They say that if we are lost in a desert and try to move in a straight line, we will tend to walk in circles in an anti-clockwise direction because our right leg is more developed. Something similar could happen with listening in everyday life. In the desert, we could widen our perception and look for some signs: a mark on the ground, a stone, some particular bush. If there is nothing, we can try to perceive where the wind comes from, what happens with the sun, listen if something sounds in the distance, leave some marks on the path traveled, as happens in so many popular tales. Get in context. To avoid turning on ourselves, in the desert of listening, we can also follow some tracks; Those marks could be new works, subjects that generate a constellation or an imaginary territory. Tracks that do not serve to mark a single meaning but to disarm it. A map appears, a cartography: a sound navigation chart. The subjects, or the works, are not similar or different from each other, but the environment and the listening of the visitors create the similarities and the differences. Forces and processes that contrast and complement each other. What is music today? We don't know, but nothing better than being lost again.

Julián Galay (Buenos Aires, 1988) is a composer who works with sound, moving images and language through installation, editing, performance and experimental cinema. He usually explores what is behind architectural spaces and institutions through personal diaries, dreams and archives. Lives in Berlin.

Book (13 x 21 cm)
Pages: 176