Guitar Heroes

There is something about having a space set apart for your work that makes it easier to go to with the intention of working, and easier to leave with the satisfaction of having completed something meaningful.

In our little apt, we have a dressing room closet that has a built in vanity. When we first moved in, P was working from home and set up his office in this little area, using the built-in shelves to hold his various monitors and stock ticker screens. After that job was over, I claimed the vanity for myself and the closet became a mish-mash of unorganized storage. In doing a little redecorating this weekend, I realized that this little space could actually become a very sufficient practice room for me. As a small space, the sound is great in there as everything I play bounces right off the wall and I'm able to listen in a way that has eluded me while practicing in the living room or bedroom.

In my dreams, we have a detached studio from our house that is soundproofed for recording, has tons of beautiful guitars, is perfectly cooled and humidified, and decorated with concert posters and pictures of famous guitarists. Well, that day has not come yet, but this little space is more than satisfactory, and I dug up these photos of my own personal "guitar heroes" to keep me company in my new little studio.


Agustin Barrios Mangore (1885-1944), Paraguayan guitarist and composer who wrote beautiful 19th century sounding music during the 20th century. Also incorporated South American folk dances into his compositions and introduced European audiences to elements of his culture.


The great maestro himself, Andres Segovia (1893-1987), also referred to often as the grandfather of classical guitar. The first musician of the 20th century to bring classical guitar to the concert stage throughout the world. Without his work and life, there would be a huge gap in the repertoire and stature of the guitar.


Francisco Tarrega (1852-1909), great Spanish composer of the 19th century who wrote original music for classical guitar and was a great pedagogue of the instrument. He was in the "no nails" school of thought and history says he got a really beautiful sound out of his animal gut strings.


Ida Presti (1924-1967), my personal hero as of late. I think this photo is so beautiful- the elegance of the lace on her dress, her incredible focus, the perfectly poised hand position. She was one of the only women of her generation to play the guitar, and to play it extremely well. Part of the famous Presti-Lagoya duo, she died tragically at the age of 42 and had she lived longer, her virtuosity would have been given its proper place in guitar history. I also believe she would have inspired many more women to play the guitar.

I have a lesson tomorrow with Pepe Romero, another guitar hero of mine. He is larger than life as a teacher, with the wisdom of a sage and the warmth of a close relative. There is philosophical meaning hidden in every carefully worded statement he says in his thick Spanish accent. Surrounded by the spirit of all these heroes, I am hoping the motivation will run strong throughout this new semester.

The perfect summer meal

Out of all foods, there is only one thing that I crave, at least once a week in the incessant dry heat of a Los Angeles summer. Withholding it from me for any amount of time leaves me dazed, lethargic, and completely incapacitated. Without a mid-week charge of it, I simply can't make it until Friday. I have developed a serious addiction this summer and with good reason- it's refreshing, affordable, blends a perfect combination of a variety of flavors, and maybe even sort of healthy. This incredible food is a bowl of Korean buckwheat noodles in ice cold beef broth known as naeng myun.

For the virgin naeng myun eater, the temperature of the dish may be a bit startling at first. There are few foods that I know of across all cuisines that are served as cold as naeng myun. Yes, cold soups exist as do cold appetizers, but cold entrees that are this cold are few and far between. Often, naeng myun is even served with a heap of shaved up ice on the top of the soup, and though it may sound strange at first, I assure you there is no better treat on a 90 degree day. Typically, naeng myun comes in an ice cold stainless steel bowl, the lump of long chewy buckwheat noodles usually cut in half for you by your sever, the tangy beef broth enveloping julienned cucumber, daikon, and if you're lucky, Asian pear, half of a hard boiled egg, and thinly sliced pieces of sirloin to top. Naeng myun is often eaten after a Korean BBQ meal as a sort of palette cleanser (because what better way to polish off a a few pounds of meat than with a pound of noodles?), but for a warm summer evening it is a most perfect stand alone meal.

Two main varieties exist: mool naeng myun and bibim naeng myun, the latter of which is coated in a sweet and spicy red pepper paste instead of a beef broth like the former. Some restaurants make a happy combination of the two by putting just a dab of red pepper paste into a bowl of mool naeng myun, which is becoming a fast favorite of mine. Another great innovation is the 50/50 bowl with a metal divider in the middle and a portion of the two varieties on either side.

The consistency of the noodles is of utmost importance and can really make or break a naeng myun dining experience. The noodles are thinner than Japanese soba noodles, and should be soft, but have a bit of chewiness at the first bite, vaguely similar to the way Italian pasta should be served al dente. (In Taiwanese the word for this is kew, but I'm not sure there is really an English equivalent.) Some restaurants here in LA also use a noodle that is made out of what they claim is a healthier starchy plant called arrowroot, which is black in color has a bit of a thinner and even softer consistency than buckwheat. As with all varieties of soup noodles, also of incredible importance is of course, the broth. Traditionally, vinegar and mustard are available at the table so you can mix the acidic, sour, and tangy content of your broth to your palette's exact pleasure, but at a few places in this fine urban playground, the broth is so perfectly sweet and zesty with the addition of the chef's secret ingredient (rumored to be Sprite) that absolutely nothing is needed.

