Before I Sleep

Every night before I sleep I think of those I love, have loved, and hope to love.

I am attentive, intense with those I love, or wish to love. I do not easily nor comfortably swim on the surface of friendship. I do not seek acquaintance. Perhaps it is my intimacy that most often repels rather than attracts. I try to hold my voice so as not to break the chance to talk again, on page and with.

Every night, before I sleep, I think of those I love, have loved, and hope to love.

A Chance Of Return

During or following many of my interactions I turn things over in my mind in an effort to make sense of them. Much of art's enjoyment is to see and ponder it from different places. Not just from a sensory perspective, but also for its meaning, and what it may stand for, or make me think of.

I make in the hope others might come to share. Perhaps not immediately, but in time, art offers the chance of return. Today, tomorrow, or in a distant future far from this present place.

The First Time

I have a library of sounds I use for making music. These are mostly recorded, but I also use modelled and synthesized sounds. I select sounds by instinct, because of their aesthetic qualities, by how a sound works against or with another, and by what sounds have passed and might arrive.

The first time I hear a sound I often fall in love: I wish nothing more than to explore, to be with, to feel their every nuance, lost in dance without the slightest thought of day, night, land or sea.