Welcome back to the Deep Dive. Today we're taking
a stack of source material and diving into the
life and career of, well, a true cultural and
sonic architect, Stevie Wonder. And when you
say architect, that's really the right word.
I mean, it's almost impossible to fully quantify
his impact over a six -decade career. The baseline
numbers alone are just staggering, aren't they?
They really are. You're looking at sales over
100 million records globally. And then there
are the Grammys, a record -setting 25 wins plus
a Lifetime Achievement Award. But what the sources
really show isn't just success, it's a revolution.
He fundamentally reshaped the R &B landscape.
And in doing so, he changed the entire music
industry. Completely. Exactly. So our mission
today is to unpack that monumental transition.
He starts out as this tightly managed blind child
star inside the legendary Motown machine. A machine
defined by the singles market, right? Strict
creative rules. Totally. And he evolves from
that into this. This autonomous genius who's
pioneering new electronic sounds, injecting deep
social consciousness into pop music and achieving
a level of critical acclaim that is still unmatched.
And that's the big question for you, the curious
learner tuning in. Yeah. How did he pull that
off? How does one artist, a multi -instrumentalist
who plays everything from the harmonica to the
synthesizer, fight for and win a level of creative
control that lets him win album of the year at
the Grammys three times in a row? With three
consecutive albums. Exactly. That kind of dominance
is, and I mean this literally, unique in music
history. So we're drawing from a ton of comprehensive
sources detailing his early years, those fierce
contract battles in the early 70s, his revolutionary
classic period, and of course his political activism
that actually changed federal law. This deep
dive is really your shortcut to understanding
that precise moment where... Personal genius,
new technology, and profound social impact all
converged to create one of the greatest forces
in modern music. Okay, let's unpack this journey,
and we have to start right at the beginning.
Saginaw, Michigan. He was born Stevlin Hardaway
Judkins on May 13, 1950. Right, and he later
adopted the surname Morris, which, according
to his mother's biography, was an old family
name. But the very foundation of his life, his
entire sensory experience, really, is rooted
in a medical event right at birth. A tragedy,
really. He was born six weeks premature, and
the sources are very explicit about this. His
blindness was caused by a condition called retinopathy
of prematurity, or ROP. Which, back in the 1950s,
was often linked to the incubators, right? Exactly.
The high oxygen atmosphere inside the incubators
that were meant to save his life, it tragically
caused the growth of his eyes to stop, which
ultimately led to his retinas detaching. It's
such a critical piece of context and his family
life shifted early on too. His mother divorced
his father and moved with the children to Detroit
when Stevie was just four. And Detroit I mean.
the hardworking, culturally rich environment
of the inner city, that became a totally different
kind of incubator for his genius. It really was.
You can see it happening so quickly. Incredibly
formative. By age seven or eight, that instrumental
talent, that polymathy, is already starting to
emerge. He's playing the piano, the harmonica,
which becomes his signature sound, and the drums.
And he's not just playing in his room. By age
eight, he's already a soloist in the Whitestone
Baptist Church Choir. He's just absorbing everything.
gospel, soul, rhythm, and blues. And he's translating
it all through his hands and his voice. Before
he ever gets near Motown, he's already performing.
The sources mention he formed a little singing
duo with a friend. Stevie and John, they called
themselves. Yeah, playing on street corners at
local parties. It speaks volumes about the raw,
unpolished nature of his talent before the Motown
machine got a hold of him. And that seismic shift
happens in 1961. He's just 11 years old. The
story is almost legendary. It really is. He sang
his own song, Lonely Boy, for Ronnie White of
the Miracles. And White was just blown away.
Completely captivated. He brings young Stevland
and his mother to audition at Hitsville USA,
and Barry Gordy, the CEO, signs him to the Tamil
label right away. And this is where the system
immediately kicks in. Gordy gives him that stage
name, Little Stevie Wonder. And that word little,
it's not just a cute nickname, is it? It signifies
his role. He was a child commodity and managed
prodigy. He was not a self -directed artist.
Not at all. And the details on the control mechanism
are fascinating. It was a rolling five -year
contract, which was pretty standard. But the
financial control was absolute. Total. All of
his royalties were held in a trust fund that
he couldn't touch until he turned 21. So until
he could get his hands on his own money, the
structure was... Well, it was almost frugal.
