An Interview with Laura Horne: Space, Sound, and Vision

Installation view; Laura Horne, Untitled (home), 2024, video with sound, color prints, and objects, various dimensions

By JONATHAN GOODMAN May 6, 2025

Laura Horne wears many hats. She is the founder/editor of the New York-based art journal Tussle. She is also a curator, often working in the city’s non-profit spaces. But she is, importantly and regularly, an artist in her own right. Horne creates sound work: videos and objects that relate to popular culture and usually emanate sound. This genre, relatively new, is increasing in interest and involvement. Horne, a noted practitioner of this manner of working, looks to me to be tying the avant-garde to everyday undertakings. Horne will respond to the following questions about her life, aesthetics, practice, and address technical issues involved her medium's technology and cultural attributes.  

Jonathan Goodman: You were born in England, raised in Canada, and now have made your way to New York, where you work in a gallery, run Tussle, an online art journal, and make your work.  Has your stay in these places affected your work? Is New York City supportive or adversarial regarding your continuing artistic development?

Laura Horne: Moving homes and countries has influenced my work, and each place has shaped my understanding of impermanence and identity, instilling a sense of instability and adaptability. Balancing my artistic practice with professional roles—working in a gallery, editing Tussle, and raising my daughter in the city—has added depth to my perspective. This manifests in my transformation of found objects into hybrid forms—reshaped and recontextualized to carry layered meanings tied to memory, history, and materiality. And why I use Google Lens to identify objects, as if lost with only technology to assist me—where would I be… Also, the idea of “home” extends beyond a physical space; remote work, climate concerns, and global connectivity have redefined the comfort and belonging traditionally associated with fixed living spaces. We now drift through different physical locations, social milieus, and digital landscapes. Each transition challenges us to consider in our quiet moments of solitude: Who are we beyond the familiar comforts of our daily surroundings, how do we use and desire objects, and what experiences are shaping our identities and how? 

The city’s culture of reuse aligns with my interest in cycles of creation and repurposing, allowing me to incorporate materials that I normally wouldn’t have that emblematize the city’s energy and complexity. Walking through New York is like navigating a living archive, where discarded or lost objects become sources of inspiration and tools for storytelling. The layered soundscape—audible and inaudible, pleasant and unpleasant, structured and chaotic—has influenced my exploration of sound as a medium to reveal the underlying structures of social, political, and historical spheres. Using noise, music, rhythm, and silence, I aim to create work reflecting sound and space's interplay. This exploration is not limited to sound itself but extends to its integration with the visual and material elements of my practice, creating multi-sensory experiences that deepen the connection between physical objects and symbolic narratives.

Laura Horne, Untitled (green clay with yellow pin), 2021, Color print, 16 x 24 inches

Jonathan Goodman: How did you come to be a sound artist? What sort of academic art training did you have that led to the creation of sound art? 

Laura Horne: I have always been drawn to sound and those who create it. In high school, my music/band teacher’s ability to deconstruct a song into its finest details—assigning purpose and nuance to each instrument—was formative. His score for each instrument and how he communicated each part to the players made me realize how sound communicates. I played the clarinet and guitar and became interested in percussion. This led me to explore experimental approaches with traditional instruments using effects pedals, and when I discovered synthesizers and their immense versatility. 

Around this time, I began working with photography, which became my primary medium for several years. Photography unlocked visual possibilities, which helped me explore composition, light, and narrative in new ways. It trained my eye to see the world in fragments and frames, color and shadow. 

Video is new to me but is becoming a central component of my practice. I feel that video provides a crucial visual framework that complements and expands the auditory experience in my work. Video’s ability to manipulate time and space—through editing, layering, and projection—parallels the versatility of sound, offering a dynamic interplay between what is heard and what is seen.

Sound can narrate and interact with objects, photographs, and videos. The objects and images I use provide structure and context as anchors, grounding the ephemeral qualities of sound and video within a physical space. I am excited about this convergence, which allows the visual and conceptual framework to shape how sound is experienced within a given space.

In college, I studied communications and journalism, which aligned with my aspiration to run a magazine. With the onset of the internet, this dream became more accessible, and I eventually established Tussle Magazine in 2013. I studied art history and design separately later on, my postgraduate degree in digital media gave me a strong foundation in integrating sound, video, and technology in my work. As far as academic art training in art, my most impactful education came (and still comes) from hands-on experiences in the art world—working in galleries, collaborating with artists, and observing firsthand how art practices evolve across mediums.

Jonathan Goodman: How would you define sound art?

