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Meet the sound artist who's exploring the symphony of nature at Rocky Mountain National Park

A man kneels down near a babbling brook near a trail at Rocky Mountain National Park. He's sticking out his hand to drop a buoy-like microphone on a cable into the water. An audio recording device on a stand is behind him.
Emma VandenEinde
/
KUNC
Artist Garrison Gerard kneels down on a rock and sticks a hydrophone — or a water-vibration recording microphone — into a small stream at Rocky Mountain National Park on July 18, 2024. The audio he gets from the water sounds kind of like a xylophone, making little “plink” noises that start as small bubbles and get louder and deeper.

It’s a quiet early morning in Rocky Mountain National Park. As hikers walk on the Upper Beaver Meadows trail, artist Garrison Gerard stands at a nearby stream. He takes out a small buoy-like microphone connected to a cable. He’s holding what's called a hydrophone.

“When we put it in there, it's going to hear every little bit of sound,” he said.

He lowers the cable into the water and puts on his headphones. Instead of hearing the sound of water flowing, the hydrophone picks up the vibrations in the water. It sounds kind of like a xylophone, making little “plink” noises that start as small bubbles and get louder and deeper.

Garrison Gerard's raw hydrophone recording

“When you move it over rushing water, it's not to be cliché like a symphony of sounds,” he said. “You can play like a whole piece just moving around and just hearing the sounds of the different parts of the river.”

was on a seven-year hiatus due to needed repairs at the cabin and a change of leadership, but this summer, it's back.

Gerard was one of the six artists selected. But his “art” is different from a painting or a photograph. He records natural sounds of the earth and .

In order to collect the sound, he conducts an acoustic survey. In theory, it’s simple: he goes on an extended hike and listens to what’s around him. He carries a variety of different microphones, from the buoy hydrophone to a geophone, which is a microphone with a spike on the end that he buries in the ground to measure the vibrations of the earth.

“Our neighbors around the cabin probably think that I'm crazy. They see this person out with headphones on, wandering with cables over rocks and stuff,” he said. “It's like (they’re saying), ‘Can't you just like, you know, paint the scenery, like all the normal artists?'"

But his sound surveys tell him a lot about the level of biodiversity in an area and how it has changed over time.

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Scientists have used hydrophones to in oceans. They have used another device called Audio Moths to listen to and track . The devices have also been used to help solve crimes, such as .

Gerard isn't looking for poachers. He's focused on ways to “listen through the park” and learn how the landscape responds to things like the number of elks bugling in a particular area.

He recently used a geophone to see how tourists alter the sound of the land. It sounds like people marching in the snow.

A black microphone that looks like a blood pressure pump has a spike on the end that is buried in the muddy ground. A microphone stand leg is next to the microphone.
Emma VandenEinde
/
KUNC
A geophone looks like a blood pressure pump with a spike on the end that goes into the ground. Even the tiniest rub of a finger in the dirt creates massive vibrations in the earth.

“We're used to a step being pretty quiet, but you hear how much noise it actually makes in vibration underground,” he said.

He wants more people to think about what they’re hearing. After spending two weeks at the park, he had one main observation.

“It’s just so busy, and there's so much constant road noise,” he said. “Not that that's bad. People should come and enjoy it, but just thinking about what impact does that have on the soundscape?”

Rocky Mountain’s picturesque landscapes, unique biodiversity, and close proximity to Denver have made it the nation's , with about four million visitors annually in .

“It's hard to disperse people away from that park,” said Tracy Coppola with the (NPCA). “It's such a crown jewel.”

While visitors are enjoying Rocky Mountain, they’re also leaving a detrimental footprint. The park needs to spend more than on repairs and upgrades the most of any national park in Colorado. The money would be used for trail maintenance, additional parking, and sewer improvements.

Garrison Gerard's raw geophone recording

Additionally, before the was put into place, Coppola said the public was not able to have "rich interactions" with rangers and the overall esteem of the park was impacted by overcrowding.

Now, park officials have worked to manage the influx of people with the new system. Even with the increased crowds, the , and Coppola believes the system has made for a better visitation experience overall.

But this is not a "one and done" system, Coppola said. The park is still adapting and it’s a difficult balancing act.

“We want these places to continue to be celebrated and accessible, but then we also want to protect the park,” she said.

Yet artists have painted and photographed these crown jewels for more than 150 years and even played a big role in their protection.

Garrison Gerard stands next a stand with two microphones on it with fuzzy microphone covers. He holds the recording device connected by a cord in his hand. Behind him is the vast Rocky Mountain National Park landscape filled with trees and grass.
Emma VandenEinde
/
KUNC
One idea Gerard has for a final music piece is playing a duet with the traffic noise of Rocky Mountain by sticking a geophone into a tree and tapping it like a musical instrument. He also likes the different pitches that each stream makes as it flows down the mountain.

