theseadagiodays

[theseadagiodays]

June 14, 2020

Stuck Together

Dresses by Gabrielle C - lemons; Evelyn K - tux; Callan R - Black Lives Matter 

For the past three months, I have so appreciated sharpening my lens towards the creative gestures that this time has inspired.  These musings began with a hunch that artists would play a significant leadership role in the resiliency that such crises require.  While confirmed, my thesis has expanded to recognize that ALL humans are fundamentally wired to be resilient.  And because innovation is a key ingredient of resiliency, people from all walks of life (professional artist or otherwise) have been seeking creative expression to tether them through these uncertain times.  

For example, take these insanely fanciful prom dresses that teenagers around the US have designed in just 48 hours, using 40 rolls of duck tape and no other materials.  I can only imagine to what extent feelings of uncertainty have been exacerbated for these high school seniors, already poised for one of the biggest leaps of their life.  With the possibility of on-campus fall enrollment at new institutions threatened, and stripped of important rituals like graduation ceremonies and grad dances, these youth have had to contend with an abundance of shattered dreams.  So, it was unexpectedly surprising to see the hope, compassion and beauty in the creations that resulted from this year’s Stuck at Prom Duck Tape Challenge.  Browsing the 100’s of jaw-dropping entries on the contest’s website (https://www.duckbrand.com/stuck-at-prom/2020-gallery), there was not a single Covid Sucks, self-pitying design in the bunch.  Instead, you can find tributes to essential workers and Black Lives Matter, mottos of solidarity, and an artful nod to “making lemonade.”  Knowing that our future is in the hands of these thoughtful young people is perhaps the most encouraged I’ve felt during this entire pandemic.

Dress by Peyton M - frontline workers 

June 15, 2020

Covid Commissions

Various WPA Virtual Commissions - see link below

Physical distancing and other economic challenges, resulting from the coronavirus, have taken a huge toll on artists’ livelihood.   Currently, many existing arts grants have been either cut or postponed, in order for governments to reallocate funding towards critical services like health care, transportation and housing.  And while I believe that the arts are as critical as breathing, full-well contributing to our physiological, psychological and self-actualizing needs, they still fall pretty far down most people’s interpretation of Maslow’s hierarchy.

Thankfully, there have been numerous emergency relief funds available to pick up the financial slack for artists.  So, these have provided much needed temporary help to cover living expenses.   But they haven’t necessarily supported the creation of new work.  Fortunately though, some institutions have recognized the essentiality of the arts by putting them front and centre of their funding priorities.   One such organization is the Guggenheim, whose board and donors contributed $150,000 to their Works & Process Virtual Commissioning fund which supported performing artists from a variety of mediums to create up to 5-minute video pieces from home.  Like Cooped, a project I referenced on June 4th, all of the resulting works can be viewed here:

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLJ08rQmWB63RFC3avQF-nDsneUXLrUd4X

As I mentioned earlier, we dabbled in a little commissioning ourselves, during quarantine. And here is the promised finished product by Natalie Warkentin (@morningmusings), the very talented artist of Bloom: A beautiful process of becoming.   Her playful, vibrant piece has made a world of difference to our daily joy, with the inordinant amount of time that we usual out-and-abouters have been spending at home!  And we were also thrilled to learn that it has, indirectly, already led to a second commission for her.

June 16, 2020

Piano Play

In surveying my peers, I’ve noticed that this has been a time for reconnecting with long-lost friends.  As some of these old relationships have resurfaced for me, one of my favorite “icebreakers” has been to ask what new pursuits they’ve enjoyed during this period.  For many, it’s been sourdough starters; others gardening; and some, learning French.  But I’ve also found that many adults are taking up instruments, which makes me extremely happy.  I can’t tell you how many times, throughout my career, after mentioning to a stranger, on a plane or elsewhere, that I was a flutist, they replied “Oh, I wish I played an instrument,” ... almost as if they were already dead.   My habitual response is always to encourage adult music-making, and it’s one of the reasons that the majority of our non-profits’ arts programs target adult populations.  While I fully support early childhood musical and artistic development, I don’t think these opportunities are nearly as lacking as those for “big kids”.  One of my friends, in an effort to brush up on her Grade 4 childhood piano skills, recently asked if I could recommend some playable, accessible pieces in a variety of genres (from film scores to pop to classical).  Since keyboard or piano seems to be the most common new instrument for people to learn later in life (with perhaps only ukulele as a close second), I thought it would be fun to post the list that I shared with her.  Each of the scores, below, is available online, for free or purchasable download, and generally requires the player to use only one finger, in either hand, at the same time.    For a final extra tip: Musescore.com has a 30-day free trial, during which you can download to your heart’s delight!

Regina Spektor The Call (from Chronicles of Narnia)

Sufjan Stevens Mystery of Love (from Call Me By Your Name)

Erik Satie Gymnopedie #1-3, & Le Tango Perpetual

Arvo Part Fur Alina

Olafur Arnalds Tomorrow’s Song

Thomas Neumann Theme from American Beauty

Yann Tiersen Valse d’Amelie

Icelandic pianist, singer/songwriter, Olafur Arnalds

June 17, 2020

Cause and Effect

I love the music of language.  Perhaps it’s why my transition from flutist to writer has felt so natural.  I rarely remember the lyrics to songs, instead hearing the syllables as a collection of phonetic melodies.  I also experience sounds somewhat synaesthetically (synaesthesia being the neurological condition where certain senses, which are not normally connected, join or merge together.  Like certain alphabetic letters being associated with certain tastes, or particular smells being connected to sounds).  For me, musical sonorities have always been strongly linked to specific colors or shapes.  And the geometry of certain words have very distinct and often pleasurable textures when they bounce around my mouth.  Perhaps my favorite example of this is the Buddhist word for the “interconnectedness of all things”: Pratītyasamutpāda. More clearly defined, this term refers to dependent origination, or dependent arising, a Buddhist philosophy which states that all phenomena arise in dependence upon other phenomena.  Simply put, it’s the law of cause and effect.  The far-reaching global butterfly effect of Covid has made all of us keenly aware of this law.  Like never before, we are now considering the consequences of our actions in a myriad of ways: like whether or not to touch a pedestrian crossing button with our hands, scratch our nose when it itches, or hug an aging parent.  So, while the threat of this virus has had huge negative repercussions for many people’s physical and mental health, I can not deny that there is also a positive way in which it has reminded us of our interconnectedness.  Of course, it’s a horrific shame that it took a deadly pandemic to wake us up to they symbiotic nature of all things.   And, for my generation and those younger than me, (particularly in North America and other cultures who have not experienced war or famine or a health epidemic, first-hand, for more than half a century), it may only be global warming that has demanded we truly consider how our behavior impacts the people and environment around us.  However, even the impact of that seems too large and slow for most to fully fathom.  It’s why we still drive like fiends, strangle turtles with our plastics, and fly to Hawaii for weekend getaways (and, of this sin, I shamefully confess I’m guilty too!).  

So, we clearly need all of the reminders we can get, which makes this recent contest I learned about all the more fitting.  There is perhaps no one who has more artfully or playfully illustrated the nature of phenomenological cause and effect than Rube Goldberg.  Maybe you have seen his machines that combine cuckoo clocks, toy rockets, ping pong balls and string in elaborate chains of events that result in a single action.  The band OK Go is famous for music videos crafted around such devices.  And here, you can check out an absolutely brilliant one of theirs, with a message that we all need to hear right now, This Too Shall Pass: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qybUFnY7Y8w

Everyday folks have also been trying their hand at making such contraptions, for the sole honor of being named winner of the recent Rube Goldberg Soap Challenge.  And you’ll be amazed at what this Toronto family devised to earn the crown: https://www.cbc.ca/radio/asithappens/as-it-happens-tuesday-edition-1.5604697/toronto-family-thrilled-and-a-little-bit-surprised-to-win-rube-goldberg-challenge-1.5604698

June 18, 2020

Sensibility

My Uncle Len, a playwright and educator who has engaged in community arts throughout his career, has been a constant muse for me.  But more than professional expertise, it has been his sensibilities that have served as my true inspiration.  Len defines sensibility as “how we see, what we focus on, affirm and move towards in life.” He is so convinced it is the subject most necessary to study, at this time, that he has written a book about it - his life manifesto, if you will.

Len is simply one of my favorite people on earth.  It’s hard not to adore a guy who decorates his exquisite garden with found objects, runs each of his theatre pieces as benefits for various charities, and tries paddleboarding for the first time at 85.  This is right in keeping with the sensibilities he holds to be most critical in life, “beauty, fairness, and playfulness.”  And while he’s worked on this piece for years, its message could not be more well-timed.  Because, to use his words, imagine how effectively we could deal with pandemics, police brutality, and global warming, “if only everyone was rooting for everyone.”

Len’s Einstein likeness is not lost on anyone.  And he has made him (and his physicist pal, Niels Bohr) the subject of many of his theatre pieces, not because of their scientific prowess but because they are prime models of “beauty, fairness, and playfulness” themselves.  

Like Len’s inspirations, Einstein and Niels Bohr, he possesses the rare ability to find unified principles in seemingly disparate things.  In Sensibility, a child’s wonder for a butterfly is illustrated to be as important an ingredient for the welfare of humanity as the thoughtfulness these giants’ exercised, advising on the development of the atomic bomb.  Through Len’s unique lens, the reader understands fairness from the perspective of a fifth grader dealing with bullying to a physicist harboring Jews in World War II.  We see the critical need for playfulness in everything from driving a junk truck to making a theatre piece.  And now, just as the specter of a dangerous virus is re-awakening our sensibilities to affect social change with unprecedented speed, this book is a perfect tale for the times.  It concludes with the prescient and hopeful story of 1,500 activists, linked hand-in-hand at the Encirclement of Rocky Flats, while they protest a nuclear plant in 1983, ultimately resulting in its shut down.  This exquisite, slender volume is packed with instructions on how to live a compassionate and fertile life.  And the beautiful equation it proposes is: Essential life skills = Mastering a Childlike Quality squared (E=mc2).  

Just released on Amazon, it is now available here:

https://www.amazon.com/Sensibility-Children-Albert-Einstein-Niels/dp/B088B59P9Z/ref=sr_1_6?dchild=1&keywords=sensibility&qid=1591823421&s=books&sr=1-6

June 19, 2020

Comfort with Impermanence

Historically, humans have gone to preposterous lengths to deny and defy their impermanence.  From Egyptian mummies, to cryogenic freezing, to time capsules left for future or alien populations to learn of our legacy.  One such preservationist effort was the Voyager Golden Record - a 12-inch gold-plated copper disk curated by Carl Sagan, and sent to space with the 1979 launch, to portray the diversity of life and culture on Earth to whomever might find it.  In addition to photos of athletes, mathematical formulas, and mothers with child, are recordings of birdsong, speech in 50+ languages, Bach, Chuck Berry, Indigenous songs and Indian ragas.  To judge, for yourself, the accuracy of this audio/visual snapshot of human worth, you can listen to the full playlist here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL4D51474AB7BE5595

Despite these attempts to ameliorate our fears about our own mortality, our anxiety persists.  And now, in these particularly uncertain times, with viral stats, regulations and restrictions changing on a daily basis, more than ever, we need tools to help us become more comfortable with impermanence.  

For me, mindfulness meditation is the most expedient way to come to terms with the fundamental truth that all states of being are fleeting and everything is in constant flux.  As we become the Watcher rather than the Doer, we observe that our thoughts and feelings are as fleeting as the phenomena around us.  And simply recognizing and accepting this can actually bring great comfort.   Poet Mary Oliver understood this well, as she describes evocatively in her poem, In Blackwater Woods.

Look, the trees are turning their own bodies into pillars of light, are giving off the rich fragrance of cinnamon and fulfillment, the long tapers of cattails are bursting and floating away over the blue shoulders of the ponds, and every pond, no matter what its name is, is nameless now. Every year everything I have ever learned in my lifetime leads back to this: the fires and the black river of loss whose other side is salvation, whose meaning none of us will ever know. To live in this world you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go.

And so, too, I think it is time to let this blog go.  At least for now.  It feels, in its own way, like a time capsule of a very potent moment in our lives.  And, as that, this infintissimal drop in the bucket of human thought feels complete.  So, while it can seem frightening to be reminded of the speck in the universe that human history truly is, I actually take great solace from understanding our smallness.  On this note, I will return to the same text that consoled me early in lock down.  I also shared this with my dear Uncle Len, whose 87th birthday just happens to be today.  As all people his age, his life has been particularly disrupted by this virus.  But as someone who appreciates physics from the persective of the beautiful dance we all do with each other and the cosmos, he received these words with particular gratitude.   It is a passage from Maria Popova’s March 18th Brainspickings newsletter, published just one day after the world shut down:  

“Meanwhile, someplace in the world, somebody is making love and another a poem.  Elsewhere in the universe, a star manyfold the mass of our third-rate sun is living out its final moments in a wild spin before collapsing into a black hole, its exhale bending spacetime itself into a well of nothingness that can swallow every atom that ever touched us and every datum we ever produced, every poem and statue and symphony we’ve ever known - an entropic spectacle insentient to questions of blame and mercy - devoid of why...The atoms that huddled for a cosmic blink around the shadow of self will return to the seas that made us.  What will survive of us are shoreless seeds and stardust.”  

This final entry is my 64th, a number that has been my favorite since I was a small girl, for its symmetric beauty (8 squared, 4 to the 3rd,  2 to the 5th).  Interestingly, this powerful number is also frequently referenced in spiritual texts and throughout pop culture (the number of generations from Adam to Jesus; the number of “tantras” in Hinduism, the number of squares on a chess board, the number of crayons in the popular Crayola pack, and the number of Hexagons in the I-Ching).  The meaning of Hexagon 64 is “unfinished business.”  Therefore, the story, of course, will go on.  Whatever windswept seedling will take root next, however, I do not yet know...

64th Hexagon combination in the I-Ching

[theseadagiodays]

June 8, 2020

Art in Isolation

Artists listed clockwise from top right: Miriam Tingle, Shaheer Zazai, Ariel Shea, Veronica Pausova

I think, for me, there has been no group of people for whom I’ve had more empathy during this pandemic than those inside care homes.    I recognize that many of these facilities provide stellar support for their residents, as they struggle with ill health.  And I can think of nothing more honorable than a profession that allows people to face end of life as gracefully as possible.  However, I still think that there is a good reason why so many of us carry fear about such places.  Particularly given the restrictions imposed on these facilities during Covid, residents are now faced with what, perhaps, most chronically terrifies humans: the possibility of dying alone.  The Japanese even have a word for this - kodokushi or lonely death.

Thankfully, nursing homes and hospices have made extensive efforts to ameliorate these fears.  They are arranging regular digital communication for patients, with their loved ones.   And artists are also addressing this problem in very meaningful ways.  

Vancouver pianist, Matthew Li has been playing virtual performances for isolated patients all over Canada. https://www.cbc.ca/radio/thecurrent/the-current-for-may-4-2020-1.5554395/this-classical-pianist-is-offering-hospital-patients-virtual-private-music-recitals-1.5554784   And there are many other performers doing the same.

Also, this Toronto artist/curator team has organized an art donation program that has succeed in collecting over 200 original works, from the artists themselves (see photo above), to deliver (with fully compliant sanitary measures) to nursing homes in their area. https://cdnartinisolation.format.com/works-test

What’s important to acknowledge is the fact that end-of-life caregiving is a two-way street.  Sometimes, those in palliative care are less afraid to die alone than their loved ones are to be denied the opportunity to serve, comfort and seek closure.  So, it is beautiful that these gestures of music, and art, and video calls can soothe the souls of everyone involved.  

