“No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.” – Heraclitus

A loop cassette. A soundtrack to infinity. Music as a conceptual and resonant space that facilitates prehension, guiding or nudging an individual in a series of minimal force events. A controlled series of movements on a journey that is both purposeful and fulfilling. The linearity  and the embedded paternalistic impulses can flatten the effect.

There is no static sound and it cannot exist in stasis. Visual imagery or floral word combinations can be studied. Sound can be too, but there exists a stronger softness to its edges, where does the fold of this end and the line of this begin? The bird has been whistling and that plane has been humming but what changed it from peaceful to dramatic? Where is one low tone coming from in the orchestra?

Save grand gestures for performance, and even then, never get too ham fisted. Glitched finale in the rotunda. Bending palpitations exposing the fault-lines in the floors.

This strip of magnetic ribbon is a symbol for infinity, embedded with a microcosm of the macrocosm. It is this thin purposeful materiality that gives it its vibrancy, its pulsing of interactions and relationships with the listener, the room. And this room is the site of a study of something bigger than all other big things. 

Cassette number xx out of yy. A chromosomal chain of product, given away for free. Without a cost it may not be a product but instead a gift. A degree of anonymity, but personalized, and distributed with a fraternal attitude and an agendaless nature. It is not promotion, it is not performance, it is a means to exchange language, an object of temporarily invested interest, divested to the end user to do as they please. Do they toss it or lose it or do they listen?