Earlier this year, Christine Sun Kim held a multimedia artist talk at RedCat in Los Angeles. She was on my radar after being featured in Sam Green’s live documentary 32 Sounds --an immersive love letter to sound–though beyond “Berlin-based Asian Deaf sound artist,” my understanding of her and her body of work was limited.

At a glance, the relationship between Deafness and sound art seems simultaneously contentious and obvious. To a hearing person, sound is consumed literally as the elements of our world which we absorb sonically. To a Deaf person, sound presents a cultural system to investigate and challenge. Ignorantly, I hadn’t considered the conceptual possibilities of Christine Sun Kim’s practice. I had invited friends to attend with some speculation, “Maybe it’s about vibrations?”

Upon arrival, it was apparent that the audience was primarily Deaf. The venue ushers wore face masks with a transparent panel – for those who used lip-reading – and the pre-show chatter was accompanied by the rustles and hand zuzzes (“Zuzz” is a term used in sound design, generally for Foley, that refers to the sound of cloth or skin rubbing against itself) of folks signing to one another. This was my first time being a hearing person in a space that was intentionally catered to a Deaf audience–that in itself made me consider a lot about my own audism. It felt like a glimpse at a future utopian world where people had the access and mindful consideration they needed.

Christine Sun Kim was introduced by DJ Kurs of Deaf West Theatre. The talk coincidentally happened the night after CODA won Best Picture at the Oscar’s. DJ Kurs excitedly notes this win for the Deaf community. There were scattered “woo’s” amongst the rustle of the crowd signing applause. Two interpreters were present – one interpreting ASL to English speech, and one interpreting English speech to ASL. Then, Christine took the stage.

Her artist talk was a fresh reflection of her work and observations thus far. Christine, with a laptop, talked through her process and headspace around her work. She began with the initial building block of “spot-eye.” The ASL sign for “notice” is a gesture of pointing your dominant hand underneath your eye, then pointing at your other hand. It can also be used to point in the direction of the thing noticed. Spot. Eye. She began with “spot-eyes” in the world: the rise of the “I Love You” sign in pop culture, the introduction of interpreters in public spaces, the number of fake interpreters who go viral, the relationship between identity and interpreters–e.g. a Black speaker should have a Black interpreter. She continued her speech with subjects like her move to using visual information systems to depict Deaf experiences: “Why My Hearing Partner Signs”. “Degrees of Institutional Deaf Rage”. “When I Play The Deaf Card.”

The first instinct for representing “visual interpretation of sound” generally results in some iteration of waveforms. However, through musical notation, cartoon-like motion lines, visual depiction of ASL, and deliberate use of language, Christine’s  work conceptualizes and visualizes sound and listening without being confined to a hearing-only experience of sound. A performance piece she shared explored the sound of courtesy – Deaf performers moving about a space with chairs and props as if trying not to wake someone from a nap.

What strikes me about sound is it often feels limitless. In traditional sound design, you are not bound by physical parameters. You want to make someone feel like they are in a blizzard? You can build a soundscape. You want to shift someone’s perspective? You can re-calibrate the scale of a space or point of view using sound design. However, when limited to a hearing experience, this limitlessness is still narrow. In Christine Sun Kim’s large-scale work – she deepens the experiences she investigates with murals and site specific pieces. A favorite piece she featured was in collaboration with the Manchester International Festival of captioning the city. Using the sides of stadiums, train stations, and even a banner-flying plane, she captioned the city of Manchester. “Captioning the City” invited us to reconsider the sounds and essences of a city and collective experience. [The sound of agreeing to never call it soccer.] captioning the New Football Museum. [the sound of the sun seeping into windows, with your permission] [the sound of pigeons searching for crumbs] These playful, but perceptive, captions offered a new dimension to consider the sounds of a city–without using literal sound, while also referencing the comedy of captions attempting to capture meaning. Christine noted an early inspiration for the concept was seeing in a TV show the caption: “[horn honks sadly].”

There is something so special about having your paradigm shifted. How Christine visualizes sound made me think conceptually about the possibilities of how sound can be presented and also separated from the experience for hearing people only. Before attending the talk, my idea of visualizing sound was limited to musical notation and abstract waveforms–translations of the hearing experience. Christine’s art transcends the parameters of hearing-only experiences and offers an expansive and subversive perspective of interpreting our world. Sound does not need to be limited to the reception of airwaves, but the shared experience itself. She drew attention to the Deaf Power movement – its symbol an ASCII visualization of a person holding a hand over one ear and their other hand up in the air. <0/.

Christine’s art practice offers so many layers and ideas through deceivingly playful and simple presentations. Her work deftly illuminates specific themes of identities, community, and politics, while fostering space for the viewer’s own ruminations. Her signing added a layer to communication, of expression, performance, and physicality, which I didn’t have access to without an interpreter. I wondered how much nuance I might have been missing as a hearing-only audience member. Her work re-defined for me what it means to listen, navigating the world as a hearing person, and how sound can transcend a hearing-only medium to be a reflection of collective experience.