Laura Horne: Sound art can be anything that combines sound with something visual or something that alters sound in some way. Sound art, to me, is a work that integrates sounds, objects, and images–moving and still. I treat sound like a medium that interacts with physical and visual components, shaping the space and becoming a dialogue that resonates and creates a cohesive whole where each element informs and enhances the others.

The objects I incorporate into my sound work often have a dual identity: their original purpose and the new, found purpose I assign to them through transformation. These objects carry a physical structure—a weight, texture, or form—that provides a tangible anchor for the more ephemeral elements of sound and video. With the aid of Google Lens, I challenge their original function and broadly invite viewers to reconsider their relationship to the material world.

In this context, the objects act as a bridge between the visual and auditory components of the piece. For example, the soundscapes I create often echo or contrast with the physicality of the objects, emphasizing their transformation. The video elements extend this dialogue, projecting images onto the objects and layering them with additional narratives. This interplay creates work where sound, video, and objects are constantly conversing, reinforcing and reinterpreting each other.

Jonathan Goodman: Briefly describe the technical process of making sound art. Do you always hide the technology responsible for the sound? Can the sounds be likened to music, or are they impossibly dissident? What happens, in terms of sound, when several of the works are placed together? Do we hear cacophony or melodious music? Is cacophony a good reading of our culture now? 

Laura Horne: The process of creating sound art for me usually begins with assembling elements that resonate conceptually and visually—a video, image, or object I have found or created and usually transformed. Sometimes, sound elements can emerge from things like a door closing, a photograph, an ad, a walk, or a conversation. I visualize these elements together and listen for sounds that might complement or could emerge later. This is an intuitive process that often leads to a recording that I make on my synthesizers and computer that can serve as a framework for a more extensive work.

The tools I use—whether a computer for recording and editing sound and video, a phone or DSLR for taking pictures, recording video and audio, or synthesizers for layering sounds—are integral to the process but not necessarily highlighted in the final presentation. My focus is more about how the components interact to create a layered experience, reflecting on transformation, perception, and the intersection of technology and objects. 

I like to explore how the static presence of objects contrasts with the nature of sound and video. The sound in my work often exists on a spectrum between music and noise. Some are melodic or rhythmic, while others are intentionally dissonant, creating tension and contrast.

Jonathan Goodman: Who makes up your audience? Music lovers or art goers? Does the sound attract extended listening or participation in the work? How would the sound aspect of the work interact with the visuals?

Laura Horne: My work does not target a specific audience; it is open-ended. When installed, the work transitions into a new phase of existence, becoming like a bridge between its elements and the environment. The work develops its message independent of my direct influence, allowing it to evolve naturally.

My soundscapes are structural and atmospheric, ranging from ambient tones to rhythmic patterns and dissonant noise, I usually aim for contrasting juxtapositions. I feel like my sounds, along with the installation of photographs and physical components, mirror or counterpoint the rhythm of a video’s visuals. 

Building a soundscape is also a meditative process—layering, editing, and refining—becomes an extension of myself... This intuitive process allows moments of randomness and discovery to shape the final work. 

As the sound and video shift and unfold, the objects remain constant, offering a sense of stability and continuity. This juxtaposition oscillates between moments of clarity and ambiguity. The objects’ inherent histories and materiality become part of the dialogue.

My work becomes a system of relationships where objects, sound, and visuals coexist and inform one another. It speaks its own language, a language that evolves in real-time, shaped by its context and the experiences it provokes. This autonomy is central to my practice; the work is complete when it can stand independently, speaking for itself in ways I could not have anticipated. My relationship with sound, as both a process and a medium, becomes a vital part of this transformation, connecting the material and the ephemeral in ways that feel uniquely personal yet universally resonant. 

Laura Horne, Untitled (fallen), 2022, Digital photo collage, 20 x 24 inches

Jonathan Goodman: How would you describe the manner of your works? Is your work, in general, meant to be a critique of American life?

Laura Horne: The manner of my work is layered and multifaceted, reflecting a balance between personal exploration and broader societal critique. They often emerge from my experiences and perceptions, acting as a lens through which I examine the complexities of life—my own and the societal structures that shape it. My work incorporates everyday objects and materials, grounding them in the familiar and accessible while transforming these elements into something that invites deeper reflection.

My work is not explicitly intended to critique American life or culture. It reflects on societal norms, environmental concerns, and how technology mediates our interactions with the world. It inevitably questions the systems and structures that underpin contemporary life. The objects I use, often repurposed or transformed, carry histories and associations that speak to consumption, waste, and the shifting values of modern society. Adding images and video from Google Lens adds another layer of identification, namely how we experience objects through technology and how this impacts our decision-making processes. 

