no. 243 | Too Soon to Tell You
Performance artist Jan Bas Ader never revealed what he was Too Sad to Tell You. Some critics believe that this is an ironic ploy. The artist creates a simulacra of intimacy by forcefully rubbing his eyes before each performance to coax tears from physical irritation rather than earned emotion. Or perhaps the ambiguity is poetic–allowing one to imagine the scenario that would personally move them to tears. I imagine the mystery surrounding the piece and his death is what makes the work so iconic for many.
Much of my work comes from lived experiences. This is why I am so drawn to photography and field recordings. These media are rooted in the world around us, but also free from the bounding context of time. It’s hard to know what is too personal to share. When has enough time passed to create the distance that may allow more nuanced work to emerge?
As many of you know, my mother passed away at the end of May. That feels very near and impossibly distant simultaneously. This past year, I was her main caretaker and even after her passing, there is still much to do. Although now I have more time to make things. This past weekend, PSO collaborator and dearest friend Paul and I traveled to Bastrop State Park to record some music we have been refining over the last year in a cabin built as a CCC project in the 1930s.
In addition to tracking guitar parts, we made many field recordings, and I stepped out to record a few improvisations. I also chose a spot in the park to spread Mom’s ashes. A place where trees blackened from a fire ten years ago are surrounded by lush new growth. A place that I have thought about deeply and associated intimately with the cycles of life and death.
The audio is a composite of a spacious improvisation made just outside the cabin and the sounds of the spreading of her ashes in a small clearing where a blackened tree stood almost in partnership with a young new tree. The image is a composite of those two places. One image was made just outside the cabin during a particularly vivid sunset, and the other depicts the space where our small ceremony took place.
I hope that it brings you a sense of expansion as it has for me.
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