You enter a gallery. There is nothing to see beyond the space itself. You feel confused, but then realize you are enveloped in a low, rhythmic drone, and you ease into the experience. You enter a gallery. There is a record player, a set of speakers, a pair of headphones. These artifacts are called an installation, and the technology that produces or mediates sound becomes the art object you observe as you experience sound through the ears, through the body. You enter an archival repository. You see open reels of magnetic tape that have been used to record poetry readings and radio broadcasts from the 1960s, but you are disappointed to learn you may only listen to their content as digital files through a touchscreen. You enter an archival repository. You have access to digitized sound recordings and can listen to them over and over again, allowing the ephemerality of sound to become “unbounded by time or space and [to] continuously unfold through multiple listenings or ‘re-soundings.’”1 You are excited by some small moment of sound you hear and are now in the process of framing a whole new research project. There are many similar scenarios in gallery, library, archival, and museum contexts (GLAM) where sound becomes an entity of organized presentation. As Salomé Voegelin points out, “[s]ound does not exhibit objects and it does not organize subjects, directing their gaze. Instead, it delivers a fuzzy connectivity of human and more than human bodies, touching and being touched invisibly and from a distance, by the indivisibility of their simultaneous sonic expanse.”2 Sound resists objectification and so causes an interesting and productive tension when brought into relation with the act of curation. This tension, especially as concerns the interrelation of human, non-human, and even immaterial agents, in turn, generates affect – excess, deficit, ambivalent, positive, or negative.
Curated sound immerses visitors in a designed physical space, but often, also, an acousmatic space, that is, a space in which the source of the sound is unseen and unknown. These spaces may heighten a visitor’s awareness of their own experiential perceptions, positions, and responses, as much as of the possible sources of those feelings as objects in a discernible soundscape. Sound in curation may thus obfuscate the relationship between the sound object and the subjective and affective response, complicating sound interpretation and analysis in interesting and moving ways. Pierre Schaeffer’s concept of the acousmatic perception of sound without the cause being seen, which emphasized “the perceptual reality of sound as such,” introduced a rich idea of the sound object defined in terms of sonic forms and effects. The sound object is not the instrument producing the sound, nor the media format reproducing the sound, but it is not exclusively a state of mind (not purely subjective), either. While not empirically observable, sound objects exist. As Schaeffer notes, “We can gain knowledge about them.”3 Schaeffer contributes the idea of sound objects as discrete and multifaceted phenomena, so, effectively concrete, yet, as James A. Steintrager and Rey Chow note, “for all the insistence on concreteness…, there is something idealist about this phenomenological approach,” something “phantasmagoric” (as Brian Kane characterizes it), or “spectral” (as Jonathan Sterne explores).4 Sterne’s approach was to theorize the objectification of sound in the context of late-capitalist music technologies as a form of commodity fetishism, wherein “both the object [instrument] and the sound it makes become part of the commodity fetish,”5 an approach that could prove useful for thinking about the status of sound on “display” in a contemporary museum exhibition or an online archival repository. In their collection Sound Objects, Steintrager and Chow aimed to pick up where Schaeffer left off and “entwine the genealogy of the sound object with the work of poststructuralist and related theory.”6 This work, by necessity, entails considering the status of perceptual and especially of affective sensibility as it pertains to curated sound. Does it pertain or belong to sound as a connected part or appendage, as something that becomes a new whole in the affective experience, as a relation between, but not in or of anything? As a source of curatorial action, sound incites new possibilities of affective texture, tone, and ambivalence. Like the negative affects Sian Ngai analyzes in Ugly Feelings, the curatorial “exhibition” of sound may leave the patron wondering what to feel, when to feel it, and possibly even where to attribute the source of their own affective response, due to an inherent “confusion over a feeling’s subjective or objective status.”7 Sound insists on a revision of what it means to display (in a museum) or to preserve (in an archive), simultaneously limiting and expanding what is deemed possible in curatorial terms, through a troubling of the status of the ontological entity, the thing that is being curated, and by attending to how perception and feeling contribute to that troubling.
