[Last modified: November, 24 2024 02:23 AM]
This Friday, my group and I conducted a 15-minute sensory fieldwork session in Gordon Square. The weather was sunny yet cold, with crisp and dry air that heightened our awareness of the surroundings. We walked through the square, feeling the satisfying crunch of fallen leaves underfoot, observing pigeons busily foraging, and watching squirrels nimbly eating food high in the trees. The light filtered gently through the canopy, creating patches of warmth on the otherwise chilly ground, which added a contrast to the crispness of the air.
To document these experiences, we captured videos and live photos, focusing on both the sounds and visuals of the square. One striking example was the sound of crunching leaves. When we shared these recordings with other groups, this sound evoked a shared memory of stepping on leaves, creating a sensory connection between sound, touch, and the overall experience.
After exploring the square, we entered the park café, where the atmosphere changed entirely. The air was rich with the aromas of cinnamon and chocolate, which we all instinctively associated with warmth and comfort. This led to a reflective discussion about how certain smells, like cinnamon and cocoa, are strongly linked to winter foods and cozy moments. These associations are not just sensory but cultural, rooted in shared experiences of winter traditions and seasonal habits. We considered how scents like these become symbolic of warmth, even though they do not physically alter the temperature.
This sensory fieldwork also reminded me of a conversation I had with a friend a few days ago. She asked me, “What colour do you think London is?” This question touched on synesthesia—how our senses inform and connect with our perceptions. I replied that I see London as a warm yellow, even though it’s often rainy and cold. To me, it isn’t a bleak or harsh city. My friend agreed, and we reflected that perhaps it’s because we tend to stay indoors on rainy days and only venture out during sunny spells. These sensory experiences shape our memories, and when we recall London, it’s through a lens of warm, sunny streets rather than gray, rainy skies. I find this interplay between sensory input and perception fascinating.
From this exercise, I realized how sensory observations can be effectively communicated using multimodal methods. Videos and sounds work well together to recreate spatial awareness; for instance, our video provided not only the sounds of the square but also a visual map of the environment. Sounds, such as crunching leaves, triggered immediate tactile memories, while visuals helped establish a context. Smells, however, are harder to document but play a critical role in creating emotional and sensory depth.