Unframed Collection partners with NUMIX Lab, an itinerant European event that brings together immersive creation professionals in dialogue with cultural institutions across the continent. The 6th edition in 2025 brought together 459 participants from around the world across 16 venues in Budapest, Veszprém, Vienna, and Linz, fostering exchanges between Europe and North America around immersive cultural practices.
On this occasion, we met Thomas Meckel, artistic director of SONA, an Audio-VR collective based in Cologne. Positioned at the intersection of sound art, immersive performance, and experimental technology, SONA develops virtual reality experiences designed primarily through spatial audio. Their current research focuses on VR in total darkness, created in close collaboration with blind communities, exploring navigation, storytelling, and embodiment through sound rather than vision.
In this interview, Thomas Meckel reflects on SONA’s artistic approach, the collaborative process behind audio-first immersive works, and the conceptual and technical challenges of designing VR experiences that rely entirely on listening as a narrative and spatial tool.
There is something powerful about smaller, more focused experiences. When one sense – especially vision – is not saturated with images, the brain begins to fill the space in a way that even the most advanced 3D rendering cannot achieve. So perhaps this is not a challenge, but rather an opportunity. It feels like we are at a point in time when people are beginning to recognize the strength of minimal, sound-centered immersive experiences.
Thomas Meckel
To begin, could you briefly introduce yourself and SONA, and explain your role within the project?
Thomas Meckel – My name is Thomas Meckel. For the past two years, together with a team that has now grown to ten people, we have been developing virtual reality experiences from the perspective of blind people. It is VR, but completely in the dark: you don’t see anything.
The space we are currently developing will most probably be around 10 by 10 meters, about 100 square meters. Visitors wear headphones and a motion capture system placed on their head, feet, and sometimes even on their hands. We use all means of spatial audio – virtual reflections and specially designed sound environments – to allow participants to navigate complex architectures purely through sound.
At the moment, we are creating adventure-game-like experiences together with blind communities. We build worlds collaboratively, drawing on what I would call the acoustic imagination or sound-driven imagination of blind participants. These processes often lead to very creative and sometimes very funny stories.
For example, in one of our recent scenarios, a group of young people breaks into a shopping mall at night. As a participant, you would accompany them, helping them navigate through the building, fight against “evil plans”, or even attempt to create a short circuit in a freezer.
Are you working directly with blind people to gather their opinions and reactions? Do you conduct any studies or research on how they respond to the experience?
T. M. – Absolutely. When we started two years ago, the first step was to conduct workshops with blind participants in order to understand how they perceive space. We explored navigational games in which sound plays a central role. For instance, there is a traditional game in German called Blinde Kuh, similar to blind man’s buff. A blindfolded person navigates a space by following sounds. We also experimented with games like “catching someone in the dark.”
One of the most fascinating aspects we encountered was echolocation. Some blind people produce clicking sounds with their tongue or use their white cane to generate acoustic feedback. They then listen very precisely to the resonances of these sounds in space. In one direction, sound may be absorbed by fabric; in another, it may reflect off concrete. From these subtle differences, they understand where to move.
We were deeply fascinated by these everyday navigational skills and sought to translate them into virtual acoustics.
Where did the idea for this project come from? What led you to start developing it?
T. M. – The initial idea emerged from a personal experience. I lived in Colombia for about six months and once visited the Amazon rainforest at night. I was wearing headphones and carrying a recorder, trying to capture the incredible soundscape of the forest – which I would describe as one of the loudest places on earth, since everything communicates simultaneously.
At some point, it became completely dark. There was no moon, and the canopy covered everything. I got lost and couldn’t see anything. It was one of the most frightening experiences of my life. But at the same time, I was forced to concentrate entirely on listening. With the amplification system of my recorder, I could hear more intensely and directionally. I started navigating the forest using sound cues. It was both terrifying and exhilarating.
Being reduced to this single sense – spatial hearing – gave me a powerful feeling of survival. When I later encountered virtual reality technology, I began wondering how we could recreate such experiences. That was the starting point of the project.
SONA’s work lies at the intersection of art, experimental technology, performance, and sound. How do you approach collaboration between musicians, developers, and media artists? What does the creative process look like when the material is essentially sound rather than visual?
T. M. – Collaboration has always been central to our process because the work is inherently interdisciplinary. Most of our team members are musicians, improvisers, instrument builders, or sound artists. We also work with people experienced in theater and community-based practices. One of our team members, Adriani, has been blind since birth and is one of the most important contributors to our work – both as an expert and as a source of ideas.
We collaborate closely with the Association of Blind People in Cologne, which includes around 200 members supporting each other in daily life. They were deeply involved in our largest production. We also worked with a festival in Cologne called Sommerblut, which focuses on inclusive artistic practices, and with a group called Un-label, which advises cultural institutions on inclusion. They provided us with a studio space for research and development.
Cologne is an incredibly interdisciplinary city. Artists from different disciplines know each other and collaborate across boundaries. The funding system is also increasingly supportive of interdisciplinary work, recognizing the strength of such collaboration.
Is inclusivity a central concern when you create and present your projects? How does it influence the way you design and share your work?
T. M. – We are in a very fortunate position: the beauty of our form lies in its inclusivity. I wouldn’t even frame it strictly as inclusion; rather, it is about learning from the highly developed sensory skills of blind people.
We don’t have to artificially “add” inclusivity – it is inherent to the project. At the same time, we remain transparent about the experimental nature of the work. For example, for deaf participants, the experience may not function as intended. When selling tickets, we clearly describe it as an experiment and explain that reactions may vary.
From your experience, what are the main challenges and opportunities in the field today, particularly when developing audio-based immersive formats?
T. M. – I believe we are currently at an interesting moment. Many immersive experiences aim to be bigger, louder, more overwhelming – larger domes, more speakers, more visual spectacle. Personally, I sometimes find that these experiences don’t truly move me. There is something powerful about smaller, more focused experiences. When one sense – especially vision – is not saturated with images, the brain begins to fill the space in a way that even the most advanced 3D rendering cannot achieve.
So perhaps this is not a challenge, but rather an opportunity. It feels like we are at a point in time when people are beginning to recognize the strength of minimal, sound-centered immersive experiences.