A poetic encounter between strings and voice
“My garden is my music. My memory is the soil of my garden, which grows in this earth, spreads its roots and penetrates the soil to go elsewhere, to unite with the universe.” – Kiya Tabassian
Everywhere, from time immemorial, the Word has been embodied by the bard, the troubadour, the griot. These wordsmiths, at once messengers and peacemakers, are the links with the forces of nature, the inexpressible divine, the memory of the ancients. It falls to them to maintain the realm of the collective soul.
Nowadays, these freethinkers and travelers are making the world their garden… Like the eternally migrating birds, Constantinople and Ablaye Cissoko, a griot from Saint-Louis, Senegal.
From the very beginning, the meeting between these musicians was a poetic one. A meeting between strings and voices, between eras, between the Mandinka Kingdom and Persian Empire, evoking the sheer joy of being. This joint crossing of shared regions of the imagination is like a deep breath before the inexorable march of time and the world.