Espacios interrumpidos

by ihä

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1.
Espera 20:55

about

First days of autumn. A Sunday afternoon. I sat down calmly. I breathed. I waited. I began. A thread of sound. A mantra, a loop, calmness in repetition. I had learned not to give in, to wait, to listen. I leave the guitar, I let my guard down, I listen and I breathe. A thread of sound embraces us. I contemplate the silence. From there on, it is just about colouring the atmosphere. Then, something leads me to an end. We reach pure silence. For a few seconds, we contemplate that silence. We breathe. The interruption has ended.

Liner notes by Charlie Vásquez:
Stopping is not a concrete or fixed act; it is an elusive process which always lingers, stretching, far from being an instant, fugitive, but just as fragile. Speed and delicacy in tension as they collide, exploding in a slow, imperceptible way, but containing an enormous force within, pulsating, inscribing the experience of the intensity of time in the sound and in a serenity of hydric throbs intertwined in entangled sways. It is something difficult to pull off. The brake is nowhere to be found. And there is no way to know if it has ever been there. We inhale, we exhale. We feel how we have been displaced every time we attempt not to continue, every time we slip away and try to listen to what is underneath silence. Even in the most imperturbable stillness, which in its maximum state is unattainable, it seems as though something moves in a rough manner between streams, blurry evanescent figures and slow, calm, yet constant breathings which cover everything like thick and dense fog. Something disquieting prowls erratically between what is left unsaid, attempting to seep in through the spaces of contemplation. It threatens those who take refuge in the eye of the hurricane. And then it goes away. We are left drifting away with the memory of a distant tepid echo, with the hands extended, holding the resonant void. As we reach this point, there is nothing left to do but to plunge in firmly, losing the fear of drowning, daring to navigate in the depths by crossing the reflections on the surface, leaving behind mere spar-kles which fade away slowly as we get lost.

credits

released April 2, 2021

Composed by ihä.

Recorded live by Gerardo Figueroa Rodríguez on Sunday, 24th March 2019 at Patio Interior, Santiago. Mastered by ihä in March 2021.

Cover illustration by Micaela Fagerström (www.instagram.com/mica.fa). Design and intervention by No more Fluxà (www.nomorefluxa.cl).

ihä is Ignacio Moreno Fluxà — guitar and effects.

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ihä Santiago, Chile

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