation, conviviality, and shared experiences, often blurring the boundaries between art and everyday life.

From another perspective, the continual rise of individualism across societies, particularly in the Western context, has also influenced the individualistic nature of artworks. Of course, in certain types of art, individualism remains both permissible and essential to some extent. For instance, when experimental artists seek to push the sensory boundaries of human experience, or when gifted artists express their passions and creativity, it is crucial that they follow their own paths, even if their works are not fully understood by the general public. However, in many other cases, or from a different viewpoint, the situation may deviate from this ideal.

I approach this observation from a democratic standpoint. For example, when I worked at an art fair, attempting to sell artworks and artifacts to ordinary people, I invited them to engage with the works— to look at them, touch them, and feel them. Their responses were often characterised by apprehension. They expressed fear of discussing art, feeling it was too complex, confusing, and seemingly far removed from their everyday experiences. Ultimately, many gave up trying to comprehend the works, leaving with statements such as, “I’m probably not well-educated in art, I’m not qualified to talk about it, and this work is not for me.” This scenario is, unsurprisingly, common when art created through individual practices is presented to the public. In such instances, the act of sharing or introducing art to the broader community becomes a somewhat problematic endeavor.

Sound art, due to its inherent connection to daily life and its relatively low demand for specific “artistic taste,” has emerged as an ideal medium for bridging the gap between the public and private spheres, as well as between different individuals. It encourages broader participation in artistic practices and helps individuals reconnect with their sensory experiences in a world that often feels flat and standardised. Sound is omnipresent in our lives: we listen to noise, perceive silence, hear the sounds of nature, the industrial world, the commercial sector, and the constant buzz of urban life. We enjoy listening to music and attending concerts and live performances. We have an instinctual love for dancing to rhythm, a practice that has existed since the formation of cultures worldwide. These subjects and activities are central to sound art. They can be both academic and grounded in everyday experiences, allowing sound art to naturally, if not inevitably, include a wider audience in its practices. In this way, it connects individuals and creates meaning that extends beyond the sound itself.

But how, specifically, can sound art foster connections between individuals and dissolve boundaries? What is the essence of the practice, or the act of “listening together”? In the following chapters, I will explore these questions from both a philosophical and practical perspective, using various sound art practices to illustrate these concepts.

A Philosophical view on “listening together”

We encounter various types of sounds in our daily lives, but not all are experienced in the same way. At times, we choose to listen to something, while at other times, we are compelled to hear it. More specifically, Pierre Schaeffer, in Traité des objets musicaux, classifies four distinct modes of listening: (1) Ouïr: Inattentive audition (e.g., background noise); (2) Comprendre: Listening directed toward linguistic or musical grammar; (3) Écouter: Listening with a natural attitude, oriented toward sound sources; (4) Entendre: Intentional listening through phenomenological reduction, focusing on the “sound object.” For a long time, the philosophical tradition has favored entendre (intentional understanding) over the other listening modes, especially écouter, thereby imposing a certain closure on meaning. However, according to Jean-Luc Nancy, sound is not static but a dynamic process of infinite referral, or what he terms “renvoi.” It is “not intentioned; it places the subject in tension,” and “resonance is the structure of both sound and the subject.” ²

For Jean-Luc Nancy, the phenomenological approaches of thinkers like Husserl and Schaeffer, which objectify sound through intentionality, are somewhat problematic. These theories overlook the co-emergence of the subject and sound within resonance. The majority of people in our daily lives, not being professionals in the field of sound, do not focus on the grammar, structure, or deeper meaning of sounds. Instead, we listen to a variety of sounds in an unintentional or natural state, rarely perceiving them as entirely external or objective. This suggests that the listening experience can establish a relationship, a space in which we co-emerge with sound and, in some way, lose our sense of “self” and “other.” We listen to sound and are influenced by it as we reflect on it. At times, we may feel diminished in this relationship; at other times, we regain our strength and redirect our energy back to the source of the sound. This is a dynamic and fluid activity, more akin to a game than to a static experience.

In this context, sound itself resonates and passes through the relationship, creating a space where meaning upon meaning can emerge infinitely. This constitutes an open system. A fluid system that expands when a large group of people gathers, whether intentionally or naturally, to listen to something that happens daily — such as a nearby community hearing the same sounds due to shared culture, society, geography, and physical devices that produce sound. If we imagine the listening practice of an individual as a rubber band that serves as a bridge between the subject and the sound, the stretching, bouncing, and other movements of the rubber band illustrate the tension between the two. When people, whether familiar with each other or strangers, come together to listen, the rubber bands metaphorically unite into a flat plane, thus creating an entirely new dimension of the listening system. This dimension exists between the different individual subjects, the listeners. Viewed from this perspective, the shared experience of listening together not only strengthens emotional connections between people—an idea I will explore further in the next chapter—but also opens up new, fluid possibilities for how we perceive and process sound, how we resonate with it, and whether we find meaning in the experience. As new elements —shaped by each listener’s unique perspective—are introduced, they influence the group as a whole, further enriching the collective experience.

“Listening together” as an active power

Beyond the philosophical implications of “listening together,” another potent dimension is the dimension of action. In this realm, sound can be viewed as a political tool or as something capable of redefining public spaces and uniting society. Brandon LaBelle’s theory of sonic agency provides a theoretical framework for analyzing how different types of sound function as agents of action. He identifies four interconnected modes through which sound acts as a transformative social force: (1) Verticality, where sound traverses spatial hierarchies to reveal hidden power dynamics, such as marginalised voices resonating across class-divided urban environments; (2) Mobility, which highlights sound’s ability to move with bodies and technologies, dynamically reshaping public spaces through protests or collective performances; (3) More-than-Material, framing sound as a carrier of cultural memory, emotion, and political resistance that transcends its physical vibrations; and (4) Co-composition, where collaborative sonic practices dissolve boundaries between individuals and collectives, fostering ephemeral communities through shared auditory engagement.

