...I had arrived in Hiroshima around lunch-time but ironically the only place open in the train station was McDonalds. Though it didn't take me long to find my hostel, by the time I was ready to explore it seemed as though the city had shut down. I walked for what seemed like miles without finding a place to eat.
Finally at an intersection, an open door with some recognizable cookware-related graphics say my journey has concluded. The place served only Okonomiyaki, which I was completely oblivious to. After ordering, a taller woman in her fifties spent the next 15 minutes chopping up what seemed like an endless amount of ingredients, continuing to compress them, layer upon layer, into this single plate-sized meal of a pancake.
This is the first release in a series based off the experience of watching that woman make Okonomiyaki; a repetitive layering, a combination of elements until something unexpected results. The compositions are all arranged loops, distorted soundscapes and broken headphones.