Year later, what are my dreams?

On this temperate August night, I admit defeat: no matter how sincerely I attempt to train myself into being a morning thinker, my best thinking still happens in the middle of the night. It's okay, I'll live.  

Tonight, I was inspired by a blog entry written by dancer, activist, organizer, and teacher, Shawn Renee Lent, who wrote a piece called "Am I A Dancer Who Gave up?" She writes about her journey thus far as an artist and community member via reflections that were inspired by a question asked of her by an undergrad student at an event at her alma mater: Did you have any sort of breakdown when you gave up on your dreams?

I can infer that by "dreams", the student defined it as landing a lucrative job as a dancer in a large, commercial company with good pay, security, and copious amounts of stage glory and fame. Needless to say, this happens to probably 0.001 % of the population (I made that statistic up). 

Lent handles the awkward question gracefully and openly, answering that she didn't give up on her dream, but rather, the dream itself became bigger. After she finished her undergrad degree, she realized that the constraints of being solely a stage artist were not a good fit in that they were too limiting and did not fit her life objectives. She has since done generous and far-reaching work in America (specifically Chicago) and abroad through introducing and teaching dance to cancer patients, low-income populations, troubled LGBTQ youth, and has also become a vibrant sociopolitical art activist, speaking at conventions and publishing articles on the importance of available and accessible art in our communities. 

Her website is empowering. And is also a good lesson in time management (Lent has a rich and varied career, leading me to believe that this has been possible because she threw away her television and got shit done). 

It also made me reflect on my own path and how I view it. I think I fall into the habit of choosing to see with limited scope. Yes, I earn primarily as an orchestral violinist. However, my interests go far, far, far beyond the orchestral life and career, which probably explains why I've often felt trapped in this particular job and role. I have subconsciously equated the basis of my musical career with a good orchestral job due to financial reasons. It has come down to the basic idea that good artists are savvy with money and marketing, and have successfully navigated the commercialization/plasticization/packaging of art itself.  

I won't dispute the importance of financial desires like I vehemently have in the past. This sabbatical year has taught me to respect my financial desires instead of scolding myself for having any. It's okay to want money even if you're a 'starving artist' (how I detest that phrase!). It doesn't make you a bad person as long as it's within reason, and also as long as it doesn't control your every move in life.

However, if we artists only think of the bucks, security, how to design cool websites and write good resumes, and how to wear the right clothes on stage, we will be depriving society of a service and gift that can go to the depths of who we really are. We will have missed the point, as I have been lately. 

When people look at my CV, the first thing they comment on is how I've done a lot thus far, but it's a little bit of everything and anything. Not one person has interpreted any of it as a sign that I've perhaps spent most of my life, training and work attempting to follow a perfect template on the road of Orchestral Musician Stardom (I most definitely haven't). So why is it that when I think of what musicians (especially classically trained musicians) do/should do/aim to do, the somewhat archaic image of an orchestra pops into my mind? Why do I still sometimes believe that beyond this role, it's impossible to survive doing anything else beyond full-time private teaching? Why am I letting archaic images and ideas define what it means to be an artist in today's world? Am I afraid that if I choose to leave the professional orchestral world, I will have failed my 'dreams'? Eleven years and two degrees later, what should those dreams now be? 

Go read Shawn Renee Lent's blog entry. 

Los Hombres Perdidos / Las Guitarras de España @ City Winery, March 21 '13

My family and I enjoyed an evening of genre-defying music provided by Los Hombres Perdidos and Las Guitarras de España at City Winery in the West Loop restaurant district of Chicago. I initially classified these groups as world music fusion ensembles, but I dislike the phrase 'world music', and fusion music has unfavorable connotations to it. Genre-defying and cross-cultural collaboration are better descriptions of what we enjoyed that night. 

