7.30 am: A communion. 8.30 am: It’s a type of a start to the day that I resent. My iMac (old though it is) has begun to slow down. The unit is factory sealed, so no further memory can be added to the RAM. The best I could hope to do is run a system diagnostics and install the latest iOS. In the meantime, I bounced between laptops, endeavouring to keep up with my self-imposed schedule, while the iOS installed.
The website grew. Each composition on the album will require an image, indication of the biblical sources, and explanation regarding the conceptual underpinning, methodology, and process on its page. Upgrading the iMac would take an age; so I began processing photographs of the records’ surface. Whatever idea emerged would be subject to sixteen variations. My original conception was soon abandoned in favour of a simpler and more punchy letter-box format.
By the close of the afternoon, having made over fifty images, I was able to choose and assign sixteen to the compositions.
7.30 pm: The sun had risen during the afternoon. There’re times when I’m oblivious to changes in the weather. And there’re are times when I’m deeply affected by them. The past (or, at least, a part of that past, along with the powerful feelings associated with it) can break-in upon the present with violence. Dread anticipations (that may prove groundless) of cruel indiscretions, a failure of nerve, or a gross error of judgement (you name it), can summon the prospect of a deep darkness once again. They casts their dreadful umbra even over those things that once were our love and delight – such that we can barely look upon them without panic and dismay. And that which had been private, precious, and intimate, between you and them alone, is, now, shouted from the roof tops for all to hear.