Incredibly strict. He and his mother got a weekly
stipend for expenses. And we know the exact amount
he received. $2 .50 a week. Wow. Which, I mean,
even for back then. It sounds like nothing. But
the sources do clarify it's the equivalent of
about $26 in 2024 money. It was designed to keep
him dependent on the system. a pittance for a
talent like that, especially since they put him
on tour almost immediately. And since he was
a minor, he had to have a private tutor on the
road with him. It just underscores that despite
his massive talent, he was completely legally
and financially tied to the Motown machine. His
early career was guided by producer Clarence
Paul, who worked on his first two albums. Right.
The Jazz Soul of Little Stevie, which was mostly
instrumentals, and Tribute to Uncle Ray, a collection
of Ray Charles covers. And neither of them did
very well. Not at all. The Motown machine was
built on hits. So when those first two albums
faltered, the pressure to produce a hit was immense.
That live album was, in a way, kind of a strategic
Hail Mary. So how does this untested 12 -year
-old kid suddenly become the youngest person
ever to top the charts? It all comes down to
that live album, recorded live, the 12 -year
-old genius. It was recorded while he was touring
the Chitlin Circuit. And we should probably define
that for you, the listener. The Chitlin Circuit
was this network of performance venues, mostly
in the South and Midwest, that were absolutely
essential for black entertainers during the Jim
Crow era. It was where black talent honed its
craft, raw, live, and unpolished. And in May
1963, Motown releases that live album, and on
it is the single Fingertips. Fingertips just
captured lightning in a bottle. It was this high
-energy, totally infectious performance. And
the sources point to this one brilliant, specific
anecdote that defines his raw energy. The spontaneous
encore. The spontaneous encore. His enthusiasm
was so great that he just kept playing, and it
completely caught the replacement bass player
off guard. You can actually hear the chaos and
the genius right on the track. The bass player
famously yells out, what key, what key? It's
just this moment of unplanned, electrifying musicality.
And at age 13, that single goes to number one
on the Billboard Hot 100. He becomes the youngest
solo artist ever to top that chart. Which was
a huge crossover achievement because it also
hit number one on the R &B chart at the same
time. He had arrived. He had. But then... Almost
immediately, he's hit with what the sources call
the transition crisis. He's growing up, his voice
is changing, which is often the kiss of death
for child singers. And it almost was. Motown
executives actually considered dropping his contract
because the few records he made after Fingertips
didn't do well. This is where Sylvia Mori comes
in, right? A producer and songwriter at Motown.
She saved his career. She persuaded Barry Gordy
to give him another chance, and she worked closely
with him to develop a new, more mature sound.
They dropped the little from his name, and together
they produced Uptight, Everything's Alright.
Which was a massive hit. It marked his transition
into a serious artist. It must have been a terrifying
time, though. He drops the little, but his voice
is still in flux. There's a real physical risk
of losing it entirely. So how did he manage that?
How did he generate hits while his main instrument,
his voice, was so unreliable? By leaning on his
other gifts, his instrumental abilities, and
crucially, his songwriting. The hits that followed
in the mid to late 60s show this deepening complexity.
You have I Was Made to Love Her, the huge orchestral
sound of For Once in My Life. And his cover of
Bob Dylan's Blowing in the Wind. Right. He wasn't
just singing anymore. He was arranging and performing
these complex pieces. And he was getting more
involved behind the scenes, working in the Motown
songwriting department. He was learning how the
Hitsville factory actually worked from the inside.
And he co -wrote The Tears of a Clown. which
became a number one hit for Smokey Robinson,
The Miracles, years later. A key step. And then
by 1970, he takes another huge stride toward
artistic freedom. Signed, sealed, delivered,
I'm yours becomes his first ever self -produced
song. That one moment foreshadows everything
that's about to happen. He proved he could manage
his own sound, and he was getting very close
to that all -important 21st birthday when his
contract was up. The apprenticeship was officially
over. He had worked inside the Motown system,
learned its rules, and now... Now he was ready
to dismantle them and write his own. It's the
prelude to a revolution that would redefine the
power balance between artists and labels for
decades to come. So if the 60s were the apprenticeship,
the 70s are absolutely the graduation. We're
now entering his classic period, which is defined
by five consecutive albums of just staggering
creativity. And it all hinges on one date, May
13, 1971. His 21st birthday. the day his first
Motown contract expired, and more importantly,
the day the trust holding all his royalties was
finally released. So he didn't just get access
to his money. He gained a ton of leverage. Immense
leverage. And he didn't just walk away from Motown.
