The past few weeks my mind has been in a bit of a haze. Especially the week that we moved. It was not a hard or frustrating move- everything went smoothly and soon the new place was feeling like home. But I am a creature of habit, and the lack of order was probably what caused my mind to become so crowded and crazy.
Well, in the middle of all my mental blankness, I managed to get into a car accident. Ok, maybe you wouldn't call it a car accident. It was an accident. And it did involve my car. But it did not involve another car or another driver. Thank goodness. It did involve a wooden pillar in our parking structure. And it did result in a huge foot-long dent on my left front door and my left side mirror being knocked completely off. The mirror somehow hung on by a thread and we taped it back to the car so that I could still see (vaguely) out of the left side. It looked completely stupid and was a perpetual reminder of my carelessness and the $$ that will go down the tubes for the repair- all that, gone in about 2 seconds!
This week the car is in the shop being repaired, and I am stranded without a mode of transportation for getting out of our apartment. It was a good week to do it since my students are all mostly on spring break this week. I have a few that come to our place, so they are my only dose of human interaction each day. Days like this make me a little crazy. I feel like typing out long sentences on the computer that go something like "All work and no play makes Connie a dull girl." (that's a movie reference in case you have no idea what I'm talking about)
Anyway, this is a great excuse to make me buckle down and practice. I always want those periods of time which don't have any immediate deadlines so that I can work on learning some new music, or writing some arrangements. But when they come, I would rather do anything but work. Yesterday was halfway productive. Ask me how much progress I've made by Friday- but first check if I'm sane.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
The Quieter Life
I just realized that I have moved every year for the past 8 years of my life. Every year during college, every year after college, including twice back and forth across the country. I really detest the process of moving. I think mostly because I am traumatized by the NYC apt search process. I really never want to do that again. Because of the high prices and competitive renter's market, once you find something you've got to JUMP on it or some other fish will take the bait. If it's a good apt, they often have 8 or 10 applications at once for the same place and then just pick whoever has the highest income and best credit. I used to always hit 'refresh' whenever looking at a craigslist so that I could snag the newest posting. I even learned to sort out which postings were what I called "totally bunk" (a technical term). Like when the posting says there's a picture on the listing and it turns out to be a creepy-looking broker in front of an exposed brick wall, as if his presence in front of the brick meant that your apt could have exposed brick also.
Well, things are easier outside of NY, that's for sure. Our landlord was giving us subtle hints that we would not be able to renew our lease here, especially since we were seeking a shorter-term lease. We love this apt for the most part, and when we move, Paul is going to have to release my grip from the stainless steel appliances and the granite countertops. We're leaving mostly because we are fed up with the manangement's lack of responsive to things like the broken dishwasher, electrical problems, growing mold in the bathroom and windows, noise complaints from anal neighbors (about us playing Rock Band- the nerve!), and the shady landlord whose details I won't get into here. Finally we said screw it and decided to look for apts on a Sunday afternoon.
This was a decidedly easy process. We just drove around to apt complexes we thought we would like and asked if they had any availability. Most places they did, and in most places there were model units to see if not the real unit for rent. And, they were the ones chasing US to rent the place. Imagine that! I am so used to having my checkbook in hand and going, "We'll take it right now, here's our deposit!!" if we see something we like. But they were the ones telling us, "If you take it today, your security deposit will only be $99!" Wow! $99! I was sold pretty much every where we went.
Well, not exactly. There were some pretty dingy places in UTC that were charging up the wazoo simply for the location. There was one building that we called the Miami Vice apt which had a sign in these very 80's capital letters, and fake plants and plastic chandeliers everywhere. It gave me the creeps. They also didn't allow dogs but the guy kept winking at us to ensure that it would be ok to bring a dog anyway. I wasn't very comfortable with that, or the winking for that matter. Finally, we found one complex owned by a company that owns hundreds of complexes across the country. You could sign a year lease and then if for whatever reason you had to relocate, move into any of their complexes at no additional charge. This is a perfect arrangement for us since both of us have a lot of uncertainty ahead in terms of job and school location. We really have no idea what we'll be doing post June, actually. It's pretty exciting. So after seeing a few of their complexes, we decided the one with the best value was in Torrey Hills, which has a humongous pool and a nicer gym, and is close to many of my students and closer to where Paul's office will be moving soon. It also has a HUGE walk-in closet (I've had bedrooms that were about this size), a full-size washer and dryer, and more square footage than we could find in our current neighborhood. It is a pretty area and our unit has a patio with a view of a canyon. It's also right off of 3 different freeways, and there's a walking trail nearby where you can see the water. It is very, very quiet over there. We say that we have "the quiet life" here. Now we enter "the quieter life."
