Bridging Hemispheres

Like so many people here and around the world, I eagerly anticipated the broadcast of the Presidential Inauguration this past Tuesday. I was not disappointed. Notwithstanding the historical significance, one thing that struck me was the role of the arts. Visual and performing arts budgets are amongst the first to be cut in the midst of a financial crisis. Yet, we often turn to creative expression in times of turmoil, finding solace in a familiar melody or, perhaps, seeking new direction with a fresh composition. As song, music, and poetry participated in the invocation of a new era on January 20, I felt even more inspired to create and absorb.

That afternoon, I first saw the photograph (above) taken by a fellow Los Angeles-based artist, Christopher Barbour. There was something about the movement of the color and the title that captivated me, so I wanted to share it with you. Chris and I grew up in the same part of Virginia and, although our respective high schools and colleges were staunch rivals, we’ll put the feuding aside for today.

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Manisha: Can you tell me a bit about the photograph “i woke to find myself”?

Chris: I need to preface this by saying that I am not usually interested in explaining my work, because I want the viewers to have their own experience. I am a firm believer in getting out of the way, as much as one who creates can, and letting the viewer engage with the work by bringing to it what they possess in terms of their own memories, experiences, or feelings. I am not a didactic artist, nor is this choice out of arrogance. I just like the visceral purity of the viewing experience.

i woke to find myself is an image from the series unraveling the tapestry. The piece itself is a feeling to me. It is the way I see the world at times: the confusion and the beauty. A visual poetry of waking, like from a long slumber…and your eyes take a moment to adjust, but this is more about your soul taking a while to adjust to your reality, to your experience, to yourself. The moment between seeing and awareness. Much of my work is an investigation of this idea, this place.

The series was started a while back…maybe in 2003. It is a work in progress, as most of my projects are. They never seem to end, but that is because they are so heavily based on my experience of life. It’s like an autobiography lumbering away, searching through layers of meaning. For this particular series, I have drawn from other bodies of work creating a retrospective of sorts, a new dialogue about my experiences thus far.

Manisha: What is your process in terms of how you approach your photography?

Chris: I only use film and what you see is what I saw. I think more like a painter. I am interested in examining life and emotion through concepts utilizing formal qualities and the Japanese idea of wabi-sabi, which is about finding beauty in imperfection.

My work has many influences…painting, drawing, architecture, poetry, music. Music is a huge one. The way it transcends us. How it connects with us on an unconscious level. I love literary music. Lyrics and instrumentation that make you feel and think. Not all music can do this.

In fact, this series, unraveling the tapestry, was born of this lyric:

So in looking to stray from the line
We decided instead we should pull at the thread
That was stitching us into this tapestry vile
And why wouldn’t you try?

Manisha: As a songwriter, I’m intrigued, of course. Where are these lyrics from? Who wrote them?

Chris: Hmmm…I can’t decide whether to tell. My work is so personal in many layered ways and sometimes I fear it will divulge too much of me.

Manisha: I understand your not wanting to share too much about where the art comes from and your desire to let people have their own lens. I often feel the same way. But, as you say, it is not definitive of the art. Nor is it definitive of you. It is just a window.

Chris: Ok, well, the lyrics are from “Weather to Fly” by the band Elbow. I would like to clarify that the image, i woke to find myself, was taken way before I heard the song lyrics. The lyrics later created the framework for the series. The feeling and meaning of my work just seemed to fit so nicely with my understanding of the lyric.

I construct series – and almost all of my work – this way. I shoot images, live with them, and then a series comes together. If I have a series on which I’m working, obviously I shoot with it in mind, but I still live with the images for a long while, at times. Music, literature, cinema (though not as much lately), and my daily investigation of my place in the world all influence this process.

The image itself is definitely about awakening to oneself. Then again, so are those lyrics. I am glad they resonated with you.