This special issue centres the tension between sound and curation to deliberately consider Voegelin’s “fuzzy connectivity” between curated objects and their perception. By troubling the more direct, or perhaps more expected, affordances of visuality in the context of GLAM institutions, the authors in this special issue trace a range of different creative and critical approaches to how sound activates affective methods within curatorial contexts. Due to the individualized nature of perception, these methods cannot be defined as a singular or determinate research strategy or technique, and yet, the acceptance of a broader spectrum of affective registers and responses, and the integration of affective texture into the scholarly process makes room for noisier approaches to critical observation and assertion. That is, some of the essays and interviews compiled here resist an approach of critical hypothesis and illustrative proof, welcoming instead the textured efficacy of critically-motivated descriptions, narrations, tangents, and contradictions, while adopting an experimental, and sometimes even curatorial stance in the presentation of cases and ideas. More broadly described, this issue’s authors consider the function of sound art in GLAM spaces, recordings of poetry in performance in institutional archives, radio archives as a form of sonic exhibition-making or research-creation, exploratory transcription practices, and more. They explore new ways of framing the relationship between sound and its resonant curation for public audition by considering the dynamic potential of sound to be shaped through curatorial grouping, visualisation, installation, and mobilisation. This research aims to make discernible processes of recording, preserving, visualising, and activating archival sound, especially through the agency of curators, poets, artists, software designers, scholars, and audiences. Curating sound is moving, in Linda Morra’s sense of the term, and involves “emotionally engaged, emotionally charged processes, which act upon their subjects and enact specific fields of knowledge and varieties of community.”8 Sound prompts new approaches to documenting, collecting data, activating signals, and substantiating scholarly argument with interpersonal responsibility and attention, emerging from the singular and linear to the relational and intertwined.
The next section of our introduction tells the story of the events that lead to the publication of this special issue. The subsequent sections will outline some key terms with which to approach the divergent essays and interviews compiled in it. Signals are described as symbolic representations of sound, a prerequisite shift for sound to include the potential of curatorial engagement at all. The curatorial is approached beyond its practical application and rather as a conceptual field of knowledge mobilization and creative potential. Curating signals activates and evokes feelings, both regarding processual sharing and audience reception. Together these terms work to curate the curatorial, to play with display, and to sound signals as a provocation to listen to the scaffolding of audibility itself.
Signaling Affects
The trajectory that leads to this special issue, “Affective Signals: Sounding the Curatorial,” started as a graduate symposium hosted by the SSHRC-funded SpokenWeb Partnership, at Concordia University in Montreal, 16-17 May 2022. Billed as “The Sound of Literature In Time,” this series of plenary talks, student panel discussions, and performances deliberately invited scholarly breadth; the call brought sound, time, and literature into proximity to consider questions about “how sound has been represented in literary works from different historical periods, how time has structured the way literary works sound (as with poetic metre), how readings and recitations sound literature across a span of time, and how time is sounded in different literary cultures and communities.”9 As a doctoral student co-organiser at the time, Klara du Plessis delivered a summary of events at the conference’s final session. What stood out, then, was that many of the speakers had emphasised the affective quality of sound – “Affective Signals” – rather than only the scientific or measurable temporality of signals that the conference title might have suggested. Some of these affective currents have followed through into this special issue. Here one might think, for example, of the embodied practices of sound resonating through the linguistic politics of radio archives, as seen in the collaborative essay of Chelsea Miya, Nick Beauchesne, and Ariel Kroon. One might think of signal as a creative and relational medium, as approached by J Shea-Carter in their study of Time Is Away, also creatively reliant on oral history as an affectively charged method. One might think of the radical revisioning of the individual speaker in relation to a more ethical, responsible, and communal voice, as evidenced in T.L. Cowan’s consent and care-driven archival methodologies. Arguing for the value of ongoing consent from every voice in the archives – at the expense, perhaps, of the quantity or comprehensiveness of materials available to the public – they write, “[w]e have tried to resist the distinction between ‘private’ and ‘public’ and rather to think about ‘small world’ and ‘big world’ productions, audiences, knowledges, and to scale our work to and from […] ‘small worlds.’”10 The curatorial project thus becomes one of cultivating and recognizing the agency of community contribution, as the latter informs what is possible in any conception of “the public.”
