Pink Village

My younger brother used to attend a school in the Northeast part of Glendale during the early 1990's. We lived a few miles southwest of the school, so driving there in the 1983 blue Volvo station wagon was always a bit of an adventure. One could take surface streets to the school, yet my mother usually took the 2 freeway because it was faster and more convenient. Upon exiting the freeway we would always pass a set of houses that were situated on a hill that overlooked the city. The houses initially caught my attention because each and every one of them was pink. There was a certain mysteriousness to them that I wanted so badly to experience, yet I did not verbalize this desire until my mother finally suggested one day that we "go on a drive" after dropping my brother off at school.

"Yeah, let's drive over there," I said, pointing at the houses. "To Pink Village." What a name I had given it. There was one main road that led to Pink Village, and it seemed like a fairly unremarkable road from where I would normally gaze at it from a distance. Yet that morning the road was a winding portal that led to a beautifully mystical place that had only lived in my mind before that day.

At the top of the hill, we reached an intersection. My mother, always allowing me to make my own decisions, asked, "Which way should I turn?"

"Left!" I said, without any good reason. Shortly after that the homes were visible. Every single one of them was exactly like the one next to it. The addresses were as long as phone numbers. One of the few differences was that some homes had the garage on the left and others had it on the right. The gardens varied slightly as well. Some families chose to plant rosebushes, others had irises. I guessed that the only way the residents of Pink Village knew which garage to park in at night was to count and remember which belonged to them.

My mother and I shared a certain relief that we did not live in a place like Pink Village. "What if we lost our house?" I was certain that I would lose my house, especially because of my less-than-stellar sense of direction.

On the way down the hill, we drove near an empty patch of land that was covered in the most beautiful wild flowers I had ever seen. My mom pulled over, we got out, and walked around. I had no idea what any of these flowers were, but they were incredible.

"Pretty soon houses will be built on this land," my mother said, "and these flowers won't be here any more." This saddened me.

"Why? Aren't there enough houses in Pink Village already?"

Of course not.

We walked around a little bit more, picked some flowers, and decided to continue driving down the hill. We passed by a few more look-alike-house-villages (I did not yet know the term "tract home"), and I felt a certain nostalgia for the pre-Pink Village days. Now that I had a better idea of what it was like, I could not help but feel slightly let down.

I looked at my new bundle of flowers, and I wondered if they knew where they came from.

We never drove back to Pink Village.

Me so bad.

Ok, so it's been almost a year since I have written a blog. I have no good excuse, except that "I've been busy." But that statement is everyone's easy-way-out sort of excuse. Whatever.

I'm in California at the moment. I've been here since December 24. I fly back to Boston tonight. I hate flying, but it'll be great to get back to my little cozy cave-of-an-apartment. I recorded an album with Brad Dutz while I was here (and also performed with him), sold four things on Etsy, made an assortment of crazy creations, and read. A lot. I read three Murakami books (WILD SHEEP CHASE, DANCE DANCE DANCE, SOUTH OF THE BORDER WEST OF THE SUN) and two Banana Yoshimoto books (ASLEEP, GOODBYE TSUGUMI). I also read half of TUESDAYS WITH MORRIE but stopped because it was sort of pissing me off. I took care of my dying nana for 1.5 years and reading this soap-boxy-crap about a student's relationship with an old professor just seemed kind of lame. Whatever.

Seeing family was very good, actually. My dad is on anti-depressants now so he's about 50 times nicer and less angry than he used to be. I'm not sure how brain drugs really work...is this the "real" him? Who knows, but I like him this way. It's easier on my family as well.

At the end of the month I begin my last semester at Longy. Scary stuffs. I have to give a solo recital and I will also be applying for a big-girl job in Providence, RI. Application stuff is quite scary. Letters of recommendation, fancy resume, my letter of interest, CD....it's like exposing my soul to the universe. I have to begin this stuff while I'm on the plane.

Alrighty, well I will try and keep this blog updated more regularly.

Oh yes, in crafty news, I must tell you about the items that I sold. My robot string quartet (my favorite piece by far), felt grape pin (which I made so long ago), Sylvester the Sperm-Like Snake (a crochet scarf/amigurumi/thing), and my polymer clay "Sea Lion in his Happy Place." Very nice. I also made a purchase of the cutest hummingbird ever from http://VermontFairies.etsy.com It's so cute it makes me want to cry.

Master class with Matt Haimovitz

Today was a good day. I played Elliott Carter's "Figment" for Matt Haimovitz, who is pretty much my favorite living cellist. He has become famous for playing solo cello gigs at non-traditional venues such as night clubs, rock clubs, and other random places. I heard an album he recorded in 1992 featuring works by Britten, Ligeti, Hindemith, and an assortment of other 20th-century composers and it pretty much changed my whole view of cello (in a good way). Anyway, he gave a masterclass at Longy today and I was fortunate enough to play for him! It was kind of sucky to sit for 1.5 hours while other people played and then BAM, dive into "Figment," but it got easier as it went along.

I also had slept 3.5 hours last night thinking about the master class. I wasn't really nervous...it was just that my stupid brain would not shut the hell up. I had a rehearsal for Shostakovich Piano Trio at 1pm (which got delayed due to not being able to find a fucking open room), and then I realized that I was more tired than I had been in a long while, so I went home. I crashed at about 4PM, fully dressed, and woke up at 6:30PM in a little puddle of my own drool. It was quite fabulous. This is an unusual occurrence, this whole nap thing, as I take about 3-5 a year. This was number 2. Anyway, I was very confused when I woke up because I thought it was 6:30 AM. I turned on the radio and learned it was in fact 6:30 PM. "Oh, that's good," I thought. "I have a paper due in the morning for my Baroque class, which I have not started, so I should probably do that." So I did.

