Category: Digital Projects

Digital projects developed

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Digital Portfolio

Toolbox

Digital tools to study the sonic imaginary of a dossier of aural and textual files.

Audacity

Audacity interface. 4 Label tracks

Source: https://www.audacityteam.org

Input: audio files (different formats)

Goal 1: Identify and label sound objects and earcons

Steps:

  1. Set label structure: ID [File_Name-Type[OS or ER]-#], Sound-Name, Agency. Ex.: DI-ER1, tintineo, campana
  2. Import audio file
  3. Identify and label sound objects. Visual information (changes in frequency and amplitude) helps to accelerate the process.
  4. Identify and label earcons.
  5. Export labels

Output:

Next steps: Clean data (remove time) and convert the table to .csv format. Sample: Diario Indio 2.csv

Goal 2: transcribe an audio file respecting its aural qualities as much as possible

Steps:

  1. Import audio file
  2. Use a tenth of the material as a case study to set the relationship between silences and punctuation marks
  3. Using SilenceFinder tool, set a range of silence comparable to the division of paragraphs in textual files (In this case 2.5 s)
  4. Transcribe

Output: text file. Sample: Diario Indio aural (fragmento)

Dedoose

Dedoose interface

Source: https://www.dedoose.com

Input: text files (.txt and .pdf)

Goal: Identify and label earcons

Steps:

  1. Set codes and sub-codes: Sounds, Agency, Territory, Gender, Age
  2. Import file (.txt or .pdf)
  3. Identify earcons and add the corresponding codes
  4. Apply a data set and some statistic tools to get some charts and tables
  5. Export files

Output:

Next steps: Use the data from the exported file to build a table similar to the one exported from Audacity. Sample: Diario Indio Aural y Textual.csv

Cytoscape

Cytoscape Visualizations

Source: https://cytoscape.org

Input: .csv files

Goal: Visualize sonic imaginaries as networks and analyze nodes centrality

Steps:

  1. Set network’s nodes and attributes
  2. Import .csv file using Import_Network_from_file tool
  3. Run NetworkAnalyzer tool
  4. Set a visualization style based on nodes centrality
  5. Export tables and visualizations

Output:

Versioning Machine 5.0

Versioning Machine 5.0

Source: http://v-machine.org

Input: textual files

Goal:

  • visualize the transformations of a genetic dossier using as witnesses an aural draft and the published version
  • compare the sonic imaginaries of both witnesses

Steps:

  1. Decide whether to represent changes at the paragraph level or at the phrase level
  2. Code comparative display of genetic dossier using TEI
  3. Code the earcons correlations between versions and within each of them

Output: .html file. Sample: Diario Indio.html

Rationale

The development of sound production, conservation, and reproduction technologies makes us think that our understanding of aurality can only be studied from sound objects. However, before the emergence of these technologies, humanity used others—such as writing and painting—for a similar purpose. So, if we have acoustic technology to study the soundscapes of the 20th and 21st centuries, we must turn to textual and visual records “recorded” in non-aural formats to analyze those that precede their invention.

Fathers of Sound Studies such as Murray Schafer, who first developed the notion of soundscape, affirmed: “Thus, a writer is trustworthy only when writing about sounds directly experienced and intimately known […] and such descriptions constitute the best guide available in the reconstruction of soundscapes past” (100). In the expressions “directly experienced” and “intimately known” lies the dialectical relationship between soundscape and sonic imaginary since what becomes “known” in the most intimate is not acoustic reality itself but perception and desire. So, to analyze the aurality after the invention of the gramophone, it is convenient not only to listen to the sound records but also to the traces of these waves in other human cultural praxis.

These traces are produced through transduction, a process of transmitting aural information that produces unstable states of material in which lies, in turn, enough energy for another possible transduction. Another notion from which it is possible to study this exchange is transmediality, but then I would be focusing on the initial and final stages of the process—for example, a literary work adapted for film. In transduction, understood along the lines of Gilbert Simondon’s postulates, there is no initial or final state, only the transformed flow of information. Nor is there an agent responsible for these transformations, but rather a series of human and non-human mediations that contribute to transforming, translating, distorting, and modifying the meaning of elements they are supposed to convey (Bruno Latour).