While only three of the original papers have been expanded and compiled here, a wider, more interdisciplinary call was circulated internationally, and the theme of our special issue developed to include the subtitle, “Sounding the Curatorial.” This call aimed to elicit responses to questions around how sound is curated, how sound affects concepts and practices of curation, what the affordances of sound recordings in material and/or digital formats are for acts of curation, what the political and ethical considerations are for making archival sounds public, and how curated audio collections might make listeners feel. Hinging on the distinction between sound as a vibrational, perceivable entity and signal as a representation of that sound made manifest through recording and its preservation, these fundamental questions amplify the tension between sound as abstract and immaterial, and signal as artifactual and discernible. Here Luc Marraffa and Christopher Reeves consider signal in relation to noise. Marraffa applies subjective approaches to radio broadcast transcription, working to restructure colonial power dynamics in relation to historical war atrocities. Reeves conceptualises sound as a queering of GLAM conventions, likewise rethinking the linearity of protocols in favour of a more organic and interactive sonic space. In an interview focusing on Tanya Clement’s Dissonant Records, Jason Camlot asks Clement to discuss some core terms from this book that are relevant to wider application in sound archives, but also to think constructively about methods of listening for and to the silences and distortions of those records.11 Records are represented as indexical curatorial labour in Brandon Hocura’s contribution, which centers on the Underwhich Collection, offering a substantial critical discography and bibliography that also gestures towards future study. Literary study is perhaps most overtly represented in Klara du Plessis’ schematisation of four curatorial modes of poetry readings, modes that suggest different ways to divide labour between performing poets and event hosts. Such labour implies care – care for the legacy and preservation of the original performers’ and community’s work, care for the sound artifacts themselves that are rendered searchable and discernible, and care for scholars who want to engage with and build on such archival and curatorial initiatives. Jason Wiens and Duncan Mercredi collaborate on a dialogic archive of Indigenous knowledges that features the gap between settler and institutional scholarly methods, and interpersonal connection, lived experience, and memory. Finally, Du Plessis interviews Irene Revell and Sarah Shin on their editorship of the collection Bodies of Sound: Becoming a Feminist Ear (2024), which compiles scores, performances, sonic analyses and more into a published curatorial project.12 As Revell notes about the collective and interpersonal properties of sound in curatorial formations, “it is sound that draws us together into relation with each other and any other elements.”13 Considering such proximity and immersive envelopment by way of sound, it is key to note here that the conceptual shift towards affect in relation to signal is amplified by curation’s Latin root form curare, meaning to care for.
Affecting Signals
What is cared for in acts of sound curation? A short answer to this question is: signals. Camlot has parsed the distinction between sound and signal at some length in Phonopoetics, but two key observations from that extended historical account can be summarized here.14 The first point of observation is that the moment of transduction “from vibrational and auditory entity into representation” marks the movement of sound into signal. The second point is that once sound moves into the realm of signal, once it moves into representation, it becomes subject to conceptual speculation, description, interpretation, metaphorization, manipulation, curation, and myriad forms of affective engagement, including feelings of discomfort, ambivalence, and caring. There is no object to curate until the movement of sound into signal is initiated. As a technical concept used to describe meaningful alteration in a current, wave, or vibration that communicates something across space and time – as with alterations in electrical current to convey messages with an electric telegraph, or the transduction of electrical pulses into air currents to play sound off a magnetic tape through a vibrating cone-shaped speaker – signal seems quite simple to understand. But even at this technical level, the complexity of a signal is manifest in its status as an entity open to interpretation and thus subject to presuppositions, entrainment in approaches to listening, and interpretive frames, among other interesting mitigating factors. It will be worth considering the three factors just mentioned, as they inform the treatment of sound signals in this special issue and have shaped the forms of thinking and writing collected here.
