Radian Imprint


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It was the age of the machine, atoms rent asunder, phantasmal worlds. The heirs to the great patrons of old grew forgetful of their duty to living tradition. Mistaking the grandiose for grandeur, confounding grandeur with the celestial, they saw neither merit nor advantage in the true geometric weavings of the Sons of Hermes.

Blinded by the convenience of concrete and steel, rivals in the pursuit of ever loftier towers, they presumed to claim as their own these subtle currents of beauty, torturing them into little more than stamps of their own national fetishes, each claiming preeminence.

But the souls of this world did not cease their need for this talismanic balm.

Some among the servants of this art sought an example to guide them. They found it in the music of ancestors which tried through new struggles was forged, tempered and sharpened anew. Seeing this music recorded to be sent into the world they understood that they too could send works of geometric beauty imprinted into the lives and homes of those who yet longed for them.