This is unexpected. This is beyond me. This is something else. This envelops and suffocates. This is sublime and so, dangerous. This is the second work, and the seconds it covers are yet unknown. This is my past. This is their past. This is what makes sense to me, for me. This is what I know, when I know I don’t. This is something which is personal and impersonal. This is the people I have loved, hurt and been loved and hurt by.

This is the people who feel pleasure in pain. This is the honesty and the dishonesty of that. This is every opportunity shaped as a sledgehammer that broke me. This is the calluses on the hands of those wielding judgement that splits one into two. This is an acceptance of perpetrator by victim. This is a sinking into the symbiosis of master and slave.

This is the darkest humanity, and the lightest of human angels. This is the inherent contradiction of life. This is incompleteness, an exception upon which rules are predicated. This is my frustration at those I would be saviour to. This is their frustration at my arrogance. This is my gratitude for all of it. This is neither black nor white. This is surrender.

friends that play together

I am very grateful for the friends that have come out to play with me in 3D space, using sound. They come for the IKO, because they can hear the thing’s incredible beauty and wonder.

I have seen this effect, where they become captivated and yet overwhelmed at what’s possible. And then they may play with sound materials of their choosing, and again they hear something magical in the way the IKO sounds those materials into the space. And there is this to-ing and fro-ing of rapt attention in listening and inner wrestling with preconceptions, awe and overwhelm, frustration and potential.

I’m grateful mostly for having others so interested in the thing(s) I’m interested in. And for the kinds of sensitive beings with which I have an affinity and some kind of resonance which transcends reason.

Being around this kind of technology, and in very left-brain environments, that is not guaranteed. I often end up feeling like the odd sock. Not recently.

Thank you Giulia Vismara, Axel Drioli and of COURSE Gerriet Sharma.

I’ll see you soon, and hear you sooner.