Ouiness @ Collection Rert
With Ouiness the word authenticity wanders around in your world. Without sounds or images, all the names blur together (in this writing) about an evening spent with the creative incubator that is Ouiness.
Ouiness sustains itself through friendship and friendliness, engaging varieties of walks of life with a common denominator – legitimate interest in humans and their different modes of creative expression. Unscripted responsiveness flows, freedom to be yourself, wanting to embrace and encourage others to share.
Collection Rert’s walls of Ouiness visual art continue much of the same spirit of their music. It is defined by the collective sensation. Individual moments can be raw and unfettered by expectations. Others are delicate, pushing and pulling color as readily as sound. They submit their moments for you to take as you will. They ask you to participate. They do not hide their insecurities or senses of humor about art.
Much of what happens with Ouiness counts on what you bring with you. In your sense of self, wondering about why we share, and how we go about doing it. The relief equals escapism, a place to flow with the transitions and intentions in a way that contrasts with the weight of many of life’s routine daily practicalities. Their music can be meditative in one moment and in another instance absurd and raucous. It all flows along, though. It feels the jamspace that happens and meets it with rhythmic needs, willing to sweat it out just as easily as any other primal desire.
There is a safety and familiarity with Ouiness. Their boundaries, though permeable, still use a nurturing muscle memory to keep things in line. Coherent and retaining the honesty of a having just been born, and reborn again and again in new incarnations.
A cracked egg spills the phoenix, too oblivious on purpose. It’s fiery wings become alien tableaux archives, in fingertips glowing, origins are horn sections and hip-gyrations of the blues aesthetic, migrated and filtered through slack-jawed ogling god’s, a naval-gazing wormhole, tuned in, turned inside-out, and set to aleatoric your areola with twelve tongued instruments. Oui come out thee other side, as if un-masked and cackling at a forgotten past, smudges clean the room as tunes go – there will always be another time. Floating in between, you go, sigh, I like being free. An dats what Ouiness do. So there.