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Since 2002, Chris’ work has been shown at various Los Angeles-area galleries, including Andrewshire Gallery, Urban Art Photo Gallery, Gallery 825, and LAAA|South. In 2006, he was one of 100 photographers selected out of 615 entries to attend the prestigious Review Santa Fe and, last year, he was invited to exhibit at Wallspace Gallery in Seattle, WA. Also, in 2008, he won the inaugural Irevelar competition at Naomi Silva Gallery in Atlanta, GA. Just a couple of days ago, he received an invitation from Naomi Silva to present a solo show at her gallery in 2009.

Chris is presently offering a limited edition print sale, which includes i woke to find myself. To learn more about his journey and his work, please visit his blog and website.

What Chris said about “the moment between seeing and awareness” is something I haven’t thought about very much. For me, that moment is like the space between dreams and reality – when everything is in slow motion. Yet, most of the time, I want that moment to pass quickly, because I’m focused on waking up and obtaining clarity. In my effort to gain awareness, I’m sure I have missed the beauty of the fog on numerous occasions.

As always, thanks for reading. Your thoughts are welcome.

A few days ago, I suddenly found myself longing for the Sundays of my youth. When I was growing up, Sunday was a day for lounging around, for clipping coupons and reading comic strips. We received The Martinsville Bulletin and/or The Roanoke Times. Ever since I was old enough to read and turn the pages of the newspaper, I looked forward to the Sunday comic section: Peanuts, The Far Side, For Better or For Worse, Doonesbury, Cathy, Dilbert. These were some of the comics I remember fondly. (I was less excited about the coupons.) Maybe my memories of Sundays are enhanced by the leisure that typically accompanies childhood years. Or, maybe there was something else that contributed to the leisurely quality of the Sundays that I remember.

The Blue Laws, which restricted alcohol and retail sales on Sunday, also accompanied my childhood years in Virginia. The origins of these laws trace back to the early 1600s, when the citizens of Jamestown were required to observe a holy day of rest on Sunday. The first step towards repealing these laws was taken thirty-five years ago on January 15, 1974. A transitional period ensued, as each county or city was given authority to decide independently whether to observe the laws. Finally, in 1988, a group of businessmen initiated a case that eventually led to the end of the Blue Laws in Virginia. Although I do not feel these laws have a place in our secular American society, one by-product of them was that people seemed to make more time for each other on Sundays. Sundays moved at a slower pace.

In the life that I lead today, I often feel that all the days are the same. As an artist and musipreneur in the US, I feel my challenge is to maintain a portfolio of IGOs, my term for “income-generating opportunities”. This portfolio ideally enables me to draw in sufficient amounts of income, while ensuring that I also have time and energy to practice and create. I am no stranger to faith, commitment, and discipline. So, every day I feel responsible for doing some kind of work towards reaching my goals.

I found the courage to make a promise to my dreams. I promised them that I would do everything in my power to bring them to life. I organized my time in order to make room for their pursuit. At first, I carved out minutes for my art on a daily basis, then hours, days, weeks, months, until I was fully devoted to being an artist and understanding what that means for me and my life. For every unit of leisure that I gave up in order to pursue these dreams, there was something I gained in return and I was one step closer to realizing them.

Enter another law: The Law of Diminishing Returns. Some of you might disagree with the application of this principle to an arena other than agriculture, for which it was originally devised. Still, I think this path is worth exploring, if only as an exercise. This economic principle suggests that there is an optimal amount of investment in a particular scenario. In this case, we’ll apply this notion to the investment of time. The optimal point will be different for every person, based on his or her personal circumstances. The idea is that if you invest less time than this optimal amount, you are missing out on some gains. You are likely to gain a lot from an hour more of study as a novice. An additional hour of study as an expert will contribute to your mastery of the subject. You will be giving up something to get something that is of value to you.

Yet, if you invest more than this optimal amount of time, you might not be gaining anything more. In fact, you might discover that you are losing something. The additional time you spend may well be a detriment to achieving your dreams. Finding the optimal solution is a matter of trial and error.

So, it has occurred to me that, somewhere along the way, I lost sight of the Sundays. Yet, Sundays aren’t really what I’m after. What I’m after is the feeling that comes with a moment of rest. I’m not talking about planning time for meditating or doing yoga or praying or going for a run or reading a book. I’m talking about having some time for doing absolutely nothing and being open to anything the universe offers me in that moment. I want to have that luxury – again.