“Artists like Thomas Moran and William Henry Jackson actually produced artwork that helped inspire Washington D.C. to establish parks like Yellowstone and other early national parks,” said Shari Orr, the program manager of the Volunteers-In-Parks program with the National Park Service, which oversees the Artist-In-Residence program.

The relationship between artists and political leaders continued through the years, leading to the creation of .

Rocky Mountain’s program is one of the oldest, beginning in 1984. Selected artists stay at a cabin in the park for two weeks. They host community programs, work on their art, and engage with the public.

Emma VandenEinde
/
KUNC
Gerard's audio equipment sits on a table inside the William Allen White cabin at Rocky Mountain National Park. White used the cabin as his study, and now the artists chosen for the residency get to stay at the cabin for two weeks. It needed some repairs, causing the seven-year hiatus on the program.

“We want to help people understand more about the resources that we're protecting, whether that's natural spaces, cultural spaces, historic spaces, and we want them to walk away with a meaning that's personal to them,” Orr explained.

It doesn’t matter if the artist makes quilts, creates a comedy sketch, or . Orr said such creative mediums amplify a message of conservation in ways that are more transformative than reading a park sign.

“You're really going from visitor to, like, a steward of this resource and of this special place,” she said. “(We hope) that they're walking away hopefully a more informed person and maybe a better person because of those reflections that they've had.”

That’s what Joe Norman wants to do. He’s a Loveland-based steel sculptor who was also selected for a residency.

Many of his works feature two pictures or words that are mixed together but distinct from a certain angle. From one side, you may see the word “rage.” Walk to the other side, and you see the word “hope.”

“If I had to summarize it (my art) in one word, it would be the word, ‘And,’” he said. “I like the idea of making sculptures that have more than one thing in them, to say, there's a spectrum in this idea.”

Joe Norman holds up a metal mockup of a piece of art that shows a girl in a leaping motion. Behind him is his workshop, filled with machinery, tools and other clutter.
Emma VandenEinde
/
KUNC
Sculptor Joe Norman holds up a preliminary design of his piece, Monarch Girl, that is displayed in the Benson Sculpture Garden in Loveland. From one side, it shows a monarch butterfly, and from the other, it shows a silhouette of his daughter jumping into a river. He wanted to play with the idea of migration with humans and species.

Similar to Gerard, Norman’s main focus for his residency is exploring the role of wilderness and whether people are managing and interacting with it appropriately. He wants to talk with park rangers and visitors about how they interact with the outdoors and whether they wrestle with the notion of humans improving or degrading the landscape.

“I think that's still a question. I'm not really sure we can,” he said. “I hope we can, but, you know, jury's still out.”

He wants to create a sculpture that starts a conversation about conservation while the idea is fresh and within the park's boundaries.

“Photographers are very good about transporting someone to a place that they're no longer at,” he said. “I think I'm more interested in having people ask questions about the place that they're in while they're there and they see the sculpture.”

Joe Norman holds up a yellow mock up of one of his sculptures inside his workshop. Behind him is a screen showing a closeup of an artwork he did where a girl leaping turns into a monarch butterfly. Tools sit on a nearby bench.
Emma VandenEinde
/
KUNC
Norman stands surrounded by various tools inside his studio in Loveland. When he makes his dual sculptures, he looks for words that are not clearly opposites, but are not synonyms either — ideas that can both exist at the same time.

Once he creates a piece, there’s no way to tell how it impacted people, but Norman knows it will serve an important purpose.

“You could sit down and read the script of The Godfather, or you could watch the movie The Godfather, and they're two completely different experiences,” he said. “If we want to discover our place in the world like we need writing, we need art. If we start curtailing one of those, I don't think we get a full picture of what we're actually doing here.”

Back at the park, Gerard is walking around with his microphone and headphones. Within a few minutes, he hears the rhythmic buzzing of bugs and new chirping noises.

“It gets me even more interested than normal in learning about what bird species that is, the insect species,” he said. “Even the plants – every plant makes a different sound as the wind goes through.”

Gerard hopes his work will remind people of their influence on the soundscape, and help them form a deeper connection with the park’s ecosystem.

“I think that in taking the time to listen and taking the time to hear what's around us, it really changes how we approach everything,” he said. “It just, I think, helps reframe your thought that we're a part of this web that's all related to each other.”

Norman is finishing up his residency, and Garrison Gerard finished his a few weeks ago. Their work will be viewable online or in the park next summer.

This story is part of a collaboration with Rocky Mountain PBS.

This story was updated on Monday, August 26th at 11:15 am. KUNC ڱ clarified quotes by Tracy Coppola on how Rocky Mountain National Park has benefitted from the Timed Entry System.

I'm the General Assignment Reporter and Back-Up Host for KUNC, here to keep you up-to-date on news in Northern Colorado — whether I'm out in the field or sitting in the host chair. From city climate policies, to businesses closing, to the creativity of Indigenous people, I'll research what is happening in your backyard and share those stories with you as you go about your day.
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