The word liminal refers to a threshold space — an in-between state where transformation and discovery occur. These sessions explore that threshold between human collaboration and emerging technologies. While many of the musicians involved come from jazz backgrounds, the project is not strictly about jazz as a genre. It is about the improvisational spirit jazz represents: listening, responsiveness, experimentation, interplay, spontaneity, and the willingness to step into the unknown.

The real art does not live solely in the finished recording. It lives in the exchange itself — between musicians, ideas, technologies, imagination, risk, experimentation, and discovery. The recordings that emerge from The Liminal Sessions are simply traces left behind by that process. And perhaps that is ultimately what liminal means to me.

We find ourselves in these threshold spaces many times throughout life. After decades of gigging — hauling equipment into clubs, restaurants, bars, and venues late at night, setting up microphones and monitors, driving home exhausted after performances — there comes a moment when you realize you have crossed some invisible line. You are not old, exactly, but you are no longer young either. Your relationship to ambition changes. Your relationship to resilience changes. The things you once tolerated without question begin to feel different.

What has also changed over the past decade — and accelerated dramatically in recent years — is the culture surrounding visibility itself. I have never participated in social media. I do not use Facebook, Instagram, or Tik Tok to promote my music, despite repeated suggestions that I should. Perhaps that choice has cost me opportunities. I am a performer, yet I resist the notion that we must constantly present curated versions of ourselves to the world. Andy Warhol said famously, "In the future, everyone will be world-famous for 15 minutes". I wonder what Warhol would say about his prediction now?

I’ve become more protective of my privacy over the years and less interested in turning myself into a public project. The music matters to me whether it reaches thousands of listeners or only a handful. In many ways, The Liminal Sessions reflects that shift. It is about the pleasure of making something and releasing it into the world without needing to place myself at the center of it.

The cover artwork often features a blonde woman who may or may not resemble me. Her face is often partially obscured, altered, or left deliberately ambiguous. That choice is partly artistic and partly practical. We live in a moment when artificial intelligence can replicate voices, images, and identities in ways that would have been difficult to imagine only a few years ago. A certain amount of caution seems wise.

Besides, The Liminal Sessions was never meant to be about a face. It was meant to be about the songs. I love having real conversations with other musicians, artists, writers, and creative people who find themselves standing in similar places — somewhere between past and future versions of themselves, between old models and emerging possibilities, between certainty and reinvention. Maybe life itself is one long liminal passage from beginning to end.

Before I disappear completely down that philosophical rabbit hole — or wander too far off into some strange key — I’ll simply say this: The Liminal Sessions is ultimately an invitation to conversation, collaboration, curiosity, experimentation, and discovery. I hope other musicians will reach out with possible contributions to the project.

Of course, most of the people who will find this page are people I already know personally or have worked with creatively over the years. I’m not especially interested in opening this up to anonymous online commentary or endless debates about technology and art. I would much rather have genuine conversations with thoughtful music lovers, musicians, artists, and collaborators. If you know me and this resonates with you — or if you simply want to share thoughts about creativity, collaboration, music, technology, or navigating these strange evolving spaces — please feel free to reach out through my gmail. (If you don’t have it, you know someone who does. It’s the same email I’ve had for 20 years.) I would genuinely love to hear from you.

Best, Marcia

The Longer Story: How The Liminal Sessions came to be.