The Small, Unspeakable Universe of a Junk Truck: a musician’s perspective on objects imagined as musical scores

These small places with their objects remind me of and little, tiny universes with their unspeakable elements. The language is not English, not words, not text nor title. I say title as a play on words because this small universe is a truck. Similar to another project which we called Bearing the Light, I am trying to untangle intangible currency.

Up until now I was too pig headed to realize that I was (again) colonizing the truck towards some sort of single, god idea of my own. Why is it that we humans can’t stop doing this? We see ourselves as some sort of savior ready to give “the divine word” to a time or an object. The truck is more of a vessel, let’s say. (I should be, too.) It is there as visual evidence of what we all are enslaved to– to the passage of time, the artifacts of invented ideas that serve us; i.e., wealth, speed, pretense, status, dependability, and so on.

Music now enters as a vibration, an activation. As a musician turning artist, what can I next do with this realization. I visually played once. I sang to it. I could play inside it but put my contact mic to its metal wall. I should play the hurdy gurdy very loudly through my battery amp, but then made more of a silent film of what happens, how the truck vibrates.

My last film recorded the idea of my looking outward through its glass and humming, just the same way anyone might when they first buy a new vehicle. The truck seems to be my vehicle for learning. I’m not there to improve or save the truck. I am there to understand its world which truly exists but not in words.