In August, 2019, I went to visit id m theft able in his hometown of Portland, Maine. Driving along Middle Jam Road, he showed me some of his favorite places to practice outdoors. We stopped by a low-humming water dam and walked through the woods to an abandoned gunpowder mill where he once hosted a performance. We took silly pictures of each other and kicked sand off deserted mountainous dunes he fondly referred to as the “alien planet.” My stay concluded with a three-hour conversation conducted in the ground-floor apartment of a 20-year old compound built by his great-grandfather that he currently shares with several family members. It is excerpted here.

I wrote an essay tracing and reflecting on the past 4 years of developing a personal language for the Wet Ink Ensemble‘s inaugural Archives Series. This process was an amazing opportunity to reflect and articulate some of my most meaningful developments to this date.