June 9, 2020

Making Lemonade

I don’t know about you, but lately, I feel like I’m drinking an awful lot of lemonade (and yes, sometimes spiked!).   Don’t get me wrong.  I usually love lemonade.  In fact, there are summer days when the craving hits me so hard, I can focus on nothing until it’s quenched.  I guess there’s something about the bittersweetness and resiliency of a drink that turns lemons into lemonade which usually attracts a “path-of-most-resistence” girl like me.  However, if I’m to be completely honest, I’m beginning to run out of Plan B’s.  Sure, there have been plenty of really tasty ones so far.  Like the socially distant private cocktail class for 6 that we gifted two of our friends (with us & their partners), when their big 40th & 50th birthday plans went caput with Covid.  One had hoped for a trip abroad with his family.  The other had booked a large venue and invited 100 friends and family for his now cancelled-‘til-‘21 bash.  So, mixing maitais and shaking whiskey sours as a back-up plan certainly wasn’t half-bad.  Then, there is the fact that my treasured local pool (a rare ,137-meter swimming facilty right on the ocean, available to the public for only $4 per visit) hasn’t opened this season, and probably won’t all year.  So, what did I do?  I rushed out to buy a 1 mm spring wetsuit, intent on “ocean hiking’ instead.  My inaugural swim, last Sunday night, down wind and down current, surrounded by mountains and the cityscape, which ended just below an eagle perched only 20-feet overhead, was an admittedly euphoric moment.  

So, believe me, I know I have no right to complain.  I’m just recognizing that, currently, I feel like I’ve pretty much tapped my creative juices to the max, which means that I’m looking for things to fuel my imagination for the months to come.  In my quest, I stumbled upon this particularly sophisticated back-up plan, which I imagine will be inspiration for many.

The Kanneh-Mason family is likely the most famous musical family you’ve never heard of.  All seven, that’s right, seven of these siblings are top-shelf classical musicians, conveniently covering nearly the full string family with 2 violinists, 3 pianists, and 2 cellists.  And, remarkably, their parents, who moved from Sierra Leone to England, where the children were raised, had only minimal exposure to musical instruments as kids.  Sheku, the third eldest, may be the most reknowned, having had his debut Carnegie Hall cello recital at just 20.  However, right by his side was his older sister Isata (23) on piano.  And it’s the lemonade that she recently squeezed out of a bum lemon which inspires me right now.  She’d been excitedly waiting for her upcoming Royal Albert Hall debut, a performance of Beethoven’s Third Piano Concerto with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, originally scheduled for April 18th.  So, once it was cancelled, as all family phenoms do, the five oldest kids, shoeless and in sweats, performed a string trio and double piano arrangement of the piece from their living room, in a livestream performance on the exact concert date.  Even more notable than the oodles of talent and sensitivity that pour out of this one family, is what seems to be their genuine humility and gratitude, amidst the disappointment of a postponed dream, just for the opportunity to share their passion, even in far from hoped-for circumstances. #glasshalffull

https://www.classicfm.com/artists/sheku-kanneh-mason/family-isata-beethoven-live-stream/

June 10, 2020

Poet as Witness

Interestingly, this has become a very poetic moment in our lives.  This time, rife with fear and heightened emotions, has been witnessed, as poets do so well, with acuity and depth of vision.  Somehow, the poet as witness is able to observe something too large for most of us to contain, and then distill it for us into digestable doses that cut right to the bone.   I’ve heard many people speak of inboxes replete with verses sent from friends meant to comfort or console.  And it has felt appropriate and almost necessary for me to leave people at the end of each of my weekly guided meditations with a relevant poem that they can sit with.  The publishing world has recognized this need for poetry, too.  Consequently, Random House has, with lightning speed, put out a compilation of poetic work created during this period.  Together in a Sudden Strangeness was released today.  And in one entry from this stunning collection, Joshua Bennett’s raw words speak to the helplessness that he felt when he was not allowed to accompany his pregnant wife to her ultrasound during Covid.

Dad Poem by Joshua Bennett

No visitors allowed is what the masked woman behind the desk says only seconds after me and your mother arrive for the ultrasound. But I’m the father, I explain, like it means something defensible. She looks at me as if I’ve just confessed to being a minotaur in human disguise. Repeats the line. Caught in the space between astonishment & rage, we hold hands a minute or so more, imagining you a final time before our rushed goodbye, your mother vanishing down the corridor to call forth a veiled vision of you through glowing white machines. One she will bring to me later on, printed and slightly wrinkled at its edges, this secondhand sight of you almost unbearable both for its beauty and necessary deferral. What can I be to you now, smallest one, across the expanse of category & world catastrophe, what love persists in a time without touch.

Other poets have found a more literal way to turn some of this current hopelessness on its head.  And their reflexive approach is not new.  The violin duet, Der Spiegel (score above), often wrongly attributed to Mozart but written by another 18th century unnamed composer, is meant to be performed with Player One reading from top to bottom, and Player Two from bottom to top.  Cleverly, the two parts have unique yet complementary melodies that make a cohesive whole when performed together.   Similarly, Britt MacKinnon’s poem, Covid 19 Outlooks manages to paint a realistic picture of the simultaneously bleak and hopeful perspectives that many of us vascilate between, right now.  You just have to make sure to read it in reverse after you’ve read it from top to bottom.

I have no hope or control. Nobody can convince me that I still have a future. I recognize that I am safe and loved But I am overwhelmed by fear This situation dictates my daily well-being. I refuse to believe that There is a bright future ahead. Our world is disrupted. No longer do I feel that We have support and help from our leaders. During self-isolation. I am reminiscing and dreaming. Now I cherish the good old days. My way of life Changing Because of COVID-19

June 11, 2020

Dance On!

The fluctuating moods expressed in MacKinnon’s poem can be found in an abundance of art created during this time.  Mark Morris is known for his music-driven choreography and unorthodox elegance.  One of my former in-laws, Rita Donahue also danced with his company for many years, which adds an even more personal interest to my fandom.    His wide range of styles and moods is well-illustrated in the three pieces that comprise his latest virtual offering, Dance On!  From the uncomfortability of his discordant Lonely Waltz (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0hfkn4FI2CI) to the raw, visceral desperation of Anger Dance (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0mdAmS81E0Q) to the comic simplicity and object puppetry used in Sunshine (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VKAt2vBlMRw), the emotional evolution that I had as an audience member was much like the shift I experienced reading the poem above, upside down.   Geoff and I have always loved handstand therapy as an effective mood booster.  So, I’m taking this as a reminder to bring more inverted poses into my life.

June 12, 2020 

Rap & Gown

I have a confession.  As a rapper-wanna-be, flutist, with long curly hair and a name that begins with L, I secretly believe that Lizzo is my alter ego.     With her chutzpah, self-love and straight-talk, I think she is a prime role model for people of all ages and races.  And strong voices like hers are exactly what we need at this time.  Obviously, others agree, because she was invited to inspire stay-at-home graduates with her silver sounds on this collaborative performance of Elgar’s Pomp & Circumstance with the New York Philharmonic.  Now, that’s a grad ceremony that should have been worth coming out of quarantine for!

https://www.classicfm.com/artists/new-york-philharmonic/lizzo-plays-flute-class-of-2020-youtube-ceremony/

[theseadagiodays]

June 1, 2020

Breathless

@shirien.creates

I can't breathe by Láolú Senbanjo

Piece by Syrian artists, Aziz Asmar and Anis Hamdou

Graffiti by Italian street artist TVBoy in Barcelona, Spain

June 2, 2020

#theshowmustbepaused

8:46 silent meditation can be followed here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yvlp5FWHTCU

June 3, 2020

Listening

12-year old, Keedron Bryant’s Gospel tribute: https://youtu.be/nzmBWQ2p1sk

June 4, 2020

Cooped

Guggenheim Works & Process (WPA) Dance Commission, Cooped, by Jamar Roberts

https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=1&v=h3GgOpXxufI&feature=emb_logo

June 5, 2020

Afterimages

Afterimages, a poem by Audre Lorde (after witnessing the 1955 lynching of 14-yr old African American boy, Emmett Till)

However the image enters

its force remains within

my eyes

rockstrewn caves where dragonfish evolve  

wild for life, relentless and acquisitive  

learning to survive

where there is no food

my eyes are always hungry

and remembering

however the image enters

its force remains.

A white woman stands bereft and empty

a black boy hacked into a murderous lesson  

recalled in me forever

like a lurch of earth on the edge of sleep  

etched into my visions

food for dragonfish that learn

to live upon whatever they must eat

fused images beneath my pain.

[theseadagiodays]

May 25, 2020

Orchestrators of Attention

Hayati Evreni’s Persistence of Covid

I typically have a very vivid dream life.  Whole evenings of movies with characters I’ve never met and settings I’ve never seen.  It’s one of the reasons I so love to sleep.  Every night, I have an imagined altered reality to look forward to.  And most mornings, to keep the stimuli of these vistiations fresh, I regale Geoff with a detailed recollection of these colorful fictions.  But last night my reverie was disturbingly similar to my waking life.  Zoom calls with real music students that I’ve been teaching.  The delivery of our commissioned fence mural, which is actually scheduled for this Wednesday.  It’s like so much else during this period, where everything seems to be bleeding into each other.  Days to Weeks.  Work to Home.  And now, even the treasured boundary between my subconscious and conscious life has been compromised.

The fluid nature of perceived time in our current reality is problematic in so many ways.  We are animals who’ve found real comfort from the compartmentilization of our lives.  Separate spaces for every endeavor, from offices to gyms to libraries.  We mark time in dozens of essential ways, with calendars, outfit changes, meal routines, holiday celebrations, happy hours - most all of which have dramatically changed during Covid.  This weekend, I read the best explanation for why we find the circular time that has been foisted on us so difficult.  Man Booker International Winner, Olga Tokarczuk’s Flights is part travel-fiction, part-memoir.  Each vignette is a musing about the human propensity to wander.   Here, she explains why perhaps only those of us truly tied to natural cycles, like growing seasons, can thrive in circumstances like we face today.

Sedentary people prefer the pleasure of circular time, in which every object and event must return to its own beginning, curl back up into an embryo and repeat the process of maturation and death.  But nomads and merchants, as they set off on journeys, had to think up a different type of time for themselves, one that would better respond to the needs of their travels.  That time is linear time, more practical because it was able to measure progress towards a goal or destination, rise in percentages.  Every moment is unique; no moment can ever be repeated.  This idea favors risk-taking, living life to the fullest, seizing the day.  And yet the innovation is a profoundly bitter one: when change over time is irreversible, loss and mourning become daily things.  

So, given that most people in modern society are far more aligned with the nomad/merchant class, it makes sense that we are sentenced to this inevitable grief once our “Just Do It”, “Follow Your Bliss” plans get derailed off-course.   This analysis does not provide any solutions. However, I do think it absolves us of a certain culpability, so that we can stop blaming ourselves for feeling bad or for not handling the new norm as well as we should.  Meanwhile, I think it can still be helpful to look for coping mechanisms, and I’ve found some from Jenny Odell, the unintended Queen of Quarantine who I crowned such after the cogent messages from her 2019 book,  How To Do Nothing, came to be the perfect precepts for our time.

An avid bird-watcher, walker and observer, Odell is a proponent of slowing down to make space to notice.  She calls her book a “field guide to doing nothing as an act of political resistance to the attention economy.”  Her suggestions serve as antidotes to the distracting and fractured nature of attention that the limitless connectivity of our plugged-in lives demands.  So, while most of us are still highly connected online, there are so many other ways in which we’ve become uplugged from life as we knew it.  And I think she is suggesting that, perhaps, instead of seeing this as disconnection, or as an untethering, we can appreciate the space that this is creating for us to develop subtler forms of attention.

Odell describes herself, and all artists, as “orchestrators of attention”.  She sees artists as curators of objects and ideas, re-imagined in ways that allow us to see things differently.  I certainly turn to artists and writers to help me do this.  And ironically, it is a circular journey of a different sort that brought me to her wisdom in the first place.  Lately, I’ve found myself in a strange intellectual fractal.  A quest for philosophical nuggets that has me spinning inside a loop of similar thinkers.

I regulary subscribe to BrainPickings, the source of many such nuggets.  And that’s where I found Victor Frankl’s Yes to Life quote (from March 28 in this blog) about “the power to choose our response”. That newsletter also quoted Rebecca Solnit (Hope in the Dark), who I checked out further on Krista Tippet’s podcast, On Being.  Looking at older episodes of this show, I found an interview with Ezra Klein (Why We’re Polarized), whose podcast just featured Jenny Odell on May 8th: On Nature, Art, and Burnout in Quarantine. https://www.vox.com/podcasts/2020/5/8/21252074/jenny-odell-the-ezra-klein-show-how-to-do-nothing-coronavirus-covid-19  This inspired me to purchase her new book, with its page 9 quote of none-other-than Solnit, again, this time from her book, Paradise Built in Hell. Back down the Solnit rabbit hole, I found another Frankl reference in this book, now from Man’s Search for Meaning.  And so, the perfect circle was complete.  

May 26, 2020

Unproductivity

Labyrinth project by Emily Carr university mentor, Kitty Bland, and student, Mary Rusk - https://www.ecuad.ca/news/2020/kitty-blandy-and-mary-rusak-find-focus-during-pandemic-with-meditation-pathway

Circular time makes me think of labyrinths.  Mandalas of pathways that lead to nowhere, whose hypnotic ellipses draw our single-pointed focus towards the simple act of walking.   I have always loved these places of reflection.  And I find it erroneous that the term labyrinthian has come to refer to complicated places where we get lost. Because I feel that I actually find myself in such places. The only thing lost is a false sense of destination as the purpose in life.  

Odell subscribes to a similar viewpoint in How to Do Nothing.  Rather than a plea to escape reality, quit our jobs, or shrug our responsibilities, her book is an invitation to question what we perceive as productive. I think our current reality has many of us doing this.  My morning walk has me literally “stopping and smelling the roses” each day, as I’ve seen so many others do during this altered time.  

So, while it has encouraged me to see normally overprogrammed-teens watching sunsets and families chilling for endless hours on front lawns, I have also observed a pattern of apology amongst my peers, when they acknowledge having been “less-productive than usual”, during this period.  So, I’ve taken to meet this only with permission.  This is something I’ve increasingly given myself ever since my excessive drive, as a flutist, left me with a chronic overuse injury that was a wake-up call I’ve only recently been able to truly appreciate.

After this major uninvited “halting” of my career, I became acutely aware of how often people answer “How are you?” with “Busy.”  Particularly artists, who have perhaps been undercompensated, underemployed and underappreciated for so long, it feels like being “busy” is a badge of honor that implies their work is in-demand.  So, I get it.  But still, I have made a point, since this realization, never to answer that question as such.  Busy is not an emotion.  The truth behind the word - feelings of anxiety, overwhelm and fear - are perhaps too telling to reveal.  Because admitting them might mean we have to shift something.  They might force us to slow down and stop busying ourselves, which is maybe the scariest thing of all.  Because then, we have to face who we truly are when we are not “doing”.

To track my own “doing” during quarantine, I’ve been particularly careful about limiting my screen time.  So, I check it weekly.  But it was only this week that I finally went to the second page of the iPhone screen time data, where I found a strange categorization of time.  It breaks it down into Productive, Creative, Social, Entertainment, Reading and Educational use.  However, what they place in each category runs quite counter to what happens to be true for me now.  Photos are listed as a Creative pursuit, however many of my hours have been frittered away deleting unnecessary shots (attempts to capture moments that might have been more mindfully spent camera-free).  So, this endeavor doesn’t feel that creative to me.  Whats App is marked as Social but, of course, it’s now become the arena for some of my most my productive work, since I’m using it as a teaching tool.  And Notes is in the Productive category, even though, as a self-admitted list-addict, my worst time-waster is making and remaking these itemized scrolls intended to render me more efficient, when I can’t even imagine how much “productive” time I must have lost just writing them.