He used that leverage to negotiate the most freedom
any artist at the label had ever achieved. And
the new deal he signed in 1972, it wasn't just
a pay raise. It was a constitutional change for
the music industry. A 120 -page contract. That
length, 120 pages, is so important. Because it
tells you this was a precedent -setting document.
It secured him two fundamental things. A much,
much higher royalty rate. And this is the crucial
part. Full creative control. And full creative
control meant everything, didn't it? Everything.
He dictated where he recorded, the budget, the
pace, the instruments, his producers, his engineers.
He was essentially financing and running his
own operation, which he called Wonderland. And
that autonomy immediately lets him shift the
entire philosophy of R &B music. Motown was built
on the singles market. Fast production, quick
profits. Exactly. Singles were cheap and quick.
But Wonder pushed the entire genre into the album
era. Starting with Music of My Mind in 1972,
he started crafting these LPs as cohesive, thematic,
socially conscious statements. Not just a collection
of songs built around one or two hits. Precisely.
And that requires time and money. a luxury that
his new 120 -page mandate gave him. That freedom
allowed him to explore themes of social justice,
politics, mysticism, stuff that was way deeper
than the standard Motown love song. But the second
big factor here was technology. Oh, the technology
was revolutionary. He became fascinated with
synthesizers after hearing an electronic group
called Tonto's Expanding Headband. And starting
with Music of My Mind, he began this long collaboration
with Robert Margulief and Malcolm Cecil, the
guys behind Tauantiro. Let's define Tauantiro
because it wasn't just a synth, was it? It was
the original new timbral orchestra. It was a
beast. The sources describe it as this custom
-built, massive synthesizer rig, physically huge.
And unlike the monophonic synths of the time,
Taewon Terra could create these incredibly complex,
layered, enormous sounds. And that allowed him
to become a virtual one -man band. He would use
overdubbing to play almost everything himself,
drums, bass, keyboard, synth, all the vocals.
And that approach just fundamentally reshaped
R &B. He moved away from the traditional live
backing bands towards this electronic, layered,
deeply personal sound. You can hear it so clearly
on Talkin' Book from late 1972. It's got superstition
with that aggressive, funky sound of the honor
clavinet. That sound is instantly recognizable.
It became a huge hit, won three Grammys, right
alongside the smoother classic, You Are the Sunshine
of My Life. And he did something very strategic
right after that album came out, didn't he? He
toured with the Rolling Stones. A brilliant move.
The tour in 72 was explicitly meant to break
him out of the R &B pigeonhole in America. It
got his innovative sound in front of a massive,
mostly white rock audience. It was commercial
genius paired with artistic risk. The momentum
just became unstoppable. And this leads to the
run of albums that gave him what everyone now
calls the Grammy hat trick between 74 and 77.
Let's break that down because it wasn't just
a lucky streak. It was sustained genius. It starts
with Inner Visions in 1973. And that album was
so profoundly socially conscious, living for
the city, higher ground. It tackled urban despair,
spiritual awakening, critiques of the political
system. This was not saccharine pop music. Was
there any pushback at the time? Or were the Grammys
just reflecting his commercial dominance? That's
a fair question. But with Inner Visions, the
artistic merit was just... Undeniable. The sources
are unified on this. It was a triumph. It won
him Album of the Year and cemented him as the
most acclaimed and influential black musician
of the early 70s. It's number 34 on Rolling Stone's
500 Greatest Albums. Then he follows that up
so quickly with Fulfillingness' first finale
in 1974. Right, which continued the streak. It
had the number one political protest song, You
Haven't Done Nothing, which was a direct shot
at President Nixon. And that won Album of the
Year again? Again. And this incredible consistency
is why Paul Simon's famous quip at the 1976 Grammys
is so perfect. Right. When Simon won, he said.
