Parts Unknown

My husband and I have very different television tastes. We meet in the middle on a few things, one of them being all things Anthony Bourdain. (Note - it is almost impossible not to want to eat watching Parts Unknown or any of his other wonderful programs).

His death comes as a surprise and shock to many around the world who loved him, or who he inspired with his fearlessness and embrace of "all" food, not just five-star. Some of the best meals I've had in my life have been in unexpected places or circumstances.

(photo: an unremembered red, time and place unknown)

"Travel changes you. As you move through this life and this world you change things slightly, you leave marks behind, howevre small. And in return, life - and travel - leaves marks on you. Most of the time, those marks - on your body or on your heart - are beautiful. Often, though, they hurt."

The Wrath of Grapes

"A hangover is the wrath of grapes." - Dorothy Parker

The effort in noticing

Over the Christmas break, I noticed that I had a lot more scope - and space - for the imagination.

I noticed and remembered things about my teenage years, now bygone, that I hadn't thought about for a very long time.

There was a period of two years, following Oberlin, when I was living my own flat for the first time. I knew *nothing* about housekeeping, decorating, cooking, dating, or being a very young professional musician in a large musical community.




Yet there I was.

Some close friendships forged in those years remain close to this day. And I still remember being happy, non-judgemental on my self, and have fond memories of the coffee shop and grocery store nearby.

Sometimes we ask, how can our "older" self be a gift to our younger self. That question is on the point of absurd. It's impossible.






It is entirely possible, however, to have the past teach the present.




Therein lies the reason for this blog.

We've had more snow here in January than last. (We didn't have any in the northeast for Christmas!). It has yielded some gorgeous pictures and moments. Now that Zheng is teaching during the day in addition to evenings, I am without a car altogether. My commute is by foot.




I'm able to stop, breathe, and take pictures.




Even the ordinary can stop us in our tracks.
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Location:Wellesley Dr SE,Albuquerque,United States

Bird's-Eye Bach

I’ve been enjoying the downtime and practicing Bach a lot. And I’m taking a page from this artist and have been filming my practicing. I’ve been noticing two things, which are small technicall break-throughs for me ...

1. I have to have contact with key before I release it downward. For years, I’ve been probably using a lot of (mini) "blind-landings” from fingertip to key. Something in my harpsichord practice yesterday really “klicked.” 

2. The videos have also identified small micro-bursts of energy that don’t go with the music. These are the “I don’t believe yous” that I am trying to help my students identify in themselves. I’m a firm believer in “teachers should not ask something of others that they cannot do themselves.” 

PHOTO: A bird's-eye view of Bach practicing. 

I’m grateful for this breathing time, and this time to be my own teacher.

Grains of Sand (White Sands National Monument)

Just some shots from a necessary (short, relaxing) getaway with Zheng to see some of the vast beauty of our "new" state ... as it still feels new ...

"To see a World in a Grain of Sand

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower 

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand 

And Eternity in an hour ...."

Every Night & every Morn

Some to Misery are Born 

Every Morn and every Night

Some are Born to sweet delight 

Some are Born to sweet delight 

Some are Born to Endless Night 

We are led to Believe a Lie

When we see not Thro the Eye

Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night 

When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light 

God Appears & God is Light

To those poor Souls who dwell in Night 

But does a Human Form Display

To those who Dwell in Realms of day" 

- William Blake, 365 Auguries of Experience

Go(ing) Pro

 

I was inspired recently by Opera Southwest's use of the GoPro camera during rehearsals ... 

 

And my father bought a GoPro in order to record his drone helicopter flights. It’s a fun idea, actually. Another favorite TV show of late ("The Curse of Oak Island") featured these little cameras as some professional divers dove hundreds of feet in order to find buried treasure. 

I have been playing with this camera since I purchased it a few weeks ago. My favorite features are the “remote activation” (meaning you can take a still shot or a start-stop a video from an iPhone) and the fact that it is VERY small. Very practical for traveling and self-archiving ...

Today, it was a fairly open Saturday. I am hard at work on a project - re-orchestrating Mozart’s MAGIC FLUTE (more about that later) and of course, my regular practicing and score study.