So, we all have something to learn from this clever street artist, whose balloon art gives us an important reminder.

May 27, 2020

Covid Art Museum

So far my “efforts” to do nothing more (as ironic as that sounds) have gone swimmingly.  I deliberately cancelled one of my Zoom calls this week, two other meetings conveniently got cancelled for me, and I was left with many more hours to spend spontaneously. Some of these involved lying in the grass eating gelato.  Others watching passerbys from my front stoop.  And one I spent biking the new “slow street” circuit in Vancouver, which has been designated a car-free zone to create more safe, physically-distant space for cyclists and pedestrains to roam.   That even our roadways are now on a diet from their usual busyness, seems to me a beautiful metaphor.

Of course, some of this time also involved digital daydreaming, as I prefer to romantically call surfing the web.  But using the intentional lens of seeking artistic responses to share on this blog makes even this indulgence feel more guilt-free.  So, this week, it landed me on a very cool Instagram page, full of visual reflections about this time (digital illustrations, photographs, sketches, watercolors and more).  In fact, it’s where I stumbled upon the balloon art, above, which evolved into my entire week of blog entries.  Quite a few pieces reference circular time in some way (above).  And a remarkable number of them depict doing nothing (below).  Jenny Odell is clearly on to something...

https://www.instagram.com/covidartmuseum/?hl=en

May 28, 2020

Hidden Symphonies

Udo Noll, a Berlin-based media artist and founder of Radio Aporee, a digital global sound map, documented before and during the pandemic

The music of my environment has always captivated me. In fact, I dedicate almost an entire chapter of my novel to birdsong.  I love the voice memo feature on my phone, which I use like an auditory camera, as I travel.   I’ve learned that this is not a habit many people share.  Until recently, that is.  Because it seems that suddenly, we are all beginning to listen more.   Now, with less traffic, quieter commercial corridors, and other colluding factors, there is left an amazing amplification of the soundscapes which always existed behind the din.    

Before Covid, a long tradition of deep listening has been cultivated by various sound artists.  American composer, Pauline Oliveros founded the Deep Listening Institute in 1985 (originally called the Pauline Olveros Foundation).  Here, she invited musicians to improvise and record, in particularly resonant and reverberant spaces like caves, to inspire extra-sensitive responsiveness.  

In the 70’s, Canadian composers, Hildegard Westercamp and Murray Shafer, started the World Soundscape Project (https://www.sfu.ca/~truax/wsp.html), which recorded Vancouver’s sonic landscape to illustrate the negative effects of noise pollution, ultimately resulting in more positive guidelines for urban acoustical design.

Acoustic ecologist, Gordon Hempton says that silence is not the absence of sound, but rather the presence of everything. In the short documentary, Sanctuaries of Silence, he offers tools for seeking silence amidst noisy urban life.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qUxMdYhipvQ

But his suggestions probably never could have predicted Covid, which has achieved this result with alarming swiftness.   British sound artist and field recordist, Stuart Fowkes has been tracking the soundscapes of this disquieting time on his website, Cities and Memory.  https://citiesandmemory.com/covid19-sounds/

Here, you can click on one of 3,000+ global coordinates and listen to everything from empty flagpoles, and ticking radiators, to kites flying.  Anyone is welcome to contribute, using #stayhomesounds.  And this is my own addition to the catalogue:

Bullfrogs mating: https://youtu.be/ZoKT-RlDfs8

The New York Times, has tracked the music of the pandemic in another interesting way.  Measuring by decibels (below), they compare the soundscape of a normally busy Manhattan street, before and during quarantine. https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2020/05/22/upshot/coronavirus-quiet-city-noise.html

Pre-covid nights sound more like quarantine days, averaging around 64 decibels.

Another bi-product of the pandemic is a trend towards birdwatching.  The world’s attention was brought to birding this week, due to an unfortunate racist incident that occurred in New York’s Central Park.  Christian Cooper was drawn to the park because of the orioles and yellow warblers he could find there.  While birding, he politely asked a woman if she would kindly put her dog on a leash. When she refused, he insited and she proceeded to call the cops.  Cooper was armed with little more than binoculars and a camera.  But apparently, his crime was being black.  The woman was white.  Luckily, he caught her ridiculous cry for help (“I’m being threatened by an African-American man.”) on camera.  The video immediately went viral and resulted in her being fired from her job. Graciously, he remarked today in the Times, that this punishment did not fit her crime, and while he wants to hold her to account for her racist behavior, he doesn’t believe that “her life needs to be torn apart.”

Whatever her fate, if this time inspires deeper listening for you, let’s hope your soundscape walks are far less eventful than his was.

May 29, 2020

Covid Shuffle

Brooklyn’s usually bustling Fort Greene Park, during the pandemic

From the beginning of social distancing, I have been quite fascinated by the complicated choreography we are collectively participating in.  I would give anything to be an eagle, looking down from above, just to witness the maze of interwoven patterns that our sidewalk dances create.   And I am not the only person interested in this do-si-do.  

If you search “six feet apart” on YouTube, you can’t imagine how many musicians, famous or otherwise, have composed new songs with this exact title (IE. country singer, Luke Combs, teen pop star, Alec Benjamin).  It’s just one of many things that illustrate the uncanny global resonance that is happening right now, even while there are still vast differences between the ways people experience this pandemic.

Personally, I’m partial to this rap, written as a PSA for UNC Health, by The Holderness Family, a modern-day Al Yankovich-style parody band comprised of former FOX sportscaster, Penn Holderness with his wife and kids. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=XjfCeY4D2QI

Deeper into this search, I found another music video, by a different family band in LA, called Haim.  These three Grammy-nominated sisters have written the song, I Know Alone to express how quarantine living has felt for them.  Meanwhile, they appropriately dance to their lyrics six feet apart.

https://www.google.ca/amp/s/www.vulture.com/amp/2020/04/haim-i-know-alone-video-album-release-date.html

In the dance world, old colleagues of mine, from Flagstaff, Arizona, will host a virtual Festival that starts this Friday, May 29th, featuring original socially-distant choreography from movers all over the Southwest.  Fittingly, it’s called the Six Feet Apart Dance Festival.

https://canyonmovementcompany.org/cmc/upcoming-events/

Documenting the Covid shuffle in a very different way, Toronto geographer, Daniel Rotszdain created a “social distancing machine” to demonstrate just how difficult a genuine 6-foot radius is to maintain in public space.

And finally, this hip hop dance compilation, made in 2019, could be the anthem for our times.

MC Hammer’s Can’t Touch This - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PJskIJGEsd8

[theseadagiodays]

May 19, 2020

The Art of Upcycling 

In 1995, as the culmination of my doctoral work, I’d planned a fairly complex graduate recital of duets with artists from four different mediums (dance, poetry, film, & painting).  But, when nearly all of my collaborators fell through, just 6 weeks before the performance, my mentor told me a Duke Ellington story that has informed my resiliency ever since.  Apparently, Duke was coaching an emerging conductor as he led a big band with limited instrumentalists.  When his mentee asked, “How am I supposed to conduct this song with only one sax, two trumpets, a bass, no drums and no trombones?” Duke replied, “You gotta work with what you got!”.  Whether we like it or not, Covid has asked many of us to “make do” with less than the usual resources available to us.  Botched DIY haircuts and suffocating, Mcguyvered facemasks have been a few low points in our upcycling attempts.  

But there have been many more examples of highly inventive, and even elegant solutions that have emerged.   In fact, the expansiveness of the creativity that is currently happening is in direct inverse proportion to the limiting constraints of our present circumstances.

The industry that has perhaps most inventively and profitably capitalized on the current DIY trend is the upcycled fashion world.  Businesses like Depop, which sell primarily upcycled or reconstructed clothes online, have seen a 65% increase in sales since March. Some highlights from their site include Manchester artist, Sam Nowell’s trench coats made from discarded bar towels (pictured above): https://www.instagram.com/samnowellstudios/; and New Mexico seamstress, Jeremy Salazar’s handpainted ski overalls (below): https://www.depop.com/happyxloco/.

My friend Katya’s very stylish daughters, Vanessa and Natalia, have got in on the action, too, with their repurposed bedsheet Met Gala ballgowns.

I’ve always been a huge fan of repurposed art projects like these. And, as a lifelong environmentalist and musician, I’ve found ways to intersect my passions in some of our own upcycling projects.  Below, is an interactive music wall that Instruments of Change built out of trash in 2017.

Street Beats, a pop-up installation on the Arbutus Greenway, funded by VIVA Vancouver 

I must confess that this project would not have been possible without the impressive skills of composer/construction expert, Paul Snider, since all the handy genes in my family went to my brother instead of me.

My industrious brother, Gregg, and the identical dog yurt that he built for his pet Cauli, during quarantine, to match his Catskills home which he also renovated entirely on his own

However, my lack of fix-it skills does not stop me from being constantly inspired by websites like this (https://www.nixxitjunk.com/post/25-ideas-to-revive-your-junk-and-keep-you-inspired-during-quarantine), because it allows even those of us who don’t know the difference between a nut and a bolt to manage their basic instructions.  So, if you’re wondering what to do with that build-up of wine corks, coke bottles, or unread books you’ve accumulated while stuck at home, this article has tons of upcycled ideas to sort through.

May 20, 2020

Homegrown Goodness

Textiles and furniture have not been the only mediums repurposed during Covid.  This period has also seen a huge resurgence in urban gardening, using many upcycled approaches.  Maybe this is because the current rules, restricting human touch, have us all hungry to work with our hands. Not to mention the fact that gardening provides a more autonomous alternative to feeding ourselves, while we all try to limit our trips to the grocery store.  Consequently, apartment dwellers with little more than an asphalt parking spot for land, have found ways to plant flowers, grow vegetables and keep bees.  

This follows a pattern that emerged during former social crises, seen in the Victory Gardens that cropped up all over North America, after both World Wars.  

So, if you’re eager to farm in your own backyard, here’s another great site with “harvest at home” tips ranging from DIY bee hotels (above) to upcycled jean planters (below).

https://seedpillproject.wordpress.com

May 21, 2020

Private Serenades

“When all you want is pancakes but you just get eggs.”   That was the first line of a song I collaboratively wrote with one of our Lullaby Project participants a few years ago.  In the lyrics of the chorus, the self-comforting strategy for life’s disappointing moments, which this mom shared with her children, has really helped me in the past few months.  “Let it out, move right on, let it go.”  

So, in an effort to relinquish any less-than feelings I’ve experienced during our “distanced” reality, the first step has been to voice them.  And for me, what needs to be cleared right now is my complicated relationship with the new member of our household.  His name starts with a letter near the end of the alphabet.  And while Geoff, as someone with a fairly common name, has always secretly wished for a pseudonym that could start with X, it’s not Xenon, his alter ego, that I’m referring to.  It’s Zoom.  I imagine most of you know him well by now, too.

Of course, I appreciate the facile way in which he has allowed me to connect with people near and far.  I have been continually surprised about the ways in which he has facilitated creative collaboration, beyond my wildest expectations.  I’ve been tickled by the novelty of the intercontinental cocktail hours and birthday parties he’s invited me to.  And I’ve taken full advantage of his livestream capacity to bring world-class performers right into my living room.  But, I must confess, I am an analog girl.  Pre-Covid, I probably attended 2 live art events a week.  My TV-viewing time amounted to little more than 30 minutes per day.  I’ve never used an e-reader and purchase a few paperbacks a month, because something about the printed page in my hand truly does bring the words more to life for me.  And I held out until a few years ago to get a cell phone, because a face-to-face coffee with a friend always appealed far more than a text.   So, some of these Zoom experiences have left me sadly cold.  It’s hard to admit this, because I’ve earnestly tried to mine the internet for artful experiences that could soothe myself and others during this time.  And it is certainly true that I have been moved, at times, by many generous offerings of music or dance or theatre - even once brought to tears. But, at least for me, the intangible quality that flesh and bones performance brings has just been undeniably absent.  This many not be the case for people who were already far more accustomed to digital forms of entertainment.  But, if I’m to be completely honest, rarely have I felt the hair stand up on my arms or goosebumps shiver up my spine the way live performance so often elicits.   And denial has never worked for me.  So, I guess now that I’ve “let it out”, I can “move right on”.  To a place of dreaming about what else might be possible within our current constraints.  And luckily, in full Duke Ellington style, many artists are already “working with what they’ve got” by responding to this quandary in very imaginative ways.

Flutist, Stephanie Winker playing for Annika Fink at the Stuttgart Airport

Fusing two professional domains that have been highly impacted by Covid, some clever Stuttgart musicians have been “upcycling” the Covid concert experience by offering live performances at airport gates, in the most intimate way imaginable.  Solo artists have been giving private classical concerts to lucky Facebook raffle winners, as documented in this article, below.   https://www.nytimes.com/2020/05/13/arts/music/stuttgart-airport-coronavirus-concert.html?fbclid=IwAR0yU8hDeHQXTY4JBCA96cU24CC3N2qyIPWdkmR6JdDQ4YY8BvkvCso_OtQ

For me, the universal striving that this sublime Bach Sonata expresses usually conjures quiet stirrings in my belly.  So, while I listen in this compromised digital format, to a tinnier version of what I know is this beautiful player’s fully-bodied tone resonating through the cavernous chamber of the airport, I can at least try to live vicariously through her audience-of-one who I imagine must be completely titillated by such a deeply personal and embodied experience of the music.   I can also take solace from the fact that safe alternatives like these, and others, will slowly begin to emerge as we hopefully enter the next phase of increased, though still socially-distant connections to art and to one another.

May 22, 2020

No Words

I have always loved to laugh.  But humor has recently become a palpable need.  Particulary at the end of the day or the week.  Latenight heroes like Colbert and Trevor Noah have become essential elixirs for me.  And even as a voracious reader, I’ve increasingly foregone my nightly reading habit, for an extra dose of their wit.  

We all need to be gentler with ourselves right now.  And we all need to feed ourselves what we can.  So, I just have to share this video, because everyone I know who has seen it finds it the next best medicine to a Covid vaccine.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1f7OwFqTnco

[theseadagiodays]

May 11, 2020

Sanctuaries

My favorite refuge: The view from the summit of my backyard park

I’ve been thinking a lot about sanctuaries lately.  Defined as “a place of refuge or safety; a nature reserve; or a holy place,” the meaning of the word is entirely interpretable by each individual.  

Recently, the term has proliferated in reference to US cities who claim they will protect migrants from a certain unnameable leader’s xenophobic policies.  Unthinkably, this same buffoon has even threathened to withhold coronavirus relief funding to such cities if they continue to harbor “unwanted” residents.

It seems, for every sanctuary, there exist forces who want to threaten them.  This is as true of religious persecution around the world, as it is with safe houses for women escaping violence.

In our Lullaby Project, Instruments of Change works quite intimately with this population.  Through this time, we’ve been fortunate to continue supporting single mothers to write original songs about their hopes and dreams for their children.  What we’ve learned from them is that, ironically, while many of us have struggled to self-isolate at home, these women have never felt safer, with the prospect of being found, or of unwelcomed visits from their abusers temporarily lifted.  

In Women Rock, another program that we’ve shifted to digital engagement through Google Classroom, our participants have written a secular choral hymn identifying nature as the sanctuary that has provided them the most solace during this time.   A verse from their song, Hidden Symphonies is below.

