In a quiet corner of the bustling DocedgeKolkata’s documentary festival at Goethe Institut, Dutch composer and sound installation artist Harry de Wit sat down with us after his masterclass Soundscaping: Rebuilding the Nonfiction Reality. Known for his experimental compositions and electro-acoustic installations, de Wit was in India for the very first time to share his philosophy of sound and absorb the rich sonic textures of Calcutta. De Wit’s visit to Calcutta wasn’t just a masterclass in soundscaping; it was a full-circle moment in a long journey of listening, feeling, and creating. For a man who builds music from the hum of life itself, Calcutta seems to have offered an orchestra unlike any other. A t2 chat...

What do you take back with you from Calcutta, musically or emotionally?

The love for sound that people have here — that’s what I take back when I fly home to Holland. The reaction to my sound is very different here. At the festival, I found that people have something — a connection — with sound. It’s pure, unfiltered. That love is what I carry back.

Was there something unexpected you experienced here — socially or sonically?

Yes. The power of the people, how they survive on the streets — it’s incredible. Every day here feels like one big soundscape. Cars, clerks, birds, hunting dogs, the crowd — all these elements. If I close my eyes, I can listen for hours. The music changes every second. It’s one massive orchestra. So lovely.

Have you engaged with Indian music before?

As a child, I was immediately captured by Ravi Shankar. His music stayed with me for years. I also remember a bansuri (flute) player I met in Copenhagen who gave me a flute and said, “Harry, this is for you. Play every day. It’s good for your lungs.” I started listening deeply from then.

Have you ever composed music with India as inspiration before this visit?

Yes. Years ago, a director asked me to write an Indian song for a film adaptation. He told me not to replicate Ravi Shankar or traditional Indian motifs — just create something new, from my perspective. So, I composed it in Europe. But I sent my sound engineer to India with the money I was offered. He came back with recordings, and I placed those on rotating speakers during my performance, while I played my composition on the piano. That was my India song — not imitation, but interpretation. And today, for the first time, I played my music in India, with my sound man Janus, who’s travelled with me. I was in tears. I never imagined it would happen. I’m very, very grateful.