a thread of history, a thread of legacy, a thread of continuity in cycles, rhythms, tradition and culture

You see, the story people don’t realize is, we didn’t know we were making history.

Someone would light the incense, and sounds began: the tanpura, sitar, sarod, tabla, with a different person practicing in every room.

It is a particular history that we in Africa, and Indigenous peoples, have endured.

And you’d ask: Why do you write about fetuses and swallows, “Ciuri, Ciuri”? Flowers, Flowers.

The reunion of Sarah and Cohen as pupil and teacher at the age of 59 and 80, respectively, forms the heart of the memoir.

I wanted to make a soundscape with the rhythmic patterns of my father’s voice and cadence, as well as his poetic presentation.

She was one of a handful of women of colour working in an industry full of white middle-class men. So she felt that it was up to her to carve out her own identity.

I would close my eyes and watch the shadows play behind my lids while the vibrations molded and shaped my dreams.

I adjust my non-existent headphones and I add castanets, maracas, timbales, and I try to change the beat

These images are music between two notes

dans la sculpture comme dans la musique on retrouve la forme, le mouvement, le tempo