Listen to the silence

Morning bird calls at play

Soul refreshing music

Through isolation days

It is interesting that more and more evidence suggests people rarely catch the virus while outdoors (https://globalnews.ca/news/6906508/coronavirus-outdoors-parks-closed/).  Intuitively, this resonates with me, as someone who has always found sanctuary staying active outdoors. So, while experts stress that social distancing in public parks is still necessary, simply sharing these wild places six feet away from strangers has been a blessing.

Art has always been another refuge for many.   And it’s no wonder some artists have been turning to nature as their canvas.  The Swiss artist, Saype’s work is perhaps the most ambitious example.  His stunning ephemeral piece, Beyond Crisis, made with biodegradable spray paint, is designed to fade naturally as the grass grows, in much the same way we all hope this virus will eventually disappear once nature takes its course (with ample cooperation from humans).

https://twistedsifter.com/2020/05/giant-biodegradable-artwork-of-hope-appears-atop-swiss-hillside/

And finally, another creative community, in Sag Harbour, NY, has found an inventive way to share their work while galleries are closed.  Barns, front yards, and back gardens have become museum walls for dozens of installations that locals are welcome to view, as safely distant drive-bys.  https://www.nytimes.com/2020/05/11/arts/design/drive-by-art-long-island.html?action=click&module=Well&pgtype=Homepage&section=Art%20%20Design

Paintings by Darius Yektai; Diane Blell’s “Table for Two Separate tables”; Erik Fischl’s “Young Dancers Dancing”

May 12, 2020

Daily Delights

I have also been trying to hone my lens for finding a different kind of art in nature.  With time to slow down and stay close to home, I have paid much closer attention to the little wonders that surround me.  I began the practice of doing this shortly before self-isolation, when I learned about Ross Gay’s poetic essays collected in his book Daily Delights. https://www.amazon.ca/Book-Delights-Essays-Ross-Gay/dp/1616207922

As if prophetically, NPR featured him on my favorite podcast This American Life, in late January.  https://www.thisamericanlife.org/692/the-show-of-delights

And this reminder, to savor life’s small pleasures was exactly the armor I needed for this period.  Since February, I’ve kept my own daily delights journal.  And here are just a few snapshots that have made the cut since quarantine began.

Baby ducks, Hula hoops, Elderly couple park bench massage, Backyard swing

May 13, 2020

Radio Days

While so much has changed about my daily rhythms, of late, there are a few pillars that I’ve kept in place to give my life some necessary scaffolding, in order to maintain a sense of familiarity and grounding.  

One of these is the ritual that my partner and I have had for years, of listening to This American Life every weekend.  Ira Glass’s strangely pleasing-though-nasally drone has accompanied hundreds of our road trips to mountains, lakes and forests, as we’ve sought weekend adventure. But for now, living room listenting has had to suffice.

On May 4th, the show just happened to be honored with the first ever Pulitzer Prize for audio journalism.  So, that’s a well-earned feather in a podcast’s cap.  But, awards or not, their carefully curated slices of life never fail to amuse and inspire.  

Interestingly, I think more and more people are turning to podcasts, perhaps as an antidote to screen fatigue, and also because it seems to align with the nostalgia for days past that is so alive right now.  So, I wanted to suggest a few podcasts that might particularly resonate at the moment.

If it’s a longing for “other” that’s calling you, there is an incredible website called Radio Garden that lets you travel anywhere in the world, to sonically “drop-in” to whatever environment intrigues you (http://radio.garden/listen/alpha-boys-school-radio/ijKUlByg). For a real time sense of what moves people across the globe, you can experience the music, stories, and language of cultures from Antanarivo to Zagreb, with just a spin of their online globe and a simple click.  Here, you can access literally thousands of radio stations.  However, in my experience, their interface works best on a Chrome rather than Safari browser.

Early in quarantine, when I was in sorest need of a good laugh, This American Life put together an episode on fiascos that really helped bring levity at a time when we all began to feel our world fall apart.  https://www.thisamericanlife.org/699/fiasco

And speaking of when things fall apart, Buddhist nun Pema Chodron’s book of the same name has served as a sort of bible for many westerners, as they’ve turned to the ancient Tibetan tradition in which she was ordained.  Another podcast favorite of mine is Krista Tippet’s On Being.  And her most recent May 7thepisode featured herself and musician/meditator Devandra Banhart alternatively reading passages from this sage book, while reflecting on its relevance for the times.

https://onbeing.org/programs/devendra-banhart-when-things-fall-apart/

May 14. 2020

Finding Bliss

Ai Weiwei’s 2010 “Grapes”, with a coincidental resemblance to the coronavirus

Interviewed about how he’s responding to the virus, Ai Weiwei replied, “I never create anything.  I just try to cope with the situation at hand.” We all need coping tools and strategies for those times when things fall apart.  Ai Weiwei’s plainspoken answer sounds almost religious, the way he describes art as his salve.  And this makes sense to me.  But for many years, faith in an actual religion never did.  Raised as a half-Catholic, half-Jewish Unitarian, I only attended services until I was about 11, when Sunday youth orchestra rehearsals took their place.  So, I never fully understood the role of weekly church service until we travelled to India, for 10-days of Dalai Lama teachings.  This annual offering, which he made for 30 years, was an even greater gift than we expected, given that these Kalichakra teachings ceased just after our 2007 trip, unbeknowst to us.   Every day, for 5 hours, 1,000s of seekers flocked to the grounds of his Dharamsala temple, and listened by radio simulcast, in 1 of 17 native tongues, to his special blend of humor and clarity.  Each day, we all left bubbling to the rim with reaffirmed intention to be our best selves.  The coffeeshops, all over town, were a twitter with armchair philosophy between strangers trying to understand and integrate his words.   Uncanny kindnesses abounded.  And you could feel our resolve get ever more reinforced with each return to his daily talks. However, it’s only once we left Dharmasala, with equally grand intentions to “remember”,  that I recognized the role of these daily infusions. Because with each passing day, best behaviors, careful speech, and pure thoughts deterioritated, if only a little at a time.  

Note the curly-haired, golden-sweatered sore thumb in this sea of burgundy-robed monks...

So, while that did not instill in me a renewed church-going tradition, I have found my own ways to be “reminded.”  They’ve just come in different forms.  

For Geoff, it’s long runs and bike rides that serve as his spiritual medicine.  And for me, it’s a panoply of things.  Sometimes its communion with nature.  Other times yoga.  Writing. Handstand therapy.  Or even what my favorite yoga teacher likes to call “Hammock Enlightenment.”  

Eoin Finn is an artist of the highest order.   Good living is his canvas.  The body is his brush.  And bliss is his paint.  He calls his teaching Blissology, and spreads his backbends, heart-openers, and ocean loving vibes from Indonesia to Byron Bay.  

He and his family have been quarantining in Bali, since they were leading teacher trainings there, just before global travel nearly shut down. And fortunately, he continues to extend his generous spirit through free weekly livestream Stay Om yoga classes, on Facebook.  If you happen to miss his 5 pm Sunday classes, the videos remain online to follow any time. So, I hope some of you take the opportunity to worship the DUDE (Delight in Universal Divine Energy) with him some time. I promise there will be plenty more acronymns and puns where that one came from.  Plus, a good dose of deep stretches for your limbs and soul.

https://www.facebook.com/blissarmy/?__tn__=%2Cd%2CP-R&eid=ARD502BDBWegIvZPmn6ec9pFCtdEPtRnELt_iabxb0_c5Mmnzq3UPiAddV8fEanrbJLeSOhgYWdeQOlu

May 15. 2020

Birthday Bash

Those who know me are aware of the special challenges birthdays pose for my creativity.  I relish the quest for the perfect homemade card, surprise gift, Bitmoji or GIF for a friend or family member.  And I love throwing a good bash.   I am also aware of the undue pressure this has caused my partner, over the years, to come up with a reciprocal gesture or party idea.  But given the added constraints of a quarantine, Geoff went over and above the call of duty this year to produce!

While the novelty of Zoom parties had already worn off, he still managed to find a brilliant way for my loved ones to send serial video messages throughout the day, with the bonus of a clever twist.  I’m not quite sure how he found the time, in his manic 70-hour work weeks, to put this together.  But, 43 clues later, I was delivered a personalized crossword puzzle, with each hint related to the messenger.  He really outdid himself this time, and I could not feel more grateful.

Meanwhile, unsure if he had anything up his sleeve, I got up to my own fun messying my hands to make this Covid Pinata.  I confess, I borrowed the idea from an article I saw online, but just couldn’t resist.  

And last night, of course with proper social distancing, we took great delight in beating the crap out of this brutal virus with a couple of friends.

[theseadagiodays]

May 4, 2020

This is Not a Performance

Irving H Bolano’s incredible repurposed newspaper fashion for the Met Gala Challenge on Twitter #HFMetGala2020

May the Fourth be With You as you reach the next chapter of this current sci-fi drama we seem to be living through.   As the saying goes, reality can be stranger than fiction.   But it just happens to be a many red-eyed virus rather than an evil, black-masked father that we’re fighting as we all walk around like Storm Troopers.  

There are so many aspects of our lives, during Covid, which make it feel like we are actors in a make-believe story.   First of all, we’ve all become movie stars, with our faces, homes, and even pets showcased on our own silver screens.  As isolated as we are, our private lives now play out in the public sphere more than ever - no paparazzi required.    For some, this invasion of privacy is unwelcomed. But for many people, it satisfies a secret longing to share themselves with a wider audience.  After all, deep down, everyone wants to be seen and heard (I guess, me included, since I have this blog, after all).  It’s why TikTok and YouTube and Facebook have become multi-billion dollar companies so quickly.  And now, while this pandemic is a harsh daily reminder of the impermanence of all things, it makes sense that these digital missives are an attempt to seek immortality, in some strange way.

As someone whose work responds to human’s need to have a voice, I truly get why this is the case.  And I love that this time has turned housewives into opera stars, and health care workers into hip hop dancers, and housepets into circus performers. But, at the same time, I have become very aware of the masks that we wear, even inside our homes, to portray a certain self to the world that may stray quite far from our authentic selves.  The expression “dance like no one is watching” acknowledges the fact that we all tend to perform when we have an audience, and perhaps we’re only truly ourselves when we don’t.   I understand that the way we “perform” ourselves online gives each of us a chance to reinvent the fictions we want our stories to have.   So, while I surely take some guilty pleasure from intimate glimpses into strangers’ lives, I also do so with a certain skepticism about the veracity of what I’m seeing.  

This became particularly true for me when I received a recent link from my friend and amazing singer/songwriter, Dominique Fricot. Capitalizing on this current trend of oversharing, he cleverly asked his fans to film their morning routines for the music video of his new song, Wake Up, by his duo, Flora Falls.  Dom’s warm tenor voice blended with his partner’s breathy tones feel just like a lazy morning in bed.  But I’ll leave it up to you to decide just how accurate these portrayals of people’s idyllic daytime rituals actually are.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=EbsqXou5FeY

May 5, 2020

Homeschool Heroes

About twenty years ago,  I was invited to adjudicate a youth music competition in the Yukon.  Travelling to one of the northernmost inhabited spots on earth, I imagined that my greatest surprise might have been a polar bear or Northern Lights sighting.  But it turned out to be something entirely different.  Among the 25,000 residents of the thriving metropolis of Whitehorse exists a treasure trove of talent.  I could not believe the incredibly honed skills and nuanced expression with which these 11-18 year-olds played.   Wondering why, I developed a theory that I now call SLoW: Sheltered Living Wonder.  When long, dark days, cold climates or pandemics force people indoors, they tend to spend inordinate amounts of time on creative endeavors and skill development.  In other words, they slow down and take time for wonder.

This theory has surely applied during these past few months of sheltering in place.   One of the most remarkable examples has been the inventiveness that many of my friends have brought to their first attempts with homeschooling.   So, I wanted to give a few shout outs to some of these Homeschool Heroes and the highly imaginative projects they’ve done with their kids.

Stunning Easter Eggs made from natural materials and dye, by my friend Jane Cox and her kids  (Botany lesson)

Candy Covid virus, made by Amelia, my friend Jen Sanke’s daughter, as she learned about the virus’ proteins (Biology lesson)

But perhaps the prize for most complex homeschool project has to go to my architect friend, Bryn Davidson, who upon returning from Australia, in late March, had to fully quarantine for 2-weeks.  So, with his 5-year old son Bei as helper, this Physics lesson allowed him to enjoy home delivery beer while in isolation.  Just brilliant!

https://youtu.be/FF9-2dWoUtc

May 6, 2020

Living in livestream

So today, 5 million British Columbian’s awaited our “sentence” with baited breath, as word spread that our provincial prime minister would deliver the Re-Open BC plan at 3 pm.   I have to admit, it felt a bit like when you were “grounded” as an adolescent and then your parents returned certain privileges to you.  Of course, I’m well aware that our province has already been far more licentious than many places around the globe.  We’ve been fortunate to maintain reasonably low numbers of infection (just over 2,000), with counts as low as 8 new cases per day, at this point. So, while our provincial parks closed, our beaches never did.  While we were encouraged, within a reasonable range of home, to be active outdoors, we were not restricted to walks only within the 100 metre radius of our house, as my Israeli friends were.  And while we could still shop at gardening and furniture stores, to make sheltering at home more enjoyable, New Zealanders had nothing but grocery stores and pharmacies open, for two months.  

I have sensed the gratitude my fellow Vancouverites have felt about these privileges.  But that does not mean that we aren’t still anxious to return to other aspects of living which we’ve missed.  When lockdown began, ominously on the Ides of March (the 15th), I’d harboured a secret hope that certain restrictions might be lifted on my birthday (exactly two months later).  And it turns out that Phase Two of the BC ReOpen plan will commence on May 19th, just 4 days later than I’d hoped.  What I most look forward to experiencing again are small gatherings with friends, (we’ll soon be allowed to socialize in public with up to 10 people); meals inside certain restaurants and pubs (those that are able to function within WorkPlace BC’s safety regulations); visits to registered massage therapists; and hugs with select people, (”using one’s own ‘risk assessment’.”)

But in the long-range plan, the harsh reality for artists has been laid out, as Phase Four (which includes resuming large-venue concerts, conventions, and international travel) can not occur until either a vaccine has been developed, an effective treatment plan is widely available, or herd immunity is achieved.  And this is not estimated to occur until mid-2021 or later.  So, the prospects are still bleak for symphony orchestras, opera and dance companies, artists who perform in crowded bars, or musicians who travel for arena shows and festivals.  This likely means that in order to satisfy audiences’ need to access live performance, and for artists to continue to share their creativity,  livestream formats will still have to persist for some time.  Therefore, I thought I’d share a few regular weekly livestream arts events here, both from Vancouver, LA & NY.

Canadian National Live Art Champion, Dmitri Sirenko, who we featured at our non-profit’s annual benefit on February 20th, 2020

Every Monday Night at 7 pm PST (Vancouver) Poetry Slam: https://www.facebook.com/Vancouverpoetryslam/

Every Thursday at 5 pm PST (LA): LIVE Art Battles - Watch painters do their magic in just 20 minutes: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCWJoWGVwzGtk99nTOCib9vg

Every Thursday at 8 pm EST (NY): Spotlight on Plays - famous actors perform readings of theatre pieces, online: https://www.broadwaysbestshows.com/post/the-best-of-series/

May 7, 2020

Collateral Blessings

So many thoughtful writers are adding to the discourse, as we all strive to make meaning from what can feel like a senseliess time.  I have so appreciated the abundance with which people are sharing these missives, right now.  Every day, bursts of inspiration or flickers of insight come my way, thru texts, emails and Facebook.  Like adventurers, traveling together thru the dark of night, we shine light on guideposts, anywhere we can find them, as we collectively quench each other’s thirst for wisdom.  