This year I’m going to find that moment. Maybe I’ll even subscribe to the Sunday issue of the Los Angeles Times and read the comics every week.

In any case, I’m going to write my own “blue laws”.

As always, I’m open to your thoughts and personal experiences as they relate to this post, so please feel free to comment below.

In spite of the mixed reputation that MySpace has earned in the social media space, I have had the opportunity to connect with some wonderful artists and musicians through that very medium. For example, if I had not posted my music on MySpace, I might not have had the pleasure of meeting Wendell Wiggins, who discovered my music there and contacted me several months ago. This past Saturday night, I dropped by the opening night of an exhibit where his artwork is being displayed in Los Angeles. I was intrigued by the title of one of his pieces, “Where River Meets Sea.” In this post, I am sharing with you the image of this painting and Wendell’s perspective.

Q: What is it about dance that inspires you to try to “capture” it in so many of your paintings?
Wendell: I’ve always loved the art of dance in all of its forms. I especially enjoy the ritual and ceremonial dances of different cultures and societies. Usually dance is performed in partnership with music. Together they have the ability to bring us together with a depth of bonding that cannot be achieved with words alone. The effect of this partnership often evokes a sense of euphoria, transcendence and spirituality. As a Visual Artist and Fine Arts painter I’ve always been intrigued by this marriage of sound and movement. Since it is not possible to recreate music with paint, I seek to capture it visually using line, color and composition to simulate the rhythmic energy and drama of dance.

Q. How do the “River” and “Sea” come together in your painting entitled “Where River Meets Sea”?
Wendell: My painting titled “Where River Meets Sea” was first conceived when I traveled to Brazil to attend the Carnaval festivities. During several Afro-Brazilian religious celebrations on the beaches of Salvador, Bahia, I watched as groups of women dressed in blue and white to represent Yemanja, the Goddess of Sea, danced and gave offerings of flowers to the Ocean. Also in attendance were women dressed in yellow and gold to honor the Goddess of Love and Fresh Water (known as Oxun). This scene of hundreds of women in spinning colorful dresses, dancing and chanting to the rhythmic sounds of drummers, created a mesmerizing image. My painting attempts to capture the atmosphere and energy I felt, watching this intoxicating colorful swirling mix of white, blue and yellow motion.

Q. Is there anything else you’d like to share about this painting and your relationship to it?
Wendell: I have always enjoyed the spiritual aspects of dance and the beauty of music. I find that they are often direct links to achieving a heightened sense of inner peace and joy. One of my artistic goals has been to find a way to translate these emotions into my paintings. Creating sensations of optimism, energy & movement through color and texture, combined with images of spirituality, nature, dance & music have been my primary motivation as a visual artist. I strive to transmit a sense of euphoria by pushing my subject matter beyond the obvious imagery to create works that not only moves the viewer visually, but emotionally as well.

Q. Where is it on display and for how long?
Wendell: Currently it – and several other paintings of mine – are on display and on sale at The Loft at Liz’s at 453 S. La Brea Ave in Los Angeles, north of Wilshire Blvd. until December 15th, 2008. Also an Opening reception for ‘An Artisan Holiday’ will take place on Saturday, December 6th from 7-11pm. Both shows will be featured in The Loft at Liz’s during the month of December.

In early October, there were some people who were curious about my two cents on the upcoming election. With November 4 around the bend, I decided to post this entry to the blog. I leave it to you to determine the worth of these pennies that I’ve been jingling in my pocket.

Cent 1.

What’s Your Sign? The perspective of my five-year-old nephew

My sister lives in Austin, a liberal enclave in the conservative state of Texas. She keeps company with four native Texans – my brother-in-law and three nephews – all of whom are avid fans of the University of Texas Longhorns. Nikhil, age 5, is the proud older brother of the two-year-old twins: Mihir and Rahul. While riding around in the minivan during the last few months, Nikhil has been counting the signs he sees in support of each presidential candidate.

Below is a conversation from a few weeks ago, when he was riding in the minivan with my sister.

