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Thoughts From The Back Of The Room

Category Archives: Music and Art

Photographs and Memory

20 Wednesday Jul 2022

Posted by Michael Calderwood in Art and Artists, Living Our Values, Music and Art, Photography and Memory, Treasured Finds

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Cambria, Debbie Gracy, Maureen Calderwood Wiltsee, Memory, Morrison Gallery, Nigel Paul

For a person with minimal photography skills, I take a lot of pictures. Most will fall into the “so what?” category, filled with poorly framed generic shots of trees, clouds, people, the occasional animal, and shorelines that could be anywhere along the Central Coast of California. They will have little meaning to anyone other than myself. But still I snap away, not for any great artistic reason, nor as gathered testimony to a historical event of a searing moment. I do it to trigger my memory, tomorrow, next year, or whenever. I recently came across a series of pictures I took a few weeks before my wife and I began our transition from east coast to west.

Day Tripping

Over the years, we made day trips up the road to the Kent Falls area, a short drive from home. The Morrison Gallery was a favorite place to spend an hour or two, wandering the spacious, serene, and thoughtful spaces that homed fine art, contemporary painting, and sculpture. On this particular visit The Gallery featured playfully sculptured ravens hanging out on different pieces of discarded items, including old cans. For some reason, these pieces resonated with us. As we moved about the space, other, much larger sculptures, including life-sized pair of mountain lions and, outside in the garden, massive elephants drew us in . Many of the pieces, by artist Peter Woytuk, had been part of an installation around Manhattan.

I snapped away with my trusty cell, not holding out much hope that I would capture anything worthy of wall space in this, or any, art gallery. I remember the day, the feel of the wood floor under my feet, the room’s scent, and the colors and shapes of the art. I can retrace the route around the main hall, the small alcoves and rooms off to the side, and the never-failing streams of natural light shining in service of the artist’s vision. And I remember turning to speak with my wife and stopping, stilled by her beauty, equal to any display. She paid me no mind, her focus instead on the literature accompanying the exhibit.


Art and Craft

As weak as I am with a camera, I am equally good at being captured by the work of three artists who possess the eye, the soul, and the skills that force my heart to open and transport me to a place I may have never been, but through the grace of the artist, can easily imagine. I may not have stood where they stood or followed whatever spiritual beam led them to the perfect picture, but their art moves me personally.

I have sought and received permission to share a few examples of their work, and note the images here belong to them. As with all creatives, what appears in final form begins much differently. Art meets craft, imagination meets technique, and time, time, time is spent making what we get to see. Please enjoy the art, and respect the artists.

Nigel Paul

Nigel Paul represents a natural blend of Art and Craft. Nigel has an impressive history as a concert audio engineer, working with a roster of top-tier progressive rock musicians who compose and perform complex technical pieces, with virtuosos filling each position within the group. The audio engineer’s job is to translate the complexities into a clear output that delivers the breadth and depth of the artist’s composition and performance. Doing it well requires incredible technical skill, next-level focus, and a creative, musical mind that translates it all into the performance the audience hears.  

Nigel’s photography reflects all of those characteristics. The detail he captures in his wildlife pictures is stunning. The feathered breast of the burrowing owl, the life in the eyes of the weasel, the complete intensity in the bobcat’s posture and glare – they are life. Imagine the time and patience it takes to find the spots where these animals live, then the stealth and skill needed to stop, wait, and carefully bring the camera to bear on creatures that are not likely to stand still for too long.

When I look at his collection, currently featured as part of San Luis Obispo County’s Cambria Public Library, I see the beauty and mystery of life in this part of California. His backgrounds and colors are reflective of the environment. I can smell the sage, hear the rustle of the dried grass, and in the distance, the faint roll of waves rushing around the shore.

In addition to his wildlife photos, Nigel is passionate about classic and unusual automobiles, as seen in the picture below. Please visit Nigel Paul Photography and enjoy his galleries.

Click the images below for a larger view. Images ©Nigel Paul


Debbie Gracy

When I need a New England fix, I look to Debbie Gracy’s photographs to fill my heart with beautiful, classic, and unique images. From her home base in Hollis, New Hampshire, Debbie sets out across the northeast’s back roads and byways, capturing uniquely American landscapes that bring me back home.

