Heritage of the Invisible II is like something from another dimension. Or multiple dimensions. Rather, a synecdoche between the wavy films that separate this reality from its neighbor. Like a long carpeted hallway illuminated by an indeterminate light source, adorned with rows of funhouse mirrors. Only they're not mirrors at all. Instead, each is a window into a separate world where you are still you, but you aren't you, because there is another you looking you quizzically in the eye while staking a plot of real estate in a different temporal cloud. Through each portal, you are able to drink in this alternative vision of yourself long enough to become lost in its returned and increasingly, admiring gaze- long enough to forget which side of the translucent barrier of time you arrived on. But though you've been offered adequate duration to become lost in the thicket of your own features and the paradox of a parallel mind, there is still the impression that you have moved past each display of yourself with the speed of a fall. It's almost miraculous how disorienting this enlightened series of encounters is, and it's amazing that they all somehow came out of two late-night improvised sessions in the belly of New York. A testament to the mind bridge and linkage of intention embodied by the combined talents of Aquiles Navarro and Tcheser Holmes, who manage to make their respective trumpet and kit sound like a whole orchestra- a fully palatial exhibition of transitions and transformations that serve as a radar dish through which to cast one's own ego into the night and claim space for your own balance of understanding. In the end, you are the one who holds the keys to this manifold gate. What Aquiles and Tcheser have supplied, above all else, are instruction in the motions required to unlock its combination.