After I packed about 10 boxes the other day, Paul said to me, "See? Moving's not so bad, right?" I promptly gave him my evil glare and he did dishes for the rest of the evening.
Well, things are easier outside of NY, that's for sure. Our landlord was giving us subtle hints that we would not be able to renew our lease here, especially since we were seeking a shorter-term lease. We love this apt for the most part, and when we move, Paul is going to have to release my grip from the stainless steel appliances and the granite countertops. We're leaving mostly because we are fed up with the manangement's lack of responsive to things like the broken dishwasher, electrical problems, growing mold in the bathroom and windows, noise complaints from anal neighbors (about us playing Rock Band- the nerve!), and the shady landlord whose details I won't get into here. Finally we said screw it and decided to look for apts on a Sunday afternoon.
This was a decidedly easy process. We just drove around to apt complexes we thought we would like and asked if they had any availability. Most places they did, and in most places there were model units to see if not the real unit for rent. And, they were the ones chasing US to rent the place. Imagine that! I am so used to having my checkbook in hand and going, "We'll take it right now, here's our deposit!!" if we see something we like. But they were the ones telling us, "If you take it today, your security deposit will only be $99!" Wow! $99! I was sold pretty much every where we went.
Well, not exactly. There were some pretty dingy places in UTC that were charging up the wazoo simply for the location. There was one building that we called the Miami Vice apt which had a sign in these very 80's capital letters, and fake plants and plastic chandeliers everywhere. It gave me the creeps. They also didn't allow dogs but the guy kept winking at us to ensure that it would be ok to bring a dog anyway. I wasn't very comfortable with that, or the winking for that matter. Finally, we found one complex owned by a company that owns hundreds of complexes across the country. You could sign a year lease and then if for whatever reason you had to relocate, move into any of their complexes at no additional charge. This is a perfect arrangement for us since both of us have a lot of uncertainty ahead in terms of job and school location. We really have no idea what we'll be doing post June, actually. It's pretty exciting. So after seeing a few of their complexes, we decided the one with the best value was in Torrey Hills, which has a humongous pool and a nicer gym, and is close to many of my students and closer to where Paul's office will be moving soon. It also has a HUGE walk-in closet (I've had bedrooms that were about this size), a full-size washer and dryer, and more square footage than we could find in our current neighborhood. It is a pretty area and our unit has a patio with a view of a canyon. It's also right off of 3 different freeways, and there's a walking trail nearby where you can see the water. It is very, very quiet over there. We say that we have "the quiet life" here. Now we enter "the quieter life."
After I packed about 10 boxes the other day, Paul said to me, "See? Moving's not so bad, right?" I promptly gave him my evil glare and he did dishes for the rest of the evening.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Oklahoma!
In the middle of the Great Plains of our country, a new mecca for classical guitar has arisen.
On Thursday, I returned from a 4-day trip to Oklahoma City. This was indeed quite a whirlwind of a trip in which I played a full solo concert, gave a master class, and taught private lessons for a full day. It was also pretty fascinating to be in a part of the country that I am completely unfamiliar with, meeting new people, and having guitar be the bond that connected myself to everyone that I met.
A few realizations- first of all, there are parts of the country where the arts is still funded in the way that I believe it should be. Take for example, the high school/middle school that my host Matt is a full-time teacher at. The Classen School of Advanced Studies in Oklahoma City boasts a six-level program of classical guitar with over 240 students enrolled. Yes, we're talking 240 teenagers all filing their fingernails, obsessing over Segovia, and having arguments about which contemporary players have the best fingerings for a Bach Prelude based on the incontrovertible evidence of YouTube videos. It was pretty amazing to meet so many young people all getting such quality instruction on the instrument and so eager to meet a guitarist like myself. I was practically getting celebrity treatment, since I think their teacher had blown me up to be some sort of star and not a whole lot of performers come through Oklahoma.
