I like to go dancing. Your album from 1976 in a box on First Street almost exactly this time last year.
I was at Generator at AVA last month looking at a record I am trying to remember the name of. It was by a female singer, and on the front of the sleeve it had symbols arranged in a circle that the singer had drawn, and the circle was what she visualized when doing circular breathing. Her singing sounded sort of like a continuous sound ascending and descending in an octave.
Does this ring any bells?
I like to go dancing. Your shapes like Sonic the Hedgehog and a tannenbaum, perfect circles, a diagram or a map? Your voice like an unconditional gesture. Your voice like a rocket. Your hair in a parabola bob.
“Like a Japanese Astrud Gilberto” — like a voice imitating a harp imitating a koto in a perfume commercial, between the mouth and the ribs, your rhythm and resonance.
You and Cage, you and Cunningham, you and Reich. You and Goldsmith and Glass. You and Subotnick since 1979. You alone: ‘Rothko’ like a monk’s bell making the plants grow.
What needs to be done. Pull the air in, push the sound out, but you breathe and sing in spheres. The mouth, the breast, contraction. Shapes of adversity; your peace. Your peace; the world inside Gilberto’s beehive and out.
Text for a painting by Dana Dart McLean as part of ‘Sheros’ at Lamp Gallery, Tokyo, 23rd October – 30th November 2014