Meditations on Art Omi

by T. Burre and Mike Hotter

LISTEN. MP3 audio by T. Burre. 2MB.

tunnel tunnel tunnel tunnel tunnel tunnel tunnel tunnel tunnel tunnel tunnel tunnel


T. Burre says: "Everything you hear in the recording was happening around me in the fields of Art Omi on a hot August Sunday. I just pressed the record button and got in position. The only 'processing' of sorts was a little pitch and repetition effect on the folks reciting Art Omi words. The beautiful tones heard are from a wonderfully delicate outdoor sound installation."


"You know how many notes there are between C and D?" he'd tell his musicians. "If you deal with those tones you can play nature, and nature doesn't know notes. That's why religions have bells, which sound all the transient tones. You're not musicians, you're tone scientists." -Sun Ra

"The first thing I met was a fly with a buzz/And the sky with no clouds/The heat was hot and the ground was dry/But the air was full of sound."
-Dewey Bunnell

Dig, "the heat was hot" that beautiful day in late August, and the air was chock full of interesting, meandering, soul-stroking sounds. Swimming' beneath and around a Massachusetts waterfall ("mountains come out of the sky", you know the rest), and making me sit here feeling like latter-day Jon Anderson, babbling with his peyote and his teepee, asking the fairies to go fetch him some supper.

It was that kind of day. A very kind day, to be sure.

The sort of day which lives long in the wounded hunger heart, long to cherish and give forth more nourishment, or the "nourish, meant", the nourish mint, which we ingest to stay alive, livin' in the prose-mind, the writin' kind on the brain's cave wall. Embellished with a yoga post-sign, post-mind.

"Along an envelope of chance design - humanity and its landscapes."

- I read that. Don't know who wrote it, but I like it, like I once
loved flattened rolled up apricot.

See, it all comes back around to YOU.

The Me-Nut

"Along a convergence of so many dentrites. . .the process of listening invokes its own echo."

Amen to that, kin.