The focus of this project was to introduce students to soundscape composition and to the ecological consciousness that is integral to this work and out of which it originally sprang. Listening sessions, recording trips, soundwalks, discussions, editing and mixing of recorded materials were all grounded in the concepts outlined below.

Each sound or soundscape has its own meanings and expressions. It has something to say about us and our society, about our listening and soundmaking habits. As a result, a city like Jerusalem will have a very different soundscape than Vancouver or London or Cape Town.

The portability of sound recording equipment allows us to record any soundscape. The widely available audio technology makes it possible for more people than ever to reproduce these sounds, process them and compose with them. All sounds can become part of a soundscape composition. The activity of "sketching" a city's acoustic image with the use of recorded sounds has fascinated many composers and audio artists around the world for the last ten to twenty years. It has become a new forum for "speaking" about place and environment. Cities like Madrid, Brasilia, Lisbon, Amsterdam, Tokyo, New Delhi and Buenos Aires have been "portrayed" in this way.

If based in a genuine concern for the acoustic environment, these "portraits" expand listeners' horizon towards the soundscape and raise consciousness about its quality. They also may raise questions such as: how do we listen and behave acoustically in everyday life; how can we acquire a "sense of place" and belonging from our soundscapes; are there ways to design liveable soundscapes in our often unliveable urban environments? At the same time they can also offer an artistic interpretation of a city soundscape and present a city as a "sounding" place.

Soundscape Jerusalem threw up interesting questions because of the city's complex historical and political situation. Although relatively peaceful at the time, underlying tensions could always be sensed, particularly by an outsider like me who had never lived in such a politically charged environment. In Old Jerusalem with its four different Quarters (Jewish, Moslem, Christian and Armenian), the different religions and cultures were clearly audible in the soundscape. Churchbells, Muezzins, Armenian Orthodox and Jewish Chants side-by-side could potentially be perceived as dangerous or beautiful sounds, depending on whether they were heard with welcoming or hostile ears.

Within the very short time span of a week, the participating students made a valiant attempt to create a short sound work from the sounds that they recorded in their city. Starting from scratch - learning about soundscape concepts and listening, recording sounds, selecting, editing, processing, mixing - most students managed to come up with a completed short composition. Some students chose to make their recordings in the modern, commercial part of Jerusalem and some chose to participate in the combined listening/recording walk from the Mount of Olives into the Arabic Quarters of Old Jerusalem (see map). Interestingly enough most of the latter students had never set foot into that area of their city. As a result this project posed a double challenge: not only were they exposed to a totally new concept of compositional work, but also they ended up working with recordings from a Jerusalem entirely foreign to them.

The concept of acoustic ecology takes on a specifically cultural, political meaning here. How does the soundscape express the proximity of varying religions, cultures and political histories? Does the soundscape make audible the balances and imbalances that result from this situation? Old Jerusalem in particular is a town of many layers. This is literally visible in its architecture where layer upon built layer has raised today's city several meters above the original ground. The actual desert soil is far away from one's feet and natural vegetation is sparse. At the same time, this same age-old architecture with its narrow alley ways protects inhabitants from motorized traffic. All this is audible in the soundscape: there is an almost complete absence of both natural sounds and traffic noise. Human sounds (from inhabitants and tourists) dominate, footsteps and voices reverberating off stone walls. Music and radio is broadcast from a multitude of shops into the narrow alley ways. And above all, the sounds from churches, mosques and synagogues, send out regular reminders of their all-encompassing religious presence.

In a noisy world, there are few opportunities for audio artists to listen and create without external distractions. There are even fewer opportunities to get together with other artists to listen and create together. Full Moon Over Killaloe was a rare opportunity to do both. It was held near Killaloe, Ontario, a Canadian village about two hours car drive west of Ottawa.

The purpose of Full Moon was to explore new directions in audio artwork and stimulate production. Through workshops, audio art concerts, group feedback and independent creative time, the participating artists developed and shared new ideas with each other and with our two artists-in-residence, Hildegard Westerkamp and Michael Waterman.

It was held at the Killaloe Fairgrounds, a rustic camping facility in the heart of the Madawaska Valley about two kilometers outside of the village. The experience of living without walls created an artistic edge that could not be replicated in an urban environment. The campgrounds are located in the bottom of a small valley, creating a sense of isolation from the outside world. The hills on all sides create an unusual and interesting acoustic space. Our production studio was a minimal wooden stage, built at the bottom of a hill. Our gear consisted of three computer editing stations, sound boards, lots of speakers and recording equipment. Each participant also brought their own microphones and portable recording gear, which made for an interesting show and tell. I counted at least twelve different kinds of microphones, including a shock mount for a Sennheiser shotgun mike created from sticks picked up in the forest. A striking contrast between high tech and no tech.

The studio was in constant use. Sounds from the studio (which was also used as a stage) reverberated up the hill, creating interesting recording possibilities for listening, recording and performing. It was also far enough from the nearest neighbour that we were able to work late into the night without disturbing anyone (except the cows in the next field, who were very confused when we played a recording of cows from another farm bellowing to be milked. Even more confusing, these were morning recordings of cows).