I have been blessed to know Debbie and her amazing family for twenty years and have been an eager observer of her development as an artist. I proudly feature four of her pieces in my home, including a pair of winter scenes, heavy wooden gates half buried in snow, either opened or closed. They are the first images I see as I enter the front door. Down a short flight of stairs hang two more of her photographs; happy sunflowers against a brilliant blue sky.

Through her images, I feel the chill of Autumn and the scents of Spring. The grass, the trees, and the vast skies look, feel and smell completely different from California. Debbie seems to stand a step or two aside, giving her work a barely-noticeable offset perspective. Her work radiates wonder, happiness, curiosity, and always beauty. Which also describes Debbie’s artistic soul.

Treat yourself to the vast landscape of Debbie’s photographs at the  Debbie Gracy Collection

Click Images below for a larger view ©Debbie Gracy


Maureen Calderwood Wiltsee

I have known Maureen since I was zero. My sister has a passion for photography, building a cache of images that feature brilliant seascapes and coastal hideaways from her beloved vacation retreat on Cape Cod. I love the way she captures the light that blankets the scenes below. Always a line of color and a sense of connection to the sea.

Maureen has been a fixture among the community of photographers and visual artists that live in the Northern New Jersey/New York corridor, displaying and winning awards for her striking images. Every year, brothers and sisters would drive to a small New Jersey town to see her work standing tall amidst an impressive gallery of visual artists.

“The Peacock” featured below hangs in my home, cased in a classic white frame that keeps the focus on the subject. It causes people to stop and wonder at the depth and detail captured by the lens, an extension of the eye and artist heart of the photographer.

Click images below for a larger view. ©Maureen Calderwood Wiltsee

The Peacock

Thank you to Nigel, Debbie, and Maureen for allowing me to feature your beautiful pictures. And thanks to all the others who capture moments and memories, whether by luck, determination, or good fortune. The world is a beautiful place indeed.

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“Currents” from Original Son

09 Saturday Apr 2022

Posted by Michael Calderwood in Home, music, Music and Art, Words matter

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Canyon Hut Recording, Currents Album, Jeff Robinson, Johnny Calderwood, Justin Chester, Original Son, Original Son LA, Sell The Heart Records

I write about music a lot and often look at it through the lens of how it impacts me emotionally. So, I will write about the album “Currents” from LA band Original Son through the same lens. (Note—guitarist/singer/songwriter Johnny Calderwood is my original son.) It will be interesting to see where this exercise takes me. It may be a jumble of parents, friends, musicians, creative souls, and flawed humans. I guess we will see.

The album “Currents” shows Original Son’s roots in punk and builds out from there. In my mind, the band and the record are just good old-fashioned kickass rock and roll with a heart and a conscience.

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The ten songs are full of emotion, from deep anger to natural optimism. Rhythmic shifts and musical intensity slam against subversively upbeat choruses, creating a fast-moving thrill ride. The connectivity between music, lyrics, and performance has the flow of good storytelling. The arrangements drop surprising little hooks, with background vocals, percussion, snatches of piano, and some tasty Hammond organ adding to the sonic picture. Producer Tim Hutton keeps it all flowing, never stealing focus from the guitar-bass-drums vibe that is the core of Original Son.

Johnny Calderwood Guitar, Vocals
Justin Chester – Bass, Vocals
Jeff Robinson – Drums

The musicians – singer/guitarist Johnny Calderwood, bassist Justin Chester, and drummer Jeff Robinson, sound like a band– an honest compliment to them. Each player has a knack for dropping lines and phrases that make me go, “Woah, I didn’t see that coming, or just DAMN!!!” Younger, hipper reviewers have compared their playing to more contemporary musicians. I hear flashes of the players I have listened to over the years. In Justin, I hear John Entwistle as much as modern players like Flea and Mike Dirnt. Drummer Robinson reminds me of Mighty Max Weinberg, not so much in tone but in intense, rock-solid time and taste. (I asked John, “how hard does he hit?” to which he replied, “As hard as he needs to.” A compliment I know musicians who play in bands will understand and appreciate.)

 As a guitarist, Johnny is an intense, dynamic rhythm player with a thick tone that fills out the mid-range with solid time and controlled aggression that lays down a bed for his crazy-good vocals. His solos, mostly short and to the point, dispense with gimmicks and make statements appropriate to the song. He shows a surprising range of stylistic influences, and nods to everyone from Mike Ness to Neil Young. I’ve had a love-hate relationship with his lead tones, but I have realized over time that his sound is his sound. His note choices and poignant phrasing in his short solo during “The Avenues” stopped me cold and had me hitting rewind. Moments may go unnoticed during casual listening, but these little glimpses beneath the bold and brash add dimension to my understanding of the artists.

