For the past two or three years, I have been walking through a desert. It is filled with the howling, gusting winds, endless skies, the unremitting bright sun, chilled nights, shimmering stars and the iridescent moon. It is a place filled with silence and where time, distance, and space have not lost their integrity but are shown the utmost respect.
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bookmark_borderCH – Miles Davis’ Face on a Vinyl Record – 09:20; 10 July, 2019

One of the first things that caught my eye as I walked from the Winterthur station to my hosts house was a record suspended on the brick facade of a building. Thinking back on it now. I can’t be certain whether it was at the base of a set of stairs which lead up to a second floor entrance or not. I’m pretty sure it was. What struck me as odd was not merely the fact that someone had nailed, or somehow affixed a vinyl record to the outer brick wall of this very industrial looking building, but that someone had painted a face on it. Nowadays, vinyl records are being produced with all manner of designs on them as a way to make the object of the record more appealing, more visually interesting. As if a large disc of plastic with microscopic bumps and grooves that makes music isn’t fascinating enough.
Continue reading “CH – Miles Davis’ Face on a Vinyl Record – 09:20; 10 July, 2019”bookmark_borderWed. 17 Mar. 2021; 22:52, Sitting Room, Couch
Shea is curled tightly at my feet, as she has been for the past several hours while I’ve been reading through The Grapes of Wrath accompanied by Working Days.
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