City Winery opened about 6-8 months ago, and hails originally from New York City. They make their own wine, which is stored in enormous vats at the front of the restaurant, and are housed in a beautiful industrial-styled loft restaurant, with high ceilings, rustic but elegant decor, and dim golden lighting. Despite the lovely setting, I felt as though the place lacked heart. It seemed too corporate, presenting itself as more of a cash cow than an intimate and soulful wine bar.

We were forewarned to not order food at City Winery because the kitchen is apparently struggling. Entrees are often unavailable, service is friendly but not efficient (perhaps due to the closeness proximity of the tables to one another - navigating such a maze without tripping or making a mess can't be easy for a server), and the food is supposedly sub-par. Nevertheless, we ordered a dessert plate of macaroons, and were, in fact, quite disappointed. So, don't order the food. Stick to their good wine list.

Los Hombres Perdidos consisted of talented musicians (drum set, bass, sax, trumpet, guitar, vocals), but frontman Colin Bunn's somewhat awkward stage presence unfortunately distracted from his solid guitar playing and generally tight ensemble. Las Guitarras de España blended flamenco, Indian, Cuban, and Spanish music together through a traditional flamenco combo (guitar, voice, and flamenco dancer) joined by tabla and veena, a difficult instrument that isn't commonly played. Saraswathi Ranganathan masterfully blended as well as virtuosically soloed on the veena, joining and interweaving with Carlo Basile's beautiful flamenco guitar playing. Wendy Clinard, flamenco dancer, added a physical and fiery dimension to the evening, with her energetic dance performances, and two special guests from Senegal performed on the kora, a 21-string West African instrument, as well as the talking drum, a percussive instrument that's played on one's shoulder, where pitch is manipulated by pulling on a cord that raises and lowers the timbre. The sonority was thrilling, with a rawness of emotion and a deep understanding on the part of the musicians of the musical styles they were sharing with one another. At one point, the  group of musicians on stage was so diverse, one could not help but smile and be proud of the musical and cultural melting pot that is Chicago. 

"Hanging from the Edge", CUBE Contemporary Chamber Ensemble, Fulton Hall, U of C, February 3 '13

I attended a performance of the CUBE Contemporary Chamber Ensemble in Fulton Hall at the University of Chicago, thinking that with the Super Bowl in a few hours, hardly anyone would be attending this concert. How wrong I was! There were many people there, ranging from established professor-types to curious young musicians like myself. 

The program consisted of:

-untitled interactive improvisation for steel sound sculpture (2012), percussionist, and computer, Ben Sutherland & Howard Sandroff

-Spiral Density (fixed media) for oboe and electronics (2013) (World Premiere), Sarah J. Ritch

-Figment IV for solo viola (2008), Elliot Carter

-In Freundschaft (1977), Karlheinz Stockhausen

-Palaver & Palliative for English Horn and keyboard (2013) (World Premiere), John Elmquist

-Elegy for solo viola and piano (1987), Patricia Morehead

-Tephillah for clarinet and computer controlled audio processors (1990), Howard Sandroff

Performers were Patricia Morehead, oboe & founder of CUBE, Michael Hall, viola, Alejandro T. Acierto, clarinet, Philip Morehead, piano, and Ben Sutherland, computer. 

The pieces that caught my attention were Elegy and Tephillah. Elegy was written by Patricia Morehead to "express [her] anguish for...a close relative who has an incurable mental disorder", and these emotions were effectively communicated. Ranging from lyrically mournful lines to sudden spurts of disorganized notes and gestures, the piece was sensitive and discerning. Michael Hall did a fine job interpreting Elegy, with a clean and straightforward performance. 

Tephillah ("prayer" in Hebrew) was the real draw of the concert. The work was composed to reflect the "seemingly disordered and spontaneous manner in which a service is conducted by Orthodox Jewish men of the Ashkenazic tradition", and was made up of a traditional clarinet part, performed by Alejandro Acierto, and a computer-generated clarinet part, performed by Ben Sutherland. Program notes also state that the piece is in three movements; I hadn't noticed any movements per se, but rather, changes in musical characters (i.e. active and jumpy suddenly eased into a meditative state). 