So, by sonic imaginary, I refer to the textual, aural, and visual representations of sound organized from what I call aural politics. These politics record in the imagined aurality what was imposed during the sound reproduction and listening. Hence, it is possible to trace the links with issues of race, gender, and the exercise of power. However, these aural politics do not only reflect the impositions. They can also be shaped by the desires and resistance of subaltern or marginal actors. Then, it is convenient to “listen to” cultural productions to reveal impositions and negotiations made during identity formation, particularly in contexts of violence and displacement.

At the same time, these aural politics are responsible for the relative stability of the sonic imaginaries of an individual or community at any given historical moment. The idea of ​​a set of imaginary sound objects or earcons relatively organized by aural politics made me think about the possibility of studying the sonic imaginary as a network and the convenience of comparing different states of that network to show the effects of soundscapes and socioscapes on a sonic imaginary.

Of course, all these reflections on the sonic imaginary and how to study it were after a material discovery that affected me: the voice of Severo Sarduy. Reviewing the writer’s archive preserved in the Firestone Library at Princeton, I came across audio cassettes where this Cuban writer, painter, and publisher exiled in France had collected acoustic material from different sources and times. There were radio broadcasts, recordings made in situ in various parts of the world, voices of different tones speaking in different languages, fragments of songs, etc. In short, it was a chaotic catalog of sound objects “intimately known” and collected by someone who had worked for thirty years in French public radio, particularly in France Culture and Radio France International.

Among those tapes are two titled “Diario Indio.” In them, Sarduy records his impressions during his first trip to India. You can hear the soundscape behind the author’s voice: cars, animals, voices, music. At the same time, the first quarter of the material is not centered on Sarduy’s voice but the soundscape. Only after registering that sound otherness does he decide to speak. That acoustic material was the initial draft of the final chapter of the novel he was writing, Cobra (1972). My training in genetic criticism had led me to work with incomplete genetic dossiers, but this was the first time I had come across one in which the witnesses came from different backgrounds. As if that were not enough, in an interview from those years, Sarduy stated that this was a regular practice for him: dictating his ideas to an artifact as an initial creative step that could continue in writing or painting.

No scholar had before paid attention to his passionate defense of aurality. However, it seemed to be at the core of his creative processes. This was the beginning of my search for digital tools to explore Severo Sarduy’s sonic imagery.

The first step was to find tools to identify sound objects and earcons—in aural files—and earcons in texts. These tools should allow data to be exported and imported by other applications dedicated to studying and visualizing networks.

Because I was interested in aural politics and their relationship to social issues, it was not enough to identify sound objects or earcons. I needed to identify specific attributes associated with the emission of sound. These attributes relate to agency and context. To determine which ones could be most useful, I explored the aural and textual versions of the “Diario Indio”.

At first, and based on my knowledge of Sarduy’s written work, I considered that gender would be significant. However, I soon understood that Sarduy had a fluid conception of his characters’ gender, so it is unattainable to assign a label in most cases. It does not mean, however, that gender is a disposable category. On the contrary, there are areas of his production, such as the radio play La Plage, in which the female voices suffer a gradual silencing. However, as I progressed in the study, these peculiarities—based on a binary conception—became less interesting.

The same thing happened with age. In his novels and radio plays Sarduy regularly includes children’s and adolescent voices but, in the case of recordings, how to determine the age of a voice. If that voice is emitted from a record player, is it the same age? Once again, I must admit that there are works, like the radio play Chutes, in which what happens to three girls’ voices is decisive: Rosalia Lombardo, Anna Frank, and the Kumara Devi on duty. Yet, are they adolescent or children’s voices even in a piece like this?

The third feature of the agency that is interesting only in sections of Sarduy’s work is the geocultural origin of the sound. It is beneficial to highlight Sarduy’s interest in Afro-Latin music and its global diaspora, particularly in broadcasts such as La rumba. However, except for musical pieces, it is impossible for most sound objects and earcons to identify a geocultural association.

At the end of my exploration of the aural and textual versions of the Diario Indio I had two critical revelations. First, there is always more information about sound mediation in the textual files than in the aural ones. For example, the narrator or another character would help you assign a gender, an age, or a territory relatively often. However, this would rarely be possible in the case of sound files and radio broadcasts. So I gave up generalizing those attributes, although I kept their study for the case of texts, as seen in the Dedoose outputs that I offer as a sample in the Toolbox column, and in this chart, which shows the behavior of the Age, Gender and Territory attributes in three of Sarduy’s novels.

