Seeing and hearing, next to tasting, have been constants in my life, as far back as I can remember, and these have been prevalent just as much in all that I can no longer remember, be it because it has been forgotten, or because of the mere fact that not everything perceived has found validation in entering my memory.
Another constant has been moving. No less than ten homes had been mine – Harlem, Puerto Rico, Michigan – by the time I was seventeen. Sometimes over night, sometimes without my say, other times after short planing, the next move was imminent, adding dozens of further addresses under my name. A couple in New York City, a couple in Boston, several in Cologne, two in Liège, in Vienna, Berlin, Hamburg, Cyprus, London, several additional in New York City.
For a few years now, this view has been mine – a section behind my current home. And suddenly I sense a need to document it, and for the first time, not just visually. But these documents are a new form of inspiration, connected with a subtle sense of closure. A move is coming. Everything speaks that way. And it is different, sweet, a new instigation to pay attention to the many birds I hear daily for years, the flowers and dry leaves throughout seasons going, and returning.
Future moves foretell a different approach. More recordings next time in Japan, next time in Manhattan, next time sitting in a train going elsewhere, and different perspectives through whichever lens is at hand when I freeze more frames.
Sila Blume 
Leave a comment