My first glitch video. A bit rough, but I like it.
Author Archives: Brad
“Beyond the edge of the world there’s a space where emptiness and substance neatly overlap, where past and future form a continuous, endless loop. And, hovering about, there are signs no one has ever read, chords no one has ever heard.”
― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore
I was in my early twenties, and already well on my way toward building the most complete Eagles related record collection ever attempted in Australia. Well, that’s certainly how I felt about the whole project back then, and I was immensely proud of my taxonomic knowledge and time-series awareness with regard to the ‘family tree’ of all things Eagles.
Linda Ronstadt, Buffalo Springfield, Poco, Firefall, The James Gang, The Flying Burrito Brothers, Byrds, The Session, Randy Newman, John Entwistle of The Who, Joni Mitchell, Dan Fogelberg… just a short list of bands and musicians who cross polinated and shared session musicians. Do session musicians still exist in the popular music scene these days?
But I’m not here to reconstruct my early musical education for you – root, branch and tree. I have a stack of system cards on my coffee table and an Excel spreadsheet for that. Instead, I just want to share a song that has followed me both lyrically and musically through my life, and always speaks to my current state of mind and perceived place in the world, regardless of whether I am feeling up or down.
As a child, my pencil and crayon drawings were very formulaic. I would typically start with a mountain range and then build a house at the base of it. The house would consist of a square and a rectangle beside each other, a triangle on top of the square, and a parallelogram on the rectangle. The square was where the door went, and two windows went in the rectangle. Around the house I would draw some trees, grass tufts and flowers. Then I would put some birds in the sky and finish it off with a ball of sun in the top right corner with nice straight rays of light pointing at the house.
With this memory in mind, and with my 47th birthday approaching next week, I have reconstructed one of my children’s drawings from a few items I found at hand. The result is a bit puzzling to mind, which insists on decoding the whole process and psychoanalyzing myself.
I figure I have either lost my childhood innocence, or I have regained my sense of youthful playfulness. Can both of those things exist together?
The title for this image is borrowed from the lyrics of the song that inspired it.
Runaway by The National.