Then I made a tiny little kangaroo (which is cooling off at the moment) out of the tiny bits of clay that I have left. I'm running out. And I won't be able to buy more until I get paid some more $ because I'm way po' at the moment. Anyway, the tiny kangaroo comes with an even TINIER purple baby kangaroo and I can't wait to glaze it and take glamour shots of it because it's just too cute. Ha.

Been making stuff....

Since the erection of the new Etsy Constitution, I have been inspired to make a somewhat naughty piece. Well, the first one I made before people got psycho about censorship of "mature" items:



Then I went a tad further and made a little nude sculpture:



Her name is Sarah B. Wilkinson. Her bio can be found on my Etsy page, yet I have conveniently included it here:

HOTTEST NUDE Polymer Clay Super-Model~~

This is Sarah B. Wilkinson, and she loves hanging out naked. Although she doesn't like being completely naked, as she is sporting a hat, earrings, and a necklace. She is just glowing with excitement, as you can see from the little glitter sparkles emanating from her chocolate-colored flesh. I haven't asked her, but I've got a hunch that she had a really good night.

Sarah B. Wilkinson measures 3.25" from hand to toe (in the reclined position) and is about 2" from her bum to her head. Her limbs are supported with metal wires so that she doesn't fall apart (like in clay-matian).

Hehe....

In other Etsy news, I sold my Pig Pin:



That made me happy. :) :)

Hearing and Not Listening

This is something that occurs too often. For non-musicians, this may seem like a surprising concept. However, people who can hear but do not listen are often found sitting in orchestras and chamber music groups. So much of what is taught in music is about how to make your instrument function properly. This is very important, yet the education cannot stop there. The "why" factor is not answered or questioned often enough. "Play with curved fingers." OK, why? Because it looks nice? Well, no. Curved fingers will get you the most clarity (on a stringed instrument) in fast passage work. It SOUNDS the best, it is the most musical way to tackle a specific gesture, and it works. How about a slow melodic passage? Should your fingers intersect the string at a right angle? Well, perhaps, but it sounds bad. Why? Well, most people don't even notice this fact. It is because playing at a right angle to the string involves playing with the smallest amount of pad on the fingerboard, causing a long note to sound thin and have no over-tones. Playing with MORE pad of the finger allows a longer portion of the string to be in contact with the fingerboard, allowing the instrument to resonate and produce beautiful over-tones. So how do you get more pad of your finger on the string? Well, it depends on your hand. If you have big honking fingertips, you're in luck. But if your fingers are thin, you'll have to flatten the top joint a bit. Sure it "looks bad," but if it sounds good, who the hell cares? The SOUND is the what matters.

Listening to oneself is where the music begins. It is crucial for a musician to be aware of how they sound on their individual instrument in order to play with others. When a string quartet is trying to fix intonation of a particularly gnarly passage, it is not wise to play it slowly and loudly. It is important to play softly yet with a core sound in order to hear everyone and make necessary adjustments.

I had an interesting experience in orchestra yesterday. We were doing string sectionals, and Terry King (my teacher) and Laura Bossert (his wife, who is a violin teacher at Longy and I consider her to be my second teacher) were leading the ensemble. It was revealed to me that very few people were listening. Sure the violinists were great as individuals, but when they were asked to play together, it was a total mess. This was also very depressing. Terry and Laura were very disappointed because this was an indication that the orchestra did not know how to listen. I spoke with Terry during break, and he said, "I can't fix everything. All I can do is shine a mirror to them and hope that they can do the necessary work to make changes." It kills me to play in a mediocre orchestra, because I know that it feels great to play in a great orchestra. Granted, this has only happened a few times, and my heart is not set on being an orchestral cellist in the future, but it would certainly be nice to WANT to WANT to be in an orchestra where everyone is on the same page.

Hrmph.

"Aphrodisiacs"

What sayeth you, LadyRay? Are we digressing from the topics of cello and crafts? Yes. I MUST share this information with you though.

My dear neighbor, Lally, just moved out of our building. She gave me a bunch of stuff before moving, and one of items was a book called Brews and Potions: a Hand Book of Remedies, Spells, Elixirs, Cordialls, and Aphrodisiacs. It's compiled by Maurice Rickards, published by Hugh Evelyn Ltd. (London), and there is not date on the book. It's a funky little hardback book, and the pages are yellow with age.

My favorite recipe that I have found so far is by Cartoleomeo Scappi, who was a "private chef to His Holiness Pope Pius V." This what gold ol' Carty has to say about making a good aphrodisiac:

"To make a pie of bulls' testicles, take four of them and boil them in water and sale. Cut them in slices, sprinkle them with white pepper, salt, cinnamon and nutteg. Prepare separately a mince of lambs' kidney, gravy, three slices of lean ham, a good pinch of chopped marjoram, thyme, and three cloves. Prepare the pastry for the pie. Then begin to make a layer on your pie dish with the ham, then a layer of slices of testicles, sprinkle well with mince, and so on. Before shutting the pie, add a glass of wine. Put it in the oven and serve hot."

This may just inspire me to make a polymer pie of bull balls.

2 items sold today!

Today I sold this lovely "Bling-Bling Black Sheep" pin and that made me very happy. Seconds later, I sold my little shovel pin and that made me even happier. :)

But now I go to bed.