Keith Richards

As part of my rock star reading I'm plowing through a 500 plus word autobiography of Keith Richards called "Life" which has no boring parts.  Happy to discover another famous British musician who knows how to write.  Lots of interesting stuff in there but I'll focus on some quotes for this post.

About songwriting:

    pg. 240 "These crucial wonderful riffs that just came, I don't know where from.  I'm blessed with them and I can never get to the bottom of them."
    pg. 277   "So what makes you want to write songs? In a way you want to stretch yourself into other people's heads.  You want to plant yourself there, or at least get a resonance, where other people become a bigger instrument than the one you're playing.  It becomes almost an obsession to touch other people..."
    pg. 309  "Great songs write themselves...you're just the conveyor."
    pg. 310  "When I first knew I could do it, I wondered if I could do another one.  Then I found they were rolling off my fingers like pearls.  I never had any difficulty writing songs.  It was a sheer pleasure.  And a wonderful gift that I didn't know I had.  It amazes me."

About playing and recording:

   pg. 243  "It's what you leave out that counts."
   pg. 244   "Rhythm really only has to be suggested."
   pg. 306   "With a great band you only really need a little sparkle of an idea, and before the evening's over it will be a beautiful thing,"
   pg. 241   "The big discovery late in 1968 or early 1969 was when I started playing the open five-string tuning.  It transformed my life."
   pg. 244    "Five strings cleared out the clutter."
   pg. 315    "For me there is no such thing as time when I'm into recording.  Time changes."

Nordic

Recently I've developed a craving for things Nordic and Viking. Odd after so many years.  I was born on the coast of a Scandinavian country, lived there for a few years and went back often in summers into my teens. Didn't much appeal to me at the time.  So many hours driving through trees or seemingly passing the same scene over and over of yellow flowered fields and blue lakes with little else in between.  I think I was tainted too by the isolation my transplanted mother felt in those early years.  Apparently, though, my little kid self at least outwardly fit in pretty well back then. I was even tri-lingual for a while.

Lately I've been looking up a lot of old Scandinavian craftsmanship on the internet.  Especially silver jewelry and wood carvings.  And a friend got me listening to Icelandic minimalist composer Olafur Arnald and the group Sigor Ros.  I'm hooked.  Something has changed in my brain and associations and it's appealing now. Beautiful.  A part of my history that I'm ok with and more now.

It's expanding my creativity.  These weeks I'm working on a textured wall art project with a bit of a house theme and the details are all emerging with a Nordic twist.  I hope to take some photos of that for another blog entry.

By the way, the sweater above was handmade for my dad 50 years ago. It lives in my closet now.  Nothing like scratchy wool and pewter to bring back Scandinavia.  

Sir Ken Robinson - Escape Death Valley

The delightfully British, witty and inspiring teacher of education with a 2013 Ted Talks talk.  I especially liked his comment about the arts reaching a part of children's being that other disciplines can't.  

Our Father

My 3 D rendering of The Lord's Prayer.  I decided to confine myself to materials I had on hand instead of buying things and I used string instead of glue to attach pieces.  Felt more tangible, honest and gentle this way.  Rice crackers for Daily Bread, which became unintentionally more like communion than dinner.  Things like this hint strongly that art has a mind of its own and just humors me with my participation.  

Jack Turpin

Attended another workshop at an art supply store.  Featured was JACK TURPIN, retired teacher of high school English, P.E. and art, whose workshop subject was art journals.  I was open-mouthed from beginning to end of two lightening quick hours.

He brought in 10 or so journals, talked and showed us pages.  Mesmerizingly detailed pen and ink drawings, some in blue or brown.  Some he'd added just one, at most two watercolors to.  Often he'd written threads of stories in exquisite calligraphy that wrapped around his drawings.  Interspersed were glued in paper mementos at catchy angles: brochures, labels, programs etc.  He said that for the past 12 years or so he'd had two "characters" floating through these journals, cut out as stencils and appearing in various creative forms. Some of his writings were about these characters' interactions with whatever artistic inspirations he was illustrating and the travels he was documenting. The one character's name I remember was Nat O'graphy, taken from an old National Geography cover he'd found and cut out.

I looked up Jack's webpage, JackTurpin.ca.  Very professional and appealing. A lot of his paintings are featured and a number of the drawings from his journals.  What I really liked was reading on his blog about how he paints 3 hours a week with a fellow painter and friend.  For my current season of mostly artistic aloneness this sounds vastly appealing.  Brings up my same old theme and pipe dream of wanting to live in a musicians/artists community where all sorts of creativity synergizes and interesting conversations flow freely and extensively.  

Tillers Folly

    Recently a certain young fiddler I know took part in a summer concert and I, the driver, came along. We headed to a peaceful, tree lined field that sloped down to a fold out stage-in-a-truck. People trickled in leisurely with camp chairs and blankets.  The fiddlers did their thing under the diffused orange glow of a late setting sun.  Surprisingly varied tunes and fiddle styles, even for the youngest students.

    All this to say that the fiddlers were the opening act for a three piece group called Tillers Folly.  New to me.  Blue grassish/folk/country style which doesn't cross my path a whole lot.  In general I don't get to attend a lot of concerts.  Even fewer outdoor ones.  This one, thankfully, turned out to be a winner.  The lead singer's voice reminded me of Christopher Cross for some reason and I didn't expect such pretty melodies and intricate instrumentals.  The mandolin player was also fiddler.

    Soon the lounging crowd relaxed into a soothed, timeless trance.  It was soul medicine.  Soul salve.  I let the songs wash over me, carrying off the day and whatever had muddied up my spirit lately.  Another part of my consciousness said to myself, "This is what I want to do as long as I'm on the planet and beyond if I may." Let music flow into a collective stream and over whoever will receive it.  A solace and echo of sacrament in our fragile days.

 

Color Blind

As I ponder whether to register and actually pay for art courses I'm sampling free demos at the local art supply store this month. Two days ago I attended one by a recently retired tax accountant who has been an established painter since the 70's.  Not only did I appreciate hearing that many of his accounting clients had been artists but was also intrigued when this painter said he was red green color blind.  Apparently this has made him mix unusual greens which many buyers said made his art more interesting.  Even if his wife has to tell him occasionally that his colors have gone very off, he says for him painting is mainly about form and color values, ie. light, medium, and dark. In his opinion the specific colors themselves are almost irrelevant and completely interchangeable.  Wow!  Revolutionary thought for me who is so color sensitive. Have to ponder this for a while.