In my inner world and my personal endeavors—going back, from memory, to 2012—there has been a pronounced emphasis on ritual and ceremony that, for many years, I struggled to understand my comfort and longing for. My childhood was marked by inwardly traumatic, overwhelming eruptions of activity in the outside world, and a great deal of borderline mystic contemplations on the inside that only felt mystical in retrospect; they constitute territory that do not need to be tread upon again. I took refuge in music and the Internet, and somewhere along the way, they gave me the confidence to intentionally bear the clusters of social interactions that I initially refused with fighting and flying. Further along the way, early interests led to greater interests: video editing led to electronic music, which led to experimental ambient, drone and noise musics; my fascination with blogs led to glitch art, which led to conceptual art and contemporary myth-making as art. Certain phenomena I came across during this time would later become major future personal reference points: Coil's frighteningly evocative and initiatory seasonal post-electronic music; Wolfgang Voigt's dense, hazy sample processing underlying beats of pulses in his "return to nature" project Gas; Oneohtrix Point Never and Vektroid's incessant, unhinged sample loops that made time feel out of joint. Early on, they ended up influencing the creation of a suite of three pieces of ambient drone music that, at eleven years of age, I made quickly through singling out samples and temporally smearing them in patterns. It was an amateur work I threw together an hour after midnight one night in 2014 alone in front of my iMac, which I titled "Solstice for Warmth" and then absentmindedly uploaded to Bandcamp. There was something genuinely ritualistic about my own amateur work that stuck with me that year. It felt like I had achieved a style of music that evoked fragments and snatches of memories of dreams. When I moved to a new computer the following year, I forgot all about it. In the years following this, I developed even greater interests that still persist in my life. I was enthralled with the drone music of La Monte Young and the delicate inner-experience music of Tōru Takemitsu. I went down more online information rabbit holes than ever before, going into esoterica, aforementioned ritual and ceremony, numerology, myth, and the appearances of all of these themes in art, especially that of the Symbolists, the Surrealists and later conceptual artists of the 20th and 21st centuries; these all led to philosophy, the greater outer reaches.

At some point in 2021 the main computer I was using gave out, and the following year, I pestered my parents for them to help me get my iMac back, which had been in a self-storage unit for years after it'd been removed from the attic. Pulling through the nostalgic and occasionally very bittersweet material on it with no way to upload anything from it to the Internet, I stuck everything I took interest in on a USB stick and, once more, forgot about it. In 2023, after finally getting a new computer along with a new hard drive with an enormous hand-picked folder pulling from my old hard drive, I finally got to hear Solstice for Warmth again for the first time in almost a decade. I figured that it would be best to leave a re-release, or especially a remix and reinterpretation, for its 10th anniversary in 2024. I don't know when exactly in the year I made and uploaded it, but something else drove me to complete my plan at this specific time. Following the fade of my New Year's afterglow, my attention turned towards my friends' analysis of rise-and-fall cycles in the cosmos, planetary alignments, the seasons and humanity's culture; Greek mythology and the reverence of heroes stuck with me as a personal marker. Needless to say, my quiet reverence for the Sun has come full circle—clarified by New Year's as a triumphant affirmation of the Sun (Eros) via the cyclical mechanism of Saturn (Thanatos) turned upside down, with both constituting time as we know it. With my decision to not just re-release the original Solstice for Warmth, but to produce a new reinterpretation of the suite that stylistically revisits previously released but permanently discarded releases where I sought out the making of pure digital ritual music where the passage of time is strongly marked and pronounced, with much greater improvements on my composition and production that have come recently. A lesser side of me says I still don't think it's perfect and it might just be self-absorbed nonsense, like this overly biographical mock press release of a description. A greater side of me, which I have chosen, says I think it's great, especially because I made it in the first place.