20 years ago

Harry J Maurer music producing as Brainbelly.
This was the discriptoid for my music web site of the time

a little self analysis of my art. Some of my work is a hodge podge, jumble or assemblage de found objects. But then so is the English language, and music is a part of my language. I worry that some may see my pieces only as objects made from pieces of JUNK and only interesting by way of percieving bits and pieces as juxtpositions of “identifiable objects”.
I sometimes try to see how my work could compare to others. I dont think it is as odd as it should be. I know some may have a similar approach to mine, and certainly they are ones I have admired for this or that approach and causing a cascade of others. Mine might be be identifable to some close semblence of genre, but I’m not sure what “mental sphere” it may be invoching.
I have this mental picture of all my conceptualized “stuff” as an art gallery full of pieces of sculpture constructed from junked auto parts and downspouts. These are fallout of my lifes cultural hari kari extending extensively through the century of the last decade. By full I mean thousands. These pieces are (or would never be considered to be,) all in the style that would be called “Cargo Cult”, IE; hoping to provoke the arrival of the REAL THING.
I am a cheap imitation of those I admire. (Back to this) mental inventory. There, amongst this vast collection, charming and curious as they may be, stands a different work, one of sinuous lines and metal with a lush bronze patina. Envision this one piece, to be perhaps, like the work of Umberto Boccioni, specifically similar to 
“Unique Forms of Continuity in Space”(1913)

I need not diminish the other works, but this little brass tiger DOES stand out, and is a more “modern” and “civilized” work. I know the bronze is in there. I know I want to create it. But the hand clasps unknowing of what it feels, bundled, swaddled in the kind of idealized and unreal, alien, foreign… Mystical and rotten.

What has happened? I’m not sure. Of my style, or how anything manifests itself. For now, there is a growing collection, of this”Cargo Cult” art, this primative asperation to reflect unreality. Valid on its own, but never a clear and definitive model of precarious vision.
However, I hope listeners will find these objects, crude perhaps, but inestimatably still see a certain odd symmetry in the assemblage and juxtaposition of elements, and find in them many representative repressions of all that is within, of what is emerging, of what is progressing, what is expelled.
Given I am working with synthesizers or sampled tracks, often controlled by computer, the general expectation might be that, inescapably, the ONLY true synthesis is one that could only be made by very precisely controlled and industrially invigorating musics, those typically induced during the process of terraforming.
There is some room in me for that, yes, that and a brick road.
But I think I’m moving on abserdly lurching and repulsing, waving toward a more abstract type of art. I wonder. Will art wave back?
Not to be devoid of order, theme, drama, or imagery, but definitely to bask in an orgy of what feels “organic” and ” natural”. This somehow may move me toward the ambient, toward a space with no presence, to a moment of tomorrows and yesterdays.
Your eyes move me toward the shadows of your heart.
I hear that jazz, those churning sword plays of clarinet or sax or large basses bowing and plucking, pushing through the night.
Lust has all the elements. All the element and strings and vibrations… the vibrations….. love them vibrations. The elements of ice and cold only bade them to sleep.
It all moves on now.
It all moves on now and moves me toward ethnic and folk elements too.
How this will all settle out, I do not know. It is a voyage of self discovery, of learning my instrument and tools.
It is my ritual information. It is my prayer to my muse, a supplication to inner and outer gods and a desire to meld with something I don’t understand but need passionately.
Yeah… my music is, um…. SOMETHING like that…

A couple of blubs from the time when I had bits hosted on Artistserver com…