..beyond the averages; Blues has had three important iterations in a twelve month period, and for a 'new work', that is remarkable. Such a swift journey has also afforded opportunity for me to whittle in on specific changes that I feel the need to engage in with this piece, as it is new, and as every time there is the chance to see it 'standing', I get to view a further shading in its stance.
No road is perfectly straight; neither is the progression of a new work. But Blues For A Royal Flush has certainly been fixed to a fortunate star. From the beginning, this work has had benefit of support and community. That embrace continues, and lifts an opportunity for this work to be part of a larger engagement.
..is very precious. As children I don’t believe we comprehend just how informing the opportunity is, being able to freely muck about in a specific space of imagination, sharing toys and tools with any other like minds who bumble over the sides of the box to play. At present, the analogy of a ‘sandbox’ is particularly apt for me, and has broad parameter around music. In bringing together a classical orchestra, the sandbox for ‘creating’ is identified as the rehearsal room; here, the music score is rendered through a certain experimentation of ‘phrasing’ and finesse, accent and ‘attack’.
..how odd to find stillness in a hurricane; to find that moment’s peace in which to catch up with oneself.. -listening, past the howling and rattling windows.. Yes; oddness. It is not as if nothing has been happening since my last entry; a great deal has.. But in this great deal were opportunities that I was uncertain would come to fruition, and who wants to nail dreams down on a page, in a viewable journal? Not me.
..walking down Great Barrington’s main street: facing Robbin’s insolently enticing open doors, and straining not to succumb to the perfume of sugar (in incalculable forms), there is a tickle at the back of your neck; facing the itch –you turn to find Tom’s Toy Store. Yes. True. I couldn’t even make this geography up! Two poles of childhood; one sweet, the other beckoning –with my own name..-and ‘yes’, though the mountains beyond coddle a sluice of other stores and shops and points of interest, that purl through town..