One of the most profound writings I‘ve recently discovered came from a stranger’s blog.  In The Examined Family, Courtney Martin, without ever diminishing the gravity of the havoc that this virus has wreaked, writes about some of the assets that have also come out of this time.  New friendships with neighbors.  A long-neglected puzzle completed with her kids.   The time to draw and truly notice an artichoke in her back garden. My good friend Juan calls these collateral blessings.  This reference to the accidental gifts that this cruel virus has given us, is a beautiful twist on “collateral damage”, a term coined to explain accidental friendly-fire deaths during the Gulf War.  Commenting on the anticipatory nostalgia that she projects she will feel about certain things, once this time has passed, Courtney writes:

“I instantly feel overwhelmed at the prospect of schedules and stuff. I don’t want to go back to our former accumulation or frenetic pace. I don’t want to stop texting (my neighbor) my little triumphs. I don’t want to forget about the artichokes in the garden. I don’t ever want to forget this happened--the grief and the beauty of it. I’m not even sure that will be possible, but if it were, I wouldn’t want it. I don’t want to vote like it didn’t happen. I don’t want to eat like it didn’t happen. I don’t want to consume like it didn’t happen. I don’t want to schedule like it didn’t happen. I don’t want to mother or daughter or befriend or neighbor like it didn’t happen. I don’t want to sit inside this little life, noticing and appreciating and breathing, like it didn’t happen. There is unnecessary suffering all around me, and inside of me, too, but there is also necessary meaning. May we hold on to that.”      

You can read her full entry here: https://courtney.substack.com/p/unnecessary-suffering-and-necessary?token=eyJ1c2VyX2lkIjo3OTg0NDcyLCJwb3N0X2lkIjozNzU1NDMsIl8iOiJCTnk2VyIsImlhdCI6MTU4NzA1MjgyMCwiZXhwIjoxNTg3MDU2NDIwLCJpc3MiOiJwdWItMjA5MjIiLCJzdWIiOiJwb3N0LXJlYWN0aW9uIn0.puI9NMne-783ypInpvTkJ96T237WcrTo2ItDhqlkMiY

May 8, 2020

Nostalgia

I’m rarely one prone to nostalgia.  My childhood photo albums are in storage.  I have no family heirlooms displayed in my home.  My tendency is to revel in the present or dream about the future.  But this pandemic has strangely turned me into a sentimental fool.  Perhaps this return to simpler times, where we seldom shop, where we wander mostly by foot, or where we get to know our neighbors better, makes us long for the past in certain ways.  

For me, I’ve honored this by resurrecting my daily teenage Twizzler habit - a candy I’ve rarely eaten since then, but that now feels so satisfying during my Netflix & Chill evenings (while watching films almost as old like Groundhog Day & Anchorman).  

I’m also listening a lot to Old School Hip Hop, where the explative-free rhymes of the 90’s feel so strangely innocent.  It’s refreshing to listen to these musicians spit verses that merely celebrate the joys of dance and rap, rather than ranting about gun violence and other societal ills.  Run DMC It’s Tricky (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l-O5IHVhWj0) and Beastie Boys Body Movin’ (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uvRBUw_Ls2o) happen to be personal favorites.  

Last month, I was tickled by an old memory while planting a lilac bush in my backyard.  I suddenly remembered a story about my college boyfriend, whom I hadn’t thought of in 30 years.  Our relationship started a bit secretively, so as not to hurt his ex’s feelings.  So, one May afternoon, we snuck away to a distant park that was hosting a Lilac Festival.  Unfortunately, our ruse was quickly spoiled when a candid photo of our picnic under the purple blooms was plastered all over the front page of the Rochester Democrat and Chronicle the next morning.  

Another sweet memory returned in culinary form. Every Tuesday, for 7 years, my mother selflessly drove me an hour from home and back, for my flute lesson.  And to break up the long drive, we regularly stopped at Bickford’s Pancake House for my favorite adolescent treat: breakfast for dinner. Their specialty was the Dutch Baby Apple.  And I finally made my first homemade attempt at this deceptively easy delicacy, last Tuesday.  

This has also been a time to return to bedtime stories (some I’ve read to friends’ kids, and others for adults to hear.)  The Great Realisation by British performance artist, Tom Foolery, has been making the social media rounds. But in case you missed this touching tale that looks back on this time as if the tale is being told in a not-so-distant future, it’s a wistful story about some aspects of modern life that we may never long for in the future:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nw5KQMXDiM4

[theseadagiodays]

April 27, 2020

Art Became the Oxygen

It is true that artists, many of whom rely on public gatherings for their livelihood, are some of the hardest hit during this crisis.  Yet, it’s musicians who are toiling away in basements to serenade us through isolated days.  It’s comedic actors who are offering us essential nighttime laughs.  And it’s visual artists who make meaning from this madness with images that inspire, console and provoke.  The individuals of the creative community are like the unsung frontline workers of this pandemic, only without any salary to support their craft, or a 7 pm cheer to motivate them.  Yet still, they make things because they must, just as artists have done since the beginning of history, particularly in times of strife. (SEE: https://usdac.us/news-long/2017/8/9/art-became-the-oxygen-free-artistic-response-guide-available-now)

In previous periods of economic hardship, the US government responded with forward-thinking programs like the WPA (Works Progress Administration) of Roosevelt’s New Deal (1935 to 1943).  It was designed not only to fund huge infrastructure projects, but also to employ thousands of artists, musicians, writers, and theatre performers to stimulate the economy.  Legacies of this program include Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God; Jackson Pollack’s Composition with Pouring; and Mark Rothko’s earlier urban studies like Entrance to Subway, where you can see the seeds of his famous color studies from later work.

After natural disasters, senseless violence or war, artist activists have also rushed to the front lines, time and again, to help rebuild communities by activating their social imaginations and stimulating their civic agency with creative collaborations.  

Philippe Thiese gathered digital stories of Hurricane Sandy volunteers in this short film: https://www.sandystoryline.com/stories/sandy-volunteers-remember-the-storm-and-explain-how-they-got-involved/.  

The siblings of Eric Garner, a young African-American man killed by unjust police violence in 2014, came together in grief to write the song, I Can’t Breathe,based on his harrowing last words.  Their music served as a rallying cry to a community berieved and betrayed by their law enforcement: https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/eric-garners-family-drops-moving-new-song-i-cant-breathe-192574/

And when a 2011 tornado took 161 lives in the small town of Joplin, Missouri, mural artist Dave Loewenstein asked kids about their dreams for the future of their town, resulting in this stunning piece, The Butterfly Effect.

So, in the great hope that we’ll kick this virus’ butt, and we will be left with a glut of ventilators, how about we use them to revive our society’s artists, since they are the vital oxygen that feed our souls.  

In Vancouver, we are already lucky enough to have our City government responding with funding for the Murals for Hope project (#makeartwhileapart), which is transforming solemn, boarded-up shops and restaurants into colorful and encouraging messages that can help sustain us until their doors reopen again.

Geoff and I are also trying to do our small part to stimulate the creative economy, while beautifying our home in the process.  We are very excited to have just commissioned a mural artist to spruce up our tiny backyard space, which we’re transforming from a gravel parking spot into our own tropical oasis.  Here are some inspirational images as well as a shot of the yard in its current state. And hopefully, I can post the finished product, which will be painted onto the rotting fence, in a couple of weeks.

April 28, 2020

Art of Relationship

This period is not just requiring us to get creative with keyboards and canvases and cameras.  It is forcing us to re-examine the very patterns that make up our daily lives and fit them all inside the same four walls with the same self, spouse, and/or kids, 24/7.  Suffice it to say, this is no small task.  But, if any of you are like me, the grand solutions have sometimes involved tiny changes.    

Personally, my greatest challenge has been to find ways to carve out slivers of shared pleasure amidst my partner’s insanely stressful, often 13-hour work day, now that the pandemic has his team at our local transit authority in serious crisis mode.  Of course, I’m a firm believer in hard-work.  The pursuit of a classical musician requires many years of 5+ hours-a-day of practice.  But I’m also a fun-lover, and a huge proponent of life/work balance, particularly having had to learn this the hard way, thru a chronic overuse injury.  So, for me, Geoff’s manic schedule during the first month of isolation seemed far from optimal. And while this was especially difficult for him, it compromised joy for both of us.  

Seeking guidance as we adapted to the new normal, we found a great online series by Esther Perel, whose regular podcast, Where Should We Begin? always leaves us with sound, simple dance steps that we can apply to the Art of Relationship.  Here, she has created a 4-part series that specifically addresses problems which co-habitators might face in our current reality.  https://events.estherperel.com/april-2020-webinar-resources/?fbclid=IwAR0kRHkuQvEGxcpNuHvPKmmExamZ2Jj_EMZzR-zGp8eDejCR94hE-ZvGYjY

Inspired by her wisdom, we decided that the 7:30 am meetings, which had been occupying our kitchen and bleeding into our morning coffees, every day, could be skipped for a 15-minute walk thru our neighborhood park.  And, let me tell you, what a difference a quarter of an hour can make!  

April 29, 2020

Finding Variety in Repetition

It occurred to me, the other morning, that this experience feels a bit like fasting.  Since college, I’ve routinely devoted a week, every spring, to some kind of dietary shift, for my general health, and as a general mindfulness exercise.   While I’ve tried versions of the Wild Rose and other popular cleanses with some benefit, the method recommended in Staying Healthy with the Seasons has always suited me best. It requires you to slowly wean off many foods (meat/fish, then sugar/alcohol/coffee, then dairy), gradually move to only liquids, eventually evolve to a middle day of just water, and then similarly reintroduce each food gradually.    What I’ve loved about this approach is how much more aware of my cravings I become, how much I notice the “manufacturing of consent” that happens all around me to inspire my “wants”, and finally how various symptoms are suddenly absent once I’ve eliminated certain foods.  Consequently, the slow reintroduction of foods allows me to notice, in much more specific detail, which foods stimulate which responses in my body (IE. huge bursts of energy from fruit; afternoon crashes from sugar; indigestion from soy; sustenance from bread and pasta - NOTE: Contrary to the wheat-vilifying trends that currently prevail, I typically thrive on an anti-Atkins diet, as someone who reaps tremendous fuel from carbs).  

The parallels we are experiencing now relate to the stimuli that we’ve been “denied” by our self-isolating reality.   Speaking for myself, instead of travelling frequently, as I often do, or eating at different restaurants every week, or working at a different café every day to switch up the creative energy around me, I have had, like everyone else, to learn to find sustenance and interest in a much less diverse set of circumstances.  I am eating at Chez Me three meals a day.  We are grinding our own beans and whipping up our own daily lattes.  And most all of our daily walks and bike rides now start from our home.  

But even within the boundaries that we can reach from the nexus of our own address, we have been able to slowly expand our radius of exploration to corners of our city that we had never seen before.  This has felt a bit like switching to a vegetarian diet and gaining new appreciation for the crunchiness of a snap pea, or the filling nature of a portabello mushroom.  

In these explorations, we have discovered infinite surprises which include a cliffside view of the Fraser River from Everett Crowley Park (top image), an old landfill-turned-lush green space in Vancouver’s southeastern-most quadrant.  We’ve seen old growth forest that we had no idea existed so many kilometres from the shore, in Burnaby’s Central Park on our city’s eastern border.  I’ve spotted my first-ever fisher (weasel) sneaking around beachside boulders on the northern edge of the city.  And closer to home, I’ve noticed the whimsy of our neighbors’ gardens in far greater detail than I had ever looked before (as in the Gaudiesque, smiley-face hedge pictured above).  Our ventures from home have been guided by little more than our edict to “follow the pink”, as in the most blossoming streets.  And to document these journeys, I’ve been mapping the various routes we’ve taken.  Interestingly, the trajectory somewhat resembles a many-petaled flower.

Looking for minute changes in what seem to be patterns of sameness is also the secret to one of my favorite movements in music and design: Minimalism. Perhaps this is why Max Richter and Steve Reich have become the soundtrack I’ve turned to most during the pandemic.  Because their music trains our brains to find beauty in repetition while seeking excitement from the subtlest nuanced shifts.  

Meanwhile, I know that many of us would love for there to be a magic wand that could lift all of our restrictions over night and allow us to return to exactly “the way it was before”, in the same way that I long for a mocha frappuccino when I fast.  However, what we have been hearing from our leaders is that the more likely and safe choice will be to move into a gradual re-opening of our cities - a slow reintroduction of certain freedoms.  So, the lessons we can learn from fasting and Phillip Glass ought to prove very useful as we try to be patient and appreciative of this prudent approach.   Then, once we begin to shop and drive and socialize more, perhaps this perspective can allow us to also more clearly notice how we respond to each stimuli as we re-engage with it, And hopefully it will inform a new normal that can be more sensible and moderate and in harmony with this planet that we call home.

And, in case you’re curious to listen to a little minimalist fare...

Notice how welcomed the first chord change is in Max Richter’s Catalogue of Afternoons: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ubjylmxrj9o

Or drape yourself in his hypnotic music like a warm duvet with his 8-hour lullaby, Sleep: https://open.spotify.com/album/0JLN7JryQ2T7lBEYIrSQF1

And for a mind trip of the eyes and ears, try Steve Reich’s Piano Phase on marimbas: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3QoM7dgs_0

April 30, 2020

Film Festivals for free

Pahokee, at this year’s live-streamed Vancouver International Film Festival

Done wondering if Carol Baskin killed her husband?  Couldn’t care less if Giannini and Damian actually ever get married? Well, for those who’ve exhausted the Netflix catalogue, there are plenty of other ways to enjoy film from your home. Lots of festivals have generously uploaded their content online.  So, whether it’s mountain adventure, short films, foreign movies, or arthouse you’re looking for, here are some easy ways to link to those that are totally free:

Banff Mountain Film Festival - https://www.banffcentre.ca/film-fest-at-home

Cannes, Sundance, Tribeca, Toronto, Venice, Berlin and others have collaborated to bring an awesome line-up of livestream videos to the world in their 10-day We Are One Festival, starting on May 29th.  While the festival will stream for free, viewers will be asked to donate to the World Health Organization’s Covid-19 solidarity response fund.

If you happen to remain gainfully employed, and it’s important to you to keep supporting independent film making, Vancouver International Film Festival has created a rental-fee structure for a number of films that they’ve now made available for streaming, too: https://viff.org/Online/default.asp

And Sedona Film Festival has done the same - https://sedonafilmfestival.com/mdfhome/

May 1, 2020

Boredom Killers: Ping-pong, birthday song, and Magritte gong wrong

Combing the internet for creative inspiration that I can share with readers has truly been a joy.   It’s also got our own creative jucies flowing.  So today, I thought I’d post just a few of the ways we’ve staved off boredom over these past weeks.

Tennis is one of our true passions.  It’s actually sort of how Geoff and my relationship began.  Given that we didn’t want our paddle skills to get too rusty, we didn’t let the fact that our little laneway house couldn’t fit a ping pong table stop us: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kait-zCV94s

Coming from a huge birthday-celebrating family, I’ve tried to make sure that friends with birthdays during quarantine could still feel pampered on their special day.  So, 6 of us put together this silly ditty for our good friend Roger: https://youtu.be/EZKyrdOlvPk

And, we’ve jumped on the art replication bandwagon too.  The Met & the Getty Museum have both followed the lead of the Dutch gallery that first initiated the Instagram art challenge which asks people to recreate famous pieces of art with only 3 objects from their home. https://www.instagram.com/tussenkunstenquarantaine/

Here’s Geoff and my attempt with Magritte’s Lovers. The challenge also asks for participants to create new titles, so this is ours, Kissing Strategy for Stay-at-home Lazy Toothbrushers.

[theseadagiodays]

April 20, 2020

No more muzzling my words

OK, so I’m just going to say it.  There are times when this really stinks.  And it actually feels good to give myself permission to admit that.  