Secondly, I realized that non-human actors produced many sounds, and in many cases, the agency is related to the body (hands, feet, lips), not the subject. It emphasized an overlooked aspect of Sarduy’s work: his battle against the Western subject/logos, against his power of authorship and authorization from other ontologies. So the agency was important, but I went on to group it into larger macro-categories:

  • biophony (sounds of non-human living beings)
  • technophony (sounds produced by mechanical and electrical devices)
  • cosmophony (sounds produced by non-living natural elements)
  • spectrophony (sounds produced by supernatural beings: angels, gods, ghosts, etc.)
  • anthropophony (intelligible and harmonic human sounds such as the voice that speaks or sings, as long as an artifact does not mediate it)
  • corporophony (unintelligible human sounds: laughter, tears, sighs, belches…)

This table shows the central place of technophony in the sonic imaginary of Cobra, where the sounds produced by objects and artifacts are almost as crucial as those produced by humans. You can read all the fragments of the same novel in which an artifact sounds in this other table. Both are data exported from Dedoose.

Once the sound objects and earcons were identified and the agency attributes marked in each case, I imported the data into Cytoscape. Even though this is an application designed to study biological networks, it allows visualizing and analyzing other types of networks through specific tools. In this case, I was interested in visualizing the centrality of certain sounds and agents. The current version of Cytoscape (3.9.1) no longer supports the visualization associated with the NetworkAnalyzer tool. Failing this, the user must manually choose each element to be displayed. The graphs displayed in the Toolbox column were designed in the previous version, which allowed direct visualization of categories such as centrality. This new graphic shows the centrality of birds, artifacts, and the human in the sonic imaginary shared by the versions of the “Diario Indio” and the radio play La Plage:

Central agency in the sonic imaginary of three works

As part of my final explorations of transduction, I have visualized the transformations of that imagery using the Versioning Machine 5.0. The advantages of this application lie in the comparative publication of different versions of the same file. The user can access the online publication in the samples that I provide in the Toolbox column. Changes were coded using the parallel segmentation method and TEI standard for the representation of texts in digital form.

I cannot offer the user personal recordings and radio broadcasts for copyright reasons. Therefore, I have resorted to the published version of the content in textual format and the coding of the transformations in the sonic imaginary of “Diario Indio”. The central purpose of this project was to outline a protocol for the comparative study of aural and textual archives and tools for the visualization of the sonic imagery recorded in these archives. This post contains those tools, samples of the results obtained, and an overview of the methods used. A self-reflective component of this process, including other explored tools, is available here.

Latour, Bruno. Reensamblar lo social. Una introducción a la teoría del actor-red. Buenos Aires: Manantial, 2005.

Schafer, R. Murray. “The Soundscape”, Jonathan Sterne (ed.) The Sound Studies Reader. London/New York: Routledge, 2012, pp. 95-103.

Simondon, Gilbert. L’individuation à la lumière des notions de forme et d’information. Grenoble: Éditions Jérôme Millon, 2005.

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Transducción y crítica genética

El acto de la escritura –pero podríamos referirnos en estos términos a cualquier acto creativo– puede ser entendido como un acto de transducción, un evento en el que cuerpos y artefactos se ensamblan para transformar el espacio a partir de la virtualidad que yace en sus propias materialidades. La conjunción material y virtual de esos cuerpos deviene una nueva materialidad. Ese nuevo estado no es final, tan solo siguiente. Pensar el acto creativo desde la transducción posibilita explorar tanto el resultado como el proceso que conduce a esa nueva materialidad, explorar la actualización de ciertas potencialidades y la disipación de otras. Ese proceso implica cuerpos que se ensamblan, materialidades en roce; pero también masas que se degradan, flujos excéntricos. Durante ese proceso algo está sucediendo y es esa multiplicidad de eventos y operaciones lo que constituye el acto creativo en sí.

En otro terreno, en el del archivo del autor, la noción de transducción también es útil para la Crítica Genética, particularmente en el caso de dossieres éticogens transmediales como el del ejemplo que abajo propongo. Cada uno de los estadios de ese dossier pueden ser pensados como individuaciones o iteraciones de una misma singularidad. A la vez, cada uno de esos objetos archivados son estados inestables que contienen en sí el germen de nuevas transducciones que se sucedieron en el tiempo y de otras que nunca se actualizaron. Suceder no implica aquí un orden predeterminado, una evolución en la que el siguiente estado es mejor o peor que el anterior. Suceder es aquí happening, por eso Sarduy insistía en el valor del desecho para la creación. Del exceso de cada individuación, de esa energía que se concentra –y de la que se malgasta–, brota otra obra. 

