Derived from writings upon electronically produced music. Values upon values, all without value, describe the music you will never hear. In length and in word, illustrate music uselessly. Measure only what is unnecessary. What no one need, nor wish, nor have any genuine reason to know. And from that, the lines, produce the lines, ironically the lines so easily transposed from the music score itself. To become a score of lines.
I drew music in lines, before speaking music in numbers.
Reductive in transposition.
New documentation, now validated. One that creates, one that uniforms, one that changes everything to an unfamiliar familiar. Thought, I’ll be honest, I hate maths, but again with the methodical and tedious exchanges, new light is brought about in this new endeavour to translate without issue.
When showing, its hard not to question what is being seen. Can they see it? Were words found, sounds heard, photos seen and stories reversed. Design more, when the questions are right, this display made everything seen, clearer, clearer now than before, for them and us. I changed nothing of mine own, to find these new things. I worked to play harder with these new toys, I’ve kept the music for later.
Stories, stories, I’m not sure what I’m good for here. All I have is ideas.
In the need to address a new medium, in questioning one’s own. Again, I’ll change and change and change, till I’ve found that change being my constant. In variables of physicality and question, I hold true to process, but then how do you illustrate, engage or enlighten only process. Said the artist to the others. Systems be systems, failures or not, to hold true to a system means to determine at least what you may wish to genuinely define, refine and line.
I’m marking music, running stories, fixating photos. I fail. I failed. But in knowing, this exhibiting is strangely more personal than most. Maybe I find too many questions. But I don’t mind, because in these hours, I might not bring forward the best, or the newest, but I’ll help you discover and myself uncover what else holds fast when I turn the wheel.
I laughed at that. So did the rest.
But I was laughing less when the talking started. One minutes then a stupid noise. I tried how I could, I spoke what I knew, because what else are you meant to say. So I listened, and pin-pointed and drew up conclusions. That was the whole point of speed-dating right? But its weird when the aim is definitely not to sleep with anyone. I want to work well, not just well but with vigour. Let me be challenged please, but quietly, in a controlled but senseless way, so I might grow like I had hoped. I came here to meet them, but I didn’t think myself so rare. Where are the artists bar one other, who shares no time like mine.
Everyone thinks, in music, in poetry, in rhythm, in time; in networks, in photos, in code and in experience. I’m not sure, in everyone here, how am I creative in a different way? And some still don’t seem to know either, in any way. But who cares, who bothers to care at the beginning.
Let’s make something together.