Chettewynde

The First Man was a travelling creature, a migratory presence on plains and mountains, learning the world as he strode through it, his limbs keeping a pace, a measure of this travel, his voice flowing with the envionment giving expression to each moment and movement. "The human gait is a long, lilting stride - 1...., 2...., 3...., 4....," (Bruce Chatwin - The Songlines) this is rhythm incarnate in our motion, a motion that has changed so little over the course of humankind's existence. As travellers the act of walking, ambling, dériving through a life is the pace of our song; measured and flowing, slow and sustained. Our limbs carry us onward on our route. 'Melos' is the word for limb in Greek, the etymological progression is to Melody; we walk our songs. It has been said that language comes from the land, from a need to label and express the scenery around us and in turn allow us to remember details which have an importance to our survival, it also allows for the communication of these ideas from one generation to the next, from people to people creating an continuity of information flowing through a culture. Expression of our nature and being, our experiences and dreams from generation to generation, lines of words sung between us. Musical expression is also a form of travelling: through timbres and tones, rhythms, pulses and improvisations. Like song our lives are momentarily sung, notes hanging in the air, then slowly disappearing; ideas blossoming and communicated; songs sung and passed down generations. We're travelling within song, within expression, within a life journey, all these things becoming as one.