To me, the understanding that society is created and defined (like we are all still stuck as little kids playing house) is crucial to my life. I like it keep on the tip of my tongue that the path that information takes from a source to the human body creates a projected illusion, which is perceived outside the mind, is created abstractly within. However, I am not sure that it is crucial to listening or appreciating my constructions. I understand that my philosophies also limit me on the foundation; in a set theoretic analogue, our lives will always be just subsets of the infinite union of experience that is life. Furthering the thought, the very notion that the words 'music' or 'sound' have absolute definitions is preposterous in the sense that we can only truly agree that they are words (and in fact this is a subset of other cultures languages and other species's understandings). In reality, we define what these words mean by limiting our musical palettes through choosing whether or not we would like to be discerning in regards to how we view our perceived identity. Thus I will continue to push the limits of what my close friends can handle by purposely using what other people might consider to be 'abusive' vibrations. By coloring with these sounds I will attempt to provide the listener with something that at first was originally considered grotesque but then metamorphosed into a new appreciation of squeals and scratches.

I like to play shows and collaborate. I view both of these processes as important in the construction. Simply put, I view the space as a part of the pitch. For instance, the ambient noise can be seen as a drone note to be experimented with. In other words for me the frame of the painting as well as the gallery it is placed in as well as where the gallery is placed and how people view the gallery is all a part of the original work, regardless how many times a definition has to be redefined. The painting took on its new definition as it entered the gallery and as new works filter through its walls so will the connotation of the gallery and thus of the painting. There is a direct isomorphism from paint to sound.

Methodology: I record sounds/stoned jam sessions/ life and then layer the waves produced in Acid Music Pro 6 to distort the frequency/length/period/etc... to give the illusion/being of harmony/melody/rhythm. My friends say that what I do is like early tape music (e.g. Le Caine's "Dripsody") in that I limit my palette of potential sound manipulations to layering, cutting, and alteration of wavelength to change pitch.

I would rather not talk about my past work or how I got into music but I will say that it is a great story and involves me turning into an Elk or, more correctly, like an Elk who realized that he was no longer a human. Like feeling beautiful on the internet inducing screen shot portraits hung in the front hallway, waiting for the rocks to erode the sea. The world does not wait to turn nor does the moon to rise and yet we wait. A tree does not to grow nor a river to run and yet we wait on endless banks. Just drift wood washing up. Pick up this lost piece of oak, battered abused and burnt. Count the rings left by local termites and use it to mark a grave for those yet to be, maybe for the beach, maybe for the beach, maybe for the beach. Say her name three times and wait for Rocky Mountain Trolls to awake, revealing the greater plains, and drink from where we sail our dreams and anchor our insecurities. Cut the rope and drift across star reflections on top the breath of mountains, on the waves of tears and urine. For a good captain navigates by while a bad captain navigates against and I will always strive to be a good captain.