Lawrence English
Cruel Optimism

Sounds lightly painted on a living canvas, free to move in a liberating motion. Expressive freedom.

Freedom, you live next to it but maybe we don't realize this whip that allows the abstract expression of rebellion against conventions. It reminds me of Tim Hecker throwing a piano off the balcony.

Emotions expressed in the language of clouds.

We are not children of the stars, we are children, we are children and it is not a sin. It is not a sin to perfect the past of fathers, explorers of sounds alien to common feeling.

Layers of living, manipulated sounds. A soft, annoying, light, disturbing landscape. A scream on the musical staff.

A dusting of sounds taking shape for listening, the gravity that turns small episodes into a great universe. A universe of contradictions, peace, explosions, screams, and sighs.

A sound universe to explore in all its forms, forms as variable as the language of clouds.

Clouds, the artist's challenge to infuse them with life, to transform them into pulsing figures, emotions.

To mold sound into beats, perhaps of a bored heart.