there is maybe nothing that says “cool” more than a bass player. upright bass or electric. they have a certain air, a je ne sais quoi, that just quietly and intensely says ‘phat’.
jim is like that. he was the throw-anything-at-me-and-i’ll-astound-you bass player on a couple of my albums. such a great sound. he’s a top-shelf musician and i’m proud to have had his playing as part of my recordings.
the bass player, 24″ x 48″
this painting makes me think of jim and also of several of The Girl’s and The Boy’s friends from high school. they were bass players in jazz band (and every other band that our district offers) and they rocked the house. many of them, like jim, are in chicago now and i hope they are playing and still rocking the house.
this cityscape morsel comes from david’s painting the bass player. when i was photographing the full painting, i kept zero-ing in on this morsel….the city at night. i love the fun of it, the color, the chaos. designing products with this morsel was a blast! i got lost in the possibilities. just as you can get lost in the night in this city.
late yesterday afternoon, after a day spent working on computers and designs, with technology sluggishness taking over our souls, we headed to the woods to take a hike. any time we feel tired or ‘stuck’ we walk. around the ‘hood, along the lake, or to the starbucks about 2 and a half miles away. any time we feel exuberant or elated we walk. sometimes in the mountains (ahh!!) or in chicago or the third ward in milwaukee. any time we need a ‘business meeting’ we walk. mostly in the woods, in a county or state park. walking and breathing in fresh air brings us back to the moment. it re-centers us.
we hiked up the small rise in the woods, the light was waning and behind us the sky was deep deep orange. in the clearing beyond the stand of trees stood, very still, a deer. it was clearly the ‘lookout’ as way back in the field were six more deer, easy to count in the almost-dark as their white tails bobbed when the lookout gave the alert. we stood perfectly still watching this beauty, a magic moment in the woods. neither of us wanted to leave the spot. i took a picture, not because you can see the deer in it, but because it preserved the moment for me. i didn’t want to forget. because, as you already know, i am thready like that.
around me, every rock or feather or piece of wood or ticket stub or scrap of notepaper carries with it a specific moment – preserved in time. i could not necessarily tell the story of each of those moments – there are far too many for my synapse-challenged-brain to remember. but i know that each one had meaning for me. each one defined yet another piece of me, my relationship with someone i love, a time i shared with another being, a learning, a moment of sheer bliss, a moment of deep sadness. each moment renewed me and brought me to my next moment of living.
as i have moved through life one thing has become certain. that everything changes. nothing stays the same. life is in flux, always fluid. what more do we have than each moment as it arrives for us? i ask myself, “how do i want to spend this moment? what do i want to feel about this moment?” for i can never get it back. i can never re-do it. time has moved on. and so i must keep moving. i write about moments, i compose about moments, i tell stories about moments. for me, those details count. attempting to put succinctly (ha!) into words my philosophy-of-what-moments-mean is impossible; it is the umbrella that skies over everything else i believe, everything else i think.
when The Boy was little, he called the rearview mirror in cars the “review” mirror. particularly poignant i think. i have seen it written “don’t stare into the rearview mirror. that’s not the direction you are going.” instead i try (read: TRY) to review the past moments, learn from them, find grace in them, save the memory threads. and wholeheartedly embrace the ones to come. the moments. unique. in every way. i love this chicken marsala image.
there is maybe nothing that says “cool” more than a bass player. upright bass or electric. they have a certain air, a je ne sais quoi, that just quietly and intensely says ‘phat’. 
reverse threading 