Imagine that you are standing on a field. It looks like a golf green that goes on for ever and ever, 360 degrees. You have no map and no plans. Where ever you look there’s nothing, neither close nor far. But if you stare at the horizon for a while you might start imagining things. Everything is just flat, and flat and flat and the same colour and no features. Where would you go? And how would you keep yourself going?
Our lives form around the structures and landscapes we grow up and live in, no matter wether we spend our lives complying to or rejecting them. Our expressions, in whatever format or language, forms around its structures and landscapes in just the same way. And what we make out of that is what makes us us, or our voice our voice. With no obstacles, at all, we could consider ourselves completely free. Or lost.
What if we could express exactly what we thought and felt. I dont mean that we ever could, but what if? Wouldn’t it just be… a roar? A shockwave of sound, so complex that it fills every wavelength. And it just keeps coming, doesn’t it? But if we succeed in distinguishing and channelling some part of it onto a page, or a canvas or a scene or into a little gesture, it may, it has a chance to sing in tune with someone-else’s roar, and we can truly, though not ever fully, understand.