With ‘Scratch,’ our goal is to allow people to mix together all kinds of media, not just sounds, in creative ways. We want people to start from existing materials – grabbing an image, grabbing some sound, maybe even bits of someone else’s program, and then extending them and mixing them to make them their own.
The world is never quiet, even its silence eternally resounds with the same notes, in vibrations which escape our ears. As for those that we perceive, they carry sounds to us, occasionally a chord, never a melody.
Some people with autism who don’t talk, all they hear are vowel sounds. Like if I said ‘cup,’ they might just hear ‘uh.’
I write in that space between Ella’s childhood and mine. I know it all sounds a bit sinister.
When I left home after graduating high school, I left as a migrant agricultural worker with a Modern Library edition of Plato in my duffel bag. It sounds kind of crazy, but I loved it. I loved the stuff. Before I knew there was a subject called philosophy, I loved it.
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.
I love power. But it is as an artist that I love it. I love it as a musician loves his violin, to draw out its sounds and chords and harmonies.
The frail, vulnerable sounds of which we are capable seem to be essential to a later ability to roar like a lion without scaring everyone to death.
Nobody sounds good writing about your divorce, let’s face it.
Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows.