By Jeffrey Malecki

One of sound’s most obvious, though least discussed, characteristics is its invisibility. In our ocularcentric society, it is easy to be overwhelmed by urbanity’s visual effluvia, to become numb to the effusive semiotics of the city. And Montreal – with its architecture, topography, fashion, old-world joie fermented by cultural resistance - is certainly one of the more spectacular cities in existence. However, Montreal is sonically rich, especially in winter when the invisibility of sound is more apparent.

The soundscape that permeates the typical street is primarily determined by the materia of the world. The acoustic properties of concrete, brick, asphalt and sporadic foliage create the conditions of our sonic space. But these are more or less constant; it is the variable aspects of the world that bring out the audible. Montreal’s patron substance, snow, has a wide acoustic range, largely dependent on temperature, and most often revealed by our feet. From the deadened step on the upholstered sidewalk to the creaky crunch on the coldest days, the snow exhibits a remarkably varied voice. The snow brings another symphony: the removal crews with their singular sounds. The dawn-piercing wail of the truck siren: a bird in distress, her young under attack. The roar of an engine hauling 2 tonnes of crystalized water. The sustained metal scrape of the plough.

While attunement to the heard environment is valuable in its own right, it is a bit of a moot exercise to separate the sense of hearing from sight. They are intertwined, and inform each other. But, is there really something ocular about the way we hear the world? Is silence, for example, less visible than sound? Perhaps the homogenous blinding white of snow is an affront to the visual, a resetting of the sonic order. A restoration of the silent, invisible city. People, though, are suspicious of silence – pauses in conversation, thought and activity are broken at the first hint of unease. The muted tones of a snow-padded city afford citizens a silent, invisible space to engage with sound, and perhaps rethink the over-abundance of the visual.