La noción de transducción insiste en la operacionalidad de esas sucesiones y en la materialidad de los mediadores de cada individuación. La singularidad fluye por cada una de esas piezas, pero a trancas y barrancas, adaptándose a diversas mediaciones. Eso que “es” solo puede ser reconstruido por medio de lo iterativo. El archivo de un autor puede ser estudiado entonces como una colección de dramatizaciones –en el sentido dado por Deleuze­– o un espacio no euclideano poblado de potencialidades y vectores que los archivos físicos con sus clasificaciones y limitaciones traicionan.

En un proyecto como el mío, que analiza las mediaciones entre paisajes sonoros e imaginarios sónicos en la obra de Severo Sarduy, particularmente la dimensión política de esas mediaciones, esta perspectiva es no solo provechosa, sino necesaria. Pero creo que cualquier acercamiento a un archivo debería atender a esa pluralidad de mediaciones y a sus afectos. En los siguientes ejemplos analizo la transducción como proceso intermedial dentro del archivo de Severo Sarduy.

En un primer momento estudio las dos individuaciones más cercanas –temporalmente hablando– a su viaje a la India de 1971: la grabación hecha in situ, una suerte de diario aural, y el capítulo final de Cobra, titulado “Diario Indio”, publicado en 1972. La inmersión en ese paisaje imaginado y deseado durante años produjo el germen que impulsa ambas individuaciones. Me propongo demostrar el carácter mediador que la individuación aural tuvo desde siempre.

Un diario de la India: grabación personal y capítulo final de Cobra

En un segundo ejemplo analizo otras dos individuaciones, centradas en la visita a Varanasi. Se trata de la crónica “Bénarès”, publicada en Le Monde en 1980 y, traducida al español, en El Cristo de la rue Jacob (1987). Como se verá, la separación temporal del germen inicial hace que la grabación se convierta en un artefacto cada vez más eficaz para reproducir no solo las palabras, sino la emoción que condujo al registro de las mismas.

Volver a Varanasi: de la grabación de 1971 a la escritura de 1987

Un tercer proyecto incluye no solo la comparación del borrador aural y el capítulo publicado en Cobra, sino una leyenda de los earcons que aparecen en cada versión para que el usuario constate cómo afecta la transducción el imaginario sónico de cada versión:

Transducción e imaginarios sónicos en la grabación personal y el capítulo final de Cobra

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Cuba Broadcastings 1923-1950

Main Tool: ArcGIS

Cuba was one of the first countries to have commercial radio stations. By 1923, the new invention had spread across the island and, until 1959, the country did not cease to be at the forefront of radio production in Latin America. The history of radio in Cuba has two critical books, La radio en Cuba, by Oscar Luis Lopez, and Apuntes para la historia. Radio, television y farandula de la Cuba de ayer, by Enrique C. Betancourt. Both books offer a well-informed account of the modernizing cultural impact radio had. Authors refer to the initial mobility of radio stations—short-term initiatives, location changes, modernization of technical equipment—however, no effort has been made to accompany this textual information with visualizations and spatial analyzes that allow a better understanding of how the new invention was inserted and transformed the urban landscape of Cuban cities and towns.

The changes in the soundscape that radio produced were accompanied by changes in the mobility dynamics of artists, musicians, and radio enthusiasts who began to gather in specific areas of the city now for professional reasons. It has implications for the formation of a modern community,. Radio contributed to creating new collectivities based on a sound background and new ways of listening and interacting. Radio began by reinforcing local and regional ties, and later became a central instrument for shaping the nation when national transmission networks were established and continue to function today on new supports in the organization of a transnational community. Cuba Broadcastings (1923-1950) explores the development of radio in Cuba from its emergence in 1923 to the last republican decade in relation to urban space on two scales: the national—where radio stations created on the Island are located by cities and provinces, and their relationship with population; and the local one, where the movements of radio stations over Havana urban space are studied to identify areas where musicians, artists and radio producers converged with greater probability.The biggest challenge this project has faced is the lack of updated geographic information on Cuba. The political-administrative division changed in 1975, and the digitized and georeferenced maps showing the old division are scarce. On the ESRI platform, only one project is archived that focuses on the restoration of Havana’s historic center, so it could not be used for our research that covers the rest of the city. It explains why a study could not be carried out at the municipal level, since the changes in this regard have been even more significant, especially concerning areas far from the urban center such as the current municipalities of Marianao, Arroyo Naranjo, and San Miguel del Padrón. To a lesser extent, the same happens with population data before the 2012 census, which has been removed from the Oficina Nacional de Información y Estadística’s website. I worked with publications before 1959, particularly the Census of the Republic of Cuba of 1943, published in 1945, and data on the Cuban population from the 1953 census published on the web.

