This site is still under construction and currently contains odds and ends, unfinished experiments, a few things that have been or could be or should never be published, things I've made and decided to share with whoever is out there.
Site designed by (((( subacoustic ))))
In memory of the 20th century
a lightbox in progress
discount post-christmas lights (with different cycles and settings)
random old slides from ebay
it feels like I am stealing and resurrecting
someone else's memories
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El Aliento
un hilo de plata que cosa
mi vida preciosa
quisiera despertarme
mañana
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The Silver Seam
A photo, taken from my window of a jet-trail catching the last of the winter sun.
I live under the flight path and this is the loop that wakes me most days, it's the sound I hear when I drift toward sleep. For a week in 2010, when the ash from Eyjafjallajökull grounded all flights, the skies of London were silent.
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Dreaming while awake
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Jetsam
So after a decade of silence in which (in retrospect) I wasted a ton of time building a completely open-source studio (which now works flawlessly - thanks to Puredyne) I still find myself compelled to make sound. The only thing is I don't know where I'm going with this anymore. I may have been better off throwing my laptop into the sea and just playing guitar...or perhaps throwing that in too, with a microphone to record the results.
When I have managed to find the time I've sat down and messed around with the myriad of sounds I can make and left unfinished uncertain fragments in my wake (such as these). Forty years ago such indulgence would have required banks of tape machines and masses of equipment. I'm still searching for a recipe, a formula, or perhaps something more essential that will make it come together. After a certain point the technology becomes a distraction. There's something to be said for tight parameters compelling creativity - like how life was marginal in the early oceans, or how the sixty-four squares of a chessboard, with a few pieces, black and white, representing a handful of logical functions - give rise to an infinity of possibility. We have more than we need and we are spoiled for choice. What's left sounds like waste.
So these are a few of those outtakes, each represents 30-40 minutes of meandering condensed into nothing special. I hear the music in my head, in my heart, yet am unable to do it justice. I'll keep trying, though for the moment it seems a dream has been relegated to a hobby.
Constructive advice and suggestions are welcome...
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love and truth and virtue
A poem for the politicians...and everyone else...
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Dragonfly
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Shimmer
A recent poem, for what it's worth...
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Wake Up, Make Art
Drawing is a great antidote to the low-level stress of staring at a screen...whatever the results may be.
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Listen carefully
This is my entry for the UNODA Poetry for Peace Competition.
Please listen to the stories of the hibakusha and enter the competition yourself, even if you never write poetry.
Poetry is the least lucrative and most ephemeral of arts. When I feel I've captured, even in my limited language, something close to the truth then I need to let it go. The moth flies up to the streetlight. It's a warm night. Maybe someone might notice.
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