mares

i´ve been meaning to share this for a while, today it came back. better with headphones, always.

o soundtrack my heart

8

coastlines

i was in dallas about a month or two ago, one of the highlights of this trip happened to be at an art expo. called "coastlines", it´s going on at the dallas museum of art until august 22. at the time, i wasn´t really sure why i was so enveloped in all of those images and sounds, today, after a week of being near the ocean, everything makes a lot more sense.
when i saw it, i was wrapped up in the whole theory and poetry of the sea, and of course it´s all theory and poetry, because a representation of the ocean, coastline, whatever, isn´t in real reality a ocean, coastline, or whatever.
i wrote a couple of things down that until recently sunk in.

i need the ocean to teach me whatever it is i learn, music or consciousness, the single wave in the sea, the abyss of my being, the gutteral rasp of my voice, or the blazing presumption of fishes & navies- so much is certain; even in sleep, as if by the trick of a magnet, i spin on the circle of the wave upon wave of the sea, the seas university.
pablo neruda.

so it was, i stood in front of paintings, photographs, and drawings, i was seized by four photographs by hiroshi sugimoto, they were so abstract but so profund, it hit me like yves klein´s blue at the moma. i tend to be strangely drawn to overly abstract paintings/whatevers, especially monochrome ones, so sugimoto´s photographs were no exception, it was a series of four, each depicting a horizon, apparently it was the same horizon, the only thing that shifted from photo to photo was the exposure, the first was a whitish grey and the last one was almost black, but you always managed to see the horizon no matter how it had been exposed. i must have stood there for about an hour immersed in the infinity of this horizon. to add on to this absorbing experience, the curators at the DMA decided to collaborate with students to make this an auditory experience, so the sound of waves dripped through each hall, transporting the spectator to this imaginary coastline.

with my trip to the beach, i understood that the sound a wave makes is coming from infinity, never stopping, never tiring, always moving, and now i see with more accuracy what i told elsa when i was five, "te quiero como las olas del mar".

warm up!

my itunes bumped into this gem on shuffle, can´t stop dancing to it. it´s bliss when something magically possesses your itunes shuffle and reads the exact mood you´re in.

sin fi (n) sico sonido

(read letters in size 16 as a poem to: _______________ )
(michell halley)

Inhabits, before predation,
the madness of a perpetual sunrise:
time.
Lives before space, from beginning,
where start and finish,
aren´t more than juxtaposed masks between the imaginary and reality.
What would be of solitary space, without a container,
ante saecula
where time is time without name
and the new
what differs from habit.

What is being in idea, but an infinite absolute that discovers,
_______________________,
(the empty mirror)
as the only creative possibility.

Weft, plot,
Being before the first breath (where everything makes sense).
They´ve said of air,
the same as origin,
one never knows where it begins
(one never knows where it begins) squared.
Ignores, like the sky,
the distressed sound emitted by time.
that´s why perfect maintains,
the non physical oscillating in a continous melodic movement,
undulating eternally,
like sound,
delaying time in a without something,
in the nihilistic field where everything coexists,
where no one claims connection
living expended on unknowing in all instance
and once in a while,
returning our eyes into the forgotten...

by dea arjona


this poem was written for me about a year ago by one of my best friends, i had to translate it today for some work i was doing, and hadn´t read it again since then, it stirred something in me i´m still trying to figure out. the answer is right around the corner i believe.

"a beautiful sunset that was mistaken for dawn."

All people come to music to seek oblivion.

The music I desire must be supple enough to adapt itself to the lyrical effusions of the soul and the fantasy of dreams.

I confess that I am no longer thinking in musical terms, or at least not much, even though I believe with all my heart that Music remains for all time the finest means of expression we have. It’s just that I find the actual pieces — whether they’re old or modern, which is in any case merely a matter of dates — so totally poverty-stricken, manifesting an inability to see beyond the work table. They smell of the lamp, not of the sun. And then, overshadowing everything, there’s the desire to amaze one’s colleagues with arresting harmonies, quite unnecessary for the most part. In short, these days especially, music is devoid of emotional impact. I feel that, without descending to the level of the gossip column or the novel, it should be possible to solve the problem somehow. There’s no need either for music to make people think! ... It would be enough if music could make people listen, despite themselves and despite their petty mundane troubles, and never mind if they’re incapable of expressing anything resembling an opinion. It would be enough if they could no longer recognize their own grey, dull faces, if they felt that for a moment they had been dreaming of an imaginary country, that’s to say, one that can’t be found on the map.

How much has to be explored and discarded before reaching the naked flesh of feeling?




music is the space between the notes.

claude debussy.

ready to start

i can hardly take all this anticipation lingering around the new arcade fire album, in the meantime i´ve had a couple of songs to keep me company. win butler does seem to want to weave this fiber of not wanting to look back, but at the same time, nostalgia, sadness, and anger inevitably leak through.

one of the favorites.

interview with ken miller

interview with ken miller i mentioned a couple of posts back, now on MODO.
wu.

solitude is bliss

if the non-stop rain our city has given us over the past couple of days makes a little room for sun, this is what summer would sound like.

canyons via tortoiseshell.

pre-sunshine bonus. 4:22, just enough for the clouds to pass by.



it´s official, i´m moving to australia.

blind

third eye blind was one of those bands that changed my life. 97´ blasting "loosing a whole year" while my parents were getting divorced. of course i had no clue exactly what they were singing about, or what i was singing along to, but it felt good. this also happened to be the first time i fell in love, it was love at first sight and love to mend my broken heart. he had long hair, wore vans, he kissed me and the world dissolved. he gave me a necklace that i clutched tight every night. he moved to canada, i moved to cuernavaca, and i never saw him again.

third eye blind soundtracked.