Chiara Luzzana doesn’t just hear sound – she sculpts it. From the whisper of a single cashmere thread to the chaos of Shanghai’s neon heartbeat, the Italian sound designer transforms the seemingly mundane into raw emotion. Brands trust her to translate their DNA into frequencies. Cities reveal their soul through their microphones. And now, as she prepares to sail into Arctic silence, she reminds us: noise isn’t distraction – it’s memory, it’s meaning, it’s music. We met Chiara between journeys to talk about paradoxes, frequencies, and why silence might be the loudest thing of all.
hube: Your work is about listening to the world differently. When did you first realise that noise – rather than instruments – was your medium?
Chiara Luzzana: I was six when I first discovered the secret language of noise. My parents had just separated, and I was surrounded by a silence that felt heavy and unfamiliar. To fill that void, I began to listen – truly listen – to the world around me. The creak of a chair, the hum of the refrigerator, the rhythm of footsteps on the floor – all these sounds became my companions. I realised that these everyday noises held a raw, unfiltered emotion that traditional instruments couldn’t capture. From that moment, noise wasn’t just background – it was music waiting to be heard.
h: Your project, THE SOUND OF CITY®, captures the sonic identity of places around the world. Was there a city that completely surprised you in terms of sound?
CL: Shanghai wasn’t just a surprise – it was the origin. I began THE SOUND OF CITY® there in 2014, and what was meant to be a brief project turned into years of immersion. The city embraced me, and I let myself be swallowed by its contrasts: the whisper of incense inside a temple just steps away from the electric crackle of neon-lit crossroads. That paradox, that tension between past and future, silence and chaos – it shaped everything. What truly astonished me was how sound in Shanghai wasn’t just background – it was identity, raw and unapologetic. It changed my perception of urban sound forever. Since then, I’ve recorded over 23 cities around the world, each with its own voice, its own secrets. This symphonic archive of global cities will be revealed in 2026 – a living map of human emotion, rendered in noise.
h: You’ve worked with brands like Swatch, Lavazza, and Olivetti, transforming their identities into sound. What’s the key to making a brand ‘audible’ without relying on clichés?
CL: Authenticity is paramount. Every brand has its own story, its own essence. My role is to delve deep, to uncover the unique sounds that define its identity. For Swatch, it was the intricate mechanisms of over 2,400 watches; for Lavazza, the journey of a coffee bean from plantation to cup. By capturing these genuine sounds and weaving them into a cohesive narrative, I create an auditory experience that resonates with the brand’s true character, steering clear of generic motifs.
h: Some of your compositions are built entirely from raw, everyday noises – machinery, footsteps, sirens. What’s the most unconventional or unexpected sound you’ve ever worked with?
CL: The project that moved me the most – perhaps the one closest to my soul – was The Sound of Cashmere, created for Brunello Cucinelli. It hasn’t been released yet, but it already lives in me like a whispered memory. It was one of the first times I composed using the nearly imperceptible: the brush of a single thread of cashmere, the rhythm of looms breathing softly in harmony with human hands, the sound of refinement made tangible. The material itself is delicate, ephemeral – but full of presence. And the values of the brand, their deep-rooted humanism, made this project feel almost sacred.
What truly touched me was working closely with Carolina Cucinelli. She is one of the most luminous, gracious souls I’ve ever met. Her elegance isn’t just aesthetic – it’s ethical, emotional. And I knew that all of this – the people, the process, the spirit – deserved to become sound. That’s when I understood something profound: even in the quiet tension of a single, almost invisible cashmere thread, a unique melody can be born. One that carries both fragility and strength. One that listens before it speaks.
h: Your sound design is almost sculptural, with elements of both chaos and precision. Do you consider yourself more of a composer, an architect, or something else entirely?
CL: I see myself as a sound sculptor. Like a sculptor chisels away at marble to reveal the form within, I carve through layers of noise to uncover hidden melodies. It’s a dance between chaos and order, intuition and technique. Each project is a new block of sound, waiting to be shaped into something meaningful.
h: Sound branding is still an emerging field. Do you think companies truly understand its power, or is there still a long way to go in terms of appreciating sonic identity?
CL: While some forward-thinking companies recognise the profound impact of sound, many still underestimate its potential. Sound has the power to evoke emotion, create lasting memories, and define a brand’s identity in a way visuals alone cannot. As our world becomes increasingly saturated with stimuli, the brands that harness the power of authentic, well-crafted soundscapes will stand out and forge deeper connections with their audiences.
h: You once said, ‘Silence doesn’t exist’. In a world where people are overloaded with sound, what’s the value of noise?
CL: Noise is the raw, unfiltered expression of life. In every hum, buzz, and clatter, there’s a story, an emotion, a heartbeat. By embracing noise, we embrace authenticity. In a world striving for perfection, noise reminds us of our humanity, our imperfections, and our truths. It’s not about escaping the noise, but about finding harmony within it.
h: Much of your work feels cinematic, even when it’s for advertising. Have you ever been tempted to compose for film, or do you see your work as something separate from traditional scoring?
CL: Absolutely, the cinematic realm has always intrigued me. My compositions are narratives, stories told through sound. While I haven’t ventured extensively into traditional film scoring, the idea of collaborating on projects where sound drives the narrative is deeply appealing. I believe that in the right context, my approach could bring a unique depth to cinematic storytelling.
h: You’ve built custom instruments and sound sculptures for some of your projects. Can you tell us about a time when a physical object changed the way you approached composition?
CL: One of the most transformative moments in my journey was when I sampled a series of design icons – objects that were never meant to produce music, but that held a profound visual and tactile harmony. These weren’t just objects; they were stories, shapes, heritage. I recorded each detail, from the metal resonance to the subtle friction of contact. But I didn’t stop there. Each sound was then harmonised according to the Fibonacci frequency sequence.
This wasn’t just a technical choice – it was a poetic necessity. The objects themselves bore visual patterns rooted in the golden ratio, in sacred geometry. I felt the sound needed to echo that same mathematical perfection. The composition followed the spiral of nature, of proportion, of beauty made audible. It was as if I had uncovered a hidden language – where form became frequency, and matter revealed its secret music.
h: What’s next for you? Any projects that are pushing your sonic boundaries even further?
CL: I’m about to embark on a solitary expedition to the Arctic Circle, aboard a sailing vessel that will become my home for weeks. It’s my new project called: SONARTICO. There will be no internet, no signal – only the infinite white, the sea, and the sound. I’m going there to capture what we are at risk of losing: the disappearing sounds of melting ice, shifting winds, animals that may not return. It’s not just a sonic journey – it’s a memory rescue mission.
For me, the memory of sound is sacred. Sound is proof that something existed, that something breathed, that something mattered. In that silence, I will finally face my monsters – solitude, isolation, the deep echo of self without distraction. And from that confrontation will emerge a body of work: a vinyl record, a documentary album, a book, and a podcast. Each medium will carry part of the experience, like fragments of a dream too fragile to live in just one form.
Once this project is complete, I would love to return and speak with you again. Because by then, I will no longer be the same – and neither will my sound.
Photography courtesy of chiaraluzzana.com