The opening track, “Castles,” made me sit up and think, what do we have here? A dark, almost menacing eighth-note bassline joins with gritty power chords dragging a tail of feedback and crashing cymbals. A forceful voice asks, “This is the end/ Are we running out/of solid ground/did you learn to shout?” And then – BAM!!! Full-on punk-flavored power trio rock spitting social commentary on our fractured and divisive society and the actors who orchestrate the hate. “We’re all locked out /of the rooms of the castles/ of your masters. / In a world /built on deception/ you did not question/you are the weapon.” The song moves through a few subtle yet distinct styles, at one point causing me to flash to Deep Purple’s “Highway Star.”

Then comes “Parasite,” the first single released from the album. Brighter, bouncier, a bit cleaner sounding, giving the impression that it was a happy piece. Until I read the lyrics. This song’s moral and political core targets those who choose to attack rather than build. “You got your merry men/they keep their torches raised/so we can identify them/ You are a parasite/an American Parasite.”

“Well’s Run Dry” beats me up with the fury of the lyric, the ragged emotion of hurt, and the undeniable glimpse of acceptance and guarded reconciliation in the chorus, “we don’t want to talk about it.” And then comes the breakdown courtesy of a volcanic performance by hardcore legend Lou Koller of Sick of It All. “You cannot fake this/you cannot break this/we turned our rage to hope and changed the whole perspective.” The beligerent heys are a reminder that “we don’t want to talk about it.” “We” may not want to, but there it is.

Aha – “Currents.” A minute-long respite to collect myself. Guitar and vocal. Snatches of piano, a bit of keyboard, and one minute of philosophy-driven questions and observations about the world we find ourselves grinding through. The vocal is outstanding, almost beautiful—a strange word to use, given the delivery’s ragged edges and gritted teeth. There is courage in letting the lyric and vocal stand in the clear. And then it is over. I need to rethink the use of the word respite.

My absolute favorite in this collection of favorites is “The Avenues.” The song is a big basket of little hooks and moves like a ride on a gently rolling road of lyrics and melody. It is part rage, part despair, and part guilt. The story is inspired by what he sees in his adopted city of Los Angeles; the homeless, the underserved, the everyman and woman being driven farther and farther into hopeless situations while the ones with the means remake the city into walls of privilege. Johnny reflects on his journey in parallel to the changing communities he knew and shared. “We all found shelter here/and then it disappeared/between the lights and the glamour we made our way and survived. /Did we lose ourselves/in those dim-lit rooms/did the city slip away while we broke all the rules?” Then the relentlessly melodic chorus of “We’re just waiting for the fallout, baby. We’re just waiting for the walls to come tumbling down. Did they build it up/just to push us out? Recycle everything and turn this town upside down….” The band marches resolutely through the deceptively simple, repetitive chord progressions, allowing the lyrics to tell the story. A signature guitar phrase runs through the song, including the beginning of the solo, which adds a short eight bars of melody that breaks my heart every time I hear it. The final chant at the end says it all – “They’re gonna fuck it up. They’re gonna fuck it up” over a swirl of layered vocals repeating “down, down.”

“The Turnaround” is a reimagined take on an earlier recording, moving away from the more pop sound of the original into a gritty, almost punk-funk reading. Like “Currents,” the intro is low-key and a bit tense, then the band tears into an aggressive rock-funk slam that is invigorating and soulfully nasty. Power move here.

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“Fire Away” is a therapy session in two and a half minutes. “I might be broken beyond repair ’cause the pieces are too jagged to fix.” The background vocals on the ending are almost dirge-like ooh – oohs. The message is mixed, but the almost rockabilly feel shakes things all around, so the listener has the urge to sway and shout FIRE AWAY!

