ten thousand things...

Excitedly, an evite to our son's final masters art show in Salvador, Brazil, which opened today at the Dutch Consulate there. Server is slow on his new website. But you can enjoy some of his current and earlier work at Nuvens Sismograficas.

Of particular and dear significance to his mother is his 'cutting edge' work on Caravaggio's Supper at Emmaus*.

*Remembering that, in the spring of 2005, I created a particular 'winged blog' for the unfulfilled purpose of an England 'travelogue'...one of the crowning moments of profundity on that trip being the Caravaggio exhibit at the National Gallery in London, where a hand reached out to me from that very painting...mirroring my own hand reaching into the sacred space of the whispering gallery at St. Paul's Cathedral as the pipe organ raised the roof, just a few hours prior. Oh, so very grateful...and...you really just had to be there...

I do see that Blogspot gives me 'credit' in years for having started Winged Musings then...even though it laid empty and dormant for two years, until this past spring...

i'm tagged!!!!!!!!!!

Thanks, Miz Minka, for tagging me with Google Fu Fun meme!!! Having run across my own blog when I was searching the net for replacement cushions for my Martha Stewart wicker sofa - bought sans such at a KMart killer sale mentioned in my blog, I read the instructions*...and got going.

Number one hits, no quotes:

damselfly mind
mystical sake
bixby is always armed and dangerous
...and of course, blog names...

Still ticked that 'anglican choral nerd' came in second. (Must have been the 'John Rutter' the first guy had in there. Oops...I see now that I've moved to third place - The internet is like trying to hold on to a river. Felipe: see this Lutheran blog for the 11/12/06 statement on the beauty of anglican music - his was hit #8. Wow - also discovered ePiscoSours at #6. Love the net). Oh...NOW I see. It was Anglican Choral Music Nerd that I first searched upon. And, look: I've now been moved to the Number One Spot...undoubtedly courtesy of me clicking on my own blog in the search results. As I said...gotta love the net and its own special flow...

'I'm thinking GDCC must have crack in them' came in third. Sheesh. What do chocoholics have to do to get some attention here??? (BTW - Ghirardelli Double Chocolate Chocolate Chips are $1.97/bag at Walmart here. That's 2 cents less than they were some years ago at Trader Joe's)

And finally: I actually had to use quotes to get "Patricia Barber is still bloody brilliant" to come up #1...but did enjoy all the other results that confirm the universality of this statement.

*From Adventures in Ethics and Science, the Google-fu meme, originated by David Ng.

“I'd like to suggest a meme, where the premise is that you will attempt to find 5 statements, which if you were to type into google (preferably google.com, but we'll take the other country specific ones if need be), you'll find that you are returned with your blog as the number one hit.
This takes a bit of effort since finding these statements takes a little trial and error, but I'm going to guess that this meme might yield some interesting insight on the blog in question.
To make it easier, we'll let you use a search statement enclosed in quotations -- this is just to increase your chances of turning up as number one, but if you happen to have a website with the awesome traffic to command the same statement without quotations, then flaunt it, baby! Of course, once you find your 5 statements, pass the meme on to others.”

WAR-saw in-di-AN-a, war-saw IN-di-an-a...

You know you're in Warsaw when...

...you arrive at your new home in August and it is unlocked...with the key waiting for you inside on the kitchen island

...the boy next door can jump off his bike and leave it on the front lawn for however many days he'd like and it never gets stolen

...you call your doctor's office and Christian radio is their hold music

...ice cream places close down for the winter (though we did mention to Ritter's Frozen Custard that they might want to revise their November 11th closure date in deference to global warming)

...ECW is alive and very well, and the end-of-the-year party was on a pontoon boat

...a TV star comes to visit her grandparents at Christmas...and actually comes to church (Hayden Panettiere)

...everyone waves and says hi when you're on a walk

...you pull in your driveway at night and there's a deer in 'your' headlights

...the city might just offer you use of one of their trucks if challenging health problems and inadequate finances make it hard for you to clean up a house they've declared unsafe (from the local paper)

...a plumber says he'll be by tomorrow and it's OK to leave a key for him if you're not going to be home...but when he finds out you will be home in the morning says 'Oh, I'll be sure to come then!' And he does...

