Playful process of cadence and vocal emotions.
for the void on empty avenue and the fields of heart space
During the last days of January and first days of February, I went into creative cocooning, as a conduit for the void on empty avenue and the fields of heart space. I feel like I’m in a perpetual creative cocoon, continuously connected to Source as a conduit. And though, each project that I do, I go into these multiple miniature cocoons that hold space inside of the Big Zatti Cocoon that is ultimately my life. That’s one of the best ways to explain it.
I emerged from the baby cocoons of tvoea and tfohs, the week after I went inside of them, with a completed project consisting of two EPs (or, as the platforms consider them, Single’s). Six tracks altogether. Five to seven days of writing, laying down vocals, and mixing, in the Piney mountains of TAOT. The mastering and cover art was just a simple, but beautiful, silky, burgundy ribbon tied around it. Or better yet, an amaretto laced kiss that served to sexily seal the sonic love letter.
I won’t withhold the fact that one track was already completed prior to when I began working on tvoea and tfohs — albeit unmastered, it was completed nonetheless. That song is “out of breath…”. And another track (“headed whence…”) was already written, without an instrumental, without being recorded, mixed, and mastered. Basically, that track just got a little head start.
I’ve been documenting my process a lot more than I have been with my previously released projects. Rough versions, freestyles of me finding my flow with instrumentals, a cappella’s, what my dry erase board looks like during strategising or task tracking — whatever I can show for in order to honour and immortalise the makings of not only the projects themselves, but the Co-Creator of them all… myself.
The Interim. That’s been one of my favourite words lately — interim. The in-between. Until. Holding hands with time. Clasping my heart between palms like trees. Awaiting the unfolding in that space, while manifesting soft-petaled life from the weeds that grow there. I’m forever in the here. The now. The in-between.
It’s the childhood. The inner-child. The connection. Here, we can be free to do whatever we need to do, in order to decide what we’ll ultimately do. Child’s play. Having a paint fight with the canvas, in an innocent uproar of careless laughter. When you’re too weak and out of breath to laugh any more, or the paint accidentally gets in your mouth, you assess the art of the aftermath, and realise exactly what it is that you need to do with the painting. You zone out into intentionally painting. Focused. Precise. Coherently, with clarity. The Interim is the irreverent chaos that brings such meditative order.
This is a glimpse of what has happened in my interim of the void on empty avenue and the fields of heart space. A glimpse of the child-like wonder and infinite nature of those projects, of me…