By Nicholas Hooper
Like something else
Must everything be like something
So that we can recognise it
So it can mean something
An icon is a start
It can be a picture or
It can be a word or it can be
A musical style, or phrase, or timbre.
But it can mean something
Because it relates to
Lost in a sea
Of nothing recognisable
We wander through fear, frustration,
Impatient to find something
In what we’re reading,
And in that moment
Do we experience something new:
The unknown, the unexpected, the frightening?
Or are we baffled into giving up,
Going away, switching off?
And where did this all start?
Did the infant already know what something was?
Or was it an amazingly fast learning from all that was around?
Is this how we make our world?
Recognise, nurture, connect, feel whole?
Do all things come from something else?
Does every piece of writing, work of art, piece of music
Come from the work of another, and another, and another,
Going back into the work of our ancestors?
Into the world before?
“Every morning at around 5am I get up and go down to my studio. After a short meditation I write down whatever is in my head, giving myself fifteen minutes to do so. Then moving over to the piano (or a more portable instrument like my Ukulele when I'm away), I improvise and record a piece of music inspired by whatever words I just wrote. It is a great way of keeping both my writing and my composing going and I call these small creations Dawnings. They are mostly unedited, like sketches, so that they keep that fresh feeling of an early morning discovery.”
— Nick Hooper