He said, I'd like to thank Stevie Wonder, who
didn't make an album this year. It was the ultimate
compliment. It was an acknowledgement of the
creative vacuum Wonder left when he wasn't releasing
music. But he was busy. He was preparing what
many consider his masterpiece. September 1976,
he dropped Songs in the Key of Life. A mammoth
double album with an extra EP. It was sprawling,
ambitious, and proved the value of that 120 -page
contract. The sources note it was the first album
by an American artist to debut straight at number
one on the Billboard charts. And it gave us huge
hits like I Wish, Sir Duke, and of course Isn't
She Lovely, written for his daughter Aisha. And
he adamantly refused to shorten that song for
a single release, which again just highlights
his fierce, uncompromising artistic control.
He wasn't bending to radio demands anymore. And
of course, Songs in the Key of Life wins Album
of the Year, completing the hat trick. Which
makes him the only artist to ever win that award
with three consecutive album releases. It's a
statistical anomaly that just underscores his
total creative dominance. Beyond the music, there
were some huge personal events during this period.
In August of 1973, right after Inner Visions
came out, he was in a really serious car accident.
That crash was existential. The car he was in
hit the back of a truck. It was severe enough
to put him in a coma for four days. And it had
lasting physical effects, right? Yeah, a partial
loss of his sense of smell and a temporary loss
of his sense of taste. That brush with mortality
is often cited as fueling the even deeper spiritual
and political intensity of his later albums.
And yet just a few months later, against doctor's
orders, he's back on stage. November 73, he's
performing a benefit concert for Shaw University,
where he was on the board of trustees. The concert
raised over $10 ,000 for their scholarship fund.
Just incredible resilience. And another vital
technological connection happens in 1976 that
links his personal life with global innovation.
The Kurzweil reading machine. He became the first
production user. He was the first multi -font
reading machine for the blind. And it kicked
off this long professional association with the
inventor, Ray Kurzweil. So his own needs are
driving technological innovation that ends up
benefiting countless other people. That's a theme
you see again and again. The decade's sonic experimentation
kind of wraps up with the 1979 soundtrack album,
Journey Through the Secret Life of Plants. Which
was, you know, commercially a bit less accessible,
but it showed he was still right at the forefront
of technology using an early digital sampler
to compose the whole thing. So the foundation
was set. He walked into the 70s as a former child
star fighting for 250 a week, and he left it
as a musical deity who had personally dictated
the direction of R &B, pop, and electronic music
for the next 20 years. An absolute giant. So
as we move into the 1980s, Wonder's career shifts.
He goes from that critically acclaimed, artistically
dense classic period to, well, a period of just
unprecedented commercial and political visibility.
It kicks off with his first platinum -selling
single album, Hotter Than July, in 1980. And
that album was this really calculated blend of
accessibility and social commitment. It was.
And it had what is probably his most politically
important song of the entire decade, Happy Birthday.
Which was instrumental in the campaign to establish
Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday as a federal
holiday. Absolutely instrumental. This wasn't
just a tribute song. The sources confirm it was
a political tool. So how was it actually used
in the campaign? Well, Wunder basically adopted
it as the movement's anthem. He performed it
at rallies, he organized nationwide tours specifically
to push for the holiday, and he actively lobbied
Congress. The song gave a celebratory, unifying
soundtrack to a political goal. So it made it
emotionally accessible to the public, which then
created this huge grassroots pressure. Exactly.
It proved the political power of a perfectly
crafted pop song. And that political engagement
was clearly at the front of his mind. In 1982,
he has another number one hit, this time with
Paul McCartney. Ebony and Ivory, an overt paean
to racial harmony. It fit perfectly with his
public persona at the time. He was everywhere
during this period, crossing all these genre
lines. But the peak of his commercial power really
converges with his deepest political conviction
in 1984. Right, when he records the soundtrack
for the film The Woman in Red. Which gives us
the massive global hit I Just Called to Say I
Love You. A song that topped charts everywhere,
won him an Academy Award for Best Original Song,
and led to this spectacular moment of global
activism. It's a complex moment, though, isn't
it? Because while the song was a huge commercial
success, it got some criticism for being musically
lighter. A little saccharine, maybe. Especially
compared to the depth of Inner Visions. But that
commercial trade -off, that universal accessibility,
is what allowed his political voice to reach
a truly global platform. And he used that platform
masterfully. When he accepts the Oscar for the
song, he accepts it not just for himself. He
accepts it in the name of Nelson Mandela. who
at the time was still imprisoned by the apartheid
regime in South Africa. And the consequences
of that were immediate. Swift and serious. The
sources confirmed that this direct public dedication
at one of the most visible events in the world
resulted in his music being immediately banned
from all South African radio by the government.