Some of the participants suggested that living in minimal surroundings forced them to face their artistic experience head-on. We heard no sound other than the natural ones around us and those we created ourselves. No radio, no internet, no media of any kind, no visitors, except for two scheduled public concerts. The challenge to create was present 24 hours a day for all seven days. We worked hard, rising with the sun and falling back to sleep long after the moon had risen.

Highlights of the week included a two hour soundmaking session in nearby Bonnechere Caves, where no less than four performances happened simultaneously (with interesting echoes and reverbaration). Jam sessions were held each night, consisting of sounds made from found objects and recorded sounds from earlier in the day. We began each morning with a soundwalk where we listened, shouted to the hills and created sounds from trees, rocks, leaves and our own footsteps. Impromptu rehearsals of new pieces were held under trees, at the beach, over dinner, around the campfire, set to a constant soundtrack of late August crickets in Ontario.

The value of the experience is summed up by workshop participant Scott Stevens, an artist from Kingston, Ontario.

"The experience was exceptional. It brought together people from every level of technical and artistic experience, and a full range of ideas and concepts. Over the week I couldn't help but be influenced and inspired by the diverse range of work that was presented or being explored. ... I find it exciting to meet the people with whose work I am somewhat familiar and thus have the chance to bring to light the specific thoughts and techniques behind the artists' work. Hildegard Westerkamp certainly made much more clear to me what can go into the making of a soundscape/electroacoustic piece, with the dissection of one of her compositions(Sensitive Chaos). She introduced us to soundwalks as well, which encouraged me to develop more alertness towards all the sound around me. The other participants were also contributing to my awareness of sound and the making of audio art."

Full Moon over Killaloe has become an annual event and has been lead by different artists-in-residence each year, most recently by Andra McCartney and Darren Copeland.

This combination of workshop and lectures was meant as an introduction to the world of soundscapes and listening with the specific purpose to connect this to the learning of foreign languages and the exposure to new cultures. It was a way to introduce language students both to the acoustic environment and to a new language through readings and exercises which combine scientific and creative inquiry into the nature of sound. "Regarding the foreign language classroom, this project will foster cross-curriculum instruction and communicative approach in foreign language teaching. The additional goals include the development of listening skills, extension of vocabulary, creative writing, cultural exchange and mutual understanding, and the applicaiton of email technology." (from Goethe Institut Seattle project proposal)

The workshop included soundwalks, listening exercises, discussions and reflections on acoustic ecology and the meanings of sounds/soundscapes, as well as the writing of sound journals. The second part of the workshop consisted of a brain storming session of how to apply soundscape awareness and listening to foreign language instruction and the development of concrete lesson plans. In the months following, a curriculum was developed for classroom use.

The two lectures functioned as a general introduction to the world of sound and specifically dealt with urban soundscapes. Although environmental sounds can give us a sense of place and belonging, urban noise has the power to obscure this sense. Two lecture-performances suggested ways of listening beyond the noise, to uncover by ear a city's acoustic indentity, its inner voice, that which makes Seattle sound different than New Delhi, Tokyo different than Brasilia.

Unfortunately the Seattle Goethe Institut (among several other Goethe Instituts in other countries) was closed in 1999 as part of major financial cuts by the German Government.

This workshop's emphasis was high-tech and production oriented. The aim was to produce a number of compositions about Brasilia's soundscape, composed by a group of people from Brasilia. It was an ambitious project and would not have been possible to realize without Michael Fahres and Piet Hein van de Poel from Netherlands Broadcasting Corporation who were the co-producers of the project and brought the necessary technology and skills. They were instrumental in assisting with the successful completion of seven soundscape compositions, which then were presented in an outdoor concert and later compiled on a CD.

Soundscape Brasilia was unusual in the sense that we had more time than in any other context for the whole process. It ranged from a first week-long meeting in which concepts of soundscape and acoustic ecology were introduced, and participants were led through listening and sound recording experiences; to 5 months of gathering and cataloguing of sound materials by participants, as well as preliminary planning for the pieces; to 4 weeks of composing, all of it culminating in a weekend seminar with lectures, soundwalks and a concert presenting the participants' compositions.

Most participants had some musical background, but it varied from rock to classical to folk. A few had experience with the radio medium and thus were familiar with sound production to a certain extent. Two were architect students and had no background in music or radio at all. None of the participants had ever composed with environmental sounds and some had never composed at all. This made the compositional part of the process particularly interesting as we addressed the main questions of the project: "How do we speak about this city through its own sounds?" "What is there to say that is relevant and how do I say it?" At every stage, discussions about the content of the work and its structures were part of the ongoing process.

Some pieces were produced collaboratively by two or three people, some were composed by one person alone. Each of them reflect in some way the composers' particular and characteristic perspective and speak about that which interests or fascinates them most in this city, using the sounds that assist in this expression. All of them reveal clearly a relationship between composer and place - the place of Brasilia.