Interview: Maya Torres on Listening to Landscapes — A Soundscape Photographer

Maya Torres is a photographer and field recordist whose work blends visual and audio elements to create immersive portrayals of place. We spoke with Maya about how sound changes her way of seeing, practical techniques for soundscape capture, and why listening matters in landscape practice.

Q: How did you start combining sound with photography?

A: It started when I realized that photos were only half the story. The memory of a place always included sound — wind patterns, bird calls, water rhythms. Recording those elements felt like completing the narrative. Over time I began to think compositionally about sound: what sits in the foreground, what recedes, and how silence functions as an element.

Q: How does listening affect your composition?

A: When I'm listening, I become sensitive to layers. A distant river can set a tempo that influences how I place a foreground rock. Listening slows my pace; I stay longer in one spot, letting subtle interactions between wind and foliage reveal themselves. That patience often yields stronger photographs because the scene reveals temporal structure, not just a single visual moment.

Q: What gear do you recommend for someone starting field recording?

A: You don't need an expensive rig to begin. A small stereo recorder with good preamps and a pair of cardioid mics is an excellent start. Wind protection is crucial: even a light breeze can destroy a recording. Later, a shotgun mic and a pair of matched omnidirectional microphones deepen the palette. Record quiet reference takes to capture the ambient noise floor — they are useful for post-production and archival documentation.

Q: Any tips for capturing authentic sound without disturbing wildlife?

A: Keep your distance and move slowly. Use long focal-length microphones if you need to be further away. Avoid playing back sounds in the field; that can stress animals. Respect breeding seasons and protected areas. Ethical recording is essential — the presence of a person, if done respectfully, can still be unobtrusive, but always prioritize the welfare of wildlife.

Q: How do you present sound alongside images?

A: I build short multisensory pieces: a photograph with a 30–60 second sound loop that matches the scene's tempo and weather. The goal is to enhance presence, not to narrate. In exhibitions I pair subtle sub-bass to give visceral weight and ephemeral detail to reward listeners who stay. On the web, consider lazy-loading audio so bandwidth-sensitive visitors can choose to listen.

Q: How has sound changed the stories you tell?

A: Sound complicates stories in a good way. A pristine landscape can be sonically crowded by human noise, and that tension becomes part of the narrative. Conversely, a quiet hum can underscore remoteness. Sound reveals what the eye may mask and vice versa; together, they make place legible in deeper ways.

"Listening is an ethical act in the landscape — it invites humility and slows you down to notice what matters."

Maya's practice invites us to expand our notion of landscape work beyond the visual. Her techniques and ethic are a reminder that places are ecosystems of sensory information — and that our craft benefits when we attend to them all.