...gas prices don't seem to jump when the price of oil goes through the roof (might they be less greedy in waiting for their supply of cheaper gas to run out before jumping on the high price bandwagon?)

...awesome community concerts are FREE! Musical talent abounds!!

...a local dry cleaners gives you a biscuit for the 'dog in the car'

...DMV (actually BMV) offers an 'In God We Trust' license plate...and, thankfully, a cardinal one!

...you look up at the night sky and see more stars than you thought God had ever made

october 17th musings from garrison keillor...

I'm wondering if he is referring to Maryland's historic, Episcopal parish,
Mount Calvary Church...

WENT TO BALTIMORE AND SAW THAT IT WAS GOOD

By Garrison Keillor

In Baltimore with friends Sunday morning, a splendid fall day under blue skies, we marched off to the nearest church and found ourselves in an old brownstone temple of 1852, wooden box pews, stained glass on all sides, old tiled floor, for a high Anglican-Catholic Mass, a troop of choristers in white, altar boys, bearded priests in medieval vestments, holy water and puffs of smoke and bells and chanting of scripture, precision bowing and genuflecting, all rather exotic for an old fundamentalist like me but deeply moving, and it made me think about my father, whose birthday was October 12, and brought me to tears.

It was formal high Mass, none of that hi-and-how-are-we-all-doing-this-morning chumminess, and the homily only summarized the scripture texts about healing, it didn't turn into an essay on health care. Ten voices strong and true in the choir and positioned as they were under the great arch of the chancel, their tender polyphonic Kyrie and Gloria infused the whole building with pure kindness.

The singing was O my God just heartbreakingly good. There were less than thirty of us in the pews, fewer than the names on the prayer list, and to hear "Behold, how good and joyful it is; brethren, to dwell together in unity" sung so eloquently as the priests swung to their tasks was to be present in a moment of extravagant grace that does not depend on numbers or any other measure of success for its meaning, just as the Grand Canyon does not depend on busloads of tourists to be magnificent. Most of our brethren, bless them, are off enjoying brunch or reading the funnies or lifting weights at the gym, and our faithfulness does not make us better people. We simply happened to walk by and see this vast canyon of God's love and stand looking into it.

Faithfulness was a guiding principle in Dad's life. He was the fifth of eight children of a farmer and a schoolteacher on a little farm on Trott Brook in Minnesota. Dad worked with his hands, tending his garden, fixing his cars, cutting and joining wood. He was faithful to his family, to the Ford Motor Company, and also to his separatist theology and visions of millennial splendor. If you are true to Christ and separate yourself from this world, you will be raised to glory in paradise. My father was faithful to this, even as his little band of believers dwindled, diminished by schism and by escaping children, and I was unfaithful.

I separated myself from the separatists with my eyes open. I wanted to live a big complicated life and not sit in a closet. I do not repent of that, though I have plenty else to repent of and am sorry that it came between Dad and me. There have been dozens of people who happened to sit next to me on airplanes over the years who knew more about me than my dad did. No more his fault than mine.

Now I'm an old tired Democrat, sick of this infernal war that may go on for the rest of my life and in which more of our brethren will die miserably, both American and Iraqi. I'm sick of politics today, the cleverness and soullessness of it. I am still angry at Al Gore for wearing those stupid sweaters in 2000 and pretending he didn't know Bill Clinton, and I am angry at everyone who voted for Ralph Nader. I hope the next time they turn the key in the ignition their air bags blow up.

But here in an old brownstone church at an ancient ceremony, there is a moment of separation from all the griefs of this world. Ten men and women are singing a cappella, "Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me bless his holy name," and their voices drench us fugitive worshipers kneeling, naked, trembling, needy, in the knowledge of grace, and when we arise and go out into Baltimore, the blessing follows us.

It followed me as I ate a dozen oysters that afternoon and hung around the library and paid homage to H.L. Mencken's house on Union Square, that hearty old sinner who said, "Church is a place in which gentlemen who have never been to heaven brag about it to persons who will never get there." Thank you for your service to our language, Henry. Thank you for your life, Dad. And now onward to November and the first good snowfall and the first day of ice-skating.

Tribune Media

notes from grace college...

