inbetweens (March 2018)

The video was shot about a month ago, while visiting my partner’s folks in Texas. They had finally finished building their home, after spending the better part of a year living in a camper parked inside the warehouse on their land. The build turned out beautifully — it’s a small place with a big open heart where the living room, kitchen, dining area and office share fluid borders.

Behind the house, is more land than I know how to quantify (I grew up with a parking lot for a front yard). Ed took me around on their Kabota to do “perimeter checks” and explained the intricacies of the deer feeder’s schedule. He let me help pull up painter’s tape from the warehouse floor to reveal a regulation shuffleboard court he’d built because of how much fun he and Tori had playing it on a recent vacation. He pointed out the spot where an inherited pile of wood used to sit — Ed knew it was shelter for something fierce and when he showed the buckshot-filled carcass of a fat, two-foot long snake to a friend, they were surprised he hadn’t been killed before pulling the trigger.

One of the nights, Ed and I were walking down to the warehouse for lighter fluid and he stopped us at a massive tree. Before he and Tori broke ground, the entire lot was packed with all kinds of growth. Over the year, they cut most of it down, but Ed wanted to keep this one tree because it looked like it could come to life. You know, like the trees do in movies.

Later that evening, I went out back and grabbed this footage from the base of that tree, using my phone for light. The audio is from a session a week ago, using Mannequins and monome modules processed with plugins from Soundtoys and Goodhertz.

While doing a 4500 project on Instagram, I noticed that merging unrelated video and audio reveals different manifestations of the same impulses. There’s never music in my head when I’m filming, same with images when I’m playing — but when presented together, a choreography emerges.

It’s possible that the synchronicity is subjective, or just the result of sentimentality. But that’s interesting, too!

What does it mean to see these connections? What does it mean to force them? Is it healthy to invent a narrative or is it undisciplined? Does the music impose emotion on nature or does it simply extend invitation?

My mind was blank while filming, but as soon as it’s media I need something to think about.

I dunno. It’s good data to have, if nothing else.

*patch notes*

bass: Mangrove receiving v/8 from Teletype, FM from Just Friends

mids: Just Friends receiving Just Type commands from Teletype

control: Teletype patterns that constrict a grid to notes in a chosen scale. this allows for a fearless playable surface, ideal for improvisation. six rows control individual voices of Just Friends, one row for Mangrove bass.

color: Crystallizer (Soundtoys); Wow Control, Vulf Compressor, Midside (Goodhertz)

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