Alejandro had to begin twice due to start problems with the computer's part (voila! modern repertoire can yield modern problems), but that seemed to have had no effect on his concentration or delivery. The computer-clarinet part was often a looped mirror of what Alejandro had previously played, acting at times as a background drone. The piece was well-conceived, but Alejandro's delivery truly brought it to life. He plays with a smooth and warm tone, and had a large dynamic range, which is one of the qualities I love most about the clarinet. His gave off a reflective and attentive air, and wasn't afraid to take his time while playing a phrase. 

The Jordan Years / The Congregation / The Skinny @ Subterranean, February 1 '13

Nine of us piled into a five-seater car on a snowy, blistery night, and headed for the Subterranean for a fun show put on by The Jordan Years, The Congregation, and The Skinny. The Skinny was already playing when we arrived around 9:30 PM, and showcased skillful chemistry as well as the most complex songs of the night, with psychedelic rock chord progressions and clear jazz influences. All proficient musicians, they put on a good show but didn't need to employ any stage antics in order to do so, which I greatly appreciated. I wish there'd been a larger crowd to add some energy to the room.

The Congregation, led by Gina Bloom's powerful soul-inspired voice, reminded me of a raucous 60s soul/rock wedding band, the sort that gets everyone dancing. Some may take the comparison to a wedding band as an insult, but I write it as a true compliment - a band that can get everyone moving is always a good one. Sometimes, Bloom overpowered until the brass and sax would jump in, but perhaps this was due to the acoustics of the venue. She, along with guitarist Charlie Wayne, appeared as the musical centerpieces of the band. 

The Jordan Years also has its roots in soul, but with a darker sonority and more instrumental intricacy than most soul offers. Wes Restless, whose solid falsetto took me by surprise, had an impressive dynamic range and fine control over his chords. One of the best musicians that night was the organ/keys player, whose name I can't recall and is unfortunately not mentioned on their website. His solos were everything a good solo is - virtuosic, melodic, developed, and confident without trying too hard. 

The Subterranean is a laid-back, Chicago-styled neighborhood venue, with vintage dark wood, no pretension, lots of Big Ten folks, and cheap beer. There are three floors: the first is a hall for DJs and spinning, the second is at the main stage level with the main bar in back, and the third is a gallery with high ceilings, a smaller bar, and has good views of the stage and main floor. Acoustics aren't always the most balanced, but the stage isn't far up from the main floor, which is nice for bands and their fans. I would be careful if wearing heels/drinking while playing there; the twisty and narrow staircase to the green room looks perilous. 

"Voices", Ensemble Dal Niente @ Nichols Hall, MIC, January 31 '13

I attended a concert program entitled, "Voices", and presented by Shanna Gutiérrez, the flautist of the Chicago-based contemporary chamber ensemble, Ensemble Dal Niente. She created a program of seven pieces, consisting of four world premieres, two U.S. premieres, and a 'classic' in the contemporary flute repertoire. Here's the list:

-Gé (2009) (US Premiere) for solo flute and electronics, Olga Krashenko (b. 1983)

-Zungenspitzentanz (1983) vom 'Samstag aus Licht' for solo piccolo, Karlheinz Stockhausen 

(1928-2007)

-Dizzy Divinity I (1985) (US Premiere) for solo flute, Horatiu Radulescu (1942-2008)

-An exceedingly clear absolution engine (2012) (World Premiere), Ray Evanoff (b. 1984)

-Still Life (2012) (World Premiere) for soprano, flute, and cello, Jamie Leigh Sampson (b. 1984)

-Letterludes (2012) (World Premiere) for alto flute, guitar, and percussion, Frederick Gifford (b. 1972)

-Sur le debris (2012) (World Premiere) for bass flute and electronics, Francisco Castillo Trigueros 

