Residency is a two-part journal entry brought to you by one of our favorite artists.
This week, the Toronto-based artist ANAMAI shares the research and stray thoughts she’s collected while writing her new album.
Lamentation, Game or Herd / Climbing High Risen
I have been writing a new record. In my meandering research, I’ve come across a few neat things that I hadn’t thought about before. My process is increasingly web-like, following threads that might connect or might not stick to each other. I have to be reading to write. It’s strange to share these hanging thoughts.
I am the captain on a small boat that ferries people from downtown to the Island.
This morning, as my boat approached the inlet, I saw the water strewn in white feathers, floating in the aftermath of a swan fight. The aggression had dissipated, and all that remained was passive and beautiful and stupidly poetic.
Arcs on the surface.
I’ve discovered a fictional mountain, unlike the flatland I pretended to escape to as a child. Were there mountains in the distance back then? I remember feeling frustrated with my own nearsightedness. That sky hung far above an endless lawn, and in between there was only my stunted imagination.
I have a feeling that each song I’m recording will exist in and around this newfound mountain.
The more I perform, the more I question my choices in doing so. Performing for me is a practice of harnessing power in front of people. I don’t always think I can control where that power comes from, but it is something to work on.
Here is the best thing I have read in a long time, by Anne Boyer.
What resembles the grave but isn’t
Read our reflection of ANAMAI’s debut album, Sallows, here.