The best part is that my current summer addiction will not break the bank. Quite the opposite. After trying dozens of hallowed naeng myun shops in the largest concentration of Korean businesses outside of Seoul itself, we have now discovered the best deal in all of Koreatown to be at a hole in the wall joint that offers two huge bowls of naeng myun for $10. Add a plate of marinated short ribs and the bill becomes a whopping $14. Why things are so cheap in K-town we just don't understand; these deals are only known by Korean people and thankfully my husband has enough proficiency to be able to read the signs. At moments like these, I am so glad I married Korean, although he feels the great injustice of having to speak Korean to the servers in order to get the special deal while I smile and remain mute. But we keep going back because we really don't want them to go out of business, and at this price, we just don't understand how they won't.

Come visit and we'll take you to our secret haunt.

On wanting to become a Rock Star.

My new fascination as of late is electric guitar. I have long been a purist, sticking staunchly to my professed identity as a classical guitarist and guarding my fingernails with my life. I gave my acoustic guitar to my brother long ago, deciding it was time to streamline and focus on the style of guitar playing that I would be building a career around.

Now as I've spent a few years specifically honing my classical technique, I've suddenly become fascinated with the world of electric guitar which I've neglected to take an interest in because it was perhaps too loud, too masculine, too different than what I've been training my fingers to do since I was five. During a class I took last semester on British Pop Music Since 1970 (yes, that is actually a class at USC, and it was so fun I didn't want the semester to be over!) I was introduced to the stylings of electric guitarist Vini Reilly of the post-punk band, The Durutti Column, which is still going strong today. I'd never really heard electric guitar played the way he does. He plays without a pick and does little strumming, and his right hand technique makes it obvious that he's had some classical training. He's got this great atmospheric sound that shifts effortlessly between keys with bits of melody floating about that always have a sort of haunting flavor to it. (Check out this video if you're interested; the viola and brass instruments are also a nice touch.)

There is a burgeoning scene for electric guitar in the art music world, and many electric guitarists are starting to bridge the gap between their instrument and classical music. There are even concerti being written for orchestra and electric guitar, an unlikely combination, but almost more practical because of the advantage in projection that electric guitar has over classical. And as classical players deal with issues such as finding authentic sounding methods of amplification or sticking to the traditional belief that a classical guitar should not be amplified at all, it is hard not to admit that the instrument has limitations in its use in many arenas of its own genre, especially in the orchestral and chamber music world.

I've had my electric guitar for about 7 years now (I got it for my 21st birthday as a fun gift from Paul) and can probably count the number of times I've fiddled with it. In wanting to expand my musical abilities this summer, this was one area I have been increasingly intrigued in and decided I would see if I could try playing electric in the band at church. Our band is not an easy band to play with, at least for me, as we generally do lots of gospel-style songs that are always in flat keys, a deterrent for any guitar player. Go figure why many contemporary worship songs are written in very basic diatonic keys like G or D; most guitar players dislike any mention of E-flat since our instrument is tuned to E.

So in my time last week playing with my electric and the awesome experience I had this weekend playing with the band, I discovered something I should have realized a long time ago: it's the same instrument! I can sort of play this thing already. In fact, a lot of stuff is even easier than it is on classical. The upper positions are way more accessible because of the cutaway, hammer-ons, slurs, trills and licks take way less effort to make audible, and changing the quality of sound is possible by the flip of a switch. How about that for technology? I guess sometimes I'm scared of things that are unfamiliar to me, and now I feel strangely liberated from the classical pedestal that I've stood on for awhile.

The nice thing about LA is that there is music absolutely everywhere. We saw a fantastic show this weekend by singer-songwriter Priscilla Ahn, who has a voice like a bell and a girly personality that makes you feel like she's one of your best friends. She also plays a mean kazoo. And I opened my window about an hour to hear my neighbor across the street shredding it up on his electric guitar. I'm listening intently to see if there are any riffs I can pick up. Mixed in with the trumpet playing of another neighbor down the street, I smile knowing that I am in a mecca for the creative- and I love it.

Now, to find myself a distortion pedal.

5000

Sometimes it is easy to believe that God can't do the impossible. I believe this quite often and ironically, it takes faith for me to believe that God can't do certain things because I have seen him do amazing, miraculous things during my lifetime. Yet my memory is short and I forget to attribute so many blessings to Him. In times of need, I am like a whining, crying child.

