INSIDE THE DREAMCORE MIND OF A RED FOX - by Asa Adari

Unlike other beings, KITSUNE lets us take a closer look inside his headspace.
“I dream of memories that others have experienced.”, he says during our interview in a vastly stripped down

space which looks to be his minimalist atelier outside a French village.
Where did he come from? You may ask yourself. And without hesitation I asked that question.
Taking a sip from an edgy, yet rounded off-white porcelain cup he starts to explain: “Nowhere really. See, I always liked the direct confrontation with aura.” Slightly hesitating, he continues: “It’s like a soft breeze; it carries a sort of abstracted smell, something for you to comprehend for only a split second before it vanishes. Though, I think it always returns, but you never know whether it’s just that memory knocking on your scull.” There is no doubt that you can hear, moreover, even feel his thoughts on the insubstantial in KITSUNE’s music. Listening to his work in my Williamsburg Brooklyn apartment made me feel a little awkward about

“I really had to teach myself to do one thing after another."

myself, almost like I sense my self fully through waves of that breeze reflecting from my four living room walls. Being introduced to him in his quiet French home just a week later didn’t bring back that weird vibrato at all. He seemed like a humble personality, an introvert sometimes avoiding eye contact.
“Are you hungry?”, he asks while noticeably putting together a palette of ingredients in his head. “I got some fresh produce from the market. Do you like eggplants?” Now, instead of asking myself where he comes from, I ask where he might be going with this.

“Nowhere really. See, I am right here and I am so grateful for this moment. I enjoy life and its beautiful things. Maybe a doctor would diagnose me with some sort of illness but I only keep the good memories. My mind is like a carefully curated library; or maybe anything in that library turns into something worth remembering anyway, how would I know?”

I begin to understand KITSUNE’s work better just by listening to him speak and watching his gestures. He seems to not be able to not be spotting funny, absurd and curious moments. He could sit calmly for an hour and a half and then - very decisively - get up to dive into the next thing.
“I really had to teach myself to do one thing after another. Though, sometimes it’s plain funny to start one hundred things at once and then find yourself dancing a choreography of desperation, haha.”

We’re both laughing a little, realising that we’ve both been there. Slowly rising from the wood and textile chairs we walk into the kitchen. We start cutting vegetables and in that moment I understand that KITSUNE’s music is the essence of spotting that funny, absurd and curious - constructing a memory that’s not been there yet.

photo: self-portrait by KITSUNE