Nikhil: “I don’t know about Mihir or Rahul, but I’m for Obama.”

Mother: “OK.” (maintaining a straight face and serious tone of voice)

Nikhil: “And I know that when it was Clinton versus Obama that you were for Clinton…but now you are for Obama, right?”

Mother: “That’s right.”

Nikhil: “But I’m not sure about Dad. What about Dad? Who is Dad for? I think he’s for Obama.”

Mother: “I think he might be, but it would be great if you ask your Dad to find out.”

Nikhil: “Well, it seems like pretty much everybody in our family is for Obama.” (observing the sign for Obama/Biden in the neighbor’s front yard)

Mother: “I suppose it seems that way…” (pulling into garage, while still maintaining a straight face)

Nikhil: “So, when are we going to get our sign?”

Cent 2.

My Sign is Peace – The perspective of hope

So, when are we going to get our sign? Well, what are our choices? The other day my 13-year-old stepson asked why there were only two major parties. Yes, in the States, the political department store generally features only two kinds of signs in the front display. You have to walk inside to see the rest. Most of us are too busy to go in and check out the alternatives. Or perhaps we are afraid that those alternatives pose a threat to the mannequins on display, so we don’t want to know what they are all about. Maybe some of us believe that the merchandise is overpriced, leaving us to believe that we’re better off without it. Some passersby may not even notice the store at all. Even though the display changes every so often, our personal circumstances on whatever street we are living remain essentially the same.

What is most interesting to me about this election are the mannequins on display. Such a display is powerful stuff, regardless of your political views, and it has even turned the heads of some passersby who usually don’t give a hoot. Here I am witnessing not one, but two women whose participation at this level of politics symbolizes a new era of possibilities. I’m also witness to the first ever African-American candidate for President. Furthermore, given our life expectancy these days (for those of us with access to good healthcare benefits), I’m not surprised to see a candidate who is in his 70s. So there you have it: the action figures represent diversity of age, gender, and race.

I step into my nephew’s shoes: “I’m too young to remember the last presidential election, but this time around I’m counting the signs. I don’t stay up late to watch Tina Fey mock Sarah Palin on Saturday Night Live. I don’t watch YouTube. I don’t listen to conservative radio or watch liberal news programming. But I have seen those mannequins in the storefront. I am not sure I understand what they stand for. I know what they look like. One appears to be more popular, but there is nothing unusual about the fact that these are my choices. Hey, maybe someday there will even be a President who looks like me. Well, I think I’ll go with the one that has the most signs. Things around me seem OK. I trust the people around me and my community to know how to make good decisions. If this action figure is good enough for them, then he’s good enough for me.”

Back in my own shoes. How am I different from my nephew? Do I believe that because I’m older and more “experienced” that I will vote for a candidate on the basis of “research”? I suppose I try to find out as much as I can. Sometimes I am persuaded by endorsements from people or organizations that I trust, because I don’t feel that I have the time to do all the research on my own. However, in the end, it comes down to a feeling. I am for the candidate who appears to best represent my value system and who “speaks to me”.

Here comes the “judge” with his gavel. “Someone who speaks to you? What does that mean? You should take more time to do some real research. You should interview the Presidential candidates yourself.”

The “defendant” now speaks up, “Look here, I do my best. It is a wonder that I vote at all, to be honest. Some of these people who are supporters of either candidate are ruthless and I don’t want to be a part of their name-calling ways. They rarely appear to see the humans behind the labels they give each other. Plus, compared to the rest of the world, I’ve got it pretty good. I’ve got running water and electricity 24 hours a day. That’s not going to change under either candidate.”

Says the “judge”, “That’s all you want? Hot showers and some juice for your MacBook? Don’t you want more? Don’t you care? You have the privilege of living in a society where you actually get to choose your leaders – powerful leaders who can influence what is happening in the rest of the world. . .”

Whew! The perspectives have me spinning. But, deep down inside, I know what I want. And I’m going to vote. I’m going to put in my two cents. If I don’t vote, I’m letting someone else decide my future for me.

So, after voting for my pick for our next President and marking “yes” or “no” on 12 California state propositions, I’m hoping for some peace of mind. Without hope, there is no sign of peace.

