Music and the Great Outdoors

Run Boy Run at Heritage Square

There is something special about live music; sharing it with a community of music-lovers, watching the performers, being part of the spirit.  If you are lucky enough to be outdoors during the performance, it makes the music sound that much better.  I think that being outdoors makes you hungrier...for music!
  It was a big musical weekend for Flagstaff.  Not only was it the 6th Annual Pickin in the Pines Festival, but it was also the opening concert for the 62nd Annual Flagstaff Symphony Orchestra. 

Outdoor concerts with friends--just about perfect.

  I went to the free concert for Pickin', at Heritage Square on Thursday-- Run Boy Run was playing.  Those sweet youngsters had some serious skills.  As I sat there with my son and our friends, I was already nostalgic for outdoor summer concerts.  Can one sit in Heritage Square during a free outdoor concert, watching the sunset, hearing the tunes, and not feel the warmth and draw of our town?

Zoe and me at the FSO opening concert.

  On Saturday I went to the symphony with my friend. It was the concert "Here and Now: Modern Works by Women Composers", and there were 7 modern composers that were represented.  I loved it all, but the piece that became most visually meaningful for me was the one that evoked nature, Hilary Tann's "Leggiero".  Her concert notes say "The first movement, marked slow and spacious, is inspired by Mount Hiei as viewed from Shoden-ji, a temple with a dry landscape (Zen rock) garden."

  Because of this bit of personal history/musical nudge, I couldn't help but set my listening experience outdoors again, this time amongst the Zen rock garden that my son and I toured last year at the Portland Japanese Gardens.  (It was pouring rain on that trip, of course.)

  Precious memories indeed.

A remembered outdoor Zen moment.

  I'm happy to have live music (of all kinds) in my life.  I'm happy to have nature in my life.  And in Flagstaff I get to have both. 

Sharp Pencils, Sharper Buildings

The school year has officially started, and the fight between competing technologies has begun.

Some people like their Boston Ranger manually-operating pencil sharpener (Model 55) mounted on a solid wood pedestal.  Others like their Stanley Bostitch Personal Electric Sharpener (and especially like saying it in Spanish.)
Now that's a tough choice.

But pencil sharpening technology aside, it's also time for technology upgrades and renovations.  Everyone at the College of Arts and Letters was excited about the Liberal Arts Building renovation.  There were safety upgrades, new audio/visual equipment for each classroom, and two new lecture rooms, including a new cinema screening space that will house 200 people. Students and professors will also enjoy new carpet, paint, wood paneling, tile floors, updated bathrooms and a student lounge with a flat-screen television and vending machines.

The Liberal Arts Building has become something of a cornerstone buildingon the NAU campus.  Almost every student at the university has taken a class in this building at one time or another.  (English 105, anyone?)  I, myself, spent many hours inside the Liberal Arts Building in my undergraduate days, dreaming of becoming a beatnik poet, a Mexican revolutionary, or even a Victorian heroine.

Students can now use their imagination in safety, in beauty, and with the aid of 50 new Macs and PCs.   

In true Arts and Letters fashion, the building was dedicated with a ceremony that included Nicole Walker's dedicatory poem "The Metamorphoses" (see below), a not-so-solemn cutting of the ribbon, a musical fanfare provided by the School of Music's Elden Brass Band, and a reception.  It was such a nice celebration of the arts and humanities, all in honor of the love of learning!

President Haeger, Dean Vincent, Provost Grobsmith and Associate Dean Boreen at the re-opening.

More pictures of the opening can be viewed here.

The Metamorphoses

by Nicole Walker

Ovid’s Deucalion and Pyrrha

only had to toss dirt

and rocks over their

shoulders to create a whole

human race. If only tossing here

had been enough.

Here, people worked

through dirt and rock,

mashed them up, cracked

them upon, dug the new

out of the old and turned

geologic into neologic

to make this new

inside place full of shoulders

and absent dirt.

A transformation more

blue than print, more

bones than HVAC, more

rock than LEED.

It is not like we didn’t

appreciate brown tiles

in the bathroom, the way

they sent sludgey bits

riding home with us

on our shoe soles and

backpacks, the way

the water turned on

and stayed on, promising

to flood the asbestos

right out of here.