“Flesh and Bone” and “Shelter” are raw and rollicking. On these tracks, the rhythm section rules. Drummer Robinson kicks off Flesh and Bone with a Mick Fleetwood-like drum intro, switches to a pounding, unclenched hi-hat, then hits the gas with a punishing beat that calls the rest of the players to the table. Bassist Chester lets loose with some dynamic solo lines that make this old bass player grin like a schoolboy. He also pops out in Shelter, shoving every inch of air out of the low end and into the atmosphere. Another tear of minor-ish guitar runs crashes into a pounded piano, ending in a glorious wash of tones, tunes, and atmosphere. I hear things in my headphones that I’m not sure are there – yes, it is that ear-opener.

The last song, “Hymn For The Underground,” is a punk-rock pep talk for everyman, capturing the essence of accountability and self-destiny. “You’re not replaceable/ they can’t walk on water/we are the ones who make the gears turn…you are glorious.” Be good to yourself, find and celebrate your value, and “stand up for what you love.”

To my ear, The Turnaround,  Avenues, and Hymn For The Underground call out for social awareness and activism from the masses.

Well’s Run Dry, Flesh and Bone, and Shelter share the more intimate and painful truths of trying to find some peace in a life filled with great highs and lows. Alienation and anger singe the edges, but a bit of jaded optimism is threaded throughout the pain. The one word that comes to mind is “accountability.”

I love this record for a whole lot of reasons. One of the best ones? It makes me want to sing, dance, pound the table and yell words not suited to a man of my age. And I will, and you just might too.

Album Credits

Words and Music by John Calderwood Arrangements by Original Son

Guitar & Vocals – Johnny Calderwood

Bass & Vocals – Justin Chester

Drums – Jeff Robinson

Additional Vocals on Well’s Run Dry – Lou Koller

B3 Hammond – Howard Laravae Piano – Tim Hutton Percussion – Chris Reynolds

Recorded at Canyon Hut Studios

Produced by Tim Hutton Engineered and Mixed by Chris Reynolds Mastered by Hans DeKline

Available on Sell The Heart Records

https://selltheheartrecords.bandcamp.com/album/currents

And on all the Streaming Services

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The Bass

24 Thursday Feb 2022

Posted by Michael Calderwood in music, Music and Art, Perserverence, Treasured Finds, Words matter

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Bass Guitars, Fender Precision, Gibson EB3, Lost Instruments

An ad from a well-known music shop in New York popped onto my Facebook feed, and the image of a Fender Precision bass from the 1970s stopped my heart for a beat. Certainly not one of the highly desirable “vintage” basses for sure, but an excellent instrument.

I read the product description and felt my pulse quicken with each line.

“Here’s a really nice Fender P-Bass from 1974 in a natural finish. It has had a refret with new electronics, including a replaced DiMarzio pickup. The pickguard, bridge are replaced. Comes with a nice non-original case. A great price for any player looking for a nice vintage P-Bass with a nice neck and feel!”

So why the heart attack?

I had a 1970s P bass, just like this one. I installed a DiMarzio pickup and replaced the original bridge with a brass Badass. The original pickguard was white, and the replacement one, as noted in the description, is black. The kicker, though, was the featured picture and the description of the neck. I stared at the picture and dug out a photo of me with my P bass. 

I know, just like I know my children, my family, my now aged face. Guitar players know. Violinists know. We know our special instruments as well as we know our art.

Accidental Treasure 

In the late 1970s I had a gig in Jupiter, Florida, home to the legendary Burt Reynolds Dinner Theater. I carelessly leaned my a beautiful cherry Gibson EB-3 against my amp and gasped in disbelief as it fell over, hit the hard tile floor, and split the headstock and part of the neck—a disaster for a musician who was dependent on his instrument for his living.

That Gibson had played a whole lot of sets in a whole lot of places, including a USO tour of Germany, Greece, and Turkey. And then it was gone. 

I found a music store down the road in Stuart. I was hoping to find another EB-3 but instead landed a beautiful Fender Precision. Gibsons and Fenders are different beasts, with distinctly different sounds and feel. This Fender, though, had something special.

It had a beautifully figured natural finish body, a maple fretboard, and a tapered neck profile more like a Jazz bass than a Precision. It fit my hands like it was custom carved. It toured the country, took a horrific trip to Greenland, and later served me well when I returned to New York for the next chapter of my musical career.

A boy and his Gibson
A boy and his Fender

Loss

A few years passed. After a long day of rehearsal and recording, I parked on 56th street near 5th Avenue for a few minutes while I ran into a local club that hosted songwriters’ workshops. When I came out, I immediately saw the smashed window. I knew my bass was gone.