In John 6, I relate to the character of Philip. When Jesus asks him how they could feed the crowd of 5000, he responds that even 8 months wages would not be enough to feed the entire crowd. To disprove Philip's cynicism, Jesus takes five loaves of bread and two small fish from a boy and feeds the entire crowd. And as for the leftovers, he tells his disciples to gather them up so that they will not be wasted.

God wastes nothing in our lives, even when it is things that flow out of his abundant provision. I have been seeing this happening in my own life lately and I am so incredibly grateful. In just a few weeks, I have seen him suddenly provide for my every need- from selling my car, to being able to pay my tuition, a summer job, and finding part-time teaching work for the fall.

I can't believe that there was a point where I forgot that our God is in the business of miracles- miracles that meet our every human need and waste absolutely nothing.

For the hatred of money...

"For the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil..." -1 Timothy 6:10

I usually picture greedy people with money signs for eyeballs when I hear this, or imagine fast-talking Wall Street bankers from the 80's with big hair and mustaches, expensive suits, and rolls of $100 bills in their pockets.

But do you really have to be greedy to let money get the better of you?

It is tempting for anyone to believe that your income is reflective of your self-worth. And although our society pays engineers more than teachers, bankers more than artists, this should never be taken as an assessment of one's worth. It is much easier to measure an engineer's output and utility to society than a teacher's; however, the impact that a teacher can make is immeasurable and largely unknown to anyone but the student. A banker's profit can easily be counted, but the impact that art has on those who experience it can only be sensed within the heart and soul of the viewer or audience member.

I have never thought of myself as a greedy person, but sometimes I become so acutely aware of the "injustice" I see in artists' paychecks, or lack thereof, that the danger of loving money easily preys on me. But it takes a sort of opposite form, actually. I find myself hating money, its very concept, and the fact that I as a human being can be enslaved to it even if in my heart is not greed, but bitterness. Disguised in this bitterness is a multitude of ugly things that exist because I somehow deem them to be more acceptable than greed: pride due to an inflated sense of self-worth, jealousy that artists do not produce capital easily assigned value by society, and the allowance of money as a concept into the crevices of my heart and mind where I want only God to live.

The danger in the love of money lies largely in its control over one's thoughts and actions. Ironically, my own innocent attempts to be frugal can allow it to do the same thing.

Here is an excerpt from New York artist Makoto Fujimura's Refractions, a newsletter he sends out monthly that is chock-full of wisdom and beautiful writing:

"So, if Joshua Bell with his 3.5 million dollar Stradivarius cannot stop people, none of us who creates music, art or work in iambic pentameters should expect much. But then what good are the arts? Why would artists spend time collaborating, spending days working on something that would not be well paid, or pay nothing at all, without anyone to stop to take it in? But we should note that this wasteful excess is being exercised in many hidden places, in homes where a child protégé plays his violin, on the canvases of self-taught artists, or on a humble square table filled with poetry. They may or may not turn out to be Joshua Bells, or Grandma Moses or Emily Dickinsons, but the prerequisite for the arts never seem to be a guarantee of an audience, or income. Artists are clearly not driven by mere monetary capital, but they are driven by another form of capital - creative and relational capital, the discovery of new ideas and thoughts and cultural geography."

Judith Hill

You might recognize this gal from the Michael Jackson memorial- she was one of the Jackson's backup singers for his upcoming tour who was featured singing "Heal the World." I was struck by her because of the soul in her voice and the fact that she looked part Asian. I guess I wasn't alone in my curiosity because since the memorial, her website, myspace, and youtube videos have been getting a record amount of hits and comments. She's half black, half Japanese, and she loves Jesus. Prior to getting chosen to tour with Jackson, she was a local gigging studio musician like so many others here in LA. With over 30 million people watching the memorial and wondering who that girl was, I hope she'll be recognized for her talent and have no doubt that her career has now been launched. I think the world's ready for a new diva of mixed race. Here's Judith Hill singing "One Love Forever" at Temple Bar in Santa Monica.

And I'm off!

The past month has been quite an exercise in discipline, obedience, and perseverance, and it's been fun to share about the progress I've made as a result of preparing for this competition. Yesterday, as I was running my program for the umpteenth time, I had a moment after I played a piece and said to myself, "Wow. That was fun!"

To be able to play something difficult without the burden of difficulty is one of the most joyous things I've ever experienced as a guitarist. I imagine it feels like being on the course of a marathon and not feeling fatigued, skipping and jumping to the finish line.

God continues to affirm me through this process. This morning, our pastor talked about David, a harpist whose skill, heart, and character led him to play music with healing power and be called "a man after God's own heart." I was reminded that with this investment in my skill, God will continue to open doors in my career, and that he is satisfied with me right here and right now, before I have even set foot onto the competition stage.

"Do you see a man skilled in his work? He will serve before kings; he will not serve before obscure men." -Proverbs 22:29