To Turn off the Music, Press 1

Constantine Jones

photos by Constantine Jones

photos by Constantine Jones

Words have been hard for me to do lately. I try to write but find it's all I can do when the day is done to just listen & look (the parts of writing I love the most, actually). I did try: I set myself timers; I streamed performances of 4'33''. I absorbed what I could & tried to offer something back in words, but it didn't hold. Instead, in the spirit of silence, I thought I'd offer my own silences back in a languageless form. 

These isolation measures have made me both acutely aware & appreciative of my living space—has put wonder back into ordinary things. The Polaroids here reflect my reacquaintance with these rooms that witness my life. The sound-art piece documents almost 4 minutes of silence recorded from my stoop, with my morning coffee. This ritual feels different now too. My neighborhood was never bustling, but the quiet has crept in. The track takes its title, "To Turn Off The Music, Press 1," from an automated message playing while I waited to join a virtual meeting. I didn't press 1, but I did press record.

To Turn Off the Music, Press 1

To Turn Off the Music, Press 1

Early Morning Breeze (Reprise)

Early Morning Breeze (Reprise)

(I Don’t Want To) Go Downtown

(I Don’t Want To) Go Downtown

Blues on the Ceiling

Blues on the Ceiling

Early Morning Breeze

Early Morning Breeze

Graveyard Radio

Graveyard Radio

Keep Some Steady Friends Around

Keep Some Steady Friends Around

Talk To Me You’ll Understand

Talk To Me You’ll Understand

Winter’s Come & Gone

Winter’s Come & Gone

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Constantine Jones is a Greek-American Thingmaker raised in Tennessee & housed in Brooklyn. They are a member of the Visual AIDS Artist+ Registry & teach creative writing at The City College of New York. Their work has been performed or exhibited at various venues across the city & their debut hybrid haunted house book, In Still Rooms, was released via The Operating System on March 4th, 2020. @storiesandnoise

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Mirabai Rode Her Donkey Naked: Three poems in 4:33