The artist situates the Thomaskantor at the threshold of the voltage-controlled age, his hand resting on a patch bay as surely as on a figured bass. The braided cables echo the interlocking voices of the fugue, while the guttering candles and scattered manuscripts insist on the labor of inscription. Seated between quill and oscillator, the composer refuses to choose, and counterpoint is revealed as a circuitry of devotion whose signal has never fully decayed.