This entry is a follow-up to The Waiting is the Hardest Part (Tom Petty) post.

Sometimes after “the waiting” is over, you actually continue to wait. This kind of lingering behavior often occurs when you don’t get a response. Participants were to be notified by Tuesday, October 28. I was not notified, so it appears I will not be participating. Upon receiving such non-notifications, here are some steps that I appear to take:

1. Ignore the fact that I haven’t heard anything because I’m busy with other projects
2. Two days later, register the fact that I haven’t heard anything
3. Tell myself it is for the best by planning all the things I can do in the 30+ hours that would have been taken up by the project between now and the end of February
4. Allow myself to be disappointed
5. Move on and find excitement in other projects

Thanks to those of you who waited with me on this occasion. Some of you even shared with me the results of your own “waiting”. I appreciate your stories and learning about what’s happening with you. I will forge ahead with fostering my musical development, knowing that you are with me!

Today I feel bold. So I’m going to share a bit of my journey in real time. First of all, today marks the end of the repayment period of yet another school loan. Hurray! And, though it is great to report accomplishments, they don’t represent the hardest part of the journey, which is of course, “the waiting“, a basic and universal concept captured aptly by one of my favorite songwriters, Tom Petty. So that brings me to the point of writing this entry. For what am I waiting?

My friend and flutist Dominique Gagne forwarded an opportunity to me two weeks ago. At first glance, I recognized it was a terrific opportunity, but I wasn’t sure whether to apply for it. It is funny how your reflexes respond in some instances without any prompting – like those times when you might say “I’m just looking”, even before the salesperson speaks to you. I re-read the information carefully a few days ago and realized that I had been responding to some insecurities. Based on the description of the workshop and the requirements, I realized that it would be a very good idea for me to apply, especially given where I am right now in terms of what I want to do and where I feel I’m headed. So I put it on my to-do list and submitted my statement a few minutes ago, in time for tomorrow’s deadline.

Sometimes, in this world of the music biz, you may not even get a response. Talent buyers and festival organizers are often overwhelmed. The usual waiting game takes on a fierce character, especially when you are new to it. You can’t take anything personally (if you want to stay sane).

With practice over the years, I’ve learned these steps:

1. Get excited
2. Fill out application or write statement or send email or leave phone message
3. Tone down excitement
4. Remain hopeful
5. Move on to the next thing

So, of course, right now I’m all excited about the prospect of this musiventure. I’m fortunate that, in this case, I don’t have to wait for very long. A response date is actually specified! I am supposed to hear back by Tuesday (Oct 28) and I do believe that this organization will get back to me one way or another. However, now things are out of my hands. Whatever will be, will be. Time to tone down the excitement, but before closing, I thought I’d be super bold and share with you my statement of purpose.

When I find out the results – either way – I’ll post a new entry next week. Until then, I’ll remain hopeful (and I hope you will, too!)

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For Workshop Series Beginning November 3, 2008

To: Colin Walker

Submitted by: Manisha Shahane

Statement of Interest and Purpose:

I’m a West LA-based singer, pianist, songwriter, composer, and performer, soon to release my second album. On more than one occasion I have received comments from people who hear Brazilian influences in the music I write and perform. Yet, I have never studied this music, nor have I ever been to Brazil. For that matter, Brazilian music is not even something I can identify as a part of my formative musical experiences, which are predominantly Indian (North Indian classical, bhajans, and Bollywood) and American (musicals, Western classical, rock, pop, folk, jazz). Of course, my musicality is molded continuously. Through participation in this workshop, Brazilian music would indeed become one of my formative experiences.

When I first performed Peace in Progress, the title track of my debut album, several listeners and fellow musicians heard the sound of bossa nova. I was surprised. Really? I had no idea whatsoever that I had managed to incorporate this musical style from a country whose culture I had only experienced through stories of others and by studying its economic development challenges during my college years.