Presupposition is a rich term with many potential subtilizing qualifiers. For linguists and philosophers, presuppositions are aspects of speech and writing that mark information as already known or taken for granted rather than being presented as propositional. In writing this essay, we are presupposing a reader who can read English, who has enough familiarity with disciplines of knowledge in the humanities to recognize what we mean when we refer to linguists and philosophers, and who presupposes the acceptability of such references in an article of literary and cultural criticism, such as this. The genre of the scholarly article itself, as Jonathan Culler once noted at the start of his essay “Presupposition and Intertextuality,” is saturated in presupposition. Those presuppositions enable individuals to determine the significance of an article, to make judgments about it, to like it or not for this or that reason, in short, to “evaluate it in relation to the critical enterprise.”15 Culler used this example of the critical article, and the question of what it must presuppose to take on significance for a readership, to demonstrate how difficult it is to explain the source of a seemingly simple presupposition, as “even in such simple cases…we are faced with an infinite intertextuality where conventions and presuppositions cannot be traced to their source and thus positivistically identified.”16 Sound signals of all kinds are equally drenched in presupposition and incite a similar scenario of originary sourcelessness. The source in question here is not the supposed cause of the sound (say the sound of someone knocking on the front door), but the origin of our presupposition for such a sound to function as a signal meaning something and making us feel something. The reception of spoken and musical signals is so richly shaped by presupposition that it is difficult to imagine listening other than for meaning, or for meaningful pleasure, in such cases. As good listeners, we presuppose signals of speech for meaning and intent, and signals of music for sounds that move us into affective, sometimes even existential, dispositions. Curating signals, then, is akin to curating a listener’s position in their life, and in the world.
While we may not be able to trace the presuppositions that inform our reception of a particular signal (as we sometimes can the sound) to some original source, we may become aware of the modes of entrainment that allow it to persist as a “figure of sound,” the concept Nina Eidsheim uses to describe a listener’s constellation of beliefs in their knowledge of a signal as a stable, knowable sound.17 The “figure of sound” framework Eidsheim uses in The Race of Sound to describe the situation that instantiates common presuppositions about race informing the perception of vocal timbre suggests a scenario in which the qualities of a sound (vocal timbre) and its meaning as a signal “seem to conform to one another so closely, there is no analytical space within which to assert a third point: the role of the intepretant.”18 This frames the figure of sound, a hyper-presuppositional and normalizing way of naming a sound as a naturalized entity, as a restrictive paradigm of sonic perception. This paradigm effectively confuses or collapses the categories of sound and signal, and elides the fact that “multiple naming possibilities nonetheless exist” in attributing representational meaning to a sound as a signal.19 By focusing on entrainment as a site where the naturalized meaning of a signal can be revealed, contested, and transformed through the creation of a role for the interpretant of the signal, Eidsheim helps reveal the power structures and micropolitics at work in how we perceive, feel, understand, and act on sonic information. Where the focus of her analysis is on the production of vocal timbre through the subtle and deeply embodied practices of enunciation, articulation, and intonation, these concepts apply to other contexts for thinking about signals and what they do. How are we entrained to perceive sounds as particular kinds of representations or signals, and how might we untrain such deeply ingrained pathways of perception through aesthetic and curatorial practice?