(b. 1983)

I really liked Zungenspitzentanz, Still Life, and Sur le debris. Zungenspitzentanz, or "a dance for the tip of the tongue", reminded me of Der kleine Harlekin, a piece for solo clarinet, which I heard played by my friend in Germany, clarinetist Merve Kazokoglu. The unusual entrance/musician-turned-stage-character who breaks the fourth wall were intriguing, and held the audience's interest. Still Life was based on the idea that anxiety, isolation, and panic can exist behind a facade of calm, or a 'still life'. Soprano Amanda DeBoer Bartlett delivered a compelling performance. Sur le debris took amplified gestures from the bass flute, and, via looping and 'disintegrating' the sound with electronics, manipulated the gestures into permutations and extensions. For example, Shanna clicked on the keys without blowing any air into the flute, and Trigueros' electronics manipulated the key percussion into vivid clicking sounds that caused my mother to turn excitedly to me, saying that she hadn't expected to hear a piece that "resembles my [often upset] stomach." My only complaint during Sur le debris is directed at the sound volume of the amplified manipulations. It was sometimes too loud, and bordered on hurting my eardrums. 

Sur le debris caught the attention of my parents, who, while avid music lovers, usually don't attend contemporary chamber ensemble concerts. "Americans like innovation and fresh creativity, and this kind of music will draw them in. They might be bored during Mozart, but their imaginations will be inspired by the non-conforming sounds," mused my mother, reflecting on the concert. I think she's on to something. 

Shanna had a confident and polished stage presence, as did her guest artists. Wardrobe choices were eye-catching but not distracting, and the energy emanated from the stage was vibrant and invigorating, yet poised. I look forward to more Ensemble Dal Niente performances in the future. 

Chelsea, New York City, August 2012

Chelsea, New York City, August 2012
written on October 12, 2012 in East Peoria, Illinois 

sticky, odorous, dense air
tinged with summer haze
framed by twilight, hankering to near.
The sky is a periwinkle gray, with artificial illumination
provided by endless buildings
that are heaven-bound.

You can see the people at the top of the top
with timed and flickering flashes.
Anxious tourists racing up
to be in the pointy concrete giant
with Olympics-colored lighting.

we gingerly make our way to the middle
arrange discarded chairs and once-elegant patio furniture
avoid cigarette butts that skimmed the ashtray
and settled elsewhere

our feet are weary and shot by the day's adventures
the burdens of past & future too heavy around our necks.
Twilight brings with it
a vague and directionless draft.
Perhaps it is menacing.

bottle opener, twist, pull, listen
recline, glance up, smile

Eastern Blok @ Katerina's, January 3 '13

My family somewhat spontaneously decided to listen to Eastern Blok, a world fusion jazz ensemble that was formed in Chicago in 2004. The group consists of guitarist Goran Ivanovic, sax/flute/perhaps- other-woodwinds-player Doug Rosenberg, bassist Matthew Ulery, and percussionist Michael Caskey. They played at Katerina's on West Irving Park, and we caught a few hours of their show. 

Selections included many original works written by mostly Ivanovic, and ranged from traditional Balkan-styled melodies with underlying innovative jazz chords to free jazz influenced jams. The music was evocative with a wide variety of emotions - Old World nostalgia, dance-like exuberance, melancholic, observant. Each player is an accomplished instrumentalist, and the group had a beautiful sound and chemistry together. It's a real treat to watch people intently listening to one another while on stage, a sign that they're in the present moment and committed to what they're playing. 

Katerina's is also an intriguing venue, with its deep red walls, elegant place settings, and great acoustics. It seemed as though many at the bar were regulars who came to hear good tunes often. We had some appetizers and chatted a bit with Katerina herself, a warm and eclectic lady. Catch Eastern Blok when you get a chance, whether it be through one of their many albums or a live show, and check out Katerina's if you're in the mood for good world music and jazz.