On my first day, I watched the Advanced Guitar Ensemble practice for an upcoming youth guitar competition in Texas. They were sounding really amazing. I really think there is no other guitar program (especially at a public school) in the country quite at its caliber.
The next day I had my concert at Southern Nazarene University in Bethany, Oklahoma. It was a nice hall with great acoustics. We had a good turnout with most of the advanced students from Classen in attendance with their families. Since the concert was hosted at a Christian college, they welcomed anything I had to say about my faith and encouraged me to do so. In general, I've decided to try to make a statement of faith in as many performance opportunities as I can. This concert turned out to be a great platform to make share a brief testimony about my faith in front of all of these public high school kids and their families, along with people from the community. Before I played my hymn arrangements (Were You There?/What a Friend We Have in Jesus/Be Thou My Vision), I shared a little bit about the way I grew up being surrounded by my mother's beautiful piano playing and the way hymns have seeped their way into my heart and mind, and that worship is the reason I pick up my guitar every day. I really felt something special happen during that time and I know that God answered prayers of simply being present during the concert. Though the first half had its ups and downs, the second half of the concert I was able to feel completely in my element and really just enjoyed playing. And I knew that I was doing it out of a strength that was completely beyond me. Playing a 2 hour concert is physically, emotionally, and spiritually draining, but by the end I was so energized that I could barely sleep that night. And after a post-concert meal at T.G.I. Friday's (the food selection in OK wasn't all that vast), it was probably better that I stayed up for awhile to digest! Although I did have really good BBQ and fried okra on my last day. Unfortunately, no photo from this concert- I was too preoccupied to even think about it that day.
The next day I was booked up with private lessons at Classen from 9-5, with a 2 hour master class in the middle. A master class is when you give a lesson to someone, but it's open to the public, which ups the anti on both the performer and the teacher's side. Having gone through many master classes during my time as a student, I know how grueling it can be to be up there. Every student was pretty nervous and I tried to be undestanding and engaging since the room was packed with guitar students and guitar teachers from the community. It was actually a lot of fun, and the thrill of teaching is probably equal to the thrill of performing for me. I love presenting a new idea to a student and seeing how change can come across in their playing immediately, or making them think about a piece in a completely different way. It was really a privilege to be there, and I met some really talented students that day.
And my final full day, I got to do some sightseeing around town. Oklahoma to me looked like a combination of New Jersey and the suburbs of Atlanta. I guess I don't have that many places to compare it to. The trees were pretty bare since it is still the end of winter. I thought this one was cool.
And I got to see the memorial for the Oklahoma City bombing. It was really beautiful. I caught one good shot of the sun setting over the part of the memorial where a bronze chair was sculpted for every victim of the bombing.
A great trip, but I'm so glad to be home with Paul and Aiko. Home never feels quite so much like home until you go somewhere that is completely unfamiliar. I have been looking forward to this time so much because I am done with deadlines for awhile and now have a few months in which I can ease up on the practicing and learn some new music. So I did stuff that I haven't had time to do in months. I went outlet shopping. I ran lots of errands. I did some spring cleaning. I slept a lot. But in the end, I am somewhat of a workaholic. I feel purposeless unless I have goals.
So I started playing again tonight. Somewhere in the time and place where music became work, I forgot how much I really enjoy playing. Just playing.
On Thursday, I returned from a 4-day trip to Oklahoma City. This was indeed quite a whirlwind of a trip in which I played a full solo concert, gave a master class, and taught private lessons for a full day. It was also pretty fascinating to be in a part of the country that I am completely unfamiliar with, meeting new people, and having guitar be the bond that connected myself to everyone that I met.
A few realizations- first of all, there are parts of the country where the arts is still funded in the way that I believe it should be. Take for example, the high school/middle school that my host Matt is a full-time teacher at. The Classen School of Advanced Studies in Oklahoma City boasts a six-level program of classical guitar with over 240 students enrolled. Yes, we're talking 240 teenagers all filing their fingernails, obsessing over Segovia, and having arguments about which contemporary players have the best fingerings for a Bach Prelude based on the incontrovertible evidence of YouTube videos. It was pretty amazing to meet so many young people all getting such quality instruction on the instrument and so eager to meet a guitarist like myself. I was practically getting celebrity treatment, since I think their teacher had blown me up to be some sort of star and not a whole lot of performers come through Oklahoma.