We’ll miss some things.

A window, here, for instance,

in a someone named Bryan Short

office, the breeze of an open hallway,

the random, sciencey faucets

in a wing named

after someone Bacon

that we shouldn’t forget

in this wave of new blue.

But maybe, when Williams wrote,

no ideas but in things,

he really meant “in” and herein,

in this new building,

the new, blue carpet tiles,

the fire escape, the plastic hallway

interrupter, the new breeze of air

conditioning make that lost window

and maybe those lost sinks,

more idea than thing. In here, in this

Mandelbaum translation

of us, from one kind of earth

into another, in here, we’ll find

the new ideas in the new things

we find here.

A Celebratory Toast To The Expression of the Soul

"Portrait sans nom" by Mathilde Gatinois, 2011.  Personal collection of Elizabeth Hellstern, on display at Simply Delicious, 408 E. Route 66, throughout May.

  In August, I resolved to "attend or participate in a cultural happening once a week throughout the semester, and write about my musings every Monday on this blog."
 
  Guess what peeps?  It's finals week.  Students are running around with coffees in their hand, in a surreal party/studying all-nighter daze.

  That means it's also the last week of my school year resolution.

  I'm taking the summer off.  Literally.  I won't be in Flagstaff, and I won't be at work.  I'll be outside.  I'll still be attending cultural events, but preferably ones in outdoor amphitheaters (and probably not blogging until September.)

  Maybe it's the end of the year, but I'm feeling reminiscent and nostalgic about marking the end of many projects and stages this year.  I went to a lot of cultural events.  I wrote about half of them.  I'm a better listener and a better see-er, and I know how to calm myself down with music and visuals.  I also know that music, art, film and theatre mean a lot to my sense of self.  By giving me so much breadth of experience, they have helped me recognize my own style. 

  I also enjoy looking at my art friend's progress of their own personal style.  As a case in point, and a nice conjuncture within my own personal life, I'd like to leave you with two paintings by Mathilde Gatinois, a local artist and friend.  (Mathilde has a show at Simply Delicious, 408 E. Route 66, throughout May.)  When I had more time, I used to model for Mathilde.  The painting of me at the bottom of the page was done in 2007.  This year, I bought one of Mathilde's painting that she did with a different model (see above.)  The two paintings have the same style--the dreamy eyes and the ethereal faces, but clearly show different phases.  They are both lovely.  They are both expressions of Mathilde's style.

  I do think, though, that the older one is softer, more internal, and the newer one is a more dramatic expression of emotion.

  Looking at these paintings makes me sentimental about Mathilde's talent.  I love how she expresses herself on canvas.  I also know that it's not always easy for her to do so--when I modeled for her, she would voice her frustration with the process and the product.  And having one of her pieces reminds me of the effort of the creative process, and the beauty that can be achieved by such effort.

   It's a good reminder as a metaphor for life.  Even those that may not be artists have creative endeavors that take a lot of effort to express. Believe me, it's worth it!

  I propose a virtual toast to all the artists, musicians, filmmakers and speakers that I saw and heard this year!  Here's to appreciating the past, appreciating the present, and looking forward to as much and more in the future. The expression of the soul is a continuous process, and one that has no quantitative value, but a very real place that gets embedded in another's heart.  Thanks for enriching my life in so many ways!!

"Blue Belle" by Mathilde Gatinois, 2007. Personal collection of Susan Magaziner.

The Magical Instrument Tour

 "The Magical Instrument Tour is dying to take you away!"

Accordion (above) and acoustic guitars at the Musical Instrument Museum.

   If you can't quite imagine how magical musical instruments are on their own, if you think that looking at musical instruments could be boring, then you DEFINITELY haven't visited the Musical Instrument Museum yet.

  I have to admit, I wondered myself how the intensely personal experience of a musical performance could  be properly represented by a static exhibit of the implements.  But MIM doesn't just hang the instruments on the wall and leave it be.  First of all, they gather the finest instruments, symbolic of the finest music of the world, and display them in ways that make us, the observers, realize the inherent beauty and craftsmanship.  Just like a good pen with a smoothly flowing nib helps us write more beautifully, a good instrument can serve as its own muse.  The first exhibit I saw in the museum, contained guitars ranging from traditional Gibsons to plastic molded star-guitars.  (And if a star-guitar doesn't inspire you to rock out, I'm not sure what will.)

