Through these interstices, when conscience — this present to one’s self — falls asleep; through this tiny little interval between two instants, something arises, something you had never thought of; The erring ways of thought; through the cracks thus created, we lend our voice to the characters that rule over an unknown existence.

These sounds are too rich of all their possible existences; I cannot imagine all of their resonances; so, turning my gaze to the inside, I can see them, swirling, fleeting, inert…, gravitating, dithering, dragging themselves amorphously, in a poetic space to be.

Between dream and thought, your head full of desires of sounds and absolute, you hit the sinuous, uneven, unmarked road; appreciate it now, for you know nothing of the instants to come.

Discovering the acousmatic world through listening to Voyage au centre de la tête (by François Bayle), I am shaken by an earthquake that leaves me filled with wonder. My musical world would change; everything had to be reviewed: references, markers, certitudes, loves. I had to make room in my head and my heart for the new, the hitherto unknown.

And then, there was Sous le regard d’un soleil noir and Forêt profonde (by Francis Dhomont) heard in concert — they turned my head and soul upside down. Two deep and decisive experiences. Followed by so many others just as beautiful.

In front of this other infinite world, the world of sounds, can you reinvent the rules of the game, set — conscious — limits, make choices, again and again? Accept the vertigo, the wandering, and the unexpected?

Ingrid Drese, Brussels (Belgium) [English translation: François Couture, vi-09]