Infrastructures
Only Bach. In those moments when my father's former house begins to feel empty, I set a CD from his collection spinning in the dated, but still functioning high-end, hi-fi system. Unlike at my city office, the views here are expansive with sunrises and sunsets amplifying the broad horizons over the hills and at the edge of the fields to the east and west. The urban-centered challenges that comprise the focus of my work are, on the one hand, more easily interrogated from such a distance and, on the other, more easily ignored. The music fills both physical and psychological corners and keeps me engaged. I have been assessing the house in the weeks since my father died, learning what parts need to be maintained or fixed. It has been like examining a living organism with its own skin and metabolism. In middle school woodshop, one of my favorite classes, we made small, detailed model houses with all the structural parts precisely scaled and installed. It was tedious but informative, providing knowledge that I drew upon earlier this week standing in the basement with the insulation contractor discussing sills and R values. I'm still learning how parts go together, still making things, however less tangible. My business partner and I have been working on a proposal for a still-speculative project. A relatively simple initiative on the surface, experience has taught me, the hard way, to consider factors beyond initial curb appeal like personalities, politics, and power dynamics. If we're successful, the outcomes and activities of some key organizations might be aligned, and the relationships between them emboldened. My father's house is different. I'm trying to optimize it in a way our relationship never was. Frankly, it's easier without him. Music helps.