The contributors to this special issue explore the potential of curation and the curatorial to reveal answers to these questions. To return to some of the contributions already mentioned, Marraffa approaches transcription as a form of curation designed to bring archived radio signals into new patterns of circulation to reframe and decolonize them. Reeves analyzes how artists have mobilized the resistance of noise to signification (that is, to having sound function as a representational signal) in curated works that amplify particular qualities and effects of such noisy resistance. Hocura documents similar mobilizations of noise against signal in the magnetic tape works of poets who aimed to amplify the effects of noise against syntactically semantic signals. Clement develops the concepts of dissonance, distortion, and interference, among others, to inform a method of listening to archival recordings that helps reveal and resist the practical norms that shape our perception of documentary sounds as presupposed signals. These are just a few examples of how the articles and interviews in this assemblage work critically to affect our understanding and perception of signals. The articles in this collection suggest ways that affect may function as a supplement to the signal so that, as Ngai argues in her discussion of “tone,” affective amplification (caused by tonal emphasis) produces an increase in gain of something other than the original signal and introduces a difference, a recognition of separation, between the amplitude of the signal, what it is supposed to mean, and the feelings it produces.20 The phrase “affecting signals” (this section’s slight play on the title of our special issue) suggests both signals that are affecting and moving, and the act of doing something to signals. If affecting can be an adjective and a verb, signal is also a versatile word that can refer to many things and be used syntactically in diverse ways – as a noun, a verb, or an adjective. This syntactic plasticity, a signal quality of the signal, signals an opportunity for curatorial approaches to activate and frame sound in ways that reveal and revel in its diverse and emergent qualities. Curation can be understood as a strategy for revealing entrainment, and the curatorial as a more processual approach to doing the same. Curation may deliberately frame listening positionalities and relationships to signals in ways that invite and challenge a listener to confront the figure of sound anew. The curatorial situates the patron as a listening performer, leading to an embodied encounter with the figure of sound and the modes of entrainment that both instantiate presuppositions and may leverage their denaturalization. The care in sonic curation very often pertains to disorienting and deepening a listener’s attention to the movement of sound into signal.
Sounding the Curatorial
The Latin root form curare means to care for. In practical usage, this care has been applied to the institutional preservation and custodianship of artworks and historical objects of value, usually in GLAM settings, but increasingly also in expanded, interdisciplinary contexts, such as performance venues, festivals, catalogues, editorial projects, and much more. Such labour related to the ministration of curation can be further distinguished between curating as a series of administrative tasks and as a creative and critically engaged practice, that is, the distinction between curating and the curatorial. In a pivotal published conversation between Irit Rogoff and Beatrice von Bismarck, these curator-scholars assert that “the differentiation is the distinction of curating as professional practice, which involves a whole set of skills and practices, materials, and institutional and infrastructural conditions […] [T]here are courses that train people to know how to insure, hang, pack, and negotiate work, to think institutionally.”21 In contrast to this set of practical, organizational tasks and skills, “developing the concept of the curatorial has been about getting away from representation […] [T]he curatorial makes it possible for us to affect a shift in emphasis to a very different place, to the trajectory of activity.”22 This implies that thinking in curatorial terms demands intentional, conceptual, even theoretical scaffolding for whatever the larger project at hand may be. Here care takes on the mantle of design, purpose, or ambition in order to offer possibilities that can be accepted or rejected as experiences by audiences. In these terms, the curatorial is reenvisioned as a resistant practice, one invested in undoing restrictive assumptions in favour of critically questioning methods of curation, a refraction of authority from curators towards artists and publics, and the articulation of a dynamic, relational field of exchange. Aligned with feminist, queer, and decolonial methodologies that work against traditional assumptions and linearised labour, Carolina Rito understands the curatorial as “an area of cultural practice that articulates a critical response to traditional modes of knowledge production.”23 Maria Lind similarly argues that curation can take “the shape of a function and a method, even a methodology.”24 As such, the curatorial opens its definition to “look away” from art historical objects of study and towards processes of attention and engagement, including agential possibilities for audiences and all persons brought into relation with curatorial labour.25
