Over recent years, I have come to the conclusion that many of my interests revolve around the echoes of life.
Music is an all too obvious example: composition, distilling thought and response into sound; performance, creating sound in space and time, leaving traces of it behind in memories, recordings and ephemera; research, trying to piece together when and what music was, and how it was experienced.
Research, of history, culture, ‘the digital’, the tracing of sources and thoughts to understand how the world is experienced through the echoes left behind by human activity, trying to make sense of them, critiquing them, and tracing their patterns to create ideas and theories.
Photography, that ever more convenient effort to capture moments of particular beauty or strangeness or meaning, or the mundane, and preserve a fragment of presence for a future in which there is absence.
And all of the other things, like poetry, writing, reading, responses to current events, my own experience. Those too are echoes of life.
Here, then, is a space for the echoes and amplifications of my own experience and my own thoughts.
My life. My echoes.
I have made numerous attempts at ‘blogging over the years, and have always found it to be, at best, a sporadic activity. I begin, lose confidence in the process, make everything private, and leave it a year or two before I begin, lose confidence in the process, make everything private, and leave it a year or two, before I begin, lose confidence in the process, make everything private, and leave it a year or two, before …
Shall we see if this time is different?
