My research explores the weird and the eerie in soundscape practices.

In doing this, I ask:

How do we define the weird and the eerie? What do they signify, given the fact they must signify something?

How do we describe the weird and the eerie as qualities or states in the context of sound?

To what extent are the weird and the eerie acoustic forces of influence or a psychological residue in the human headspace?

Do they exert some kind of material or affective presence that reaches inside us from the outside world? Or do they emerge from the welter of impressions created by the human listener caught up in a rapture of listening?

To what extent are the weird and the eerie a subjective experience or a collective experience of the sonic emanations that fall within the scope of their impact?

How do they accumulate in the settings and circumstances in which we find them? Do we find them there, like light and shadow, or do we put them there, like terror and beauty, as emotional responses to the sonic diversities that we move through?

Are the weird and the eerie created, or do we create them? Do they exist outside of me or do I imagine them as salient features of the outlying scene?

Do I capture them from within the sonic environment itself, using my field recording apparatus? Or do I conjure them in the studio, using my processing techniques and technologies to make them happen?

Do I reveal them in my soundscape practices according to the choices I make? Or are they produced by conditions and circumstances that are beyond my control?

Can the weird and the eerie be realised in soundscape compositions and, if so, how? What artistic premises or strategies can I develop to make them happen in the soundscape arena?

In my research, I ask all of these questions, and more, with the ultimate aim of effectuating the weird and the eerie as sonic manifestations in the soundscape repertoire.