As this special issue demonstrates, curation and the curatorial, as acts of care, knowledge production, and as a range of possible critical methodologies, can be transposed productively to the study of sound. The contemporary ubiquity of sound art in GLAM spaces necessitates new strategies for installing and garnering audience attention, and for theorizing the implications of this work. The huge quantity of analogue recordings of literary events, radio broadcasts, oral histories, and more, that are currently being digitized and preserved for online, and sometimes open access, use, need to be processed, conserved, described, organized, and presented. Decision-making about preservation processes and labour, metadata schemas and description, display design and user interface, searchability, as well as the ethical issues surrounding data management, copyright, consent, and communication with contributors inform how different genres of such “literary” sound and signal can further be listened to, studied, activated, and perhaps provocatively, “unarchived” and “uncurated.” For Jason Camlot and Katherine McLeod, the term “unarchiving” “refers to the many ways in which the archival structures that inform cultural meaning may be reconfigured, refused, and remade through critical and creative practice, especially as archival materials are remediated and remobilized in public contexts.”26 Salomé Voegelin’s idea of “uncurating as possibility rather than negation” suggests that every person who engages with curation – whether the curator themself, an artist, a technician, a performer, or a member of the public – is working to make, unmake, and remake the histories, protocols, and intentions inherent to the present relational engagement.27 She writes, “uncurating does not not curate, but follows the double negative into an affirmation of curation as an untethering of the curatorial from the strictures of chronology and the expectations of a canonical frame.”28 The pluralising possibility of unarchiving or uncurating, of radiating multiple perspectives, experiences, and engagements into the agential and relational potential of curating, opens its definition towards the performative, the sonified, the embodied, the live – to be somewhat lax or inclusive with terminology. Sound’s inherent resistant status – its ephemerality that needs to be remediated in order to be rendered visible, legible, taxonomisable, and indexical – allows the curatorial act to multiply itself as a range of creative and critical transformations. Even beyond sound as potential curatorial object, curation sounds itself through the very plurality of its engagement with bodies, human and otherwise, in time and place, now, then, and still to come.
Curating the Curatorial
“Affective Signals: Sounding the Curatorial” is structured as a curatorial nexus of divergent attempts to capture the uncapturable qualities of sound. It publishes a constellation of interdisciplinary and generically open explorations and relationships between sound, curation, archives, and affects. These contributions feel, at times, noisy, meandering, digressive, and polyphonic. Their arguments do not consistently ring a uniform note, but rather propel themselves forward through lateral moves and discursive intervals. As a result of such scholarly forms that are perhaps opposed to many presuppositions associated with scholarly protocols, noise does not exist exclusively as an antonym to signal, but as a generative alternative form of communicating information. Different modalities of knowledge-sharing are harnessed, so that these explorations of sound and their figurative presuppositions are often remediated through visual and textual representations of sonic emergence – generating a paradoxical return to curatorial display culture while conceptually opposing sound’s relation to structural and exhibitional modalities. It is in this potent tension between the inherent and contradictory presuppositions relating to sound and curation that we offer this special issue as a speculative gallery experience, one that attempts to describe the process of curation in non-traditional ways and that is designed to challenge the experience of interacting with traditionally curated objects in GLAM settings.
You enter a special issue. Thumbnails direct you to a collaborative essay. You sense the interwoven texture of the authors’ words and research interests that converge and then separate into scholarly textures of minds brought into relation. You enter a special issue. Transcription offers voices in visual, sometimes legible, iterations. You feel transported to events, to a conference, far back in history. You experience the collective energy of communal listening on the page. Your spine shivers in recognition of sudden proximity to atrocities from the past. You enter a special issue. You navigate interviews, indices, essays, and consider the way your eyes travel across the screen and how your fingers direct the cursor, tracing pathways through the materials presented – routes that curate your own curiosity, interests, and affect. Thematically this special issue intersects with the curatorial, but the readers – you – as much as the editors and authors, trace their own experiences in relation to the subject matter. They formulate and engage with, but also feel their way through, the published materials as they curate the curatorial.