Today I blissfully toggled between both.

On the “practice docket” this week is a work for violin and piano of Olivier Messiaen. Some of it is devilishly fast. The final variation is life-affirming, slow, regal, and seems to stop time. Being a big fan of his “Quartet for the End of Time,” and especially having played the cello movement many times in rehearsal, I am awed by the similarities of this final variation to that movement of the Quartet. Messiaen also seems to evoke a pipe organ, as he asks for HUGE reaches from the pianist (in reality: you have to get the bass octaves before the beat and catch them in the pedal) in order to play the chords where they need to fall.

Here is a video of the Messiaen ... 

My studio is so wonderfully nurturing these days - the light coming through the windows is, in a word, time-stopping. This semester feels like is has gotten almost to the point of a runaway train (Not necessarily bad. Just very fast). When I can take moments - to savor Messiaen’s slow-moving transcendent music, to “exist” in the light coming through my window - it is the best thing which I can do. 

 

 

Here's to slowing down a little, savoring the fall. Harmonies can change in an instant.

Here's to savoring the movement of time - vertically and horizontally.

 

 

A quick journey to Yellowstone ...

A few friends and I headed to Yellowstone for the day on Saturday. 

 

 

One of the most remarkable places I have ever seen on the planet. Mother Nature was surely on display for us - animals, pretty good weather … and the most amazing scenery.

I have in front of me an incredibly intense week before leaving with Zheng on a four-day jaunt to San Francisco … so I’m not sure how much I will write before the end of May.

Complimentary

"Everyone likes a compliment.” - Abraham Lincoln 

It is only several hours before the show opens here in Bozeman, Montana (Intermountain Opera Theater). Today has been so wonderful - woke up rested, went running on the trail near our cabin - 

and then indulged in a regular routine well-known to those in theater.

[Opening night cards.]

I remember getting used to this tradition and really worrying about if I was “doing it right.” There isn’t a way to do them right or wrong (okay, maybe telling really inappropriate jokes in a card to the president of the board might not be a good idea. That would be “wrong.”).

But I wanted to take the time to really thank people for what they had brought to the rehearsal process. One colleague here was a colleague eight years ago at Merola. Another one had me play a separate audition for him while we were here and then we had a nice lunch after. A third is a full-time mom with many children, but she has devoted some volunteer time to coordinate some opportunities for school kids to hear more about our profession and stories. It does take a village to put on an opera, and to keep a company (of any size and in any location) running.

It is human nature to like to receive compliments. We actually need them. Mark Twain said, “I can live for two months on a good compliment.” 

However, it doesn’t seem human nature to give good compliments these days. In this day of social media (a very beloved mentor who does not use the platforms calls them all “My Face,” which gives me such a chuckle every time I think about it), people are complimenting themselves, while really accounting for how inadequate they feel. I got reports from a friend that she encountered someone who was so self-“complimentary” that it was grotesque. 

This will kill art if it continues.

One of the lifelines that we all have is to compliment each other - to bring out the best in each other so that we in turn can do our jobs and bring this gorgeous art form to life. It matters not if the people are managed professionals in the highest places, or if they are still students, on the way to figuring out this business. 

One of the best compliments I have ever received happened a few days ago. I was in rehearsal and the different managers and directors of InterMountain Opera Bozeman asked me if I was interested in being interviewed about my job on this production. I was interviewed and wrote about it here, and was pleased to read the article today. The columnist, Rachel Hergett, did a wonderful job in writing about the things which we spoke. You can read the article here. In asking me to do this, my colleagues paid me a compliment about my work. 

But the cycle must continue. I wrote to all of my colleagues today, thanking them wholeheartedly for their efforts to bring this piece to life. 

I paid an inadvertent compliment to my barista today too (I have no internet at home, so necessity in terms of keeping up with the world brings me to coffee shops while here). He brought me some espresso with some foam on top - and I took a picture of the image. He said, 

“The biggest compliment I get is when someone takes a picture.” 

Here’s to compliments of all shapes, sizes, and types. 