Jonathan Goodman: Please name two sound artists/musicians you are taken with and why. What is it that sound can do that art can’t? What is the reason you chose to include sound in your work?

Laura Horne: Many artists have influenced my practice, shaping both my conceptual approach and technical ideas. I often revisit the work of Vangelis, Brian Eno, Bill Viola, and video/film artists such as David Lynch, Maya Deren, and William Kentridge. Viola’s meditative explorations of time and perception resonate deeply with me, as do Lynch and Deren’s experimental approaches to narrative and altered states of reality. Kentridge’s multidisciplinary practice, which seamlessly integrates drawing, animation, and performance, exemplifies how personal and political themes can be woven into evocative and complex visual narratives. These artists, along with the idea of creating our own myths—as explored in Joseph Campbell’s writings and his conversation with Bill Moyers in “The Power of Myth”—have shaped my work. I see myth as a means of engaging with these timeless questions while also contributing to an ongoing artistic dialogue about identity, history, and memory.

Shoshana Zuboff's critique of surveillance capitalism (which I still need to finish) has influenced how I interrogate the intersections of technology, materiality, and space. Her work challenges us to consider how data-driven systems mediate our lives, a concern that parallels my exploration of how technology influences our understanding of objects, environments, and relationships. And the exploration of desire—not simply as a longing for possession but as a deeper emotional and psychological connection to objects and the narratives they carry.

Sound can move beyond the confines of physical space, enveloping and immersing the listener in ways that visual art often cannot. It can also be dynamic and unfold over time, creating a fluid and evolving experience. Sound can create or manipulate emotion, even when it may not naturally exist. A single sound or tone can evoke fear, nostalgia, tension, or serenity, altering how we perceive space, image, or narrative and creating images in our mind's eye. However, this emotional power also makes sound inherently unreliable—it can be suggestive and deceptive, shaping meaning in ways that are not always truthful. Sound can both reveal and obscure.

Sound can also reveal what may be hidden or unnoticed in a video or image—capturing the rhythms of a city or the subtle vibrations of life. It connects the tangible and the ephemeral and is a way to explore memory, atmosphere, and presence that feels immediate. It can exist simultaneously as both a personal and collective experience.

I use sound because of its extraordinary versatility and fluidity. It allows for an expansive range of expression, from the subtle and meditative to the chaotic and overwhelming. I am fascinated by its ability to evoke and manipulate emotion. Sound can heighten an experience, adding depth and complexity, but it can also mislead, creating feelings or associations that might not naturally exist.

Sound is a natural complement to my work's visual and material aspects. It expands the possibilities for storytelling and interaction. For me, sound serves as both a tool and a language—a means to explore themes of memory, history, and transformation in fluid and open-ended ways. It enables me to craft layered, multisensory experiences that challenge boundaries, evoke emotion, and invite audiences to engage with the work on multiple levels.

Jonathan Goodman: Would you say that your work belongs to the avant-garde? Does the avant-garde even exist anymore if we have a readymade audience for almost any kind of art available? Does your art have social or political goals in mind?

Laura Horne: I have no idea if my work belongs to the avant-garde. But I hope it resists easy categorization. I see parallels in how my practice questions established norms, particularly around relationships with technology, materiality, and perception.

The notion of the avant-garde today feels both persistent and elusive. Times have changed dramatically, especially in places like New York City, where the once bohemian artist lifestyle has become increasingly inaccessible due to gentrification and the escalating cost of living. I am reading Art Monster by Marin Kusuit. It is a reminder of how this has shifted. What was once a city of scrappy experimentation and communal studios now demands a new kind of resilience that balances artistic practice with the realities of survival. I think the avant-garde becomes less about shocking the system and more about navigating it—finding ways to innovate within a framework that often feels constricting.

I am thinking about social and political considerations in my work, though they manifest in subtle and often personal ways. Rather than delivering overt messages, I aim to create spaces where viewers can reflect on their relationships with technology, objects, and the environments they inhabit. By exploring themes such as surveillance, desire, and the interplay between the physical and digital, my work invites audiences to consider the broader structures that shape their lives. This approach is less about prescribing a specific viewpoint and more about fostering awareness and dialogue, allowing the art to function as a mirror for individual and collective experiences.