Figure 1 Cuba 1898. Old map used to build a polygon shapefile in ArcGIS

Despite the limitations mentioned above, this project is a starting point for further studies on Cuba using GIS tools and computer methods. It may be of particular interest to those interested in Cuba’s economic, cultural and political development before 1959.

Processes

The first step of this project consisted of data extraction on Cuban radio history. With them, a database was built containing two series of tables: one for the national scale and the other for Havana. Both series share the following attributes: radio station’s names, owners, location(s), and technical aspects such as power and transmission’s frequency. Radio stations located outside of Havana were marked on the town or city where it operates. In the case of Havana’s, they have their addresses as an attribute. To identify changes in some street names in Havana, I consulted the book Las calles de La Habana, by Emilio Roig de Leuchsenring. An essential attribute for each series of tables is the date, which corresponds to the reports provided by the sources: 1923, 1930, 1939 and 1948, and a report on radio stations in Havana from 1931 (See Figure 2).

Figure 2 HavanaBroadcast_1939. Attributes Table (screenshot)

Simultaneously, I created a database with the information extracted from the population censuses carried out in Cuba in 1919, 1931, 1943, and 1953. Population data were collected from the six old Cuban provinces and from each of the towns and cities where there were radio stations in that period. Population’s date does not precisely coincide with the date from the source’s reports date on radio stations. The 1923 reports were correlated with data from the 1919 census; those from 1930, with those from the 1931 census; those of 1939, with those of 1943; and those of 1948, with those of 1953. This difference only affects the results of the study at the national level. The analysis of Havana does not take into account population data.

To obtain a shapefile that reproduces the old Cuban provinces, I imported into ArcGIS an 1898 map digitized by Mapsland.com (See Figure 1) and georeferenced by WMTS service using WGS_1984_Web_Mercator (Auxiliary Sphere). This projected coordinate system matches the base map used in the project that was downloaded from ESRI. Using that raster as a guide (freehand tool), I built polygons that matched the old provinces (See Figures 3). This shapefile was imported later, and it is the one used in the project for the analysis on a national scale.

Figure 3 Cuban old provinces shape file
Figure 4 Cuban old provinces shape file + TownBroadcasts shapefile in ArcGIS

Spatial information was added to the previously created databases, generating a geodatabase with three feature datasets: OldProvinces (polygons), TwonBroadcast (points), and HavanaBroadcast (points). Each of them contains five feature classes that correspond to each period: 1923, 1930, 1931, 1939, and 1948. The points in the feature classes on a national scale were located manually following the base map labels (See Figure 4). The points of the Havana feature classes were also added manually. Despite having the addresses as attribute, the Address Locator tool could not be used due to the lack of updated information on the city’s urban space (See Figure 5). The margin of error for these locations is calculated at around 100 meters: each point is in the correct block, but it is impossible to locate precisely the building in question in which a radio station operated, except when those building are at the corner, which is pretty common.

Figure 5 Havana shape file and Base Map layers
Figure 6 HavanaBroadcast intersection: CMBZ and CMW

With the information on a national scale, Map 1 was produced—Cuba Radio Broadcasting and Population—, composed of three individual maps. Each one visualizes the population data by provinces and cities where there was at least one radio station. The representation of these points reflects their location, and graduated symbols were used to visualize the relationship between population and radio stations number on the corresponding dates. The analysis of the results makes it possible to highlight that the province of Las Villas was, outside the Cuban capital, where the most significant number of stations were created in these years, although the province remained in third place by the number of inhabitants. In 1923 there were stations in Caibarien, Cienfuegos, and Tuinucu. In the latter town, with a population of fewer than 1,000 inhabitants, two stations operated. This particularity, which was repeated in 1930 in the Havana town of Hershey, and in 1939 in San Luis, very close to Santiago de Cuba, is because these settlements were created as part of modern sugar mills. In 1930, stations were operating in Sagua la Grande, Caibarien, Cienfuegos, Tuinuco and Santa Clara (provincial capital). By 1939, Trinidad, Sancti Spiritus—where the Tuinucu station was moved—, Cruces and Placetas were added.

