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Captured at Turning Leaf in Charleston, South Carolina, USA — settings: Camera: ILCE-9, focal length: 40mm, SS: 1/160, Aperture: f/2.8, ISO: 1000, Flash: off — by Kevin Lowery
Screenshot of 'Turning Away Toward: a dance of introduction' - a dynamic animation created for remixworx.net and Anorectic Avatars. See the animation here: www.runran.net/remix_runran/?p=2082
A neat engineeering detail from the windmill at Avoncroft museum of buildings. This wheel, positioned at 180 degrees from the sails, runs in acircular track to line up the mill against the wind.
Craig Richey in the pack (leftmost red jersey) during the Russ Hays/Accent Inns Grand Prix Cat 1-2 Men event. BC Premier Road Series Points Leader Isaac LeBlanc is just behind Craig.
Tonight's Rain
From My Porch, With My Tripod
Inspired by Freeman Patterson's "Photography and the Art of Seeing"
Makin' Friends With My Tripod
Today we celebrate the sound that finds you before you know who you are, Ryuichi Sakamoto a name that doesn’t knock on the door. It just walks right in, takes a seat on the floor, and starts rearranging the furniture inside your chest.
Ryuichi Sakamoto was born in Japan, but his music never stayed put. It didn’t believe in borders. It traveled light. Piano, silence, electricity, ghosts. He played the future like it was already remembering itself. Sakamoto knew something. He knew that music doesn’t always come to entertain you. Sometimes it comes to recognize you. Sometimes it comes early.
Sakamoto, a man who knew that electricity had a soul problem and decided to help it out. He didn’t treat machines like tools; he treated them like pen pals. Wrote them letters in voltage and waited for them to answer back. And they did. Sometimes politely. Sometimes in riddles. Yellow Magic Orchestra wasn’t just a band, that was a rumor traveling faster than sound. Three men standing still while the world started dancing around them. They took the stuff people were afraid of: microchips, calculators, blinking lights and turned it into pop songs you could hum while the century changed its clothes. In Japan, in Europe, in places that didn’t even know they were listening yet, YMO showed up like a postcard from tomorrow, postmarked now. You could hear Kraftwerk in there, sure, but also video arcades, traffic signals, and the ancient ghosts of melodies that had been waiting a long time for a new body.
I heard about a girl once, she was five years old, living in Lausanne, Switzerland. Too young to explain anything to anybody. Standing in a living room, probably surrounded by grown-up furniture and grown-up worries that didn’t belong to her yet. And then the speakers opened up, and out came Ryuichi Sakamoto. Just appeared. No warning. And the girl started crying. Not because it was sad. That’s the important part. It wasn’t sadness. It was something without a name. Something bigger than language. Like the sound knew her better than she knew herself. Like it reached into the future and said, -You’re going to carry this. Yeah, that girl was I. The tune was “Rain (I Want a Divorce)”. That was the first time I ever cried because of music and that’s an experience you can’t forget. Now fast-forward the reel. I’m soon turning forty two years old. Different rooms, different countries, different versions of myself stacked up like old records. But I put on Sakamoto—any Sakamoto—and the tears still come. Same place. Same feeling. Still not sadness. I guess that’s how you know it’s real. You see, there’s something about his resonance, a very peculiar and out of this world timbre, I’m still trying to figure it out.
Sakamoto’s music doesn’t age. It just deepens. It keeps asking the same question in different ways. It says: Do you remember who you were when you first felt something? And your body answers before your mind can interrupt. Some people run from that feeling. I myself? I love it. I love how the music can still crack me open. Because that’s the thing about crying to music, you’re not breaking down. You’re tuning in.
And Ryuichi Sakamoto? He was a master tuner. He found the frequency where beauty, mystery, and memory all overlap. Where a five-year-old in Switzerland and a forty-year-old somewhere else can meet, nod to each other, and say, -Yeah. This is it.
ink, watercolor on paper
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