The mass production of durable goods ensures that precious tonewoods will continue to decline in availability. The timbre of soundboards need not be uniform to produce standing waves. Sonorous movement of air. Lessons of old will resurface and merge with new futures, innate primal instincts will work with new materials and new forms in new conditions.

Instruments of bone and skin do not require a standardized system of notation made on duplicate scores for all the musicians. Listening, each element inside the players’ skeletons resonant, improvising because time moves quick, a song emerges. Cartilage groans, marrow gurgles the burbling rhythm, creaking twist of spine, and a bioluminescent hum mashes frequencies across a spectrum of color and light and the movement of muscle. For all of our interiors, dozens of exteriors of our creation.

X-ray technicians focus in, unaware their imaging has potential as stylus-cut contrabass contraband, audiogram postcards sent to secret turntables, ecstatic bullroarer further. It is the subject of the image that itself is the instrument in need of tuning. The sound of right now, clicking joints, functional exhaust valves, an unsettling lullaby if not conducted well.

Tessellating tiles spread out to the dodecahedron that fills your awareness. Bound by dark blue fluid, opalescent shimmer at its microruptured crests, every sound and the beautiful grotesquerie of experience. Vestigial organs still offer notes towards a swollen chord, utility beyond assumed futility.