Showing posts with label beauty and the beast. Show all posts
Showing posts with label beauty and the beast. Show all posts

Friday, July 3, 2015

PHILIP GLASS MEMOIR

philip glass

Closing in on the end of Philip Glass's memoir, Words Without Music, only twenty pages to go, I don't want it to end. He's wrapping things up, approaching the moment he's writing from. He did a rare thing, wrote his way to a composer successful in the world of music and successful within himself, without teaching. He saw that he wanted to live and work in New York. An academic job could settle him in Phoenix or Seattle. He wanted the creative energy New York generates. He worked moving furniture and driving a cab through his twenties and thirties, jobs flexible enough he could take time off to do a gig in Germany or California. He is the first composer to use amplification. He liked the dynamic sound amplification gave rock, even put together a small group of musicians, a band, The Philip Glass Ensemble, a vehicle for his compositions. He plays an electric keyboard. While reading in the memoir, I've been listening to some of his music in my collection, hearing it with fresh ears. Before, I only knew I liked hearing his music, everything I've heard. Now I have a little bit of an idea of what his music is about, what he's doing and the spirit he's doing it in, esp the spirit. I hear more in his music than ever before. 

philip glass ensemble

Playing now, La Belle et la Bete, Beauty and the Beast, Glass's opera of French poet, Jean Cocteau's surrealist film. It's a soundtrack to the film Cocteau made in 1946, soon after the war in Paris. The Glass music is from 1994. The film with Glass soundtrack can be seen on YouTube, the full film. I've seen it before Glass and after Glass. It is a glorious, beautiful film, either way. I first saw it in an art film series in Charleston, 1968, thereabouts, before Glass. It was such an exhilarating film, the audience broke into spontaneous applause at the end. Saw it with Glass music a few years ago from netflix. The music doesn't change the film. It gives the film a new dimension, even fades into the background watching the film, at the same time gives the black and white film a contemporary edge. It was contemporary half a century before Glass's soundtrack, become ancient in film history, a timeless ancient tale of a prince and princess, made contemporary again by Philip Glass's musical vision. 

la belle et la bete

A man of many dimensions, Glass paid attention to music from all over the world. He found in Indian music a structure different from European, studying with Ravi Shankar, and found more in West Africa. Just now took an interlude and found on YouTube a tune of Glass with Gambian kora player, Foday Musa Suso. A kora is a big gourd body, a long hardwood neck with 21 strings he plays like a harp. It has subtleties the master knows.  Glass's musical education had been in European ideas of music, though he came to see music a fluid form he could play with in new ways never explored before. He was a yoga practitioner, vegetarian, meditated, went to Nepal to a Tibetan village, Darjeeling in India, high elevation in the Himalaya, looking for an advanced meditation teacher. He started collecting Tibetan art for his home, was drawn to Tibet like moth to light source. Learning of his connection with Tibetan spiritual teachings answered why I felt Tibetan music in his work. He made soundtrack for the Scorsese film, Kundun, a Tibetan story, which I think I'll run to the top of the netflix Q to see it again soon, while Glass and his music is fresh in my head. 

philip glass

I've enjoyed watching the fate of a remarkably brilliant human being unfold in his own observations and words. It can be said he was destined from birth to do what he has done single-mindedly, like somebody born knowing what he had to do. He wasn't long getting it and walked like climbing a staircase, one step at a time, learning with a quick, retentive mind. He plays his compositions from memory. His study in Paris with Nadia Boulanger I found perhaps most interesting of all the steps along his way. She is a teacher in Paris anyone who is serious about composition must study with. Like in bluegrass, young musicians got their bluegrass credentials picking with Bill Monroe. I'd wondered about Nadia Boulanger for decades. I remember when a biography of her was published. I wanted to read it, but it was a peripheral interest at the time and I was off on the trail of one or more of my more direct interests at the time. I've had this curiosity of what it was about her touch that was so valued by composers. She was like the most advanced of advanced teachers, so advanced she could teach at home and the students came to her. Glass gave me a sense of presence, her teaching, self-knowledge gained, how she confirmed the young composer in his own direction.   

nadia boulanger


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Monday, December 16, 2013

ASS-KICKING JENNY

 
jenny's ears back
 
I utilize a lot of time looking out the window at the donkeys and calves grazing in the meadow on hay I spread over the ground for them earlier. I love to look at especially the donkeys, see their movements, and like this moment, seeing Jenny's face while she's chewing hay. I know her as my friend and like looking at her face. Seeing her face I see my friend Jen and think about her personality, how I don't want to control her but to understand her, learn from her instead of attempt to teach her. The only thing I want to teach her is that I love her as my friend, I like feeding her, I like watching her walk. I carry an armload of hay out into the meadow and Jenny walks beside me with her ears back, telling everybody behind her, Jack and the calves, that she is Alpha Donkey and claims the human for her friend and the hay for herself. She's the biggest and keeps the others aware that she can and will kick their ass. Ass-kicking Jenny. She shows a pride Jack does not share. I don't attempt to teach her about sharing. She's a donkey. Her ways are set in ways I don't understand, programed donkey behavior. I know nothing about donkeys but what Jenny and Jack have taught me and go on teaching me. I told them at the beginning I want them to be my teachers, teach me donkey mind. First thing I saw was the humility and that a donkey is drawn to humans with the same innate attraction a dog has. It's a different expression. She has an attitude Jack doesn't have. She keeps her head high and ears straight up. I'm getting impressions that she also sees her role as the herd's protector.
 
