A few years ago, I was a resident in LMCC’s amazing Workspace program. The program gives temporary studio space to artists and writers in unused/abandoned portions of corporate office buildings near Wall Street. The year I participated, the writers were housed on the ninth floor, our studios spread around the periphery of a large territory of stained carpet and dark shadows suggesting former cubicles. The building was never quiet—there was always a faint buzz. Through my studio window I watched the people in the building across the street, ghosts lost in stacks of paper, shapes lit up by flickering TV’s or laptop screens. In this space I often lost track of time, of reality.
During the residency, a fellow artist lent me a book on old slave songs. I found this haunting melody within its pages and, once I learned it, couldn’t stop humming it.
It became a sort of theme song for the space, a rhythm to match the buzzing.
Here is my version of the song:
Happy graveyard walking and moon howling.