c'est une course de chevaux

“In February of 2008, Dani and I recorded, mixed, and completed the music for ‘Salvaged Violets’. The words came as the subject line of a short poem, sent to me over email, included with an unrelated question. During these weekdays, our working schedules were almost the opposite, but we spoke over email constantly. Until recently, I did not notice how similar this was to our beginnings, sending letters as we were on different sides of the country. With no conceptual idea in mind, and since we were apart for so much time during the weekdays, we decided to begin ‘Salvaged Violets’, and see what came of it. Every night when I returned home, before sleeping, I would spend time working on the music that Dani had worked on through the afternoon, and had left on the desk. Every afternoon, she would find a different version to work on that I had left, and this continued for sometime. When together, we would sip our tea, laugh at silly jokes, cook, watch television, and so on. There was no need for longing while we were together.There was always laughing, pots and pans clanging, or a muttering television. In forming ‘Salvaged Violets’, we did not mix it in a particular arranged order. It was mixed simply by the order it was first played, compiling many miniature sections rolled into one. In this case, they were rolled into two. Nothing was discarded, nothing was rearranged. As the sound changed over time, the original form did not. When it was finally complete, we listened together, for the first time. I remember how familiar it seemed, yet I also felt that so much of it was unknown, and undefined. More than a year later, in September of 2009, I revisited the recordings for the first time since 2008. At this time, it was being mastered by our good friend Corey Fuller, so I was still listening to the original. Riding my bike through the endless suburban subdivisions, through the busy downtown streets, I listened repeatedly, for days, over and over. Something was familiar, but so much I was unable to recall, and yet I was able to relate. I returned home, put my bike against the door, and took my headphones off. There, in the still silence, I think I understood finally what it was about.”

*Danielle died in ‘09 of heart failure.

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Celer is the sound, visual, literary, and artistic endeavor of the husband and wife duo of Will Long and Danielle Baquet-Long. Danielle was a teacher of special education and music therapy, a seasoned and published writer of poetry and prose, a painter, multi-instrumentalist, and vocalist, also recording as Chubby Wolf. She had an extensive background in Gender Studies, Education, Basque History, Photography, and Tibetan Studies, as well as having lived in India, Nepal, Sri Lanka, and the United States.

Will is a published writer of fiction, non-fiction, and poetry, having studied English, History, Creative Writing, Philosophy, and Literature, with a basic background in music. Will and Dani met each other in 2001, and remained close friends until 2006, when they became a couple. At this time they also began Celer, which had been up until this time a constant exchange of letters, music, and love. They were married in March of 2007.

Their intent was producing works that reflect the sincere nature and importance of love, the fragility of life, and the importance of togetherness, through a relative and absolute symposium of expression.)

in dreams i’m moving through heavy water

the love is enormous, it’s lifting me up

i’d rather be sleeping.

muddy horses running until their death for the pleasure of society. society itself running after its death for the pleasure of the economy. horse number one is a great black stallion who wears his sadness well, i would like to sleep in his arms. he reminds me of all the people who expect nothing, a full-proof horse. horse number two, limping horse, old solitary  man who has lost the desire to love. i expect him to last long, his death will be slow, he cares for no one, he has no worries. mare number three, she takes everything so seriously, she has harnessed herself with the misery of others. it slows one down, it winds one down, it overexcites one’s heart. yet she is so tough now, she will be proud till the end. the fourth horse seems to be thirsty, his big dry tongue hangs on his right side. he has the will to live, he is interested. he keeps up with all the other horses from afar. he is so handsome, he is so blond, horse number five with all his ribbons he resembles the sun! he emits a heat, a fearsome charm. very popular, he runs as far as the eye can see. i put down all my money on the sixth horse, an adolescent horse charging towards eternity. a bad omen, forced arrogance. a wind from the north, a family torn apart. number seven is the horse who died first. polluted horse coughing up his lungs. he was yellow and sick, he fell on his side. the greatest of the clouds came and got him.

+ô paon