On my first day, I watched the Advanced Guitar Ensemble practice for an upcoming youth guitar competition in Texas. They were sounding really amazing. I really think there is no other guitar program (especially at a public school) in the country quite at its caliber.
The next day I had my concert at Southern Nazarene University in Bethany, Oklahoma. It was a nice hall with great acoustics. We had a good turnout with most of the advanced students from Classen in attendance with their families. Since the concert was hosted at a Christian college, they welcomed anything I had to say about my faith and encouraged me to do so. In general, I've decided to try to make a statement of faith in as many performance opportunities as I can. This concert turned out to be a great platform to make share a brief testimony about my faith in front of all of these public high school kids and their families, along with people from the community. Before I played my hymn arrangements (Were You There?/What a Friend We Have in Jesus/Be Thou My Vision), I shared a little bit about the way I grew up being surrounded by my mother's beautiful piano playing and the way hymns have seeped their way into my heart and mind, and that worship is the reason I pick up my guitar every day. I really felt something special happen during that time and I know that God answered prayers of simply being present during the concert. Though the first half had its ups and downs, the second half of the concert I was able to feel completely in my element and really just enjoyed playing. And I knew that I was doing it out of a strength that was completely beyond me. Playing a 2 hour concert is physically, emotionally, and spiritually draining, but by the end I was so energized that I could barely sleep that night. And after a post-concert meal at T.G.I. Friday's (the food selection in OK wasn't all that vast), it was probably better that I stayed up for awhile to digest! Although I did have really good BBQ and fried okra on my last day. Unfortunately, no photo from this concert- I was too preoccupied to even think about it that day.
The next day I was booked up with private lessons at Classen from 9-5, with a 2 hour master class in the middle. A master class is when you give a lesson to someone, but it's open to the public, which ups the anti on both the performer and the teacher's side. Having gone through many master classes during my time as a student, I know how grueling it can be to be up there. Every student was pretty nervous and I tried to be undestanding and engaging since the room was packed with guitar students and guitar teachers from the community. It was actually a lot of fun, and the thrill of teaching is probably equal to the thrill of performing for me. I love presenting a new idea to a student and seeing how change can come across in their playing immediately, or making them think about a piece in a completely different way. It was really a privilege to be there, and I met some really talented students that day.
And my final full day, I got to do some sightseeing around town. Oklahoma to me looked like a combination of New Jersey and the suburbs of Atlanta. I guess I don't have that many places to compare it to. The trees were pretty bare since it is still the end of winter. I thought this one was cool.
And I got to see the memorial for the Oklahoma City bombing. It was really beautiful. I caught one good shot of the sun setting over the part of the memorial where a bronze chair was sculpted for every victim of the bombing.
A great trip, but I'm so glad to be home with Paul and Aiko. Home never feels quite so much like home until you go somewhere that is completely unfamiliar. I have been looking forward to this time so much because I am done with deadlines for awhile and now have a few months in which I can ease up on the practicing and learn some new music. So I did stuff that I haven't had time to do in months. I went outlet shopping. I ran lots of errands. I did some spring cleaning. I slept a lot. But in the end, I am somewhat of a workaholic. I feel purposeless unless I have goals.
So I started playing again tonight. Somewhere in the time and place where music became work, I forgot how much I really enjoy playing. Just playing.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Big City Buzz
So I'm back from the big city. This was my second visit back since we moved from our home of seven years, the city where I went to college, grad school, met my husband, got married, and had an amazing set of friends. After a four day trip to the Big Apple, I am actually really glad to be home in San Diego- a place that has somehow become home to me more than any other home ever has felt like home, mostly because of a special person called my hubby and what we call our "quiet life" here. I suppose the glorious 70 degree weather doesn't hurt either, compared to the 20 degree weather with "wintry mix" precipitation, which is basically the sleetish-snow that gets in your eyes and your face and makes you feel freezing, but never actually accumulates into anything pretty on the ground.
Anyway, it was pretty fun getting a taste of my old life back- lugging my guitar around on the subways, popping into my favorite places for a bagel or slice of pizza, seeing some of my favorite old friends from school, and wearing my puffy down coat along with three layers of everything underneath. The funny thing is that I didn't feel an ounce of tiredness the entire time I was there- in fact, on most nights I had trouble sleeping because my mind was still spinning with the excitement of being back. How long has been since I've stayed out past midnight or gone out after 8pm? Way too long. Oh, how exhilarating!
