WIP 4 by Brian Bowman


Greg and I had a productive weekend working on the live set for Meow Wolf in Santa Fe and we wrote a new track! It features a character Greg conjured up named Mad Boris. Jeremy (rootless) is kicking off the live set with his song Within From Without (sampled for the live performance), it starts with a field recording of choral singers and ends with Jeremy's excellent guitar work. 


WIP 3 by Brian Bowman



New music from Nick MacDonald, deep and luminous, it will light your lantern on the dark road home. 


That's right y'all, moving visuals. Coming along...

WIP 2 by Brian Bowman


Derek shared some great stuff for the Hinterlands section. We might use the Violet Sands track 'Shelter' as a closer for the piece. Vocals on that is Derek's bandmate (and sister) Deidre Muro. 

Betsy has a demo with a rad chorus for the entrance into New Hope.  


I like my frames from last week... but, when I started to expand all of that into a world, it all just felt oh-so-CG. I did some digging and found these. These are 'ghost in the stereoscope' images from the 1800s. I love them. It reminded me to take more of a diorama approach, a constructed space, rather than some kind of video game world (both are cool, but an intimate diorama is more appropriate here). So I'm working towards this, more soon! 


Betsy reminded me of this older film I made, where I constructed physical models and composited in CG character silhouettes. This is closer to what I'm going for.

WIP 1 by Brian Bowman


Nick has a dope rendition for The Charlaton and I'm considering a track Greg and I made for Tower Ascension.


Goals for next week are to have more character development (I finally have the visual workflow down for that) and some styleframes for The Town of New Hope.

 Main Title

Main Title

 Dune Hallucination

Dune Hallucination

 The Needle

The Needle

 Traveler, The Ship

Traveler, The Ship


Structure & Collaborators by Brian Bowman


1.  Topography (BB)
2. The Traveler

The Town of New Hope

3. Entrance (BJ?)
4. Mad Boris (GW)
5. Bar Charlatan (NM)
6. White Church (BJ?)

Cult by the River

7. Leviathan Father (JH)
8. River Baptism


9. Gas Station Soothsayer
10. Elk in the Night (DM?)
11. Devil at the Crossroads
12. Hullucination (DM?)
13. The Ship 

The Needle

13. Tower Ascension
14. Sun Setting

Music (alphabetical order)

Betsy Jones
Brian Bowman
Derek Muro
Greg Walters
Jeremy Hurewitz
Nick MacDonald



Brian Bowman

Narrative by Brian Bowman

High Desert
He carefully put one foot after the other on the dirt road. Shuffling as he went, head too heavy to look forward except on occasion when he had to observe the horizon and see what was there. A plateau emerging from the land as if the moon’s gravity pulled a single needle through the Earth’s crust and froze it in sunbaked rock. A stone tower, made out of abhorrently timeless means, punctuated the sun as it sank into the long horizon. 

Along the way he passed a few, the soothsayer at the abandoned gas station. The starving child offering used bandages for a nickel. A charlatan with a stovepipe hat, the top frayed and undone, its flapping silently answering wild proclamations. One night, he guessed he met the devil wearing a stark white suit in this dusty place. The devil said to him, “He who refuses to stop will perish while facing unknown misery and turmoil. Rest for a while, rest here with me.” He refused this offer without words, and with steps he shuffled on. And there were other things in the night, tiny white flags dancing away from him into the darkness, the hightails of antelope or deer perhaps. All visions observed in the periphery and with sounds so soft they could barely be heard under the wind.

In the morning, the sun was on his back instantly evaporating the cold drops of sweat there. And his head would rise and look at what was before him. The tower, the plateau of the High Desert. He had no idea what was on the other side. He knew the path behind him didn’t matter anymore. Uncertain treasure is more valuable than a life in dust.

High Desert Prompts

Entrance Into The Town of New Hope

“There’s no hope for New Hope!” the old woman cackles as she limps across the street. A lonely dog looks on, paying attention briefly before scampering into a shady corner.  This is the last town before the needle, the thin stone tower looming in the horizon.

He counts the buildings. The sky is a hot blue marble. It fully contains this place, suffocating it with heat. The tired storefronts lining the street are weary and abandoned, too thirsty to moan. 

The Charlatan

The Charlatan sits at the bar, his thumb caresses the edge of his tumbler. The bar is empty. The tender is bored and is playing solitaire in a dim corner. His cards flicking quietly on the table as they find their place in suited, ordered columns. Sunlight illuminates the floating dust motes as it shines into the doorway. Outside, the Charlatan’s broken down carriage sits hitched to a jackass. The carriage is gold painted in both block letter and flowing script, the words cracked and faded by endless days of heat and dust. The rig jingles as the docile beast shifts his weight.

The White Church

There is a small white church under a blue sky. A gentle respite in this empty dusty place named New Hope. Next to the church is a small cemetery, long desert grasses unfurl around the wood crosses. The front door swings open and freely in the wind. Inside, silent pews collect the wind’s offering of sand on their benches. For some reason, perhaps because of the ancient words in Exodus, the door is painted red. 

Leviathan Father

There are adults with shaved heads and white robes who have taken over the oasis. Their singing is incessant; at first beautiful but then maddening. One of the songs goes like this…

Children roll off Father's back into the sea. 
Where they explore chasms of the deep, 
and become creatures of the night. 
Coming up for air on occasion, 
coming up for light.

Good Father
Selfish Father
Angry Father
Jealous Father

Father of Monsters

Elk in the Night

In the night the air was cold and the sky dark. The road remained clear. Unfurling six feet before him endlessly, like a giant conveyor moving the earth underneath him. His feet merely shuffled. And there were other things in the night, tiny white flags dancing away from him into the darkness, the hightails of antelope or deer perhaps. All visions observed in the periphery and with sounds so soft they could barely be heard under the wind.


With the sun high in the sky it was easy to see many things. The ghost of the child behind him, the sun’s blistering portal to a multicolored universe, swarms of buzzards changing in the sky to black insects, and rattlesnakes. When this happened, he accepted everything was true and also nothing was true.

The Ship 

The hallucinations had gotten stronger. Robbed of water, he was strangely bitter that the child with the rotten bandages had continued to follow him. It wasn’t the child’s fault he was thirsty. He was beginning to think the child wasn’t even real. 

Ahead he could see a ship wrecked on a dune. Why was it there? Had the ocean suddenly turned to sand a long time ago? Before his doubt fully blinded his eyes, his hands reached out to touch the vessel. The wood was smooth to his hand as it glided along the sandblasted hull. This ancient carcass from the sea was real.