Into the Valley received a similar response. This time people heard a samba-like rhythm and some asked why I had chosen this Brazilian influence to cradle a story that takes place on the other side of the world. This place, known as “Shouting Hill”, is by the eastern edge of the village of Majdal Shams in Israel. Although the story is indeed inspired by the experiences of the Druz families who were separated by the redrawing of the border between Israel and Syria, the song is dedicated to the will, faith, and hope of families around the world who have been separated due to war. So perhaps this unintended juxtaposition contributes to the universality of the experience of separation and our hope that we will meet again.

By no means did I sit down at the piano and say to myself, “ah, yes – let’s play a samba.” What happened is that I sat down and began playing without thinking and without intention. And, over the rhythmic foundation that emerged, I layered the melody and lyrics that tell the story. It all just seemed to fit. I didn’t question it or wonder about it.

To be honest, at that time, if you had asked me to play a samba for you, I wouldn’t have known what to play. In fact, I’m not even sure I could do it right now. I could play for you what I think is a samba, based perhaps on my experiences of dancing the samba or listening to it.

Out of that naiveté comes a desire for greater understanding of the Brazilian sounds that seem to find their way into my songs and compositions. So, when an East Coast-based colleague forwarded this opportunity to me, I became very excited at the prospect of attending this workshop series led jointly by you and Carlinhos Panderio de Ouro. Given my lack of familiarity with Brazilian music, it would be impossible for me to fully appreciate the artistry and contributions of a master such as Carlinhos. My friend, however, has become increasingly devoted to the study and performance of Brazilian music in its pure and fused forms over the last five years or so. Her endorsement? “Amazing opportunity!!!” and “This guy is not to be missed.” Certainly I have visited his website and watched video demonstrations, but studying with him in person would be a life-changing experience. Studying with a master in any realm is a truly remarkable opportunity. To do so on a scholarship basis would be an honor.

Throughout my life, I have connected people from different walks of life. I am a bridge between cultures and I live at the intersection of numerous paths of work and study. It is not unusual for musicians who perform with me to be meeting each other for the first time through my music. At my core, I experience a longing for community and I have worked to find or create a sense of community in every place I have lived. I moved from Boston to Los Angeles three years ago and I feel that this opportunity couldn’t come at a better time for me in my career. If I am selected to participate in this workshop, I believe that I could benefit in the following arenas of my musical development: content, composition, and collaboration. My music already demonstrates my interest in a wide variety of rhythm and percussion. Through this workshop, I would learn new vocabulary and skills that I could apply to my writing and performance, while expanding my community of musicians here in Los Angeles.

I have been blessed to work with many gifted musicians and performers in various places. Among them are pianist Vince Evans (Luther Vandross, Dianne Reeves), percussionists Jerry Leake (Ali Akbar Khan, Natraj) and Ricardo Monzon (Myanna, Boston Pops), bassist Eli Magen (Israeli Philharmonic), drummer Alison Miller (Sheila Jordan, Norah Jones), plus guitarists Kevin Barry (Mary Chapin Carpenter, Paula Cole) & Prasanna (Joe Lovano, Hari Prasad Chaurasia), and multi-instrumentalist Akili Jamal Haynes (Lenny Kravitz, Roberta Flack). In Los Angeles, some of the musicians I have worked with include Mark San Filippo (drums), Geoff Rakness (bass), Dawn Norfleet (flute), Delton Davis (multi-percussion), and Janice Foy (cello).

In closing, participation in this workshop is directly related to my vision of bridging hemispheres and my mission of improving communication within and across societies, bringing together people of varying ages, traditions, and backgrounds – both on stage and in my audience.

In November 2007, I articulated this vision as follows:

Accordingly, if selected, I look forward to meeting you, Carlinhos, and the other workshop participants.

For more information about my music or me, I invite you to visit my website: http://www.ManishaMusic.com.

Thanks for your time and consideration.

*****************************************

Alright then, I’m off to the next thing! Stay tuned…

The ocean breeze coming down Santa Monica Boulevard on this first evening of autumn gave me a chill as I looked around for the nearest Big Blue bus stop. It was September 22, around 6:15pm, and the sun was on its way to calling it a day. I walked one block and stationed my dark blue backpack-on-wheels near the bench at 14th Street and wrapped my grey shawl tightly around my shoulders. As I paced back and forth to keep warm, I gazed west in the direction of downtown Santa Monica for the bright blue bus that would take me home to neighboring West LA.

