The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

mesmeric beacon

The digital promises eternity and implosion simultaneously. As the world
rolls on, the archive, dependent on a technological present, momentarily
survives. In a decade, our words will be forever lost; in a century, the
writers from the red dust return to the same. Our world is burning, our
digital mission evanescent. We endure, adapt ourselves to fast-forward
technological innovation, hope for the best; we shall never see the end of
it. I work with this in mind, as if each piece is my last. My work expands
across sensory modalities, temporary membranes of personal and inconeiv-
able wonder. This new video, actually
quite short but looped, is a mesmeric beacon, providing visual accompany-
ing since, surely, sound is no, never
enough, nor the labor of one's instrumental reason. Please keep this in
mind, playing the mesmeric beacon while each of the four murmurs of this
and any other world play unto boredom, reaching perhaps our point of
saturation. This is the promise of eternity; one may return to such music
at any time of day or night, given sufficient technology, power, and
expertise. I shall die of exhaustion waiting for you, please do not

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