It began to rain. It rained all the way home, the long drive up the Taconic Parkway made more brutal by the wind-driven water stinging my face with each gust, the plastic garbage bag taped to the broken window rendered ineffective as it tore and flapped. The loss of my instrument, made worse by the mocking weather.

Over the following days, I visited the music stores and pawn shops around midtown Manhattan, particularly the legendary strip on West 48th street. I hoped that the thief would try to sell the bass to one of these shops, and I would recover my instrument. No luck.

Moving On

Life went on. I got a new bass, a beauty, from Leo Fender’s new company, G&L. I still have that instrument. It is worn, beaten up, poorly refinished, and mostly unplayed now. It is a worthy axe, but my aging hands struggle with the wider neck, and my old body struggles under its heft. I have tried to find a bass with the same magic neck of the purloined Precision over the years, with no luck. Every state and country I have been lucky enough to visit has included a stop at the local music shop: part white whale hunt, part habit.

Coda

As I sort through the impact of this sudden appearance, I realize that it is not just about the bass; it is all the memories that surround it. A bandmate who went with me to the music store became my true and forever soulmate. That story has its share of love and loss and so much music. More than any bass could produce. 

I could repurchase the bass, but that seems somehow wrong. It would perhaps have me playing again, but more likely, it would have me remembering things better left behind.

My only real wish is that wherever it goes next, it will pull some joy from the hands and heart of the person playing that oh-so-perfect neck.

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Sing Sing Sing!!!

17 Friday May 2019

Posted by Michael Calderwood in Cambria Schools, Communicating, Community Involvement, Home, Humor, Music and Art, Searching for Cambria's Reality, Treasured Finds

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After spending time at the Cambria Center For The Arts open house, I thought of all the opportunities beautiful Cambria offers to music lovers of all levels and tastes.

Though not featured at the Open House, the Cambria Center For The Arts offers concerts and performances that feature both local and visiting artists in multiple genres.

The community was recently treated to a beautiful, personal blend of music and memoir by local singer/writer/multi-instrumentalist Mary Anne Anderson, who shared her story from childhood to today, through the musical touchstones that marked her journey. A brave, thoughtful performance. Brava, Mary Anne.

Choices

Intimate, stellar concerts are offered on occasion at Painted Sky Studios.
The Legendary Jazz Series, hosted by distinguished pianist/vibraphonist/educator Charlie Shoemake, brings top-level musicians to town to perform in the intimate setting of the Harmony Cafe. The names may not be readily known by those who don’t follow jazz, but the performances are other-worldly brilliant.

There is no shortage of performance spaces that feature local area talent, from solo singer/songwriters to duos, trios and revolving groups of like-minded artists who collaborate and support each other’s visions. Casual listeners who happen to stop by for a taste at 927 Beer can find themselves enchanted, disturbed or otherwise moved by a voice, a lyric, or a personality putting it out there for the world to experience.

Stop by the Farmer’s Market and hear live music delivered by an eclectic range of talents including a trombone quartet thematically named “Bone Appetit”.

Chorale

The Cambria Community Chorale is a magnet for many older members of the community. They carry a love of song up on the risers, joyfully belting out everything from holiday standards to intricate, multi-part vocal pieces. It’s great fun to scan their faces as they sing; the serious – “I can’t make-a-mistake-ers” to the “I think I’m in the right place-rs,” to the “I can’t believe I’m having this much fun-ers.” One thing is sure – they all enjoy being part of the musical community. I see you, Midge!

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The current Spring concert is a doozy, spanning everything from the classic Americana of Aaron Copeland to the pop sparkle of ABBA. There is just something indescribable about listening to fifty or more mature singers raising the roof of a church with the 70’s pop classic (and personal guilty pleasure) Dancing Queen. I mean, you just have to experience it for yourself! Luckily, there is one more performance scheduled for May 19th at the Presbyterian church on Burton Drive.

The Chain

Beyond the rehearsals and the performances, the Chorale lives their commitment to music. Every year, the Chorale, in concert with the Lions Club, provide scholarships for local students with the desire and commitment to further their music education. These awards come with the understanding that the students and their families will commit to a level of support, and that the training will be embraced and given the proper level of focus.

