4.25.2010
4.24.2010
tristesse.tango.
re-discovered these little misfits recently
(crayon on butcher paper)
their current residence is M&J's apartment in Ohio
captured them hiding in random corners
4.19.2010
extraordinary.ears.
Tsujii has been blind since birth.
He plays piano by ear, first listening to a live or recorded version of the piece, memorizing what he hears, and then matching his playing to the score he has memorized. Tsujii most recently won the prestigious Van Cliburn competition.
Ray Charles and Stevie Wonder are one thing... jazz pianists "crawl" across the keys mostly, emphasizing the easygoing manner of jazz. Classical pieces, however, can be frightening. Many contain giant leaps that take courage from any pianist, let alone one who cannot see the keys. And Tsujii definitely did not shy away from virtuosic repertoire. His performance today was phenomenal, in both technique and expression. By the conclusion of the concert, I had forgotten that he is blind.
I had forgotten, at least, until someone from a national Japanese tv station thrust a huge camera in my face and asked if they could interview me regarding the performance. The skeletal Asian woman wore puffy sleeves and Scooby Doo's Velma-style glasses and asked me questions about the performance. Of course I was the stupid American who said "fabulous" and "inspirational" about 11 times.... but Tsujii truly was just that :)
"Miracle is the only word to describe him. This is truly the act of God." -Van Cliburn, of Tsujii
listen here
4.03.2010
11.15.2009
10.09.2009
le.petit.oiseau.
"Little bird, little bird, little bird, what do you hear?
What do you hear?
The clink of morning cheers
Orange juice concentrate
Crossword puzzles start to grade
One across
Four letter word, it's just not sitting"
(Imogen Heap, English singer and songwriter, b. 1977)
listen here
10.06.2009
les girafes sont oranges et brunes?
The girls that I nanny adored the entire concept, so they quickly created an entire herd of giraffes. It was a charming project to enjoy on a grey, rainy day. Too cute!
Julia, age 10
---
10.05.2009
saddest poem (?)
Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."
The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.
To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.
What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.
That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.
As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.
The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.
I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.
Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.
Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.
Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.
(Chilean poet, 1904-1973)
too much caffeine & swirly stuff.
If I kept all of my receipts from that place, I could likely wallpaper a room in just a short time. This must be a bad thing.
the edge of nothing.
This is my dream,
It is my own dream,
I dreamt it.
I dreamt that my hair was kempt.
Then I dreamt that my true love unkempt it.
the secret is out...
10.04.2009
whoa.
so i contemplated deleting everything
and starting fresh.
life needs that sometimes.
however
life is also messy and disorganized. this blog is a small glimpse of my life, so i'm leaving everything. in following this messy//raw trend, i'll probably post more process work than finished pieces. i can't seem to finish much lately anyway.
to close -- a napkin sketch i recently rediscovered
(sketches by me, text added by J.)
6.22.2009
stay.really.
I am not yours, not lost in you, You love me, and I find you still Oh plunge me deep in love, put out Sara Teasdale, American Lyrical Poet (1884-1933)
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.
oh.myheart.
More Beethoven, if you'd like -- two sonatas I've enjoyed sightreading (maybe not quite at tempo...)
Sonata No. 27, Op. 90,
I. Mit Lebhaftigkeit und durchaus mit Empfindung und Ausdruck (With liveliness and with feeling and expression throughout)
Sonata No. 32, Op. 111,
I. Maestoso
sigh.
I am free of love as a bird flying south in the autumn, I am free of love, and I listen to music lightly,
Swift and intent, asking no joy from another,
Glad to forget all of the passion of April
Ere it was love-free.
But if he returned, if he should look at me deeply,
I should awake, I should awake and remember
I am my lover’s.
Sara Teasdale, American Lyrical Poet (1884-1933)