Far in the great void of the sleeping mind one may hear a slight hum. A broken tune slowly making itself known in The Ebony Desert of the dreaming state. A grand organ plays along to this song with untuned keys. Each hit of the mallets against string are a tone-deaf offering to a being far more incomprehensible than the melody of the song preceding it. This mass of flesh The Organist sits in is an extension of itself and its instrument, playing a grand ballad to announce the approach of despair.
The Organist
18"x24" ink on Bristol
Following the keys of The Organist a single violin accompanies this horrid song. The Violinist plays a solo over the top of cracked organ pipes in imperfect syncopation. The distorted melody of chaos and horror embodying the very being whose hand holds the instrument. A bow of the hairs of beings not known to man glide across the mismatched strings of the violin, creating with it a sound too deafening for our ears to comprehend. These beings gather in collective worship to bring with them the announcement of a god even they, horrid in appearance, fear.
The Violinist
24"x18" ink on Bristol
Upon hearing the detuned keys of an organ and the high pitched strings of a nightmarish violin the dreamer will hear the deepened tone of a hollow cello. The Cellist, with its multiple arms, holds tightly to an instrument made from the skeletal structure of the cellist that preceded it. The Cellist holds dearly to its instrument both in reverie to its predecessor and to the god of which it plays for. The head of this hollow body molded into the deformed skin of its player as conviction and dedication to its eternal song that it plays with its fellow instrumentalists. As the unwelcoming song of The Ebony Desert becomes more and more clear to the dreamer the approach of something far worse than this broken tune begins to make itself more and more known.
The Cellist
18"x24" ink on Bristol
In the deep abyss of the dreamers mind there are a legion of gaping maws which sing to the broken tune of a black hole. Collective in intention they sing an endless song accompanied by a cellist, violinist, and organist. The cracked key of which they sing is nothing short of deafening. Incomprehensible melody and harmony, a screeching plague upon The Ebony Desert. The formless Choir moves in unison, their millions of voices corralling to become the massive voice in worship of a God much more glorious and horrible than they are.
The Choir
40"x32" ink on pasteboard
This song that stretches the endless void that is The Ebony Desert is the only one that echoes across its empty space...