A song using silence, ambient noise, and quiet to explore the binary between man-made and natural disasters
Two stories of home—one from the North, one from the South—follow four people as they come to terms with how space and identity collide.
"My grandfather, the first Black basketball player at the University of Pittsburgh, is one of thirty-three 1,000-point scorers in the school’s history and graduated with an engineering degree."
"A couple of months ago, I was digging through my nana’s photo collection . . . I found this beat up, stained, and wrinkled picture of this most powerful and gloriously bright women that looked familiar and yet distant to my memories . . . She was a piece of me that I am and a part of me that I wish to become. "
"Each passing year sees graffiti art being stripped from our streets, and with each disappearance, we lose a piece of our culture. This walking tour is just one South Bronx native's attempt to preserve its memory."
"My time in Normandy was engulfed in sound, and I constantly found myself comparing our loud, boisterous American voices to the low hum of French."
Paradoxically, a given work of art is at once unique and derivative...In order to work out this issue myself, I decided to create a musical medley of songs that were all focused on the rain that falls from the sky above.
"When we arrived in the Galápagos, we were instantly bombarded with visual beauty . . . I also had to remind myself to shift my awareness to listening to the island, especially when it seemed like there was hardly anything to hear at all."