And so, the album is finally done. After being a half-baked project for much too long, it's finally done- now the fun part of waiting for it to be processed, duplicated, thinking about album art, copyrights, distribution, etc. Now that it was my second time in the studio, it was so much easier to have an idea of how to manage my expectations. My recording engineer was an absolute God-send and didn't give me an ounce of impatience or attitude the entire time. He magically edited all the little blips, buzzes, and string noise out of my recorded playing while I sat back and repeatedly went, "Wow. I can't believe you can do that."
Recording is a musician's best friend and worst enemy all rolled into one. Not really a warm fuzzy experience. Your mistakes are magnified and everything you ever didn't want anyone to hear is absolutely audible- string noise, buzzes, your clothing on the instrument, your breathing. Basically, your imperfection as a musician and human being are amplified and then you have to spend hours scrutinizing it, seeing what should be re-recorded, what can be taken out with the magic of technology, and what is passable and hopefully won't stumble listeners from enjoying the music. The whole process made me painfully aware of my own imperfection. To seek perfection for 8 hours a day three days straight was exhausting for me mentally. But then I had to stop and ask myself whether I should be seeking perfection in the first place.
I really do believe that the struggle of an artist to create something beautiful in a fallen world is perhaps the most beautiful thing of all. I mean, isn't the best thing about an old jazz recording that you can hear the musician humming along with his solo, or a vocalist taking a deep long breath before she starts the next phrase? In the end, I had to just let things go, realizing that this album ain't perfect, but it's me- it's human, so it can be gritty, awkward, ugly, worshipful, nonsensical, beautiful, and pleasant all at the same time.
I think that's the magic of being a human being.
Anyway, it was pretty fun getting a taste of my old life back- lugging my guitar around on the subways, popping into my favorite places for a bagel or slice of pizza, seeing some of my favorite old friends from school, and wearing my puffy down coat along with three layers of everything underneath. The funny thing is that I didn't feel an ounce of tiredness the entire time I was there- in fact, on most nights I had trouble sleeping because my mind was still spinning with the excitement of being back. How long has been since I've stayed out past midnight or gone out after 8pm? Way too long. Oh, how exhilarating!
And so, the album is finally done. After being a half-baked project for much too long, it's finally done- now the fun part of waiting for it to be processed, duplicated, thinking about album art, copyrights, distribution, etc. Now that it was my second time in the studio, it was so much easier to have an idea of how to manage my expectations. My recording engineer was an absolute God-send and didn't give me an ounce of impatience or attitude the entire time. He magically edited all the little blips, buzzes, and string noise out of my recorded playing while I sat back and repeatedly went, "Wow. I can't believe you can do that."
Recording is a musician's best friend and worst enemy all rolled into one. Not really a warm fuzzy experience. Your mistakes are magnified and everything you ever didn't want anyone to hear is absolutely audible- string noise, buzzes, your clothing on the instrument, your breathing. Basically, your imperfection as a musician and human being are amplified and then you have to spend hours scrutinizing it, seeing what should be re-recorded, what can be taken out with the magic of technology, and what is passable and hopefully won't stumble listeners from enjoying the music. The whole process made me painfully aware of my own imperfection. To seek perfection for 8 hours a day three days straight was exhausting for me mentally. But then I had to stop and ask myself whether I should be seeking perfection in the first place.
I really do believe that the struggle of an artist to create something beautiful in a fallen world is perhaps the most beautiful thing of all. I mean, isn't the best thing about an old jazz recording that you can hear the musician humming along with his solo, or a vocalist taking a deep long breath before she starts the next phrase? In the end, I had to just let things go, realizing that this album ain't perfect, but it's me- it's human, so it can be gritty, awkward, ugly, worshipful, nonsensical, beautiful, and pleasant all at the same time.
I think that's the magic of being a human being.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Waking or Sleeping
I don't usually tend to remember my dreams unless they are scary or completely ridiculous. But, recently I've had this recurring dream that goes something like this. I am trying to put in a contact lens into my eye except that the lens is about the size of a giant party platter. It looks exactly like a normal contact lens in its curvature and bluish tint, except that it is way too huge for my eyeball. In the dream, I am always feeling flustered and extremely upset with myself because my eye is way too small for the lens. I am never frustrated that the lens is too big for my eyeball.