One of my favorite novelists, Anne Patchett, author of Bel Canto, also wrote a memoir called Truth & Beauty about her lifelong best friendship with someone who struggled with cancer since childhood.  What I remember most is her friend’s very unusual way of enduring horrific hardships that included having her jaw surgically removed, (no less in the middle of self-conscious adolescence).  To feel better about her own situation, she would regularly re-read The Diary of Anne Frank in a sort of schadenfreude effort to remember that there were people who’d had it far worse than herself.    However, these contrived gestures only took her so far.

I guess the truth is, there is only so much glass-half-full thinking any of us can exercise.  Realizing this, I was relieved to hear Brene Brown’s recent podcast about Comparitive Suffering,

https://brenebrown.com/podcast/brene-on-comparative-suffering-the-50-50-myth-and-settling-the-ball/  

Here, she recognizes that while the daily news barrages us with crises much greater than our own (lost jobs, health, and even loved ones), many of us feel guilty for bemoaning our own losses at this time, because we think we should be grateful for what we have.  Certainly, this universal suffering has allowed us to gain some clearer perspective on our lives and our blessings.  And the fact that the entire world is experiencing some similar aspects of this reality has enabled us to build real global empathy.  However, it is also true that each micro-loss deserves its own relative mouring period.  So, I am going to give myself a little license to acknowledge what I am grieving at this time.  But I wanted to find a creative way to do this.  So, I am going to write a love letter to the time before COVID, identifying the things I truly miss. This idea came out of an exercise we led with my non-profit’s Women Rock group.  They are co-writing songs to express the myriad of feelings they are having during this period. In one song, they plan to write about the solace that nature brings them right now.  But they also want a vehicle to communicate their challenges.  In other words, they want somewhere to “deposit the negative,” because this can actually be very healing: to name what’s wrong, genuinely feel the impact of it in your life, and then let it go.  The etymological root of the word de-posit means to put (poner), away (-de).   Ironically, this is similar to the origin of the word positive, which is to formally lay down (or to state absolutely).   So, perhaps by absoluting stating what we feel bad about, we leave room to feel good about what’s left.

But in case this is just a little too sad for some people to read, try imagining the theme song to Jimmy Fallon’s regular Thank You Notes segment, for a bit of comic relief while you read.  Here he is in his At-Home Edition, writing some with his daughters:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f6x2UgPVYJs

Vancouver Mural Festival on Main St 

Dear pre-COVID days,

I remember how good it felt to walk down Main St and hug everyone from my neighbor, to my colleague, to the barista.  You were so open in the way you invited human touch on a daily basis.

I was so grateful that you allowed me the opportunity to interact with people from all different walks of life.  You let me work in so many different environments, from elementary schools, to prisons, to seniors centres, where I was privileged to hear people’s stories as they found their own creative voices.  

I loved being free to spend time with my family even though they live far away. You made it possible to see my parents in Arizona, and my brother in NY, and my uncle in Colorado, and my in-laws in Ontario, every year, despite the distance.

I enjoyed all of the opportunities you gave me to experience live art.  You animated my world and made it technicolor, with concerts, dance clubs, galleries, theatre performances, and different arts festivals every week.

I loved how healthy I felt running around the tennis courts at Queen Elizabeth Park.  You made it so easy to exercise my lungs, my legs, my arms, my focus, my flexibility and my stamina all at the same time.  

I felt so much passion for the adventures that you brought me to.  You generously satisfied my infinite curiosities with music projects in Zambia, and holidays in Hawaii, and cultural immersions in Guatemala.  

I miss all of the the ways you let me love and live and work and play freely.  And I long for the day you return,

Laura

April 21, 2020

Neighborhood Art

There are so many signs that we are all missing connection and stimulation during quarantine. But the human spirit is extremely buoyant.  So, we’ve found remarkable ways to share artistic moments through the walls of COVID.  

In Rome, locals are projecting classic films against their apartment building facades: https://www.wantedinrome.com/news/lockdown-rome-lights-up-with-cinema-by-night.html

In Berlin, neighbors are displaying art installations from their balconies:

https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/berlin-artists-turn-their-balconies-mini-galleries-180974677/

An art installation by Raul Walch, created for the “Life, art, pandemic and proximity” project

In Ohio, kids play cello duets for an elderly neighbor:

And right here in Vancouver, people lead streetside Zumba classes as seniors home residents dance along:

https://www.cbc.ca/player/play/1716406851557

April 22, 2020

Earth Day in Isolation

I am hardly the first to note that while this virus has taken so much from mankind, it has also given Mother Earth the long-awaited rest she so deserves.  There have been plenty of photos of Himalayan mountain tops viewed from Indian cities for the first time in decades, or Orcas returning to Vancouver’s shores to prove this.    

In another gift to our planet, appropriately on Earth Day here in BC, where it has oddly not rained for 30 days, it appears that Gaia is being showered with much needed rain for her day of celebration.  And even a sun-worshipper like me has been doing rain dances lately, to ensure that our city will not be shrouded in smoke from a fire-ravaged province, as we have been for the past two summers.

On a different note, a more distorted personification of nature has been touted by many a cynical observer in recent weeks, citing Covid as retribution against humans from a vengeful Mother Earth. I do not subscribe to such punitive thinking.  But I do believe there are environmental lessons to be learned from this crisis if we listen closely enough.

Writer Kristin Flyntz makes this point more beautifully than I ever could, in her Greatful Web post: https://www.gratefulweb.com/articles/imagined-letter-covid-19-humans  Here, instead of a love letter to pre-Covid days, she has imagined the letter that Covid might write to humans.  The tone is intentional and generous but also insistent.   It is spoken as if from a friend not an enemy.  And it proposes that we ask the hard questions:  “As the health of a tree, a river, the sky tells you about the quality of your own health, what might the quality of your health tell you about the health of the rivers, the trees, the sky, and all of us who share this planet with you?”

Another letter, falsely attributed to Bill Gates, whose proven himself to be a true leader of responsiveness in this critical time, also had similar things to say.  The anonymous writer claims that this time: “is reminding us that this Earth is sick. It is reminding us that we need to look at the rate of deforestation just as urgently as we look at the speed at which toilet rolls are disappearing off of shelves. We are sick because our home is sick.”

And as usual, artists are responding too.  The NY-based NGO, Earth Celebrations has postponed their Virtual Earth Day Pageant for May 9th in the interest of garnering more public participation, with a callout for anyone who wants to craft a costume, mask, puppet, etc.  All are welcome.  And more details can be found here: https://earthcelebrations.com/?fbclid=IwAR30nj7NtS52E-RLjpvz739L-3fcp-DtnJ1YeVE8Roln4vJXPC7bzBLxew0

April 23

Virtual Festivals

If you’re looking for an alternative to Netflix and chillin’, there are endless arts festivals that have moved content online, for your streaming pleasure.   So, I thought I’d recommend a few interesting ones here.  

If it’s efficiency you’re after, when browsing thru infinite entertainment options, the Social Distancing Festival does all the work for you, by scouring the globe to curate the best livestreamed events they can find.  Links include everything from modern dance to virtual gallery tours to musical theatre:

https://www.socialdistancingfestival.com

Myseum of Toronto’s Art in the Time of Covid - work by Evgeni Tcherkassk

For some lighter fare, this Edmonton Series hosts nightly cabaret, music, and comedy acts performed by local artists from their homes.

https://www.citadeltheatre.com/2019-2020/stuckinthehouse?utm_source=Citadel+Theatre&utm_campaign=67600c620f-Stuck-in-the-House&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_482a5c3fca-67600c620f-80741247

And if you’re looking for a bit more sophistication, Toronto’s Festival of Literary Diversity has managed to move online, and it starts next Thursday. Their line-up features many of Canada’s finest emerging and established voices.  My personal favorite, Mona Awad will be reading from her new novel, Bunny, which was the funniest read I’ve had in ages.  In this high art version of Mean Girls, she nails the pretentious banter of grad school writing cliques with a dash of magical realism.   https://thefoldcanada.org

April 23

Creative Gratitude

Florida police thank-you

Our shared appreciation for front line workers has become a true muse for collective community creativity.

Clockwise: Navajo muralist Ivan Lee; local Vancouver sidewalk; Long Island artist, Kara Hoblin

But this one takes the cake for audacity!

https://gfycat.com/magnificentabsolutegosling-health-workers-coronavirus-thank-you-meme

[theseadagiodays]

April 13, 2020

Interstices

Definition: an intervening time or space

Synonym: Aperture - an opening or gap

Gap - a space or pause between two things

Pause - a suspension of movement or activity

Space - a continuous area or expanse which is free and available

Whether our rhythms have slowed or accelerated in this moment, we all currently sit at an interstices.  A place in time between what came before and what comes next.  An uncomfortable spot for most of us, because humans habitually seek certainty.  But this time is also an opening, an opportunity where we can be free to explore new ways of being.  A time to suspend old habits, and invite shifts in perspective.  In some schools of Buddishm, they have a term for such in-between times.  “Bardo is an intermediate, transitional, or liminal state between death andrebirth.  A state of great potential for liberation, since transcendental insight may arise with the direct experience of reality” Wikipedia

But most of us resist making space in our schedules because it gives too much room to look at the bold truth of our lives.  Like the clear expanse of a mirror, this time is revealing much that we need to remember, but also much that we don’t want to see.  The decreased GHG’s from limited transport have clarified our skies and caused animals to rapidly return where humans had previously dominated.  The gardens we’d neglected are being tenderly tilled.  And the friends we’d forgotten for decades are reaching out to reminisce.  But the work that does not feed our souls, or the incessant self-deprecating thoughts, or the spouse who irritates us (speaking generally of course), or the wallpaper we regret having bought, all glare us in the face daily and force us to reflect on our real priorities and desires.  However, all at once, this can be too much for us to take in.

I remember a Vancouver talk, on my birthday in 1998, where the Tibetan monk, Chogyam Trungpa said it amazed him “how much North Americans busied their lives so as not to know themselves”.    If this is true, it strikes me that in order to assuage our fears about looking at the skeletons in our own empty closets, perhaps we can try to look at space entirely differently.

In music, space or silence can be incredibly potent.  Violinist, Isaac Stern describes music itself as “that little bit between each note—the silences which give the music form.”  One of my favorite composers, Arvo Part is a master of silence.  The pauses in many of his halting melodies require the listener to become an active participant - to fill the space with their own interpretations,  just as we can do during this time.   His Psalom for strings is a mesmerizing example of such writing.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m-Ssbik_dmY

Visual artists have also created substantive beauty from negative space. The images below play with absence and presence, illustrating that our perception can entirely shape what we choose to see.  Similarly, if we can stretch our understanding of what is currently missing from our lives to recognize the space this allows for other things to present themselves, it may fortify our patience and acceptance with the way things are.

But if none of this brings solace during challenging times, and we still need to cling to hope, we can remember that, invariably, after rest always comes activity.  Bamboo is a prime example of this, as noted in this proverb about the slow but mighty grower, “the first year it sleeps, the second year it creeps, the third year it leaps.”

So, if we emerge from COVID anything like North America emerged from the 1918 flu epidemic, maybe we can finally look forward to an era where flapper dresses come back.  I know that I’d personally find the next Roaring Twenties a welcomed resurgence.  

April 14, 2020

Finding Stillness in Uncertainty

For hours last Tuesday, in a persistent drizzle and strong wind, I wandered my neighborhood aimlessly with a broken umbrella, mourning the shut restaurants, scared faces, and unhugged friends I hadn’t seen in weeks.

But today, the air is still and warm, and the scent of pregnant magnolias saturate my senses while I bathe in birdsong.  

Photo by my friend Cheryl’s 12-year-old son, Noah

Such is the mercurial nature of life in this pandemic.  Still, as best I can, I try to walk my talk.  Be the master of my own attitude.  Contribute where I can.  Live mindfully and gratefully.  But some days this is much harder than others.  However lately, Vancouver’s unseasonable summer weather has made this infinitely easier.  As someone who suffers from seasonal effective disorder, and who’s had a love/hate affair with my rainy though lush city, it makes me realize how important it is to find conditions condusive for optimal living. With the improved weather and a large park right behind my home, I am enticed to greet each morning with a slow, present-minded walk.  A moving meditation.  

I have also been grateful for the opportunity to lead weekly guided meditations for my husband’s work team.  His colleagues are front-line workers of a different sort.  They run our local transit system which is still critically needed by those who must continue to work in public settings, or who do not have the privilege of their own vehicle.  But with covid-fear and enforced social distancing measures, Translink is losing $3 million a day in ridership fees.  So, they are under enormous stress to adjust their service plans, make difficult decisions about lay-offs, and continue to try and plan for a very uncertain future.   However, it heartens me to know that people who find themselves even more work-burdened during this crisis still recognize the need to slow down, even for brief moments, in order to be more productive later. So, I thought I’d share a recording of one of these sessions, which people can follow at home.  It is less than 15 minutes long, just short enough to carve out of any day but still possible to dramatically alter your nervous system.

https://youtu.be/x2fjRvBB6x0

And finally, this poem by Martha Postelwaite speaks to the gifts stillness can bring.

Do not try to save the whole world or do anything grandiose. Instead, create a clearing in the dense forest of your life and wait there patiently, until the song that is your life falls into your own cupped hands and you recognize and greet it. Only then will you know how to give yourself to this world so worth of rescue.                       -   Martha Postlewaite

April 15, 2020

Timely Artists’ Responses

I am normally a minimal social media user.  However, ironically, my Facebook and Instagram feeds have been my saving grace during this period.  This is probably helped by the fact that, over the years, rather than racing to accumulate friends, I have mostly only followed those people in my life who I trust to direct me to moments of grace and beauty.   Consequently, many of the links in this blog have come from my own community of thoughtful, kindness-oriented, arts-minded friends and family to whom I’m hugely grateful.

Some of my friends are the actual creators of these daily doses of inspiration.  Like my Toronto-based buddy, Lorne Bridgman (https://lornebridgman.com), whose in-demand work has graced the covers of En Route (Air Canada’s in-flight magazine), Monocle, and Travel & Leisure.  (A coup for us, since way back in 1997, we were probably the only people who ever landed him as a wedding photographer). Fittingly, his stirring nighttime images of abandoned playgrounds during the pandemic tell a very powerful story.

I have been keeping my own mental ledger of these “never before corona” scenes (like our yellow-taped playgrounds) which I observe every day.  The most striking of these I captured with my iphone just yesterday.  These four beachcombers appear to be metred-out models of social distancing with their perfectly proportioned pose.

Artists the world round are similarly documenting this time through a variety of expressive mediums.  Below, are a few of the most creative that I’ve discovered so far.