Each spring, the students join with their teachers in a recital, demonstrating the skills they have gained and more importantly, the true love they have for the art. From the littlest pianist to the tallest singer, performances touch a supportive community of family, friends and fellow Cambrians. Nerves and confidence sit side by side, and it doesn’t matter how many mistakes happen or how many restarts are required. Everyone is in it together.

Teachers

Not enough can be said about the teachers. I can tell you with confidence that the level of effort put into each student, each piece, and each performance far exceeds whatever pay they receive. Watching the teachers work with the kids is a joy. They encourage, compliment, and correct as they journey along, note by note. They are building musicians and so much more; they are building confident and caring kids.

Education, The Musical!

Even with the financial pressures out schools face, Coast Union still goes all out for the annual high school musical. Building the musical is a great process where complete chaos turns into manageable chaos as scores of students get to put their efforts and passions on display. The performances are the end product of months of a collaborative effort from students, teachers, parents, musicians,and technical crews. The whole megillah is supported by promotional, logistical, and administrative folks who devote themselves to the endeavor.

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Along the path to performance, real learning takes place. The students experience challenging situations that they will often face as they move through life. Conflict resolution, competition, repetitive practice, social skills, and teamwork all come into play. Disappointment, envy, and tears are as present as laughter, confidence, and splashy performance.

Life Lessons

They learn the differences between merit and entitlement, between wanting to shine and working to shine. They have the chance to succeed or not succeed, and the opportunity to learn how to handle both. They can learn a new skill, and realize that there is just as much creativity and satisfaction in helping to build scenery as singing in the chorus. They live real-life case studies in helping each other succeed. It is life lessons in a time and place where learning and growing are encouraged and supported. As much as the grown-ups involve themselves in the endeavor, it is, and should always be all about the kids.

There is plenty of Education in the Arts.

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Heart, Soul, and Spirit

18 Thursday Apr 2019

Posted by Michael Calderwood in Beautiful Cambria, Communicating, Community Involvement, Home, Music and Art, Treasured Finds, Words matter

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Allied Arts, Cambria Center For The Arts, CCAT, Community, Doubt, Jeanette Wolff, John Patrick Shanley, Theater

Arts and Artists

Beautiful Cambria is home to a colorful box of arts, from painting and sculpture to music and theater. There are plenty of opportunities to participate, from studying with established artists and teachers to collaborating with fellow theater lovers. Artist, actor, or audience member, all are welcome.

This past weekend the allied artists at Cambria Center For The Arts  hosted an open house that featured exhibits and presentations from fine artists, theater performers and directors, and the team from the Cambria Film Festival.

It was a treat to see and feel all the creativity and commitment to the arts in one place, and heartening to see all the community members and event sponsors who filled the building with positive energy.

Small Sparks

As my wife and I wandered through the event, I thought of my evolving relationship with art, music, and theater. I am no expert on any of those things, but I am an expert on how they affect me, emotionally and spiritually.

I flashed back to John Stewart’s funny and heartfelt introduction of Kennedy Center Honoree Bruce Springsteen a few short years ago. Stewart started his speech by acknowledging that he was no music critic or historian, and was unable to say where Springsteen ranked on the lists of great American poets and songwriters. He then took a perfect pause and said”…but I’m from New Jersey…” and continued with a description of how Bruce’s work touched him personally.

I get that feeling a lot when I look at, watch or hear art in all its forms, and I wonder how I came to be a guy who is so moved by the grace of creative passions.

Enjoy John Stewart’s tribute here.

What Do You See?

Growing up, the arts were not front and center in my life. In grammar school, art class mostly consisted of the annual street-crossing safety poster competitions. Perhaps there was more, but I sure can’t recall anything beyond needing oak tag and magic markers. I still struggle with drawing even the simplest sketches.

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Lunch and Mommy – Jeanette Wolff, Artist

Jeanette Wolff is a delightful, energetic and near-fearless artist who can’t help but show her heart and soul in the beauty she produces. Her work is unfailingly identifiable, bursting with unexpected color, imaginative techniques and what I can only describe as joy on canvas. I was delighted to listen to her share the story of her piece, her descriptions and stylistic reasoning flowing out in a stream of consciousness, with hands darting towards the canvas to underscore a point, then dashing off to another quadrant to connect the dots within the whole piece. More than just a storyteller, Jeanette was engaged in conversation at a level that was pure and filled with creative passion.

I can’t begin to understand how to do what she does in her art form, but I definitely connect with her as an artist.