  The museum curators totally pull out their inner rock star by enhancing the exhibits with indigenous recordings of live performances, displayed in short vignettes on a video screen.  The performers are often even using the instruments that we're looking at!

   But before we even got to see most of the exhibits, the group I was with watched a short introductory video.  This is where the museum administrators got all philosophical about what they were doing, and claimed that we would "stand in awe to the pageant of human life."  That "If we do not feed the music, some portion of us will starve."  And "Music, its meaning and its instruments are the wellspring of human culture."

  It was good food for thought as we went around and looked at all the implements of culture.  Many governments have tried to suppress music--but it's just not possible.  People's creativity in making instruments is unmatched, and their desire to express themselves through sound is irrepressible.

  One of the best things about the museum, though, was that it didn't exclusively exhibit "serious art."  Yes, classical music was well-represented.  But there were also displays on bluegrass, electronic music, hip hop and salsa.  It's a great way to bring all the forms of music onto the same playing field--and to realize that it serves the same purpose, no matter who is playing it.

Manners, please...

Tony Latham as Truffaldino, Angela Kriese as Smeraldina in NAU Theatre's "The Servant of Two Masters."  Photo by Haleigh Sakas

  Today in a meeting, a colleague pointed out the dictionary definition of culture is a "refinement of mind, taste, and manners; artistic and intellectual development."

  I love that definition (it comes from the Oxford English Dictionary, 2009, by the way) and I particularly enjoy thinking about how culture is a "refinement of manners."  I've recently become fascinated by old-fashioned etiquette books that give us essential advice on living--such as this gem from Emily Post in 1922 on "Going Down The Aisle of a Theatre."

  "The host, or whichever gentleman has the tickets, (if there is no host, the hostess usually hands them to one of the gentlemen before leaving her house), goes down the aisle first and gives the checks to the usher, and the others follow in the order in which they are to sit and which the hostess must direct. It is necessary that each knows who follows whom, particularly if a theater party arrives after the curtain has gone up...For nothing is more awkward and stupid than to block the aisle at the row where their seats are, while their hostess “sorts them.” 

  Some of etiquette books are terribly out of date (or just plain common sense) but, as I tell my son, it never hurts to have manners.  Sometimes asking permission, following directions, meeting deadlines, and letting neatness count help us better navigate an ever-increasingly confusing world.  These outward forms of polite society help us get along easier.

  I also recently heard community artist William Cochran talk about how public art can help ease the friction of living in close quarters with other people (it's basically the macro equivalent of manners).  Art is another outward form of society. 

  Manners.  Culture.  They are very, very similar.  So is it so surprising that cultural performances have a nuanced form of refined manners?

  My son and I went to a recent Commedia dell'arte performance of "The Servant of Two Masters" performed by NAU Theatre.  NAU Theatre is very simple with its instructions on Theatre Etiquette--turn off your cell phones, don't take pictures, and no eating.  Very easy for us.

  I also like another synposis of manners for live theatre from CAL Berkeley.
1.  Arrive on time and be seated 15 minutes before the show.
2.  Be aware and remain quiet.
3.  Show appreciation by applauding.
4. Participate by responding to the action onstage.
5.  Concentrate to help the performers. 

  These pointers are not only things that will help the performers do better, they are ways in which we can enjoy the performance even more.  So when my son laughs hysterically at the physical comedy, he is not only completely engaged, he is actually displaying exquisite manners.
 
  One more thing about theatre etiquette that you can't live without.  When you are getting to your seat, always face the stage and press as close to the backs of the seats you are facing as you can.

The Party You May be Missing

  The movie I went to last Wednesday had a full house.  It also had subtitles, there were no previews, and we were personally greeted with an introduction by our own little film tour guide.
  Would you fall out of your seats if I told you it was at the Harkins Theatre in Flagstaff?

  Yes, it was at Harkins, because a good little Samaritan, Patrick Schweiss, director of the Sedona International Film Festival used his influence and bonhomie to bring independent films up the hill and show them in Flagstaff.   The independent film series is now in Flagstaff every second Wednesday of the month.
  Lucky us.

