Wisps of Time on Borrowed Sand
A Score for Guitar
Wisps of Time on Borrowed Sand treats the guitar score less as a page of instructions than as a temporary environment. The performer does not simply move from event to event. The performer enters a field in which sound, color, gesture, memory, and duration continually interfere with one another.
Across the score, thin undulating staves pass through pale human figures. Concentric circles hover above and below them, connected to points on the musical field by hairline vectors. Dense black eruptions appear at the ends of phrases. Conventional notation survives, but only as one element within a much larger visual syntax.
The result is a score about time that cannot quite be possessed.
The title matters. Sand measures time precisely because it is always disappearing. A wisp is even less substantial: something perceived while already vanishing. The guitarist therefore works inside a notation whose fundamental condition is impermanence.
The Jubal Project as DNA
The most direct ancestor is The Jubal Project, particularly its vocabulary of intensely colored circular notational archetypes. In Wisps, these circles have become independent objects: targets, resonators, harmonic reservoirs, memory points, or portals through which one portion of the score communicates with another.
They are deliberately ambiguous.
A performer might interpret a circle as a harmonic region, a timbral condition, a collection of pitches, a dynamic envelope, or a physical position on the instrument. The connecting line indicates relationship rather than conventional sequence.
This is important. The Jubal vocabulary does not replace Western notation with another fixed alphabet. It creates objects with behavioral potential.
A circle can recur but mean differently because its scale, color, placement, and relationship to the surrounding field have changed.
The score becomes synthetic: music is assembled through collision among symbol, image, architecture, gesture, and sound rather than through pitch and rhythm alone.
Richter and the Instability of Color
Gerhard Richter enters the work less through imitation than through attitude.
Richter repeatedly separated color from conventional pictorial obligation. Color could become system, accumulation, interruption, chance, or autonomous material. In Wisps, the concentric discs behave similarly. Their highly saturated rings refuse to explain themselves emotionally.
Yellow does not necessarily mean brightness. Red does not automatically mean violence. Blue does not guarantee tranquility.
Color becomes structural information whose precise consequence must be negotiated.
Against the nearly weightless black drawing of the score, these circular fields are almost aggressively present. They appear too solid for their surroundings. That tension is useful: the performer encounters them as objects that must somehow be translated into sound.
A guitarist might interpret increasing chromatic density as increasing spectral density, move from harmonic clarity toward distortion, shift contact position, change attack materials, or construct a personal mapping of color to timbre.
The score does not demand one universal translation.
It demands consistency of thought.
The Adventure Girls
The faint figures introduce another kind of instability.
The Adventure Girls are present without becoming protagonists in a conventional narrative. They stretch, lean, crouch, dance, reach, and occupy space while remaining almost ghostlike. Musical structures pass through them rather than sitting politely around them.
They suggest the body without dictating choreography.
For the guitarist, they can function as gestural provocations. A raised arm might suggest ascent, extension, suspension, or an increasingly distant sound. A compressed body might imply contraction, muting, registral collapse, or physical restraint.
Their importance is not that the performer must imitate their poses. They remind us that performance is corporeal.
A guitar is played by a body negotiating resistance: fingers pressing metal, skin striking strings, nails scraping surfaces, arms repositioning themselves, breath unconsciously shaping phrase.
The Adventure Girls quietly return that body to a score that might otherwise become purely abstract.
Reading the Field
The flowing staff is perhaps the score's clearest temporal device.
It refuses the reassuring geometry of conventional measures. Time bends, thickens, narrows and expands. A performer might read compression as acceleration and expansion as suspension, or might interpret these changes more psychologically than metrically.
The small white nodes puncturing the staff act as temporary anchors.
The dense black constructions at the ends of many systems do something different. They appear almost as accumulated debris, places where orderly line becomes matter.
These invite the guitar to abandon purity.Noise, nail scrape, bridge sounds, body percussion, unstable harmonics, damped attacks, string buzz, uncontrolled resonance, preparations, or other extended behaviors could inhabit these regions. They function as areas where sound becomes material rather than note.
The score therefore moves repeatedly between two conditions:
A Score That Must Be Completed
Wisps of Time on Borrowed Sand is intentionally incomplete until someone performs it.
That does not mean anything goes.
The performer must create relationships among its visual systems and then honor those relationships. Interpretation becomes composition under constraint.
A convincing realization should make the listener feel that the circles, figures, lines, distortions, empty spaces, and black eruptions belong to the same sonic world even though no legend completely explains them.
That is where the work departs most decisively from conventional graphic notation.
The page is not primarily a picture of music.
It is a machine for producing decisions.
The Jubal Project supplies an evolving symbolic vocabulary. Richter contributes the possibility of color as autonomous structure. The Adventure Girls reintroduce the body as a source of musical consequence. The guitar sits at their intersection, translating all three into an event that exists only briefly.
And that returns us to the title.
The score offers the performer something apparently fixed: marks on a page.
But the moment those marks become sound, they begin disappearing.
The score remains.The performance does not.
Everything else is borrowed sand.








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