It is my aim as an artist to create works using technology that bring people together in new ways while maintaining a continuity with our shared human history. This interest in bridging the emerging with the traditional is reflected in all levels of my practice. I start out using my hands to touch paper, strings, and keys. Being in motion while I work let’s me access deeper levels of intuition and make unexpected connections. Nothing unfolds in real time as expected, and it is in the call and response of variance that I am able to find the elements that spark inspiration. Field recordings and notebooks are the raw materials with which my work begins to take shape. By contemplating these spontaneous artifacts I am able to develop conceptual frameworks which strategically use technology to unfold further levels of insight.
We are often at our best when we are at play. In my work I invite participants to reexamine the everyday through open-ended and poetic uses of technology. When we experience together unexpected aspects of the familiar a dialog is opened that allows us to loosen our assumptions about ourselves, each other, and the world. In these moments when wonder intercedes we carry ourselves more lightly, breathe more deeply, and perhaps see more lucidly the ways in which we are joined. In reclaiming technology from ordinary productivity, entertainment, and military uses, I hope to uncover new uses that emphasize our humanity and the growing interconnectedness we share with our universe.
I seek to continually alter myself and to disrupt automatism by using electronic tools to make inaccessible aspects of the physical universe perceptible to my senses. As our tolerance level for quick cuts, media bombardment, and pollution has grown, sensory perception of our worldly environment has become increasingly parsed. We scan the landscape for familiar narratives, discarding all manner of “irrelevant” sensory data in a kind of willful oversight.
Many of the sounds and perceptions that are closest to our being have become nearly invisible. The droning of the infrastructure, the sounds of plants and animals, and even our own inner voices have all suffered from this ruthless redaction. In the heavily edited version of events we traverse, it has become more and more difficult to hear each other, the world, and ourselves. The finer gradations of sound and vision have receded into the looming mise-en-scène out beyond our relevant narratives. Within this undifferentiated mass of timbres is the chance for our greater wholeness.
Through my work in sound I suggest a reappraisal of the world that disappears around the edges of perception. When we aesthetically readmit these discarded elements back into the sensory realm a change starts to happen within. By acknowledging a greater portion of the macrocosmic world we occupy, access to our own inner recesses of intuition and wholeness can be gained. Efforts in listening to the outside world yield dividends in the ability to listen intuitively within.
I might reiterate what John Cage once said to Joan La Barabra :
Joan : “With all the chaos in the world, why do you make more?”
John : “Perhaps when you go out into the world it won’t seem so chaotic.”
Listening is increasingly a political act reserved for those who surveil. We exert control over our environment by what we choose to listen to and by how we choose to listen. When we listen beyond ideology we change ourselves. When we listen to each other we discover the connectedness and irrelevance of our own stories.
The way in which we listen changes how we see the world, and how we see the world changes the structure of society itself. By excavating through the sediment of discarded noise we move beyond our own preferences to confront the stark truth of who we are and the world we collective build; united by this unyielding sleep.