Didn't initially expect much to come from my contacts with Grace College, (email exchange in June "I'm coming to Warsaw! Would love to make/teach music in the community! Need help?"...then dropping off resume when we arrived in August...). But it certainly has blossomed into something in between keeping me from looking for a real, full-time job and surprisingly reinforcing the musical life I love. I sometimes find renewed musical strength and resources with in me through this work and am grateful for that. In somewhat chronological order:

• They need a second rehearsal/performance pianist for the Symphonic Chorus (a combination of students, alums and community folks that is still rather small and cries out for more tenors to augment the section of one male, one female) which is doing Brahms Liebeslieder Waltzes this semester -- described sometimes as being written for 'two pianos with optional embellishing singers'. Easy and pleasurable work on Monday evenings. Next semester I'll have that night off.
• Voice lessons need accompanying. Keeps multiplying, but we're still in single digits. Five one-hour lessons (including a post-grad student who pays her own way and so I voluntarily play for next-to-nothing), one half-hour lesson. They prefer to give their own students this kind of work and experience, which is a good idea.
  
• A Hindemith piano concerto with trombone accompaniment. Just kidding...sort of. This trombone sonata is a killer for me. But practicing it incessantly is doing more for getting me back in physical shape than anything else. Unsure how this will be paid. Most likely by the student...
• Their pre-college fine arts academy has lost their advanced piano teacher. I have three students -- one aged thirteen and another who is fifteen are college level. A third one reminds me of a niece of mine -- both in her looks and in her gracefulness (no pun intended there!). Downside: as most of the academy teachers are Grace students, it is tied to the college semester. I only have 12 lessons with them per semester, instead of the 18 in my own studio. Plus, I'm not sure that I can put my foot down and say 'College-level students must take at least a 45-minute lesson and preferably an hour!'. I have to force myself to cut the lesson off at a half hour...and usually I'm not successful.
• Retired St Annes' parishioner signs up for piano lessons. She is a complete joy to work with!!! Rediscovering the piano after working through John Thompson Book Four as a youth (those who have used/played this series know that his five books take a student practically up to a basic college level) and being an avid reader, The Piano Shop on the Left Bank is something she would surely enjoy. (The son of new parishioners begins lessons next week. I would like to end up with 25 or 30 students. Not sure that's realistic. My total of five students is more than I usually have when we've moved to a new place.)
  
• Awesome Grace vocal prof Don Bernadini needs accompaniment for rehearsing music for upcoming auditions. This tenor is amazing. Accompanying in his studio reminds me of UOP conservatory days in the studios of the likes of Lynelle Wiens, David Brock. I realize how much the very creative vocal studio work has impacted my perception of things vocal...choral...and even piano. Unfortunately, vocal accompanying includes 'icky'...technical musical term, here...but mandatory orchestral reductions of opera arias. Some are better than others. Personally, I hate it when a reduction that is impossible to play has added-in teeny orchestra notes that you really can't reach...just to remind you of how inadequate a pianist is and how it really should be done by an orchestra (just kidding...).
  
• Violin student needs accompaniment for a senior recital. Oops -- two selections (Mozart Rondo - yup, another orchestral reduction, wherein my fingers have to pretend they can do violin I & II, viola, and cello runs all at the same time...and Bartok Roumanian Dances) must be ready for a general student recital in a few weeks. Again, not sure how to charge for this. I wish Grace College would create an accompanist position with a 'Hey, we expect you to do anything and everything for any and every body' kind of salary so I wouldn't have to ask poor students for $$.
• An adjunct voice teacher began telling a student this week about the tone of an amazing vocal ensemble that was based in Minneapolis. She turned to me and asked if I had ever heard of the Dale Warland Singers!!!!!!!!! Gosh, she even traveled to their final concert before the group disbanded -- they couldn't fathom being under a successor's baton upon his retirement. I mentioned their December Stillness CD, which she of course knows well. And it conjured up in my mind and heart and ears Stravinsky's Ave Maria... Kverno's Corpus Christi Carol... Messiaen's O Sacrum Convivium... and Hess's The Oxen... all on this CD, which served as inspiration for the 'going to the next level' that the St. John's Choir & Choir Friends embraced for Lessons & Carols and Holy Week.

