The first of a unique monthly residency showcasing Chicago's very own music and film community.

January 28th at Transistor
5045 North Clark, Chicago, IL
8:30

Plans

(e)



Brian and I have a tendency to think big. Our minds constantly producing and throwing away expansive thoughts and dreams. While mostly it is a blessing, it is also a curse. It creates discontentment and dissatisfaction with the world around us. It makes us constantly question, "Are we doing enough with this life?" The image above represents an idea that is sticking. An idea that has burrowed itself deep in our brain and our soul.

The Healing is Right

(b)

I came across two mirrors facing each other when I was young. It was in a hotel, but nonetheless beautiful. It was the first time something didn't end, or the first time I was actually faced with it. You look into space, and you see stars. Few of us look into space and think about seeing everything, for miles. That's how I felt while staring into the mirrors, moving my arms, moving my lips, asking my mother about it. That's how I feel with music. It's endless and all-encompassing. There is something in it that can never be nothing. What I mean is that so often there is an end in what we do. When the song ends, the music did not complete itself. Music is a representation of a feeling for me that doesn't ever express itself in any other way. It's a look, a feeling that desires to never see an end. That's the pull.

I think every musician questions music. Why they feel the need to create it. Why that bubble pops during the day and there's nothing that can resolve the anxiety other than creating it. Lately, every single day I've experienced that rush of tension. And the tension only grows from 1pm, to 2pm, to 3pm and on until I'm home. And the odd thing about all of this? Sometimes I don't relieve it. Sometimes I become trapped in something else that keeps the struggle going. So strange. So backwards. But most of the time, deliberate.

Creating music is never relaxing for me. It's a well I have to dig every time I start. No, it's a simple wall that I add bricks to, never seeing the beginning or end. Because polarity doesn't exist here. That's the most thrilling thing to me. Being stuck in between mirrors for a period of time.

Perfect Home

(e)

for Janelle

Rest Peace Open Silence

(e)

I've become a bit obsessed with writing on my walls as of late. The sheer possibilities of that giant canvas. The benefits of making lists, writing lyrics, doodling nonsense that cannot be tucked away and forgotten. I know that soon I will paint over it. It has no lasting affects. But for right now it serves as a notepad. As an outlet. As a canvas. As a wall.

From The Lake to The Land

(b)

This song is the second of four I'm writing for someone. I decided to relate a video to it, all public domain material I pulled from and tried to create a story with. Mexico was a very interesting place in the '30s, from what I could tell. A smoky, rustic, and romantic place. Let's go there, what do you say?

War

(b)

I was given a drafting table from a friend's parents yesterday. Right now there's a few pictures from an antique book I bought "Nations at War", on the table ready to get my full attention.

 (picture not taken from the book, but has the same feeling)

The book explains, from all viewpoints, World War I, and other military related events from that era. I'm sure it's biased, but I picked it up to gather visual ideas. I'm planning on doing a couple pencil sketches of certain pictures, combining it with other pictures. Less of a collage, more of a single picture made up of two events.

I think it's pretty interesting to try and take an extreme event that changed the world to call your own. And suddenly history has been shifted a bit in your brain because now, what was stored thought, is physical. I could sell it and make profit from an idea I have about World War I.

Maybe I'll be posting some of the sketches. Maybe I'll write some music to it. Whatever it is, I'll release it all for free, of course.