25 ambient musicians created original sonic postcards in response to one another’s evocative Instagram photos.

An Introduction to Instagr/am/bient:
Photos shared with the popular software Instagram are usually square in format, not unlike the cover to a record album. The format leads inevitably to a question: if a given image were the cover to a record album, what would the album’s music sound like?
Instagr/am/bient is a response to that question. The project involves 25 musicians with ambient inclinations. Each of the musicians contributed an Instagram photo, and in turn each of the musicians recorded an original track in response to one of the photos contributed by another of the project’s participants. The tracks are sonic postcards. They are pieces of music whose relative brevity—all are between one and three minutes in length—is designed to correlate with the economical, ephemeral nature of an Instagram photo.
The result of the 25 musicians’ collective efforts is an investigation into the intersection of technology, aesthetics, and artistic process. What parallels exist, for example, between the visual filters that Instagram provides users to transform their photos and the sound-processing tools employed by electronic musicians?
In many cases here, the musicians employ sonic field recordings as source material for their music. In the case of both their photos and their compositions (photography in one case, phonography in the other), documents are altered to emphasize their atmospheric qualities: to eke a modest art out of the everyday.
Thumbnails of the 25 Images:

The full collection is also streaming at soundcloud.com/disquiet.
The 25 MP3s are downloadable for free individually and as a Zip file at archive.org.
Download a 58-page PDF with full-page reproductions of the images and additional information on all the participating musicians: PDF.
A Disquiet.com Project
Commissioned by Marc Weidenbaum
Design/Boondesign.com
Cover Photo/Brian Scott
This project in no way intends to imply any formal association with Instagram.

The Automaton effects unit from 
Anthoney J Hart is a London-based musician who goes by Imaginary Forces. His “CT Room” is a collection of sounds culled from unwitting microphones. There are no divulged secrets, no evidence of ill doings. To the extent that voices are heard, they sound more like Electronic Voice Phenomena than like actual conversation. According to the description that accompanies the piece, the recordings come from forms of communication (video chat rooms, instant messenger services) in which sound was conveyed but text was the primary form of transmission. And thus the verbal component — along with, even more compellingly, the extended near silences — is a mere byproduct of the process. The result is a series of textured static and garbled speech, of curt bits of grey fuzz and thick ropes of drone. Speech is an underutilized component of electronically mediated music and sound art, and here it is successfully sourced for its sonic rather than its literal assets.
Banner Music: I don’t look too deeply into the statistics for this site. When you write about free music and about galleries that require no entry fee, as well as commercial music that often sells in the under-500-unit zone, the whole notion of pageviews can be an exercise in misdirection, if not futility. I do take note, because the dashboard in WordPress (the publishing tool that is this site’s backend) puts the information front and center, that this site seems to get a lot more visitors via Facebook than Twitter, even though I dedicate more time to Twitter than to Facebook. (Perhaps the automated posting of Disquiet’s RSS feed to Facebook that currently occurs is something I should do more of on Twitter? Somehow that doesn’t seem right. My approach to Twitter is conversational.) Anyhow, in the mix of sites sending somewhat significant traffic to this one is a service that was previously unfamiliar:
What will happen when our computers are always on, or instant on, or so ubiquitous that we think of them less as objects, as accessories, or even garments, and more like soap or aftershave? Will we hang on to vestiges of their earlier days, much as we today add noises to electric cars in the name of comfort, safety, and security? If so, we’ll look back to work like that of Jeff Kolar, whose Start Up/Shut Down is, indeed, made of the noises of computers doing just that. His description is as precise as his working materials: