Tara Goldenhour
Shrouded by secrecy, little is known of Tara Goldenhour. Her art is for herself and lives far afield, deep in the cedar woods. The faint cry of a flute. The tender strum of a banjo. The steady pulse of a thrift shop synthesizer. The ringing bell of a human voice.
Tara’s music evokes time passed by and the relationship of humanity with the divine nature of it all. She sings of love and darkness.
Songs created for the project:
Listen
Was once at the Indiana Dunes and met a dude who had a clicker and was counting migrating birds.