"We Resolve," from Abstraction
, fits it best, this time of the year; my night painting, that is. I put my pieces back together on sand roads in pine barrens, miles from anything but
sand and pine, windows on the Silverado down, bombarded by the sound of insect chants. Abstraction
screams back. There are hundreds of miles of these roads which make a perfect escape from the otherwise most densely populated state in the union. Zo Pilots, Fields, Edge of the Forest, my broken boxes
(still haven't figured out how to open them, Saul), Outfolding, cicadas, katydids, frogs, owls, howling coyotes ...
I dunno. I might be Saul's first groupie. I followed him around so much during his pioneering Philadelphia days he would turn around at every live performance and see me there, front and center, and I could read his lips. "Oh. Him again." Stokes fascinated me. Not being a musician, nor knowing much about the technical aspects of what it takes to be one of an electronic nature, I still managed to see in the artist the genius behind his accomplishments; building instruments by hand, then sculpturing the sounds created from these into unbelievable shapes.
And his compositions speak to me in the same manner as what I hear out there.
Last night, sand roading, and Villa Galaxia
setting the mood, I thought of my step father. Not long before he lost his final battle, and curious about the weird choice of music preference I had a reputation of having, Shep offered me a "five minute window" with which to impress him by playing an electronic music piece of my choice. What I picked then wasn't important ... and there was no chance of impressing him, even if I had 500 minutes to play. Wish I had another chance. I think I've heard the song.
I played it pretty damned loud last night, repeatedly, remembering one of the last things he said.
"Life was good."