jenny soaking up some rays
 
I suspect strongly that the original wild donkey probably has no more disposition toward humans than a wildebeest or giraffe. They have been used as a beast of burden for so many thousands of years, more than likely pre-Egyptian pyramids by some thousands of years. Even if only from Bible times, donkeys have been with humans in close relationships since the time dogs didn't have "owners" and ate garbage people threw out for them. In the slums of India, today, dog packs terrorize the people living in slums who are on foot all the time. Donkeys are the original pickup. They are used, largely as far as I know, to carry things for humans. It takes a very tame animal to carry things for humans. I heard a statistic that in a year, more people around the world are killed by donkeys than in plane crashes. They're not completely tame. They are powerful. Like dogs, if donkeys were not disposed to humans, they'd be the same as a wolf and a zebra, untrainable, and a beast that could overwhelm almost any unarmed human. I wouldn't have a gun any smaller than a 45 if subject to a donkey attack by one that means it. The donkeys of the world have been worked by humans, for so many thousands of years, their by now genetic disposition toward humans has donkeys closer linked to humans than dogs or horses. I like not using my donkeys as beasts of burden. I like giving them a break. They have a big meadow with fence all the way around to keep everything out; humans, cars, dogs. Sometimes deer cross the fence to graze and they are no threat, so they're welcome. From our human perspective, the fence keeps the donkeys in. For the donkeys, it keeps the humans out, except for the one that lives in the barn nearby, brings them hay, carrots, sweet grain and talks to them like they have some sense.
 
jack scratching on a maple
 
The big round bale of hay sits in the meadow ignored. I've tried putting hay down around it, they won't touch it. Yesterday I tore away the soggy wet surface hay that was soggy several inches down. I threw it around on the ground hoping sun will dry it and maybe make it edible. I'd torn away enough of the damp and soggy outer layer exposing some that is dry. Yesterday I left my barn and went to visit friends all day. Came home around eleven, big, almost full moon in the sky, I saw the two white calves were at the hay bale. My feeling was the donkeys would rather be hungry. This morning I carried hay out to spread it around the big bale again. I carried my pocket knife, stuck it into the hay and pulled on it to cut the hay loose from itself. Went all the way across it making cuts about four inches long and maybe three inches deep. That allowed me to pull away quite big chunks of the outer layer to spread on the ground to dry, and exposed the dry hay inside. A couple hours after I'd put down some hay, about half the usual, instead of going after the dry hay in the bale, a calf and both donkeys were lined up at the fence staring at me through the window. They brought to mind my cat Tapo, who would get my attention to open the door by staring at me through the window until I noticed. Caterpillar plucked one wire of the screen with one claw. TarBaby meowed. Tapo stared through the window. Each went with what worked for them. Tapo understood the power of the stare. I could see the intensity in her eyes, consciously sending a telepathic code. It worked for her, every time.
 
jenny nibbling hay
 
 
A wave of love just now flowed over me, an air dragon of the heart, remembering the four cats I have loved and the three dogs that were my soul mates. I think of that song Mr Bo Jangles by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, that Bob Dylan recorded too. His dog up and died. After twenty years he still grieves. Oh how well I know the feeling. I feel like changing that Oh to Woe. It's a sorrowful thing to lose a friend close as a soul mate after a dozen or so years together. Woefully sorrowful. A lot of people I know won't have another after losing one, the sorrow is so powerful. I feel like the grieving is an ongoing expression of my love  When the time of grieving passes, that's when my friend is really gone. Then I miss the grieving. I feel like they have given me so much joy over so many years that a few months of sorrow is hardly even a tax. I've learned the healing power of grief to where I'm not afraid of it anymore. I don't like it, but I embrace it, because I know it's my friend. I recall a moment in Jean Cocteau's film, Beauty and the Beast, the Beast says to Beauty while professing his love, "I am a beast. The only way a beast can show his love is to die of grief." And they do. My prayer is that Caterpillar predecease me because I believe I can handle the grief of losing her better than she can handle losing me. I feel a hesitation about becoming friends with the calves. They will be taken away in a few months to market. That one is not my call. As long as I'm living, the donkeys stay here. Every day I am grateful for the experience of donkey.
 
jack having some hay
 
 
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