In my youth I visited California twice. I couldn't imagine a better place to live. There was an air of wellbeing and possibility: a light that even in the middle of the day felt like the light of morning: it felt like possibility. California was the shimmer raised above the waters of everyday life: Diebenkorn's light, Hockney's splash, Brian Eno's ambient music. I never returned, and over time there is a growing disconnection from this youthful dreamlike impression of California. Images now are most often of drought and fire and I find my memories relocated to a new geography overlaid with tones of an indecipherable tragi-comic social and political landscape. Yet the dream of California remains intact, ineradicable from the word itself: meaning tied timelessly in place to an aging world. California remains a place I plan to visit, a place to return to if only the water doesn't run out first. Time and loss are entangled with the ebb and flow of diminishing resources, of water that rushes in with the tides or sudden storms, evaporates, listless, into an overheated atmosphere, that coats the leaves at dawn, a steady drip, an underlying thrum, a shimmer, an SOS, raised above the static of everyday life. 

Michael Oesterle CA

Michael Oesterle, born in 1968, is a Canadian composer who lives in Deux-Montagnes Québec.

Michael Oesterle