I mean, that's the definition of an artist whose
voice carries real political weight. It was deemed
dangerous enough to be silenced by an authoritarian
regime. And that action just cemented his global
reputation as an anti -racist activist. He was
honored by the UN Special Committee Against Apartheid
that same year, in 1985. We mentioned his collaboration
with Ray Kurzweil with the reading machine, but
that association got even deeper in the early
80s and led to another huge technological leap.
This time for music production itself. In 1982,
Wonder... invites Kurzweil to his LA studio and
basically poses a challenge. He wanted to apply
the flexible computer control he had with synthesizers
to the acoustic sounds of real instruments, pianos,
strings, horns. And that conversation led directly
to Kurzweil founding Kurzweil Music Systems and
the release of the Kurzweil Key 250 synthesizer
in 1984. Which was revolutionary. It was one
of the first electronic instruments to successfully
emulate the complex sounds of acoustic instruments
using digital sampling. So again, he wasn't just
adopting technology. He was actively spurring
the creation of entirely new musical tools. He
also continued his commitment to those big charity
singles, lending his voice to We Are the World
in 85, and That's What Friends Are For for AIDS
Research in 86. The 90s saw him continue to release
music, though the pace definitely slowed down
compared to the 70s. He did the soundtrack for
Spike Lee's Jungle. fever in 91. And he collaborated
with Babyface on a song about domestic violence,
How Come How Long, showing that his commitment
to tackling difficult social issues never really
wavered. He also cemented his place as this national
musical figure, performing at the 96 Olympics
closing ceremony, the Super Bowl halftime show
in 99. His presence just signified cultural importance.
And his influence stretched across generations,
didn't it? He was collaborating with everyone.
Everyone, from Busta Rhymes and Snoop Dogg to
Mark Ronson and even Travis Scott in 2018. The
sound of his harmonica, the thing that gave him
his first hit, is still this cross -generational
sonic bridge. There's also this... profound and
kind of heartbreaking side of his later career,
his role as the musician chosen to honor the
fallen giants of music. The sources list four
huge ones. He performed at the memorials for
Michael Jackson, Etta James, Whitney Houston,
and Aretha Franklin. He became the standard bearer
for expressing collective grief through music.
And speaking of new directions, in 2020, he makes
this huge industry move that really mirrors his
rebellion from five decades earlier. After nearly
60 years exclusively on Motown, he launches his
own label, So What the Fuss Records. Which says
a lot about his desire to remain creatively and
politically relevant, even as he enters his eighth
decade. He's still releasing these socially conscious
singles. And he's been very open about his future
ambitions. The sources mention two specific projects
he's working on now. One is the gospel inspired
by Lula, his mother, which will deal with spiritual
and cultural crises. And the other is Through
the Eyes of Wonder. an album he describes as
a performance piece that will reflect his experience
as a blind man. Deeply personal, potentially
profound projects. And finally, we have to talk
about his connection to Africa, specifically
Ghana. It's a connection that deepened significantly
later in life. He visited Ghana for PanaFest
in 1992 and was so impacted by it that he said
he would eventually move there permanently. And
that long -term dream became a reality just recently.
On his 74th birthday, May 13, 2024, he was officially
granted Ghanaian citizenship. He took the Oath
of Allegiance in Accra. It solidified this transnational
aspect of his identity and career, completing
a personal journey that began all the way back
in the 90s. So when you zoom out on Stevie Wonder's
career from the Motown factory floor to this
global stage, his legacy is one of just sheer
technical mastery combined with this profound
moral and creative authority. And let's start
with that instrumental talent. I mean, the term
polymathy almost doesn't do it justice. He didn't
just play instruments. He mastered enough of
them to create entire sonic worlds all by himself.
Exactly. He's known for vocals and keyboards,
the Rhodes, the clavinets. But the sources credit
him with piano, synthesizer, harmonica, drums,
congas, bongos, organ, melodica. And that ability
to play almost every part combined with his compositional
genius is what allowed him to propel R &B into
that album era. He created musical landscapes,
not just catchy songs. And his influence goes
so far beyond R &B and soul. He's cited as a
pioneer by musicians across pop, funk, and rock.
His use of those funky keyboard rhythms is total
control of production. That became the blueprint.
