Two years since I posted last? Hmph. :/
This somewhat creepy piece was inspired by my son who, out of the blue, from the back seat of a quiet car said “In THIS world, the clocks on THAT building, are NOT going crazy” referring to a building we were passing that had multiple clocks on it.
After we finished laughing at the unexpected absurdity of our son, I started thinking of what it must be like to be so young, when every experience is novel. What is it like to be able to look at things without the experience to know what things are supposed to look like and what they’re supposed to do. If trees started spinning in the ground or it rained light bulbs, to him it would just be something that happens. To him it’s just as reasonable to comment that that a bunch of clocks are spinning wildly as it is to notice and comment that they are behaving just as clocks do.
In this piece the occasional scratching, clicking and creaking sounds are the clocks and other mechanalia, everything else is everything else and the part of Declan is played by the piano.
Post a Comment