I’m trying to get over the sense that I’m spying when take pictures of other people’s property. This one was particularly difficult due to a car idling in front of the neighboring house, but I couldn’t resist the sunlight streaming out of the stable door.
Another opportunity to see a world-class pianist play mind-bendingly difficult pieces came our way this Sunday afternoon when Van Cliburn silver medalist Yakov Kasman took to the stage at CSU’s Edna Rizley Griffin concert hall. We chose seats with a view of the pianist’s face rather than his hands this time, and were taken aback back by the stern, almost disapproving expression as he strode to the bench. That look dissolved as soon as he began to play, though, replaced by intense concentration, enthrallment, and occasionally something bordering on playfulness or levity. At this point I began to practice a technique I’ve been exploring for music-listening. I clear my head and try to open myself to whatever the music may stir in me. Almost immediately I’m swept away, before I even think to look at the program to see what I’m listening to. The music is intensely varied, and I find moments and emotions from my childhood welling up in me - a summer day with my grandfather in the British Virgin islands, a field behind our house in Menlo Park. This continues through movement after movement, until I feel almost as if my life has passed before my eyes. After the performance has ended and Yakov has left the stage, I open my program to see what music I’ve just absorbed: “The Seasons” opus 37-bis, by Piotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky.
After the intermission Yakov returns in the same manner and plays Rachmaninov’s Sonata No. 1, opus 28 in D-minor. I attempt my absorbing technique again, but I find I’m saturated, and the piece is too much for me. I struggle to come to terms with the impossible tornadoes of sound flying out of the massive Steinway. I relent and let it wash over me. After the final chords Yakov rises, the almost remorseful expression returning, and gives a perfunctory series of bows. I can’t reconcile the contrast between his manner of bowing with his playing. I still don’t know what to make of it, but I know I have again witnessed a remarkable and unique human event. In fact, I almost feel ashamed, as if I’ve selfishly used up a little bit of this artist’s life. Perhaps it’s just the Russian demeanor playing with me, but I can’t shake it.
This didn’t do it for me. I may receive death threats from my friends for saying so, but it seemed to me like it couldn’t decide whether to be satire or drama, and just came off hokey. It’s too bad, because I liked the sci-fi western concept, and was ready to go with it. We made it through an hour and fifteen minutes before giving up.
For too long I’ve been the only one with a comfy recumbent bike to ride into town on. No longer. On Friday we bought a discounted floor model Baccheta Giro 20 from Spring Creek Recumbents here in Fort Collins. Ann calls it her SUV.
Today we rode a loop over Bingham Hill, and Ann had to force herself to stop so she wouldn’t be too stiff to ride again tomorrow. We’re already planning a bike tour this spring.
There won’t to too many more of these, I think. As the days get longer I’ll start sleeping through them again. It’s tempting to say that I love them enough to start getting up earlier, but I’m sure that’s just the fool talking, and not the one who actually has to pull his butt out of bed.
Good morning.
I’m thinking of starting another moonlight career in child photography, inspired by this visit from our our adopted nephew Dyson. He’s been to New Zealand since we last saw him, and will soon be off to New Mexico where his dad got a job at some lab down there…
The lake is frozen again. It’s been cold and calm enough this time that the ice is very smooth and clear. The ducks and geese are not out in the morning on days like this, though. The shape of the sun came finally through in this picture, but I still want to play more with capturing it’s globular fieryness.
I got some very nice pictures of my favorite neighbor horse today too.
They actually disappeared back around Christmas. It seemed like a dark time of year to move a huge stack of hay bales. Shortly after, cattle appeared in the field, grazing in the morning light. It’s probably all connected, but such is disjointed view of a ranch from the perspective of a passing bike commuter.
The 0.3-beta package has been out for a while now, and is in use on a number of sites, so I’m dropping the beta. Check the download page for more. This release includes some minor fixes:
We endure about fifteen minutes before turning it off. The good spirit behind the lowbrow humor in Shaolin Soccer was totally absent, leaving behind a flashy but ultimately ugly and degrading spectacle.
All recorded:
