The First Song
11″ x 14″
Pen and Ink
on Archival Paper
2007

A great astrophotgrapher contacted me about the possibility of working on a project together. He has all these gorgeous images of comets, nebulae and galaxies. It’s quite amazing. It got me thinking about that vast eternity surrounding our little planet with our razor thin atmosphere. That far away light telling a story already billions of years old. So many stars already long burned away, others born and we don’t even know it yet. Talking about it, writing about, seems to quantify it all, make it seem measurable and containable.

But it’s forever!

Even when the last star fades and we are left a darkness so complete, the edges of space will stretch out, never to be found. And then who knows? Will all that dead matter collapse? Will black hole succumb to black hole until every scrap of matter in the universe is again compacted into a singularity? Not even a point or wave something observable, but a concept that we can utter, but never comprehend.

Does it then start all over again?

If it does, has it already? Are we the nth incarnation of a universe eternally reinventing itself, each time with new laws, new order, new thoughts?

Does the dance begin all over again?

That’s what this drawing speaks to. The idea that in the beginning, if there is to be dancing, then there must be music. This is that moment, the delicate beginning of existence as we know it, and the first song.