Chelsea Miya, Nicholas L. Beauchesne, and Ariel Kroon, “A Voice of [Their] Own”: Polyvocal Feminist Curation in 1980s UAlberta Radio,” Amodern 13 (2025): n.p.. ↩
Salomé Voegelin, Uncurating Sound: Knowledge with Voice and Hands (New York: Bloomsbury Academic, 2023), 33. ↩
Pierre Schaeffer, Treatise on Musical Objects: An Essay across Disciplines, trans. Christine North and John Dack (Oakland, CA: University of California Press, 2017), 64-66. ↩
James A. Steintrager and Rey Chow, “Sound Objects: An Introduction,” in Sound Objects, ed. James A. Steintrager and Rey Chow (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2018), 8; Brian Kane, “The Fluctuating Sound Object”, in Sound Objects, ed. James A. Steintrager and Rey Chow (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2018), 53-72; Jonathan Sterne, “Spectral Objects: On the Fetish Character of Music Technologies,” in Sound Objects, ed. James A. Steintrager and Rey Chow (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2018), 94-109. ↩
Sterne, “Spectral Objects,” 96. ↩
Steintrager and Chow, “Sound Objects,” 11. ↩
As Ngai describes the mechanics of envy as a feeling. Sian Ngai, Ugly Feelings, (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2005), 21. ↩
Linda Morra, ed. Moving Archives, (Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2020), 1-2. Italics in original. ↩
“CFP – The Sound of Literature In Time: A Graduate Student Conference,” https://spokenweb.ca/cfp-the-sound-of-literature-in-time-a-graduate-student-conference/ ↩
T.L. Cowan, “Technologies of Fabulous.” Amodern 13 (2025): n.p. ↩
Tanya Clement, Dissonant Records: Close Listening to Literary Archives (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2024). ↩
Irene Revell and Sarah Shin, eds., Bodies of Sound: Becoming a Feminist Ear (Glasgow: Silver Press, 2024). ↩
Irene Revell and Sarah Shin, “Sound Draws Us Together”: Irene Revell and Sarah Shin In Conversation with Klara du Plessis,” Amodern 13 (2025): n.p. ↩
For Camlot’s discussion of these terms see Jason Camlot, “Sound and Signal,” in Phonopoetics: The Making of Early Literary Recordings (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2019), 8-11. ↩
Jonathan Culler, “Presupposition and Intertextuality,” Modern Language Notes (MLN) 91 (1976): 1380-1381. ↩
Culler, “Presupposition and Intertextuality,” 1380-1381. ↩
Nina Eidsheim, The Race of Sound: Listening, Timbre, and Vocality in African American Music (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2019), 51. ↩
Eidsheim, The Race of Sound, 25. ↩
Eidsheim, The Race of Sound, 29. ↩
Ngai, Ugly Feelings, 74. ↩
Irit Rogoff and Beatrice von Bismarck, “Curating/Curatorial,” In Cultures of the Curatorial, ed. Beatrice von Bismarck, Jörn Schafaff, and Thomas Weski (Berlin: Sternberg Press, 2012), 22. ↩
Rogoff and Von Bismarck, “Curating/Curatorial,” 22. ↩
Carolina Rito, “What is the Curatorial Doing?,” in Institution as Praxis: New Curatorial Directions for Collaborative Research, ed. Carolina Rito and Bill Balaskas (Nottingham: Sternberg Press, 2020), 45. ↩
Maria Lind, Performing the Curatorial: Within and Beyond Art (Berlin: Sternberg Press, 2012), 12. ↩
Irit Rogoff, “Looking Away,” The Drama Review – After Criticism: New Responses to Art and Performance 50, no. 4 (Winter 2006): 117-134. ↩
Jason Camlot and Katherine McLeod, “Introduction: Unarchiving the Literary Event,” in CanLit Across Media: Unarchiving the Literary Event (Montréal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2019), 3. ↩
Voegelin, Uncurating Sound, 25. ↩
Voegelin, Uncurating Sound, 43. ↩
Article issue images produced by the media installation All We'd Ever Need Is One Another (2018) by Adam Basanta.