  The film, "Biutiful," a Spanish film by Alejandro González Iñárritu and starring Javier Bardem, hit an almost-perfect pitch between life and larger-than-life.  If it were a Hollywood film, it would have tied up all the loose ends, but as a Spanish film, it made sure that it didn't.  And that made it really compelling.

   To me, a good film is like a really good conversation with a new friend.  It surprises you, and proves to be a fresh perspective, yet it is a true thing and resonates.  "Biutiful" was a really great, late night conversation, one that had numerous listeners propped on pillows all over the floor, perhaps after a few cocktails, and in a not so pretty part of town, listening to Javier Bardem tell his story.  It was like the conversation that made you happy you went to that party you almost missed.

  I was introduced to "cinema as an art form" through foreign film.  I started watching Spanish, French, and Italian films, and because they were a new style and it took me longer to read the subtitles and digest the meaning, I thought about them longer.  I began to see film as a conversation starter, not as a substitute for having to talk.  I was always surprised by the way people acted in these foreign films, and I began to see that they way I responded to life wasn't the only way.  I began to remember them.  Films like "Les Enfants du Paradis" and "Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown" made me start thinking about expanding my friendships.

  Then I realized that American cinema was just as interesting--I was just hanging out with the wrong crowd.  So I started going to parties that David Lynch, Jim Jarmusch, Woody Allen and the Coen Bros. hosted.  And while maybe they were jerks sometimes, and maybe they were tragically hip at other times, I started enjoying the different things that they wanted to talk about.

  When I get invited to a "screen conversation", where maybe the people are just casual acquaintances, but the talk is sure to be interesting, I try to go. It's like my social life--you can only blow off so many invitations before they stop coming in. We don't have as many great films as bigger cities, but there are more and more.  I figure, if I want to keep the parties going, I've got to show up for them!  Because nobody likes talking to themselves...
    

Live Theatre: Controlled Chaos

Pine Forest Theatre Troupe performs "Still Life with Iris"

  On Friday night I went to see my son's 8th grade performance of "Still Life with Iris" at Pine Forest School.  The cast consisted entirely of his classmates, and it was creatively cobbled together with costumes made in their handwork section and props from their woodworking class.

  "Still Life with Iris" written by Steven Dietz, is a sweet, magical tale about how memories, both good and bad, shape us and make us who we are.  The cast is made up of essential blue-collar workers such as the the Day Breaker (who ropes in the moon every morning), the Thunder Maker (who bottles thunder for use in a rainstorm), and the Memory Mender, who sews up everyone's "past coat" that contains all their memories. 

  Isaac played the Flower Painter.  His job consisted of, you guessed it, painting the flowers.  I was proud of him, and he was proud of himself.  "Mom, I didn't hesitate at all when I said my lines!"

  In a strange twist of fate, Isaac and I had seen NAU Theatre's production of "Still Life" four years ago. It was one of the first theatre performances he had seen, and since my colleague was directing the show, I got to take Isaac and his friend backstage to meet the actors.  I still remember how terribly he blushed when he got to meet Annabel Lee, his favorite character.  And ever since then, he's been pretty spellbound.  The actors love him--he is always the loudest laugher and the most appreciative of their physical humor. 

  I love film, and I can appreciate good television, but for one reason I think live theatre is almost better than screen-viewing--the actors can respond to your enthusiasm, laughter, and applause.You feel like you're involved in their performance.  I think that makes us more engaged in the story, more likely to take something away.

  There was a scene in "Still Life" where one character was putting on his "past coat" and he couldn't find his sleeve.  He played off the "mistake" so well and my friend Rachel and I found it so amusing and charming that our laughter had us crying.  You just don't get inadvertent comedy like that from a static screen.  Live theatre is precious and magical because you get a sense of controlled chaos.  It is super intoxicating and exciting.

  If you like live theatre too, and you missed my son's performance of Still Life with Iris, you're in luck. NAU Theatre is showing "Servant of Two Masters" a great Commedia dell'arte performance with lots of physical humor.  The show runs April 15-23 at the Studio Theatre.