Memories — places, vacancies, allusions — are fundamental characters in Mary Lattimore’s evocative craft. Inside her music, wordless narratives, indefinite travelogues, and braided events skew into something enchantingly new.Hundreds of Days sojourns between silences and speech, between microcosmic daily scenes and macrocosmic universal understandings, between being alien in promising new places and feeling torn from old native havens. It’s an expansive new chapter in Lattimore’s story, and an expression of mystified gratitude.
Awarded a residency at the Headlands Center for the Arts, Lattimore spent two summer months living with 15 fellow artists in a cluster of old Victorian military buildings on the Northern Pacific Coast. She calls it the most beautiful summer of her life.
“Hanging out with a lot of accomplished artists with poetic ways of looking at the world was really inspiring. My heart was in a bit of a tangle after leaving Philadelphia. I was holding onto things instead of moving forward. My time there was a nostalgia detox, a way to press reset in a healthy way. Also breathing in the freshest air in America, straight off of the ocean, felt good.”
Throughout the shifting locales there is one consistent companion Lattimore engages: a 47-string Lyon and Healy harp. The instrument wires directly into her psyche. Pitchfork’s Marc Masters posits, “she can practically talk through it at this point; she’s created a language.” The space and stillness of the Headlands afforded Lattimore freedom to her expand her vocabulary, to stretch out and experiment with layers of keyboard, guitar, theremin, and grand piano.