“p is my favorite musical symbol,” Christine Sun Kim explained during a recent TedTalk. “It means to play softly. If you’re playing a musical instrument and you notice a p in the score, you need to play softer. Two p’s, even softer. Four p’s, extremely soft…but no matter how many thousands upon thousands of p’s there may be, you’ll never completely achieve silence. That’s my current definition of silence. It’s a very obscure sound.”
Kim sounds like a musician when she talks about her work, but calling her that doesn’t tell the whole story. She’s an interactive designer, public speaker, and experimental sound artist. She’s best known for the creative and exploratory ways in which she manipulates sound.
Which is pretty damn impressive, considering that she’s never heard any of it. Because Christine Sun Kim is deaf.
“I watch how people behave and respond to sound,” she says. “At the same time, I’ve learned that I create sound…thus I’ve learned from example. Don’t slam the door, don’t make too much noise when you’re eating from the potato chip bag, don’t burp…all of these things I term ‘sound etiquette.’ Maybe I think about sound etiquette more than the average hearing person does. I’m hyper-vigilant around sound. I’m always waiting in eager nervous anticipation around sound, about what’s to come next.”
In “Game of Skill 2.0”—one of Kim’s most recent art installations—the audience is invited to listen to a recording of a museum intern reading a passage that Kim wrote. The recording can only be heard, however, when a small handheld device is escorted beneath the path of large cables suspended high above. The recording plays in pace with the holder’s walking speed, even playing in reverse if the holder begins walking backward.
The experience transforms listening into a kind of physical labor, forcing the audience to walk at just the right speed and in just the right way to understand the recording. In other words, sound becomes less about hearing and more about movement. It becomes tactile, interactive, physical — like someone speaking with their hands instead of their mouth. “In the end,” Kim says, “it’s my voice.”