The Monolith of Distances

Whenever I am on the road, I am always looking for this type of magic. It is out there, but you have to look past the decay of what you are seeing, and from it glean a story. For me, seeing the abandoned structure, brought memories of watching documentaries on the Holocaust. One could surmise that the effect of this, albeit subconscious, affected my choice. The stone lay off to the side, alone. I felt that like me, it was a visitor to this place, never having belonged there. So My camera eyes instantly were attracted to it. There was something vulnerable yet powerful in this piece of stone. It was then, as the first photos were taken, that I realized I would use this as the icon of distances. For what is most distant to vibrant life but a lifeless stone? However, I am a believer that all things, inert as they may be, contain a rudimentary consciousness. This consciousness may be extremely dense, and of course, devoid of what we think we know of consciousness.

But what happens when an inert dense consciousness is taken out of context? Well, this dense consciousness rises a level, forming its own story. For me, the monolith represented something alien, yet incredibly lonely. An object imprisoned against its will to never change. My goal in having it grace the cover and become an object of art, was to show my gratitude for its existence, and for the lines that separated us from one another converging on this very day to give me the last piece of a puzzle to the question of distances.

We are all connected, regardless of how near or how far. All part of a whole.


The back cover, dark to contain the text

The back cover, dark to contain the songtitles, but it reminds me of a painting in my kitchen, but fully formed.

interior panel ...

An interior panel. My girlfriend pointed out the ghostly figure in white.

another panel

I see a transformation here.

the monolith looking huge

The monolith, towering of the places that once tormented it.