Well, I mentioned this dream to Paul the other day in passing, thinking we would get a good laugh about the fact that a dream that seems so ridiculous could have me worked up into a cold sweat in the middle of the night. But instead, he paused and thought very seriously about it. Then matter-of-factly, he concluded, "Do you think it has something to with the frustration you feel when you lose sight of the vision that God has for your life?"
Ok, prophetic husband has me here. I stopped open-mouthed, ready to shoot back a witty contradiction. But in my heart I knew there was something true about what he had just said. Often, Paul has a gift of speaking truth to me in a way where it smacks me in the face. And though I don't think I've had very many dreams which had spiritual meaning attached to it, this one definitely symbolized the thing that is most frustrating for me personally about being on a very amorphous career path. The lack of structure bothers me to some extent, but it's manageable. It's the fact that it is sometimes so hard to see the bigger picture and feel the driving force for what this is all about in the long run. Though I have plenty of ambition and a long list of personal goals, I'm not good at coming up with big picture, grand vision, lofty dreams. But I need big vision in order to face my every day. And losing sight of that vision is one of my biggest fears- the notion that I will have no purpose for every day when I wake up. Which is why I think this dream left me in a cold sweat every time I had it, as if it were some sort of nightmare.
Anyway, lately I've been stumbling for what to title the forthcoming album and I think that this loss of words has been somewhat symbolic of my life lately. Today, something hit me as I rifled through some hymns to put together in a medley for the last track. Thou my best thought, by day or by night. Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.
Well, I mentioned this dream to Paul the other day in passing, thinking we would get a good laugh about the fact that a dream that seems so ridiculous could have me worked up into a cold sweat in the middle of the night. But instead, he paused and thought very seriously about it. Then matter-of-factly, he concluded, "Do you think it has something to with the frustration you feel when you lose sight of the vision that God has for your life?"
Ok, prophetic husband has me here. I stopped open-mouthed, ready to shoot back a witty contradiction. But in my heart I knew there was something true about what he had just said. Often, Paul has a gift of speaking truth to me in a way where it smacks me in the face. And though I don't think I've had very many dreams which had spiritual meaning attached to it, this one definitely symbolized the thing that is most frustrating for me personally about being on a very amorphous career path. The lack of structure bothers me to some extent, but it's manageable. It's the fact that it is sometimes so hard to see the bigger picture and feel the driving force for what this is all about in the long run. Though I have plenty of ambition and a long list of personal goals, I'm not good at coming up with big picture, grand vision, lofty dreams. But I need big vision in order to face my every day. And losing sight of that vision is one of my biggest fears- the notion that I will have no purpose for every day when I wake up. Which is why I think this dream left me in a cold sweat every time I had it, as if it were some sort of nightmare.
Anyway, lately I've been stumbling for what to title the forthcoming album and I think that this loss of words has been somewhat symbolic of my life lately. Today, something hit me as I rifled through some hymns to put together in a medley for the last track. Thou my best thought, by day or by night. Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
The Assads at Balboa Theater
Well, the venue turned out to be slightly disappointing, at least for a classical music performance. We discovered that the lighting people really like using different colors as backdrop for the performers. Sometimes the Assad brothers were bathed in a purple light, sometimes red, sometimes blue or green, and this lighting would change color and intensity in the middle of nearly every piece at awkward moments. The house was pitch black and the stage bright, which to me made a greater distinction between performer-audience. Now this is completely natural since obviously they were on the stage and we were in the audience- but to me, making that line more distinct than necessary put more of a boundary between the two parties, making it easy for me to disengage as an audience member and feel more disconnected to the performance at hand. I personally like house lights at a medium level so that the performer can actually see the audience and engage in a more personal way, talking about the music, gauging reactions, and making the performer feel more accessible to the audience. Somehow being shrouded in darkness makes you feel like your presence as an audience member is negligible and that no one would really care if you fell asleep or got bored and walked out. Well, that's not the case at all. Speaking from a performer's perspective, every member of the audience is an essential part of that performance. Especially in intimate settings, even just one person can completely change the energy of a room and increase a performer's connection to both the music and the act of sharing that music with others. I really believe that this connection is essential in making a concert a personal, spiritual experience for both sides.