Pardon me while my heart sheds tears of gratitude and amazement for the unexpected gift of that journey...and looks forward to whatever else unexpected might come my way here in lovely Warsaw.

a gift from spasmically perfect...

I would call it 'a magical excursion through a mass of humanity'. SP's insightful and spiritual sense hits the spot at the center of life. Don't miss 'Not that scary anymore' on her blog.

piano shop on the left bank

Currently dealing with the hard truth that I am horribly addicted to Sudoku. Having bought a book that has 531 puzzles, there's plenty to keep me busy and I don't 'ration' this activity (addicted, I said...). I figure, I can always buy the same book again. Certainly I won't remember a single puzzle, as extra-puzzling as one or two might have been to me, the memory is not of a specific puzzle. So...I 'puzzle' away.

Books of any sort are usually associated with a trip. I bought this particular one in the San Francisco airport, on our way to Brazil in late July. I didn't know at that point that we would be delayed - or, actually, our plane would be delayed coming into SFO (fog), arbitrarily chosen by air traffic controllers to stay in a holding pattern, while others would arrive afterwards to pick up their travelers on time. We eventually made it to LAX - but were 10 minutes past the LAN cutoff for boarding in the international part of the airport metropolis and turned away. After a surreal afternoon at the United desk, we had dinner at Denny's, spent the night at a Travelodge, and made it back in for an Continental flight to Sao Paulo, via Houston...lots of time for Sudoku-doing during the flight, especially at night when I could not sleep. (Fr C's oh so very complete travelogue here.)

I also brought along Harry Potter 1. Had started it when first purchased a year or two ago, but was distracted by the norm of an insanely busy life. I finished it on the way to Brazil, occasionally reading charming passages to Fr. C. Upon our departure back to the U.S., I was positive I could find HP2 at the Sao Paulo airport bookstore. NOT! A huge international airport, I expected a more 'cosmopolitan' array of books. Ended up buying a cheap romance novel from their minuscule English section, at an astronomical price, so I wouldn't be bored during the 24 hours of travel or so. Then -- on our one hour layover in Lima - voila!!! HP2 in English!

Distracted by the most excellent accommodations, food, movies on demand on LAN, and as always alternating reading with Sudoku, I did not get far into the book. Brought it along on the drive out to Warsaw, but didn't get much reading done (I wonder why???). Now, that book, along with some other car treasures (my Patricia Barber 'Verse' CD), are 'missing' -- safe, I suppose. Just hidden from myself.


But I still have my Sudoku volume here. Fr. C watches me ply that obsession with renewed mono vision. 'Maybe you could read a real book', he reminds. Hmmmm. Unpacking, I come across my well-loved, but never finished, Piano Shop on the Left Bank. (Rather than offer a link to Amazon.com, or the like, wonderful musings on this book can be found in blogland: Cornflower - you'll enjoy the previous post of hers, as well - and Stuck-in-a-Book.) Begun on a 2004 California tour, on a patio at the quaint (i.e., delightfully cozy and small...) Coast Village Inn in Santa Barbara...a few miles from where we attended college...I forced myself to mouth and relish each word as an antidote to painful speed-reading habits. It's the kind of book that has such elegant writing, it seems to matter not if you start over, take up where you left off, or open a page at random and just dive in. So, I've started grabbing it for a quick immersion in his seductive prose, here and there, as able, sometimes opening it and simply beginning reading at the first word of a random page, always admiring his art. I cannot do anything but marvel at its weavings of a real life centered around music (piano!)...perhaps embellished by his poetic imagination.

Happening upon his chapter entitled "Master Classes" yesterday morning, describing such an event with Peter Feuchtwanger, I suddenly felt the joy of my own unique musical skin around me...synchronicity in the universe...renewed passion for the 'ease of playing' that is my mantra, endlessly played and varied for students, lesson after lesson. 'Elliptical, relaxed movements...fluidity...'. Yes!! I tried out his concept of 'Natural movement - both freeing and riskier' with a 13 year old wunderkind this afternoon. Tomorrow night, the 15 year old boy whose rigid strength endangers my piano parts. Oh, the joy of oneness with the keys. Better to feel them as flesh than to play with wooden fingers.