the earth exhales into the cold dusk


Field recordings filtered with variable-length plastic tube attached to stereo microphone. Recorded in Joshua Tree National Park on December 5th, 2020, with indispensible assistance from Rebecca Lawrence.



Over the course of a day, the tube was cut at predetermined harmonic intervals marked with a sharpie in advance, and new recordings were made for each new length of tube at progressively lower altitudes in the landscape. The collection of recordings was then edited in a DAW based on the harmonic relationships of their respective tube lengths. What results is a kind of musical retuning of the desert wind from dawn till dusk.


"Night does not anæsthetize the skin, but makes it more subtly aware. The body trains itself to seek the road in the middle of darkness, loves small, insignificant perceptions: faint calls, imperceptible nuances, rare effluvia, and prefers them to everything loud. Things wandering in the silence and shadow help it to rediscover practices long since lost through forgetfulness and habit. Technical prostheses date from such a recent time in our history that our humiliated bones rejoice in playing once again from an ancient score..." —Michel Serres. Les Cinq Sens

"The valley sinks into mist, and the yellow orbital ring of the horizon closes over the glaring cornea of the sun. The eastern ridge blooms purple, then fades to inimical black. The earth exhales into the cold dusk. Frost forms in hollows shaded from the afterglow. Owls wake and call. The first stars hover and drift down. Like a roosting hawk, I listen to silence and gaze into the dark." —J.A. Baker. The Peregrine