sweaty crease 34

Play, and away and back again.

swcrease34.nfo

1. play the music
2. look at photos
3. play again if music stops


Ananda Project - Cascades of Colour
pressed in 1998
















and that sunrise
and that sunset
but when night falls
but the music
















and that sunrise
and that sunset
but when night falls
but the music

and that sunrise
cascades of colour slip right through your hands
and that sunset
your castles in the clouds turn back into sand
but when night falls
you find you're swept away with no helping hand
but the music
the music is your beacon back to dry land

and that sunrise
cascades of colour slip right through your hands
and that sunset
your castles in the clouds turn back into sand
but when night falls
you find you're swept away with no helping hand
but the music
the music is your beacon back to dry land

and that sunrise
cascades of colour slip right through your hands
and that sunset
your castles in the clouds turn back into sand
but when night falls
you find you're swept away with no helping hand
but the music
the music is your beacon back to dry land

and that sunrise
cascades of colour slip right through your hands
and that sunset
your castles in the clouds turn back into sand
but when night falls
you find you're swept away with no helping hand
but the music
the music is your beacon back to dry land

and that sunrise
cascades of colour slip right through your hands
and that sunset
your castles in the clouds turn back into sand
but when night falls
you find you're swept away with no helping hand
but the music
the music is your beacon back to dry land

and that sun
cascades of colour slip
cascades of colour slip
cascades of colour slip
cascades of colour slip

cascades of colour slip right through your hands
your castles in the clouds turn back into sand
you find you're swept away with no helping hand
the music is your beacon back to dry land

and that sunrise
cascades of colour slip right through your hands
and that sunset
your castles in the clouds turn back into sand
but when night falls
you find you're swept away with no helping hand
but the music
the music is your beacon back to dry land

and that sunrise
and that sunset
but when night falls
but the music

cascades of colour





































An image is a bridge between evoked emotion and conscious knowledge; words are the cables that hold up the bridge. Images are more direct, more immediate than words, and closer to the unconscious. Picture language precedes thinking in words; the metaphorical mind precedes analytical consciousness.


When I create stories in my head, that is, allow the voices and scenes to be projected in the inner screen of my mind, I 'trance.' I used to think I was going crazy or that I was having hallucinations. But now I realize it is my job, my calling, to traffic in images. Some of these film-like narratives I write down; more are lost, forgotten. When I don't write the images down for several days or weeks or months, I get physically ill. Because writing invokes images from my unconscious, and because some of the images are residues of trauma which I then have to reconstruct, I sometimes get sick when I do write. I can't stomach it, become nauseous, or burn with fever, worsen. But, in reconstructing the traumas behind the images, I make 'sense' of them, and once they have 'meaning' they are changed, transformed. It is then that writing heals me, brings me great joy. - Gloria Anzaldua (cut)