You can see Jeanette’s work on her website jeanettewolff.com

What Do You Feel?

I became interested in theater as I entered high school. In my sophomore year I made an attempt to “do a play” at Mount Saint Ursula Girls High School. Why? All girls school. Boys needed to play roles. Where’s my bus pass!!

I was worse than awful. I had no clue, no skills, and no confidence. I was humiliated but still met a few nice girls despite my complete and utter suckery. In later years I again tried the stage and maintained my reputation as not an actor. My theater mask had two faces, one covering eyes, the other, ears. I did, however, find a creative home in theater as a composer and lyricist.

“Here’s a dime. Go call your mother and tell her you will never be an actor.”

We slipped through the wooden doors at the end of the corridor and entered “The Cambria Center For The Arts Theater.” On the stage, two volunteers were engaged in a theater exercise, demonstrating critical skills every actor must master – listening and reacting to each other. The same lines were exchanged – “I have to go,” and “I want you to stay.” Nuance, inflection, cadence, and pitch altered the meaning with each repetition. I was reminded of a play we attended in New York, starring our friend Robert Newman. For most of the play, his only line was “Come on,” spoken in response to his lover, who was unhappy and working on leaving their relationship. So, a playwright took a theater training exercise and turned it into an off-Broadway play. Huh.

Stage or Screen

Theater moves me more than film, though I appreciate the art form. There are rare exceptions where the two mediums cross paths. One example that is burned into my soul is the brilliant, Pulitzer Prize-winning piece “Doubt, A Parable” by John Patrick Shanley. Mr. Shanley has enjoyed success in both the theater and film. He wrote and directed “Moonstruck” and “Joe Versus the Volcano, ” two quirky, funny and emotionally complex films.

“Doubt” is a theater experience that will never leave me. I saw it, alone, one Sunday afternoon. I had a bit of an idea about the play but was utterly unprepared for what I experienced. The premise, the characters, the dialog, the staging. The ambiguity, the moral murkiness, the very humanness of the piece was breathtaking. After the curtain fell, I paced outside the theater, a busy and frenetic New York swirling around me. I called my wife and tried to describe the experience I just had. We came back to that theater a while later. The play kicked my soul all over again.

A few years later “Doubt” was made into a film, starring Philip Seymour Hoffman, Meryl Streep, Viola Davis, and Amy Adams. I was a bit disappointed that the original Broadway actors, which included Brían F. O’Byrne and Cherry Jones, weren’t cast in the film. Both actors were perfect in their stage roles. Watching the movie made me forget my disappointment, as Hoffman and Streep were just as excellent. For me though, the most electrifying performance came from Viola Davis, who, in a scene with Streep, had me in a puddle as she did emotional battle with Streep’s character.

That is what art – on stage and screen – does for my soul. I have so many other moments like these filed in my memory. “That Championship Season” – the first Broadway show I ever saw, thanks to my sister Patricia and her husband, Ken. The opening scene from “Jerusalem” with a bellowing, bellicose Mark Rylance emerging from a headstand in a bucket of water… and so many more.

Who’s to say if the next mesmerizing writer, actor, composer or director isn’t right now learning to create at CCAT, or another cradle of creativity in a small town somewhere out there?

What Do You Hear?

My early music education was delivered by Mrs. Dean, who may have been a hundred years old, or forty years young. She would go from class to class, followed by a portable organ hauled by one or two boys from the previous class. I recall very little music from those sessions, though I do remember a decidedly non-musical screech from a wire-fingered, comb-like device she used to draw a staff in one long drag across the board. I also can’t forget the bleating of that little organ as Mrs. Dean banged out “Columbia, The Gem Of The Ocean.” Why do I remember that? No idea.

Learning to hear is as important as learning to play music. I can spend hours listening and re-listening to a song, or an artist, finding more pieces of the puzzle with each replay. My wife, who is a much more accomplished musician than I, learns and understands by the repetitive playing of a piece. Her learning is technical and disciplined. Mine is emotional and intuitive. We take different paths but often wind up at the same destination. It is a lovely place to be.

Perhaps next year’s open house will include a music breakout. I’m not sure if Mrs. Dean is still out there dragging that Emenee organ around, or if Columbia is still the “Gem Of The Ocean,” but nurturing the musical part of the artist soul absolutely needs to stand tall alongside the rest of the creative circle.

Support the Arts and The Artists.

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