Peer recognition is a huge part of his legacy.
The 1983 Rolling Stone record guide said his
classic period albums pioneered stylistic approaches
that helped to determine the shape of pop music
for the next decade. And you see that influence
cited directly by modern giants. Kanye West said
he wasn't trying to compete with his contemporaries.
He was trying to compete with inner visions and
songs and the key of life. To set that as your
benchmark, that's the ultimate compliment. And
the sources offer even higher praise from a classical
perspective. Composer Erlen Wallen, the master
of the King's music, said she'd place him pretty
close to Bach for his musicianship. That comparison
moves him from pop history into just music history.
He's consistently ranked among the greatest of
all time. Rolling Stone named him the seventh
greatest singer and 15th greatest artist. The
critical, commercial, and peer consensus all
align, which is incredibly rare. And then there
are the awards, which tell their own story of
unprecedented success. We know the 25 Grammys,
the Lifetime Achievement, but the specific records
he holds are what's really amazing. He's tied
for the most album of the year wins, with three.
That puts him alongside Frank Sinatra, Paul Simon,
and Taylor Swift. But this is the key. He's the
only artist to have won that award with three
consecutive album releases. That sequence. Interviewsions,
fulfillingnesses, songs in the key of life. It's
a unique statistical anomaly. No one else has
managed to duplicate it. His recognition goes
way beyond the Grammys, too. Rock and Roll Hall
of Fame, Songwriters Hall of Fame. And for his
civil rights work? He received the Presidential
Medal of Freedom, America's highest civilian
honor in 2014, and the Library of Congress's
Gershwin Prize in 2009. The sources also give
us a glimpse into his personal life, which is
complex and rich. He's been married three times.
First to Motown singer -songwriter Sarita Wright,
who collaborated with him on those first independent
albums. And he has a large family with nine children
with five women. His daughter, Aisha Morris,
the inspiration for Isn't She Lovely, is a singer
who's toured with him. You see this multi -generational
involvement in his art, which suggests this deep
commitment to family alongside his public career.
We also learned about his recent health challenges.
He had a successful kidney transplant in December
2019. And fortunately, while that's a serious
medical event, it hasn't slowed down his creative
output. And a final snapshot of his personal
beliefs. A longtime Baptist, he was introduced
to transcendental meditation, and he's a vegan.
You can see how that belief system informs his
moral and political stances. Ultimately, everything
we've covered. From the $2 .50 a week stipend
to the 120 -page contract, from the accidental
encore to the creation of the Kurzweil K -250,
from the ban in South Africa to his Ghanaian
citizenship, it all tells the story of an artist
who achieved total mastery only after fighting
tooth and nail for total control. He transcended
the system that was designed to contain him,
proving that genius, when combined with fuze
independence, can become an unstoppable force
of nature. So what does this all mean for you,
the learner, taking this deep dive with us today?
We've synthesized that Stevie Wonder's staggering
legacy is really defined by three converging
powerful elements. First, there's the extraordinary
political power of his voice. He used his platform
strategically, the MLK holiday campaign, the
Mandela dedication, and the subsequent government
ban. He turned pop music into high stakes political
leverage. Second, that creative revolution of
the 1970s. He redefined R &B and the whole idea
of the album by demanding autonomy, integrating
new technology like the T .O. New You synthesizer,
and creating these complex, socially relevant
LPs that just shattered the Motown singles mold.
And third... It's the cold, hard fact of his
unmatched critical success. That historic, unique,
consecutive Grammy sweep for album of the year.
It proves that commercial accessibility and complex,
challenging art aren't mutually exclusive. His
story is really a masterclass. It shows that
when immense self -directed talent fights to
break free from restrictive systems, it doesn't
just make great music. It literally changes industry
standards and amplifies a message globally. And
here's where it gets really interesting for the
future. Think about his current projects, especially
that album, Through the Eyes of Wonder, which
is meant to reflect his experience as a blind
man. After six decades of unparalleled sonic
innovation and commitment to these profound themes.
What new insights into perception, into knowledge,
into artistic expression could an artist of his
magnitude focus purely on that intimate perspective
of a non -visual reality still reveal to the
world? It's a truly deep dive into the nature
of human experience, using music to convey a
reality beyond sight. That final personal exploration
might just be his most ambitious project yet.