We never know, it seems to us. We proceed on that basis; making a virtue of indeterminacy, the incondite, the make-do. We are forgrounding an artwork about (as it were) David Bowie, and how we find him hilarious, generally speaking. Can we say this without appearing to be insulting, we wonder? We wish to. We are trying to. In the background, aurally, and as building blocks, is the sound of Derek Bailey, Bow Bells, and a VCS3. We are mixing these; we are stretching Bailey's arm-work until his guitar sounds like a helicopter. Inspired, we paint a helicopter, and photograph it. Bow Bells sound generic, but we want them to sound specific. We want that Toopian soundmark, like an object of social realism. The VCS3 is wobbling away. 21 buttons are pressed. An hour passes.