963 Hz. is a limited edition of 50

56 duotone images printed on 80# Silk coated Ultra White

Translucent sheets are Reich Clear CT

Endsheets are printed in a four-color process on 100# uncoated black.

The binding is a Swiss Sewn Smyth Sewn 

Cover is paper printed duotone with foil stamp.

Gatefolds are printed on Japanese Inbe paper



Essay excerpt

Silence

Silence is a misunderstanding. Silence is both an auditory phenomenon and a state of being. 

When I venture into the swamp, I am searching for silence. But though I expect a serene river of nothingness, I discover dissonance. The wind is the conductor, releasing a thousand voices. 

Stressed plants cry out when starved for water and sing when they are healthy and happy. When mushrooms breathe in oxygen, they emit carbon dioxide, producing melodies. Decaying organic material trapped beneath the mud sends sound bubbles to the surface in a cadence. 

We make sense of sound by measuring it within a range of frequencies. We calculate with it. We assign labels to it. We bend it, twist it, shape it into music, and turn it off when finished. What follows is quiet, but it's not silence. 

The silence of grief, the silence of awe, the silence of deep reverence: frequency vibrates at specific rates. The scientific study of Solfeggio Frequencies has proven the effects of particular frequencies. At 396 Hz., subconscious fear is removed. Heart rates can be lowered at 432 Hz. To replace negative thoughts with positive, 852 Hz. The higher frequencies, the most inaudible to humans, promise enlightenment. 

A lifetime spent studying martial arts and meditation led me to believe I understood silence–and, through it, peace. In my thirties I believed I had mastered it, only to discover that mastery is as elusive as silence. 

The irony is that silence is not void of sound; it's a symphony of ever-present noise. Noise is the auditory frequency that surrounds us, but it can also be thoughts, perceptions, our heart thumping in our throats: a plethora of internal and external sounds that bombard us. 

Humans usually perceive sound within a frequency range of 20 Hz to 20,000 Hz. As we age and experience repeated trauma, the ability to hear the lower and higher frequencies diminishes due to the gradual damage to the thousands of tiny hairs that transmit electrical energy to the brain. When our connection to sound weakens and our hearing declines with age, the process can be deceivingly comfortable: settling into a stillness. 

I no longer think of the deterioration of hearing as a negative. I believe these "lost" sounds transform into other forms of energy: sacred energy that calls attention to inner awareness.

In the swamps I explore, the visible and invisible coalesce to define silence. I've partnered with a machine to investigate the essence of the swamp's silence. A collection of circuits, transistors, and capacitors opens a window to a sonic world that is otherwise inaudible. Wires stretch like roots searching for dormant frequencies. The connection is temporary; deciphering every frequency has been like teetering on the brink of madness. 

The swamp's silence disrupts everything and nothing; it's a circular equation without a definitive answer.  

My lifelong pursuit of silence has felt like chasing a plastic bag in the wind.


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