A few minutes passed before a black man with weathered skin and hair that matched my shawl approached me unexpectedly. He had on a navy blue baseball cap, a forest green sweatshirt, and jeans that didn’t seem to fit quite right. Without any introduction, he dove right into my personal space and notified me, “Jesus is worried about you. . .” I didn’t object, figuring that it couldn’t hurt to have an extra set of eyes looking out for me.

After a few more similar statements, he leaned in closer and angrily warned me, “you had better pick that up when you leave.” With his nose inches from mine, my usual disposition in such circumstances turned from calm to confused, and I even felt the prickly fingers of fear beginning to crawl up my neck, although my left brain told me he was harmless. (Hey, no wonder Jesus was worrying about me.) Before the man ambled back over to the adjacent gas station, I caught a whiff of his alcohol-laden breath.

Nearby, a couple of people were filling up their gas tanks. One fellow was looking at me, shaking his head in disapproval of this drunken wanderer and I felt a bit safer than I did moments earlier. The drunkard landed in the personal space of yet another one of the gas station customers before picking up an empty green glass beer bottle from the ground. I found my fear subside as compassion surfaced in its place. Still, I couldn’t be sure what would come next (I’ve had a bottle hurled at me once before). So I braced myself for another encounter. Then, after giving me one more stern look, he kept on rambling to himself and dawdled down the sidewalk in the direction of the forthcoming sunset.

Despite numerous bizarre encounters I’ve had over the years in places ranging from safe to skeptical, this moment gave me pause to think. This part of Santa Monica is hardly what one would call “dangerous.” Furthermore, there was still plenty of daylight. Given the unusual momentary fear I had experienced in this instance, I wondered exactly what it was that bothered me, because he didn’t actually do anything to me. I realized that it had to do with how he invaded my personal space – it was in a way that unnerved me for some reason. I felt that anything I might say to defy him might only ignite him further and cause a big scene. I had the urge to push him away, but I thought it best to let him do what he needed to do – to get whatever it was out of his system – and trust that he would leave.

After he left, I began to think about personal space and whether there is any way to defend it from invasion. I mean, what exactly do you say in a situation like that when reason doesn’t stand a chance? Usually minding your own business is sufficient, but it’s hard to mind your own business and ignore someone when you feel as though they might keep getting closer. For a split second, I thought about calling the cops to come get this fellow and arrest him for “violation of personal space.” At what point would it have made sense for that head-shaking customer at the gas pump to have come to my defense? I was in that strange place where my space met the stranger’s space involuntarily: it is that place in which we are not actually touching each other, but where I felt as though we were and where the feeling alone was enough to make me wince. It seems that invasion of space is not enough to warrant action. Our personal space gets no defense.

If you’ve ever had experiences related to the involuntary meeting of spaces in either friendly or unfriendly settings, I’d love to hear about them. Please feel free to share them here.

A couple of days ago I got the opportunity to attend a seminar titled Creating Music Videos, offered by award-winning director Nigel Dick through the UCLA Extension School. In addition to Nigel’s long list of music video credits over the last 25 years (among them Guns N’ Roses, Cher, Sting, Sheryl Crow, Britney Spears, Pussycat Dolls, Ricky Martin, Def Leppard, Paul McCartney, John Mayer, Elton John, Backstreet Boys, Tina Turner, Celine Dion, R.E.M.), he apparently also holds a degree in architecture which he never put to use professionally. Or is that true? I guess it depends on how you look at it. While it is true that Nigel did not make architecture his vocation at any point following college, it is the case that he was able to apply what he learned to what may seem to be an entirely different and unrelated field.