The New York Times delivers again, with 17 Artists Capture a Surreal NY from their Windows

https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2020/04/16/nyregion/coronavirus-nyc-illustrators-window.html?action=click&module=Editors%20Picks&pgtype=Homepage

Katherine Lam, Queens, NY

Or this Beijing-based British map artist, who instead of his elaborate filligried-illustrations of sprawling urban areas, now maps what’s between his four walls.

https://www.cnn.com/style/article/gareth-fuller-maps-coronavirus-quarantine/index.html

Globally, graphic designers have also used their talents to advocate, provoke, or amuse: https://www.dezeen.com/2020/03/18/coronavirus-covid-19-graphic-design-illustration/?fbclid=IwAR3bUYBwSkCtlj_yhlDkvUtGOFBDBJGMYXiDl3do74Gqm4JdHbkxTET48H8

Oliver Jeffers, beloved Irish children’s author and illustrator

And for 80’s kids like me, this new release, No Time to Love Like Now, from an old fave, REM’s Michael Stype, sends a sparsely-layered musical message from his home studio that feels highly appropriate for the times:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=1&v=MYgpEcXf2S4&feature=emb_logo

Finally, as I’ve stretched my social-media muscles, I confess that I’ve even ventured to Twitter and Tik Tok at times.  Most of us over-30 have probably been oblivious to the phenomena of social-media influencers, like the 15-year-old "reigning queen of TikTok", Charli D’Amelio, whose whether-you-like-it-or-not, down-to-earth appeal and smooth moves have charmed 48 million followers! But, as vacuous as many of her make-up tutorials have been, she is now using her reach for good with her originally choreographed Distance Dance which, for everyone who posts their own #distancedance video, will trigger Proctor & Gamble to donate to one of a variety of non-profits feeding those most vulnerable and hit hard by the virus.   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fS6913bBVek

April 16, 2020

Home Cooking

I truly believe that we all have an “inner artist” if we just find ways to tap it.  But it saddens me to hear how quickly many people say they have “no talent”.  Creativity is not magic.  It’s what humans have harnessed since time immorial to survive, adapt, and thrive.  Creativity also increases exponentially when there are constraints on our resources. The elegance of a haiku is a pure example of this.  Limited to just 5, 7, & 5 syllables per line, this simple container lends itself to essential and beautiful nuggets of expression accessible to all.  Here’s a timely one from the #quarantinehaikus project that I mentioned earlier:

I’m in quarantine But all my ideas are not. This month, they happen.

Similarly, another creative pursuit that has most given humans a window into their own creativity is the culinary arts.  Sure, for some their adventures as gourmands consist of little more than ramen, canned tuna, a boiled egg and Dijon mustard for a pantry version of Julia Child’s Salad Nicoise.  But quarantined living is certainly inspiring more imagination in the kitchen than usual. Though this expression may be overused, “necessity is the mother of invention” has perhaps never been more universally true.  However, if you’re trying to limit your grocery trips to once per week, and your mind happens to draw a blank when you open your cupboard, here are dozens of recipes that you can try with what you might likely already have on hand:

https://cooking.nytimes.com/topics/self-quarantine-recipes

My own constant culinary muse is my great friend, Belkis, whose Instagram page, Epicurious Travelista (below) is a visual and delectable treat.  Most of her images include recipes.  And while they might look elaborate, and sometimes indeed they are (this is a woman unafraid of churning her own butter, or making her own tortillas from scratch), her resourceful Honduran roots influence many exquisite meals that she makes from only a few simple ingredients.  So, for those wanting to spread their chef’s wings a bit wider, you can check out her page here:

https://www.instagram.com/epicurious_travelista/

April 15, 2020

Zoom Masters

Of course, Zoom has been the victor and the enemy in this digitally-dependent time, both allowing multi-generational families to share seders, while at the same time stealing private details from citizens.  But one can not deny that the extent to which people have exploited this format for good has been inspiring.  I’m biased towards the musical collaborations that the format has spawned.  But don’t be fooled.  This technology, designed for one-speaker-at-a-time, does not render performances like the one below, easily.  Each frame has to be recorded separately (with consistent click tracks, to keep everyone in time), and then carefully edited together in post-production. These are highly stylized efforts. And this one takes it to another level with its choreographic complexity.  So, while I wish everyone to have a weekend where they can Get Down, Stay Down, here’s a treat to enjoy:

https://www.theverge.com/2020/4/8/21213608/coronavirus-zoom-music-video-thao-and-the-get-down-stay-down?fbclid=IwAR3PIGg8lcGMLgQrJGISDcjrRbcy3eQG2XI-sqbc-BOGs5f8s5PNRPf54H4

[theseadagiodays]

April 6, 2020

Travel at home

I have always been a passionate traveler, with an insatiable curiosity for new experiences, cultures and sensations.  But what also comes with all the titillation is a fair dose of unfamiliar, unsettling, and often challenging new circumstances every traveler must agily welcome if they are to thrive.  When you are served dinner with no cutlery in Kalkata, scooping sloppy curry with your hands has to do.  When you’re penniless and lose your companion, hours from home in Bangkok’s busy streets, you must ingratitate yourself to the kindness of strangers for bus fare to your hotel.  It strikes me that this same flexibility can serve us well as we navigate the unchartered territories of this new nation we all inhabit, called COVID.

But what moves me most as I wander the world is the way in which constant new sensory input elevates my present-minded attention so intensely.  My ears delight in a particularly evocative call to prayer in Morocco.  My mouth savors the sour sweetness of a Colombian maracuya (passionfruit).  And my nose even appreciates the cow dung furnaces on the side of the road in India. It is like meditation in motion.  After each journey, when I return home, I set the earnest intention to sustain such sensory focus at home.  But as the days pass, this consistently becomes increasingly difficult.  However now, with little opportunity to venture much more than metres from our door, we need new strategies to remain sane and stimulated.  So, I think we can all benefit from living like tourists at home. I believe there is a science to this. I’ve even coined a term for it. It came from a time when I heard education expert Ken Robinson define the word aesthetics.  Associated with beauty, most think of the definition as subjective.  But he simplified this by pointing out that the opposite of aesthetics is anaesthetics (that which numbs our senses).  So, aesthetics are those things which make us feel.  Since this revelation, I have come to call myself an aesthesiologist because I believe that all artists are in the business of making people feel.  And this is why I feel that sharing artistic resources on this blog is the best medicine I can offer as we all ride out this crisis together.

So, maybe today you can consiciously pay attention to some subtle new observation each of your senses notice in your environment.  The way the light hits your tea kettle at dawn.  The call of a returning bird at spring time.  The crunch of the potato chips that you’re binging on right now.  Lately, I’ve certainly learned to feel extra fortunate that I can taste or smell at all, because my husband completely lost his sense of smell 3 weeks ago.  Most have probably heard that this is an alarming and bizarre potential sign of COVID, particularly in people with no other symptoms.  So, having come thru full incubation period, we’re at least past the scare that it could have become worse or that he might have infected myself or others with whom he’d had contact prior to quarantine.  But he never thought he’d look so forward to the day he could smell my farts again.  (Meanwhile, I’m indulging in all the beans and garlic I want)

At any rate, if home sensations don’t tickle you enough, there is always virtual travel.  And while that certainly risks inspiring a vicarious longing that may not serve you, for others, it can elicit some of the same wonders as adventures themselves.  So, if you’re craving sensory immersion into other worlds, New York Times can help you do this with their 13 recommended travel podcasts.

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/04/09/travel/travel-podcasts.html?action=click&module=Top%20Stories&pgtype=Homepage&contentCollection=AtHome

I know I have certainly spent many days in quarantine wallowing over my screensaver trip photos, longing for a time when I could journey further afield once more.  But I have also been swept away by the photographic brilliance of some of the work that the New York Times is featuring weekly, in their World Through a Lens column.  Marcus Westerberg’s shots of Zambian wildlife (https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/31/travel/zambia-safari.html) were particularly emotional for me, having just had one of the most meaningful travel experiences of my life there, last year, when I served as resident visiting artist at a music school in Lusaka.  In fact, I arrived exactly one year ago, today, and can’t wait to return to those magical people.  A girl has to dream, after all...

April 7, 2020

Creativity at Home

If any of you are variety-mongers like me, seeing only the same person or people, day in and day out, can have you dressing up your spouse in wigs or Hawaian skirts or bear costumes just to mix things up a bit.    But largely, I’ve been hearing that many parents and siblings are embracing ways to capitalize on their excessive togetherness. I think it’s why the show Survivor has been so successful all these years. Forced into small spaces and “tribes”, we tend to do whatever it takes to get along with our fellow captives.  Cooped up together for days on end, there is no limit to the clever activities some families have created to keep themselves occupied.  

This crew took a simple tube and board of wood to create some exercise apparatus that has kept them busy for hours:  https://www.google.ca/amp/s/www.cbc.ca/amp/1.5518064

Others are taking vicarious travel to the next level with some Photoshop fun - https://www.nytimes.com/2020/04/07/travel/coronavirus-fake-travel.html

And the most impressive might be this 5-person brood, each with operatic quality voices, who belt out their rendition of One More Day, from Les Miserable.

https://www.bbc.com/news/av/uk-52106893/coronavirus-family-goes-viral-with-lockdown-les-mis-song-adaptation

But, if you happen to be stumped for ideas yourselves, here are a few ways you can kickstart your family’s creativity.  A bunch of resourceful theatre company’s have been commissioning playwrights to create short Plays at Home, designed for actors and amateurs alike to perform in their own living rooms.  Most are staged for 1-7 humans, with joyful themes, and participants are welcome to share video recordings of their readings.

https://www.playathome.org/?fbclid=IwAR3_Uib1GQV5134ZbF7IEI5F5lpt0HQdxYkd1HtiNeUFws1UKCvVV4_2KEQ

And right here in Vancouver, my friend Vanessa Richards is finding thoughtful ways to engage community in collaborative singing, by sustaining her weekly free choir sessions, now in Livestream, every Wednesday, from 6-7:30.  You can check out Van Van Song Society here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/togethersinging/

April 8, 2020

Quarantine Living - Al Yankovic style Some of you may be too young to recognize this reference to our favorite weasly moustached 80’s bard, who humorously bastardized everything from Queen’s Another One Rides the Bus to Michael Jakcson’s Eat It, with his own comic lyrics.  But lately, like our Les Miserable family, Weird Al Yancovic’s “wordsquatting” trend is spreading more virally than corona.

This original take on the Beatles, I gotta wash my hands is a classic.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OxOJ7hh3H-I

For more potty humor, I adore this Philipino artists’ no-toilet paper campaign, I love tabo- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vzb98tQp53I

And certainly, the most high tech example has come from Vancouver’s own Phoenix Chamber Choir, in their rendition of the hugely popular Queen song, Coronavirus Rhapsody- https://www.cbc.ca/player/play/1720158275935?fbclid=IwAR3gEdqv95oX4KT_W4F4_naJyASRhUaGpr-T56Aux9k4tCStGvow9xgHIQw

April 9, 2020

Reading Respite Endless screentime has probably left many of us fatigued and squinting, with a need for stronger reading glass prescriptions that we can’t fill, because all the optometry shops have shut down.  So, these next suggestions are offered with that caveat. However, for me, the tactile experience of a book in my hand can still be a nourishing antidote to digital overload. Often just a page is capable of transporting my body, mind and soul away from news feeds, virus counts, and press conferences.  

Never a fan of e-readers, I have always passionately supported my local bookshops.  And thankfully, there is a current intiative intended to do the same, at a time when the threat of a certain Capital A behometh taking over global commerce is greater than ever.  So, you can actually feed your spirit and your neighborhood bookseller by purchasing any literary craving here. Thanks to the new site, bookshop.org, you can order what you’d like from the local bookstore of your choice, while this company acts as liason.  And the fair split allows your local vendor to keep 30% of total profit, when direct sales that are no longer possible for them may have only been slightly more (40-45%).  

As far as what to stories to consume at a time like this, it has amazed me how much films like Contagion and Outbreak have had huge resurgences. This tells me that relevance and resonance are key factors in people’s entertainment choices.  However, if you’re looking for something that relates to your current circumstances, but leaves you not with more fear, but with actual hope, inspiration, or tools for survival, here are a few better options:

Emily St. Mandel’s Station Eleven is, in fact, a post-apocalyptic tale.  But her narrative’s most clever survivors form a travelling Shakespeare troupe, demonstrating the power of art to heal in dire times.  

For some existential musing reaped in self-isolation, Thoreau’s Life in the Woods always still provides.

And if the new stressors arising from this crisis find you busier than ever, but you long to slow down, travel journalist, Pico Iyer, in his prophetic 2014 book, The Art of Stillness, makes a strong case for the fact that “in our madly accelerating world, our lives are crowded, chaotic and noisy. So, there’s never been a greater need to slow down, tune out and give ourselves permission to be still.”

April 10, 2020

How Might We Fill This Space?

Never before have Memes, Tik tok or Cat Videos provided such many needed lifelines for people all over the world.  But the video that most stirred me to action was this stunning dance collaboration that popped up in my Facebook feed, during the early days of self-isolation, before my first Zoom conference, before I’d seen my first collaborative musical Quarantine Song spoof. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B3pFxsYPLgU

This global initiative to weave together dance gestures, while performers were entirely physically separate, seeded the idea for a community art and writing project that I have recently started with a few friends.

In an effort to connect artists during this physically distant time, we have launched Spool of Thought.  And all artistic contributions are welcome to the thread.  

https://www.instagram.com/spoolofthought2020/

On this page, we invite people to respond to the question, “How might we fill this space?”as we adjust to different rhythms of being. The idea is to weave together our thoughts, through the fluid form of cursive writing, in a non-linear narrative documenting this unique time on our planet.

The full instructions are below, for those interested and eager to participate:

1.Using Notes (iPhone) or Evernote (Android) and the digital pen, draw a continuous cursive line from the left to right side of the note (arranged horizontally) and write a word, phrase or sentence that responds to the prompt: How Might We Fill This Space?

2. Save it to your photos.

3. Then,send it by email to: spoolofthought2020@gmail.com, and we will add your text to the Spool of Thought Instagram page.

4. Please include your name, your location, your occupation, and your Instagram@ for the caption of your photo.

5. And feel free to share this invite with your community, along with these instructions.

6. Finally, enjoy watching the spool unravel on @spoolofthought2020, as the thread grows, and tag us wherever you choose to share: #spoolofthought2020.

[theseadagiodays]

March 30, 2020

Kids Arts Activities through Quarantine

As BC’s spring break officially ends, I am very aware that working parents, with kids at home who now need online schooling and extra care, are extremely hard hit by the current changes.  I also realize that Adagio may not at all reflect the tempo of their lives as they juggle these new responsibilities.  What I hear from my friends in this situation is that Prestissimo Agitato (agitatedly fast) probably sums it up far better.  So, I am hoping that some of the kids’ arts activities which I list below might help give parents even a few tacet moments.  

This accelerated pace also relates to health care workers, grocery employees, and so many others who are working harder than ever during this period.  Conversely, people who have temporarily lost their jobs, aging people who were enjoying the well-earned luxury of post-career social time before the virus hit, and many others now find time spooling out before them in a sometimes overwhelming abundance.  And while I am fortunate to be able to sustain a considerable amount of my work during this unusual time, I relate more to both the challenges and privileges of being faced with increased space in my life.  In fact, I have always been aware that my choice not to have children has meant that my life’s rhythms are quite different from many of my peers.  So, I take this reality as an onus to use the extra capacity I have to contribute where I can.  And writing this blog is one way I am attempting to do that.

As I share this, I am inspired by the words of one of my favorite writers and thinkers, Rebecca Solnit, who in her Harper’s article, The Mother of All Questions, poignantly sums up the role that people who choose not to have children can play in their communities.  “There are so many things to love besides one’s offspring, so much work that love has to do in the world”.

So, for children and adults alike, I offer Lunch Doodles and Lockdown Diaries and Puppet Shows and Haiku.