Map 1 CUBA: Radio Broadcast and Population (1923-1939)

To process the data on the city of Havana, I merge the 1930 and 1931 data. The temporal proximity between the two press reports made the differences minimal. A second map—Havana Broadcasting 1923-1948—was created that visualizes the location of radio stations in the urban space (larger map), and a second smaller map (right upper corner) in which, using the intersect tool, the two points with the longest radial tradition in the capital are located: CMBZ Radio Salas and CMW La Voz de las Antillas, the latter located on the upper floor of the building where one of the most critical newspapers in Cuba, Diario de la Marina, was operating (See Figure 6, above).

Map 2 Havana Broadcasting (1923-1948)

Subsequently, the buffer tool was used to visualize a radius of 500 meters around each radio station, which I call the influence zone. The goal is to visualize areas with a high probability of pedestrian circulation of musicians, artists, and radio workers. The choice of this buffer range responds to the convenience criteria of this research. A buffer close to 100 meters would be overlap with the margin of error of these locations; a buffer higher than 1000 meters would create an influence zone that would cover most of the city due to the number of stations. After applying these tools, I designed map 3 —Havana. Radio Broadcasting zones—, which contains the stations’ location on each date and the influence zone from previous reports. The study of these maps shows that between 1923 and 1930-31, there was an expansion of influence zones. By 1939 there was a contraction that not only corresponds to a decrease in stations number (from 74 to 40), but their concentration in three areas: the northern portion of the Vedado neighborhood, the union of the Old Havana neighborhoods and Centro Habana, and a small area in La Vibora.

By 1948, the contraction trend was maintained both in radio stations number (from 40 to 35) and in the influence zone’s area. This trend has a high probability of continuing for the next decade, as is showed in the last small map.

Map 3 Havana Radio Broadcasting Zones

Cuba Broadcastings (1923-1950) visualizes the accelerated development that radio had in Cuba since the very year of its creation, not only in the country’s capital but throughout the island. This development was associated with modernization and the accumulation of wealth in certain parts of the Cuban geography. The cases of Tuinucu (1923 and 1930), Hershey (1930), and Sagua la Grande (1930 and 1939) demonstrate this. Despite being small settlements, the modernization of the sugar industries in the first two cases and the development of an industrial zone and a port in Sagua la Grande can be seen as excellent examples of this association between radio and modernization.

In Havana, radio stations’ highest concentration was located in the Old Havana and Centro Habana neighborhoods. It was an expected result since it is the area with the most outstanding urban and cultural development from colonial times to the present day. The same could be said of Vedado, especially in its northern portion. This neighborhood had begun to develop in the second half of the 19th century and reached a high level of urban development after 1930, with skyscrapers, cinemas, theaters, and many other commercial businesses. An impressive result is to verify how widespread the new invention was around 1930-31, with radio stations in neighborhoods far from the center such as Marianao, Santos Suarez, San Miguel del Padron, Guanabacoa, and La Vibora. This last neighborhood is significant for being an area where at least one radio station was broadcasting between 1923 and 1948. The progressive concentration of radio stations in the northern part of the city corresponds to the colonial urban and cultural heritage; the constancy of radio initiatives in La Vibora deserves, due to its particularity, a separate study.With this project data and using GIS, new studies can be undertaken. It has been observed, for example, that the concentration process accelerated around 1939 when short wave transmission started. That acceleration increased around 1948 with the fusion of radio stations that competed to monopolize radio in Cuba. Such is the case of RHC Cadena Azul and, particularly, Circuito CMQ. CMQ concentrates in its modern 23 and L building, Vedado, 5 of the 35 radio stations active in 1948. This trend towards monopolization could be another cause of the progressive concentration that is appreciated after 1931. It would also be interesting to visualize the different radio station locations throughout these years and their relationship with changes in their owners.

Sources

Luis Lopez, Oscar. La radio en Cuba. La Habana: Ciencias Sociales, 2002.

Betancourt, Enriuqe. Apuntes para la historia. Radio, television y farandula en la Cuba de ayer. San Juan: Ramallo Bros., 1986.

Republica de Cuba. Informe general del Censo de 1943. La Habana: P. Fernandez y Cia., 1945.

Roig Leuchsenring, Emilio. Las calles de La Habana. Bases para su denominación. La Habana: Oficina del Alcalde, 1936.

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