village nomade radio



solublefish - and the dust blows away

The human mind is a complex and chaotic ruin: full of cracked walls and heaps of dust (Ayako Mogi)
even in the world's bustle and dust, a mind of emptiness never wanders’ (Po Chü-I, T’ang Dynasty)

Home is a place we think we know well.
The roof space is dark.
Dust. Clutter.
Broken wheezy twangy instruments, building bricks, squeaky toys, old cassette indispensable voices and sounds, long ago dispensed with and forgotten. Bric-a-brac, clic-a-clac, clatter.
Sea of memory. My sons' childhoods.
Bring it all down. Into the light.
What to do with it?
Then my younger son rings. Would I add sounds to a collaborative art piece he's working on?
This is a new thing.
Place random pieces of memory in a circle around a microphone, give them their voice. They bounce off one another: f/x for the Glean of Glob*....and the dust blows away: another new thing that means nothing but itself, right now.
Zen mocks metaphor. Surrealism shuns simile.

photo by solublefish