At 1 pm EST, every day, Mo Willems, livestreams his Lunch Doodles classes for all to follow: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RmzjCPQv3y8

Or, if you want to get your hands a bit dirtier, you might try this homemade playdough recipe to make the rainbows that people are sticking to their windows all over the world to spread hope.

https://www.pre-kpages.com/rainbow-play-dough/

In Saskatoon, Wide Open Children’s Theatrehosts livestreamed storytelling and puppet shows at 10 am CST and bedtime (7 pm CST), every single day, on Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/events/638733030283792/

Christchurch artist, Stephen McCarthy has created a free downloadable, Lockdown Diary, that will keep anyone busy for ages:

https://www.mylockdowndiary.com/?fbclid=IwAR0G3KgCfRfnr2FXhEIumzR2SigQB3bEYXfOu1m9m0g8tqL2RnQPoprJL2w

The New York Times has created a digital coloring book with a truly timely image.  You can play with their online pen or print it out and do it old-school analog style.

https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2020/03/23/opinion/covid-coloring-activity.html

And finally, if you want to distill your feelings about this unique time, the simple container of a Haiku works very well for this.   The 3 lines form is made up of 5 syllables, 7 syllables, & 5 syllables.  The invite it is to write your own, video record yourself reading it, and then send it to Quarantine Haikus: https://thebridgepai.org/quarantinehaikus/

Here’s mine:

cherry blossom tree

as colorful as ever

like nothing has changed

March 31, 2020

Resilient Quarantine Artist Projects

The life of an artist is one of constant reinvention.  And these times call for just that.  As I’ve shifted from a flute performance career, to directing a community arts non-profit, Instruments of Change (instrumentsofchange.org), to creative writing, I have sometimes struggled to define myself by my job description or title.  However, if I have learned anything from this necessary process of unravelling my identity from my career achievements, I have learned to connect more deeply to who I AM rather than what I DO.  This process of redefinition has led me to recognize that, at the core of everything I do, I am an arts advocate, first and foremost.  So, this is the title that sits most comfortably for me.  As an arts advocate, I am constantly seeking ways to increase public perception of the value of the arts and artists, themselves. And this eloquent article (https://madmimi.com/s/708e601) which my friend, Juliana Bedoya shared, perfectly illustrates why artists are ideally equipped for dealing with our current uncertain circumstances.  To summarize Andrew Simonet’s piece, Dear Artists, This is What We Train For:

1.    Artists are accustomed to charting unfamiliar territory.

2.    Artists are excellent at “working with what they’ve got” - to quote Duke Ellington

3.    Artists are keen observers, and they use those powers to create expressions of resonance and relevance.

4.    Artists thrive at adapting to constantly changing rhythms and flow.

In only the few brief weeks since quarantined living began (although I know that this has seemed eternal for some), it has been remarkable how many resilient strategies and projects I’ve encountered in my artist community.  So, here, I’d like to share just a few initiatives that are happening in my own backyard.

In Vancouver, the Little Chamber Music Series That Could has launched their Isolation Commissions, where individuals, for only $200, can hire solo artists to film a 4 min video of themselves performing something which reflects the impact that this extraordinary social situation is having on their artistic practice. It might be an improvisation, a favorite piece, a work that brings comfort, or a new composition in progress. Incredibly, by March 31st, already 30 video performances from 30 unique artists had been successfully commissioned. Interested “commissioners” can contact Mark Haney at: artisticdirector@littlechambermusic.com to arrange their desired artist partnership.  And you can learn more about their innovative program here: http://littlechambermusic.com/isolation-commissions/

For years, the Sunday Service has provided live improv sets at Vancouver’s Fox Cabaret, and they are not letting self-isolation stop that tradition.  So now, every Sunday, at 9 pm, Cyber Service livestreams collaborative improv, from each of their respective homes, on their You Tube channel:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC2A8-xxVUssHFIr_WDt4Gyg?view_as=subscriber&fbclid=IwAR2ojZlCDLZHjkN6qq0iDKtm4mPkI9dQvoZeGVv9IWpYX85zDfq0lKePegA

Instruments of Change is also playing with our own adaptive strategies as we anticipate the potential cancellation of our free, outdoor summer concert series, Street Beats.  In 2018, originally invited by VIVA Vancouver, I of C launched this series to make a wide variety of top-rate live music accessible to all, while celebrating our city’s vibrant public spaces.    So, in an effort to continue meeting those objectives without the possibility of large public gatherings, Street Beats sound engineer, David Spidel has proposed Street Beats - the Stream Beats edition.  His idea is to drone video record several Vancouver parklets and plazas, and then green screen these behind various livestreamed performances of Vancouver artists.  We should learn, in the coming weeks, if VIVA goes for his slightly wacky concept, and we’ll keep you posted.

April 1, 2020

Lockdown Laughs

This year, the internet exploded with announcements that there should be a moratorium on April Fools Jokes, as we are all living a far worse hoax than any one of us could ever devise.  And while I’m usually a huge fan of this prankster holiday, I fully understand the sensitivity of the ask. So, instead of tricks, I thought I’d just include some good laughs for much needed levity.

As a dentist, my Dad spent his life glaring into terrified people’s mouths, so humor served him well to put his patients at ease.  It is no surprise, then, that he has injected daily doses of giggles into my quarantined existence with his reliably hilarious links.  Here’s my favorite so far:

https://www.theloop.ca/watch/news/strange/this-couple-s-hilarious-horse-dance-has-gone-viral/6144325579001/1660977952457681249%20/your-morning/

Masters of lockdown living, people in China have perfected the art of making themselves laugh in hard times. And watching this American comedian’s stand-up routine, which weaves in crazy Tiktok videos from China, was perhaps the hardest I’ve laughed since this whole ordeal began:

https://www.theatlantic.com/video/index/608485/tik-tok-quarantine/

Also, my local arts community has come through again, with a livestream version of their weekly Thursday night comedy show, Jokes Please, that’s hosted at Little Mountain Theatre, only blocks from our home.  It airs every Thursday, at 9 pm PST, but remains on their Facebook page for future viewing, too. https://www.facebook.com/jokespleaseshow

April 2, 2020

A Simple Verse

Some days, a few artful lines can go a long way.  In life, as is now evident more than ever, there are many changes over which we have no control.  And while we often wish we had the power to say or do something that could shift those things with which we are uncomfortable, this is not always possible. However, what we can control is the steadiness with which we face these uncomfortabilities.  As we all struggle with feelings of powerlessness in these uncertain times, TS Eliot reminds us that patience and faith will get us through.

I said to my soul, be still and wait without hope, for hope would be hope for the wrong thing; 

Wait without love, for love would be love of the wrong thing; 

There is yet faith, but the faith and the love are all in the waiting. 

Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought: 

So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing. 

                                                                                               T.S. Eliot

April 3, 2020

Physically Distant Connections

There is much to be learned from trees.  For those who have not yet read the wonderous, Hidden Life of Trees, in it Peter Wohlleben describes the remarkable communication system between our forest friends.  Without language or physical touch, these living beings can support, nourish and love one another in magnificent symbiosis.  In fact, trees are masters of social distancing, as he illustrates here:

“The average tree grows its branches out until it encounters the branch tips of a neighboring tree of the same height. It doesn’t grow any wider because the air and better light in this space are already taken. However, it heavily reinforces the branches it has extended, so you get the impression that there’s quite a shoving match going on up there. But a pair of true friends is careful right from the outset not to grow overly thick branches in each other’s direction. The trees don’t want to take anything away from each other, and so they develop sturdy branches only at the outer edges of their crowns, that is to say, only in the direction of “non-friends.” Such partners are often so tightly connected at the roots that sometimes they even die together.”

Ironically, another term for the crown of a stand of trees is corona. So, let us all follow their lead and trust that our separateness is what will keep us together.

And, if you’re keen to read more about the wisdom of trees, the latest Pulitzer Prize winning novel, The Overstory by Richard Powers, weaves a dense and motivating tale that explores what drives radical tree activists’ passion to save our dwindling forests.  Powers is not a man of few words.  On nearly every tenth page of his 512 page tome, there will be a word that you will likely have to look up.  But trust that you will be the smarter and more moved for it.  This has been the most powerful read I’ve had in the past couple of years, emotionally and intellectually.  So, if quarantine living happens to leave you with some extra time on your hands, it’s definitely worth it.

Pratityasamutpada is my favorite Sanskrit word.  (And yes, as nerdy as that sounds, I do have a favorite.)  It means the interdependence of all things.  And since physical distancing began, nothing has made me feel more connected to my fellow citizens than the nightly 7 pm cheer for our health care workers. So, I will leave you with a video from this week that captures the essence of interconnectedness beautifully.  https://youtu.be/BS8dMC1sfXc

[theseadagiodays]

March 24, 2020 

Adagio - an exquisitely slow musical tempo. 

IE. Barber, Adagio; Albinoni, Adagio; Mozart, Clarinet Concerto in A - 2ndmovement; Rodrigo, Concierto de Aranjuez - 2ndmovement; Beethoven, Pathetique Sonata - 2ndmovement.

           As we adjust to different rhythms of being, and to this socially distant space that we now occupy, art seems to be a vital thread that continues to tether people to one another, through meaning-making and story.  Countless times, in these past days, I have been moved by instances of art bringing joy and solace as we navigate this unfamiliar territory together.  So, I want to use this space to share music, poetry, dance and more, offered virtually by artists all over the world in an effort to connect and soothe us through this experience.   

           I recognize that many of us, at this moment, are currently facing real loss, challenge and fear.  But I also believe this can be a time for great healing if we let it. Our busy lives have been yearning for slowness.  A new rhythm that can bring the fresh perspective that only space can provide.  A tempo perhaps best reflected by the exquisitely slow pace of an Adagio.

           Since being dramatically forced to alter my own rhythms, six years ago, when a chronic injury caused me to surrender my lifelong flute performance career, I began a relentless pursuit to find another expressive voice.  Subsequently, creative writing eventually enabled me to transform my pain into art.  And consequently, my now completed novel, What Lies Between, was born.  

           Here, I explore the “what ifs”of a character with a similar experience to mine, but who lacks some of the resiliencies that allowed me to eventually thrive again.  The cellist protagonist Adele suffers a neurological disease that, too, makes her unable to play any longer, and her razor-sharp mind becomes fractured. Subsequently, she develops early-onset memory-loss and finds herself in a care home at just 67.  However, when Curtis, a charming but wounded child prodigy, comes to play for her weekly, his intuitive gift causes her memories to flood back in startling waves, while her deep listening helps him deal with school bullies, and gives him keys to unlock his mother’s deep sorrows.  

           Only recently have I finally mustered the courage to begin seeking publication for this work.  And early responses have been surprisingly encouraging.  This is why I finally feel brave enough to share even the briefest passage publicly. Before now, not even my husband has read a word.  However, I now feel that Adele’s story is more resonant than ever, with all of us relating to the experience of having to live without certain passions, and of being confined to a limited space.  So, here is the excerpt I’d like to share.

           Adagios soar with sadness.  Samuel Barber knew this when he set the middle movement of his String Quartet to this most melancholy of tempos.  Humans yearn for melancholy, for recollected heartbreak.  But sometimes the edges of what has been lost are fuzzy. A reminiscence of something essential that is missing yet not precisely identifiable.  A state so profoundly understood by the Portugese they created a word for it.  Saudade.

           There had been more than a year, before she gave up listening to music altogether, when she could bear no other music but Barber’s Adagio. Its soulful longing, its unhurried, aspirant rising tones.  Anything else seemed too cognitively dissonant with her very being.  

           On her darkest days, there is a way in which Sudbury Willows serves her, an environment so closed and tuneless its power is too innocuous to invoke her pain.   But the boy has reminded her she is now stuck in a suspension of a different nature.  Since he left, Adele has laid her head to rest each night and wished for soothing Adagio dreams.  But somehow, every morning, she still wakes to the Largo monotony of her new reality.

           And now I will leave you with a musical postcard recorded by Yo-yo Ma, just last week, (#songsofcomfort), and a poem that, for me, captures the essence of this unique time.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rrBOkHfvNSY

My life is not this steeply sloping hour, in which you see me hurrying. Much stands behind me; I stand before it like a tree; I am only one of my many mouths, and at that, the one that will be still the soonest. I am the rest between two notes, which are somehow always in discord because (Fate’s) note wants to climb over— but in the dark interval, reconciled, they stay there trembling. And the song goes on, beautiful.

-      Rainer Maria Rilke, Selected Poetry

March 25, 2020 

Today I collaborated on an art project with a friend in Colombia.

Last night I read bedtime stories to my friend’s children (virtually).

Sunday I watched a duck catch a wave, and an ant move dirt for what felt like hours.

Saturday night we enjoyed the BC Ballet’s Romeo & Juliet, with a friend on FaceTime, complete with prosecco and ballgowns.

Friday I led 1000+ professionals through a guided mediation online.

So many opportunities to connect in new ways...

How might we fill this space?

Austrian psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor, Victor Frankl wrote, “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”

So, do you wanna dance?  DNice has been spinning tunes for hours-long virtual dance parties.  Even Michelle Obama and Bernie Sanders have joined in.  Stay posted on his Instagram page for future LIVE parties: https://www.instagram.com/dnice/

March 26, 2020

When I started this blog, I originally marked each date with a count of our days in self-isolation.  However, I’ve since deleted those markers, inspired by my childhood friend Nancy’s daughter, Maya, who sent me this wise reminder this morning.

As I attempt to infuse these adagio days with similar small moments of inspiration for those willing to follow this page, I do not want to discount the very real struggles that so many people face at this time.  I realize that I tend towards a need to uplift in difficult times.  (Perhaps I cannot help myself as the daughter of a former high school cheerleading and football captain).  But in doing so, I also never mean to seem tone deaf to genuine pain.  And I want to acknowledge that I also experience daily lows as I navigate our current reality. However, I have become aware of how useful these injections of positivity can be for me (whether from a friend’s text, Facebook post, or phone call).   So, I am  hopeful the same is true for you.

I am continually struck by humans’ need for connection.  And in my musical community, there have been so many beautiful efforts (if not also technologically sophisticated) to do this.  Janna Sailor is a Vancouver conductor with whom I’ve had the pleasure to collaborate.  In a nimble move, during only our first week of physical distancing, she managed to lead a group of Calgary Philharmonic and Edmonton Symphony musicians to collectively record this touching Zoom performance of Elgar’s Nimrod Variation #9.

https://www.facebook.com/donovan.seidle/videos/10103852773248345/UzpfSTUwMzA0NjgyMTozMDYwNjExMjk0OTk0MTQ6MTA6MDoxNTg1NzI0Mzk5OjY4Mjc2MTYxNjAwNTMyMzQwODU/

I must add, though, that not all efforts to foster remote musical collaborations have gone so elegantly.  And, because I could not possibly say it better, I’ll leave it to New York Times reviewer, Jon Caramanica, to best describe what went so terribly wrong when several celebrities tried to record their version of John Lennon’s Imagine, last week.  

“In this clusterclump of hyperfamous people with five seconds’ too much time on their hands, “Imagine” may have met its match. By the end, it has been pummeled and stabbed, disaggregated, stripped for parts and left for trash collection by the side of the highway. It is proof that even if no one meets up in person, horribleness can spread.”

For a good laugh, and at the risk of sounding like a classical music snob, here’s their eternally key-changing version of the song.  I dare you to sing along!: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bQK32bwvRuI

March 27, 2020

Apparently, when people have more time on their hands, a preponderance of puns emerge.  I have come across no shortage of quarantine-related word play, these days.  And here are just a few that have cropped up in my community.  

For those looking to meld their voices with others, tune in every Sunday, at 3 pm EST, for Choir Choir Toronto’s new virtual Sing-a-Long: Choirintine: https://www.facebook.com/events/2798475520243342/

But, if you’re more of a sit back and listen kind of person, Vancouver’s Locals Lounge will be hosting regular live-streamed concerts through their new series, Quarantunes: https://sidedooraccess.com/shows/TgDGz6rA6SKtjj4dbE86?fbclid=IwAR1Fih0oYqsOrhR-AlCygFBX6FBeIX3XXXiYxpxwzJzxnjJGP0-UI0C7Z-s

And finally, if all this screen time has you as exhausted like most of us, it’s probably time to turn off all your devices and help yourself to a good, stiff Quarantini, using any of one these new recipes: https://www.townandcountrymag.com/leisure/drinks/g31900654/quarantini-cocktail-recipes/