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This will be the first post of a three-year exploration into sound arts and experimental music at UAL. My interest in music and sound has always felt very innate. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been drawn to sources of sound that have a physical and spiritual effect on my body and mind.

As a child, I was blessed with a mother who had eclectic tastes. She introduced me to a world of sound, always reminding me to “listen without prejudice” — a reference to George Michael’s seminal masterpiece of soul. An average Sunday would consist of records ranging from Mike Oldfield’s Tubular Bells, to Slipmatt’s SMD hardcore cuts from the ’94 era, to Otis Redding’s live performance at Monterey.

I was exposed to left-field, deep-cut, underground music from such a young age that it rapidly became an obsession. Since then, the study, search, and analysis of music and sound have consumed my life in a profound way.

After years of struggling to find my place in artistic practice — due to the effects of PTSD and autism — I felt unable to translate what was in my mind and body into a tangible, audible, and physical reality. During the pandemic, after a crisis of faith, I decided to channel that anguish onto paper. Around this time, I was reading the works of William Burroughs, Genesis P-Orridge, Aleister Crowley, and Terence McKenna. Their ideas helped me worry less about the product and more about the act itself — the action of art.

This shift eventually led me to a successful career working with artists and record labels around the world who shared a similar philosophy: an industrial, DIY approach to art. Even if you have nothing, it’s the work that matters and speaks the truth. I naturally gravitated toward DIY, noise, and industrial labels, as I felt I could express my spiritual turmoil through collage techniques and an analogue approach — something industrial music reflects both poignantly and beautifully.

After a few years of still feeling technically inept, I eventually found a group of artists with broad academic and creative backgrounds squatting in a disused bookshop in London. I had finally found a home — a community of people who shared my artistic and philosophical beliefs. Since then, we’ve been running what feels like the last bastion of underground industrial music and performance culture under the event name Chronic Illness.

In parallel to this, I created two separate aliases for my creative output: Sin of the Father for my visual design work and Hands of Providence for my audio projects. Over the years, I’ve felt increasingly compelled to understand why catharsis through sound feels like such a necessary act — and whether it can be used therapeutically to help others who live with autism and PTSD. Hands of Providence is, for me, a way to realign myself spiritually through sound and vibration, and hopefully, through further research and education, to find ways to support others.

The title of this post, What Was Sown Into History, references an album by Internazionale that first sparked my interest in ambient music. It led me to look more deeply into the history of music and sound — and how it has always acted as a catalyst for something deeply innate and spiritual within us all. I hope you enjoy the album.