During the seminar he shared with us his “treatments” (written descriptions) and “sketches” (showing the actual series of shots with comments about the type of camera angle or other details) of music videos to show us the process of how he communicates his ideas before any filming takes place. Towards the end of the day, in response to one of the questions, he made a comment about how directing a music video bears some similarity to being an architect. The gist of what he said was the following: As an architect, you are required to bring to life something that exists on paper. Your success depends both on your ability to communicate your idea clearly to the people who are hiring you, as well as being able to get the best work out of the various people who serve in different functions and capacities on the job in order to make sure that the idea in real life matches the idea on paper as closely as possible. Architects work with brick layers, carpenters, painters, etc. Music video directors work with musicians, actors, set designers, costume designers, make-up artists, cameramen, etc.

Furthermore, Nigel taught himself or took classes to learn the various skills that help him either in communicating his ideas to others when submitting a proposal and/or working with others after he’s got the job. For example, the architecture program in which he studied did not emphasize drawing, so that was something he taught himself in order to better convey the shots he had in mind. Also, he always felt comfortable working with musicians, since he is a guitarist himself. However, in order to become more proficient in working with actors, he took acting classes. Keep in mind that he was not out to become an actor. His purpose was clear – he set out to better understand the actors’ perspectives, so he could use the right language and techniques in getting the best performances possible.

After observing Nigel’s example of what I call “bridging hemispheres”, I was thinking about how so many of us limit ourselves in this world of increasing experts and expertise. I’m not necessarily advocating becoming a jack-of-all-trades, unless that’s what you want and that’s great if it works for you. My message here is to the focused people: If you are focused on something, I imagine that it wouldn’t hurt to look through the panoramic view of your lens to see how your skills might be applied elsewhere, at least so you have a good understanding of what is transferable. And, although you might be very busy looking through your lens, it might be worthwhile to take a break for just a moment to look through someone else’s lens.

I feel fortunate to have had the opportunity to explore the world through a variety of lenses and also to explore how far and wide my own lens can see. And I’m definitely not done yet. You might ask: Well, what were YOU doing in that class? Some of you might not know this, but I was into video back in the day. For the time being, we won’t say how far back in the day that was. Still, I really had no idea about how this world of music video works, other than as a spectator.

Sometime ago, one of my 9-year old students who was intrigued by my music asked me, “Do you have a music video?” He was appalled to hear that I did not. Ever since then – and especially in the course of wrapping up my next album – I think about what he said in all his wisdom. “You should really have a music video – everybody will love to watch it. . .”

So I thought – why not? And, better yet, if there’s someone out there who wants to add a music video to his or her “reel” (filmmaker lingo for portfolio), well then here I am to further the cause! Double the pleasure, double the fun, I say, when two people create synergy through their combined work or meeting of minds.

From what I could tell, I was the only performing artist and songwriter present. My interest in meeting others for a potential partnership was well received and, though I’m encouraged, I can’t say for sure what will come of my sidebar adventure. What I can do is laugh a little about how worried I was about taking time out of my schedule to go to this seminar about a topic that is not my focus. To top off the experience, I attended the seminar on a complimentary basis as a guest of the department (which is another story), so there was no issue of money. So, all in all, I’m glad I took a moment to look at life through the lens of a music video director.

I just got home from a session of Ego @ The Door where I played with Marcus L. Miller (drums), Dawn Norfleet (flute/vocals), Rod (electric bass guitar), Keven Brennen (sax and more), and Jas Shepherd on a variety of instruments (including the gong). I met Jas last summer on his radio show, Forward Motion, on KPFK. Up to now Jas has recorded Ego @ The Door sessions (which take place once a month) at KPFK, but tonight (Thurs June 26) we were at Keven Brennan’s studio “F.Boo” in Burbank. I’m not able to make it to the session every month, but I’ve been to a number of sessions and you never know who is going to be there, so it is never the same. It reminds me a bit of the Wednesday night sessions in Cambridge, MA that I often attended at the Lily Pad (back then it was the Zeitgeist). During Ego @ The Door, we don’t have any preconceived repertoire. Everything is improvised – it is about connecting with, reaching out to and responding to the other musicians. Tonight I felt like I was in a really good space and it was such a great experience. There was something about each person’s contribution that felt inspiring. I’m glad to be meeting and playing with so many wonderful musicians here in LA. Little by little, I feel like I’m becoming part of a community here on the Left Coast.