Together, these modes reimagine sound as an active medium for reclaiming agency, contesting spatial control, and redefining social relations within contested acoustic spaces.

All four modes are highly relevant to communal sound art practices. Practical applications include protests, where chanting slogans, drums, or silence serve as symbols of resistance. The movement of protesters’ bodies within physical spaces transforms and reshapes public areas, while marginalised groups are empowered to amplify their voices, supported by allies within the community and the broader public. The “Black Lives Matter” movement is one example of this. This also manifests in community arts and sound art installations that invite widespread participation further to illustrate the concepts of co-composition and more-than-materiality. For instance, the work of Japanese artist Ryoji Ikeda, particularly his immersive audiovisual performances such as data verse and test pattern, transcends solitary spectatorship. Although Ikeda is renowned for his mathematically precise explorations of sound frequencies and data visualisation, his live performances transform audiences into active participants. In these works, viewers navigate a labyrinth of synchronised light and sound pulses or are invited to interact with installations within the art museum environment. This interaction blurs the distinction between artist and audience, fostering a shared sensory language that unites strangers into a temporary collective. Ikeda’s practice, though grounded in technical precision, ultimately creates liminal spaces where participants co-author meaning through their bodily presence. This is a hallmark of co-composition: it is not only the artist who creates the artwork or completes the performance, but the collective participation of all listeners and audience members that shapes the experience.

Soundwalks, as a form of communal listening, transcend passive observation and become acts of critical engagement with urban environments. A notable example is the intervention led by Sound Art Lab in the small city of Struer, where participants embarked on a guided walk attuned to the acoustic textures of everyday life, the sounds of cars, wind, birds, and so on. However, the walk’s climax involved a radical gesture: balloons were burst at strategic points, generating sharp, percussive sounds that disrupted the city’s auditory routine. This act of sonic interruption was not merely an aesthetic play, but a deliberate destabilisation of the urban soundscape. By inserting unexpected noises into familiar settings, the walkers disturbed the normalised rhythms of Struer’s public spaces, prompting reflections on who controls urban acoustics, and which sounds are considered permissible.

The balloons’ transient pops—ephemeral yet spatially invasive—embodied the concept of mobility, as sound traveled unpredictably, momentarily claiming alleys and squares typically dominated by ambient traffic noise or quiet natural sounds. Simultaneously, these sounds pierced through vertical hierarchies: the abrupt cracks echoed upward from street level to residential balconies, briefly challenging the auditory dominance of private spaces over public ones. In contrast, soundwalks in larger, socially fragmented cities often confront more complex acoustics. In cities where luxury high-rises stand alongside slums, urban soundscapes often perpetuate class divides — luxury buildings buffer noise pollution, while slum dwellers endure relentless decibels, yet both groups tend to take their acoustic environments for granted. In such cases, sound is not only a material, but a loaded symbol of privilege that carries deep political significance.

Conclusion

Through the lens of sound art, we have explored how auditory experiences can transcend individual perception and serve as a means of fostering social reconnection, democratic engagement, and collective agency. By examining both the philosophical dimensions of listening and the practical applications of communal sound practices, it becomes clear that sound is not merely a passive medium but an active force capable of reshaping our relationships with one another and with our environments.

Philosophically, listening together challenges the boundaries between self and other, dissolving the rigid structures of individualism and encouraging a fluid, participatory experience of the world. The act of shared listening creates spaces where meaning emerges dynamically, fostering empathy and mutual understanding. In practice, sound art’s accessible and immersive nature enables it to bridge gaps between social classes, cultural groups, and urban divides. From Ryoji Ikeda’s participatory audiovisual installations to soundwalks that disrupt and reconfigure public spaces, these examples illustrate how sound can operate as a tool for reclaiming agency, contesting dominant power structures, and fostering inclusive communities.

All in all, in a world increasingly fragmented by digital distractions, economic pressures, and social isolation, the act of listening together has huge potential to serve as an antidote to disconnection. Sound art, especially when it connects with the general public, challenges the passive consumption of culture and instead invites participation, dialogue, and co-creation. By embracing listening as a shared experience, we unlock new ways of engaging with each other and the spaces we inhabit, reinforcing the idea that sound is not just something we hear but something we collectively shape and live within.

Bibliography

• Bourriaud, Nicolas. Relational Aesthetics. Translated by Simon Pleasance and Fronza Woods. Dijon: Les presses du réel, 2002.
• LaBelle, Brandon. Sonic Agency: Sound and Emergent Forms of Resistance. London: Goldsmiths Press, 2018.
• LaBelle, Brandon. Acoustic Territories: Sound Culture and Everyday Life. New York: Bloomsbury, 2010.
• Nancy, Jean-Luc. Listening. Translated by Charlotte Mandell. New York: Fordham University Press, 2007.
• Kane, Brian. “Jean-Luc Nancy and the Listening Subject.” Contemporary Music Review 31, no. 5-6 (2012): 439–47.

Footnotes

1. Bourriaud, Nicolas. Relational Aesthetics. Translated by Simon Pleasance and Fronza Woods. Dijon: Les presses du réel, 2002. ↩
2. Nancy, Jean-Luc. Listening. Translated by Charlotte Mandell. New York: Fordham University Press, 2007. ↩