Ultimately, the changing cultural and economic realities inform not just the content of my work but also the conditions of its creation. Once a crucible for artistic rebellion, the city now demands a different kind of negotiation. My practice becomes a way of navigating these tensions, balancing the personal, political, and practical to continue creating art that speaks to the present moment. Whether or not it fits within the traditional definition of the avant-garde, my work aspires to maintain the spirit of questioning and transformation that has always defined that tradition.

My practice might be seen as a response to our time's cultural and social dynamics—a recognition that while the traditional avant-garde may no longer exist in its pure form, the spirit of questioning and reimagining still exists.

Jonathan Goodman: Would you describe the current art scene, as editor and as an artist, as moribund? If so, what can the art world do to make it better?  

Laura Horne: The current art scene is far from moribund but undeniably in flux. As an artist and editor, I see a landscape teeming with creativity and grappling with significant challenges. The commodification of art, the pressures of social media, and the gentrification of traditional creative hubs like New York City have shifted the dynamics of artistic production and dissemination. These changes can sometimes make the scene feel fragmented or overly commercial.

The art world can reinvigorate itself by fostering genuine inclusivity and accessibility. Too often, the art scene feels like an insular space dominated by gatekeepers and market-driven priorities. Creating platforms for underrepresented voices and prioritizing community-driven initiatives ensures that art remains a space for more than an investment.

Another crucial step is to reassess how we define and support artistic success. The pressure to commodify every aspect of creative practice can stifle innovation. Providing more resources—such as grants, residencies, and nontraditional exhibition spaces—for artists to experiment without immediate commercial expectations can help cultivate the art scene.

As an editor, I value creating platforms for critical discourse and exchanging ideas. Publications, whether online or in print, play a vital role in shaping the conversation around art and its cultural significance. I encourage thoughtful criticism by showcasing a broad spectrum of practices because the art world thrives when it reflects the complexities of society by embracing the intersections of technology, culture, and identity.

Jonathan Goodman: How important are critiques and audience responses to your work?  Today, many say that written materials on the arts are unnecessary or inevitably found beyond the pale. As an editor, do you see that reviews and articles are needed more than ever–or is such a sentient romantic?

Laura Horne: Critiques and audience responses are significant to my work, but not in a way that dictates its creation necessarily. They offer insights, interpretations, and perspectives that can deepen my work's resonance. While my artistic process is personal and intuitive, once a piece is out in the world, it enters a shared space where dialogue becomes integral. Audience responses and critiques help me understand how the work is received. Still, they also highlight the broader cultural and societal conversations it might intersect with and that I hadn't thought about.

As an editor, I think reviews and articles on the arts are more necessary than ever. In an era of rapid consumption and fleeting digital impressions, thoughtful criticism and analysis provide a counterbalance, encouraging us to slow down and engage more deeply. Written materials on the arts help contextualize works, uncover layers of meaning, and document the evolution of artistic practices. They also create a historical record, ensuring that the cultural significance of art is preserved for future generations.

The sentiment that art writing is "beyond the pale" often stems from the perception that it is elitist or inaccessible. While this critique is valid in some cases, it underscores the need for diverse voices in art criticism—voices that can speak to a broader audience and make the discourse around art more inclusive. Reviews and articles don’t just serve artists; they serve audiences by providing entry points into complex works and fostering a culture of curiosity and critical thinking.

Far from being romantic or outdated, art writing is vital to the creative ecosystem. It connects artists and audiences, fosters dialogue, and ensures that art remains relevant in society. 

Jonathan Goodman: Where do you want to go from here? Do you feel that, given the originality of your facture, you will inevitably work on the margins of art culture? Or do you have optimism regarding your ability to show? How significant is popularity in art?

Laura Horne: I am unsure where I want to go from here. I want to continue exploring the intersections of sound, objects, and video and deepening the conceptual frameworks that drive my work. I will continue challenging myself with new materials, technologies, and ideas while remaining open to how the world shapes and informs me and my work. The journey is about discovery as it is about production, and I hope to maintain that sense of curiosity and experimentation.

Working in the margins of art culture doesn’t concern me as much as staying true to the integrity of my work. Margins, after all, can be fertile ground for innovation, allowing for freedom from certain conventions or expectations. However, I also recognize the importance of visibility and access—not for popularity, but to engage with a broader audience and contribute to ongoing cultural dialogues. I remain optimistic about opportunities to show my work, knowing that meaningful connections with curators, institutions, and audiences are built over time. Being an artist is about collaborating, experimenting, and expanding our consciousness and, importantly, about the conversations and reflections it inspires. WM