All that aside, the Balboa Theater is a really nice place. The ceiling is very intricately carved in a 1920's art deco sort of way, with unexpected carvings and flourishes of pink, red and blue everywhere. The most unusual thing is that there are two water fountains on the walls that sandwich the stage. They are running waterfalls that produce the sound of trickling water which were not turned off while the Assads were playing. It kind of made me feel like getting out of my seat to go to the bathroom. The other acts booked at the Balboa are totally different than the show that the Assads put on. They included the Shanghai Circus, the Vienna Choir Boys, and Frog and Toad (the play). The Assads definitely had to adjust to play in such a mainstream sort of venue. The concert was entitled "Brazilian Guitar Festival" and included Celso Machado, an amazing Brazilian folk guitarist/composer/percussionist, Romero Lupe, a Brazilian jazz guitarist, and their sister Badi Assad. She was by far the more outlandish. More than just a guitarist, she is an excellent singer and mouth percussionist. There was a whole piece in which she made rainforest sounds with her mouth, which the audience ate up. In fact the whole crowd started making rainforest noises and the sounds of monkeys, birds and rain filled the theater. It was pretty random.
Still a good show, but it made me a little sad to think that this performance was probably only picked up by the Balboa because it wasn't straight classical, which probably would not have drawn a large audience on a Monday evening. But what is needed in order to sell classical music? Does a classical musician only succeed in playing a venue like the Balboa through crossing over into the worlds of jazz, pop, and folk? And if so, does the concert need to be such an entertainment-focused, flashy event to appeal to the masses? Looking around, I was pleased to see a pretty heterogeneous crowd which definitely differed from some of the other concerts we've gone to places like La Jolla, which is a predominantly white, upper-class crowd. This was a mixed crowd of people of all ages and ethnicities, who were probably attracted not by the name of the Assad Brothers, whom the average person probably has not heard of, but who probably wanted to see a good show at the newly renovated theater and the words "Brazilian" and "guitar" sparked interest. So at the end of it, I'll take that- if it means more exposure for classical guitar to the public despite the flashing lights, running waterfall, and crossover additions, then fine. But it's just disappointing that these days, it doesn't seem like excellent artistry in its purest form is really enough.
If you've never heard of the Assads, check 'em out here!
Friday, February 8, 2008
Cooking Korean
Having my in-laws in town this week has proved to be a very delicious experience. My mother-in-law has been cooking Korean food nearly every evening and I've been learning a little bit in the process. Hopefully walking into a Korean grocery store won't feel so intimidating now that I have a handle on some of the basic ingredients. My favorite thing about Korean food is the variety in every meal, since the tradition is for everything to be served with an array of appetizers and always some sort of kim-chee.
A classic homey Korean miso-based stew with enoki mushrooms, tofu, potatoes, onions, anchovies, and scallions.
Fish cakes sauteed with garlic and scallions. Side dishes of boiled spinach with sesame oil, pickled spicy green vegetable which I don't know the name of.
In honor of Lunar New Year, the tradition is to eat a rice cake soup made from an anchovy stock with egg whites, yellows, kim-chee, ground beef, and seasoned seaweed. Side dishes of dried squid, seaweed, and pickled spicy vegetable.
Korean fried rice, usually served in a hot stone pot. This version has ground beef, carrots, spinach, shredded sesame leaves, fern root, and pickled cucumbers which are all stirred together with a spicy red pepper paste mixed with sesame oil. In the back you can see the egg-batter fried sirloin and halibut slices.
A classic homey Korean miso-based stew with enoki mushrooms, tofu, potatoes, onions, anchovies, and scallions.
Fish cakes sauteed with garlic and scallions. Side dishes of boiled spinach with sesame oil, pickled spicy green vegetable which I don't know the name of.
In honor of Lunar New Year, the tradition is to eat a rice cake soup made from an anchovy stock with egg whites, yellows, kim-chee, ground beef, and seasoned seaweed. Side dishes of dried squid, seaweed, and pickled spicy vegetable.
Korean fried rice, usually served in a hot stone pot. This version has ground beef, carrots, spinach, shredded sesame leaves, fern root, and pickled cucumbers which are all stirred together with a spicy red pepper paste mixed with sesame oil. In the back you can see the egg-batter fried sirloin and halibut slices.
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