Zheng of the Ozarks

The halfway point to our travels was Eureka Springs, AR. It’s a little out of the way, in that you’d really have to search to find this place. But I knew it would be right up Zheng’s alley, and so we went there. It’s also not particularly expensive, if you plan it right (one hotel night was $49.99, for example) so it fit our budget pretty well. 

The Ozarks are the closest thing that America has to the Swiss Alps. That is, if the Swiss Alps had motorcycles.

I spent two summers (’09 and ’10) as a vocal coach at Opera in the Ozarks. I did pay a quick visit back to “campus,” held at a place outside of the town called “Inspiration Point." Many things have changed since I was last there (new Executive and Artistic Director).

Time and hindsight has proven my two summers, especially the first one, very fruitful. The first summer was the one that helped me discern whether to start a doctorate and “what was I supposed to do with my life.” Long walks on a nearby hill, and lengths of time drinking coffee on the “slab” helped solidify what would be an eventual plunge into the Eastman DMA program. This summer was two summers before I would really have a life-changing spiritual experience in Hungary, but now, I see my time in Arkansas as a prelude to some long rambles through Europe (summers of 2011 and 2012).

Zheng was fascinated by the Old Western feel, the shopping, the individuality of the place, and restaurants, and of course, finding Jesus. The “Christ of the Ozarks” statue is, of many things, unforgettable. 

PHOTOS: From Eureka Springs and Inspiration Point. 

Automatic Shot!

Anyone who has spent any amount of time with my darling husband knows the significance and humor behind:

“Wait - let’s get a picture together. Automatic shot!”

He has mastered the art of the “hold out the camera in front of you and take a picture” [a.k.a. selfie] and my favorite … 

- the “set up the camera on a remote ‘pedestal,’ set the ten-second automatic timer, and RUN towards the group or couple shot! 

These have resulted in a few funny moments. Recently, in Eureka Springs, AR, we did a lot of “automatic shots.” These resulted in some funny photos, and hilarious ten-second slices of Zheng running, like a mad man, to get in the photo.

PHOTOS: from “automatic shot!"

Walking the streets on a snowy morning

I love snow. I have always loved it as a kid. I love its ability to quiet the world. It brings reverence to an irreverent world. People move a little slower, avoiding virginal white patches that are yet untrodden. Yet, we only have one word for it. 

Rounding the bend of my fourth winter in the "Great White North," I'm not sick of the winters yet. Zheng is still fascinated by them, because his first American snow was with me. I have a good mind to purchase a couple-sled or some kind of small tobbagan. 

In walking to one of my Syracuse "holy of holies," Cafe Kubal, I was properly bundled for the cold. Including my "eskimo" hooded, long, down-insulated camel-colored winter coat. It's warm. It matches my skin tone (and my boots) and it has been with me throuugh terrible weather in Ann Arbor, Rochester, Syracuse, New York City, Chicago, Cleveland, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Lancaster, Washington, DC, Beijing, and Shanghai. I will wear this coat until it is really time to retire it (I think it is with me for the long haul.).

Yet, I saw two people on my walk here that made *that* face, tthe face that says, "Oh my god, look at her hood!!"

Whatever. I'll let you be the judge. Maybe, like the article I've pasted below, we should have different words for "cold" and "warm." 

For now, I am having espresso, watching the flakes fall. And enjoying what's left of a quiet morning before six hours of rehearsal today. All photos are from my phone, and not filtered or altered in any way. -- KDY

This is from David Robson's article in the Washington Post:

"Anthropologist Franz Boas didn’t mean to spark a century-long argument. Traveling through the icy wastes of Baffin Island in northern Canada during the 1880s, Boas simply wanted to study the life of the local Inuit people, joining their sleigh rides, trading caribou skins and learning their folklore. As he wrote proudly to his fiancee, “I am now truly like an Eskimo. . . . I scarcely eat any European foodstuffs any longer but am living entirely on seal meat.” He was particularly intrigued by their language, noting the elaborate terms used to describe the frozen landscape: “aqilokoq” for “softly falling snow” and “piegnartoq” for “the snow [that is] good for driving sled,” to name just two."