I'm blaming this latest silence on Leon Botstein. Christopher's first day back in the US, in my second week back here or so, we drove up to Bard College. It's my Dad's alma mater, and he was attending a memorial service, alumni brunch and board of directors meeting. We went to the brunch with him. I've known my Dad's college friends my whole life, and they're fun to talk to and hang out with both for being so convivial and merry, and for all being so smart. I sort of felt like I was at the wedding of one of their kids or something, the mood and food were both so rich and festive- maybe it was just that it was super nice to get to introduce Christopher to them. Anyway, of course, inevitably the speeches started. And Leon, the head of Bard for the last milennium or so, was entertaining and random, seeming to address every issue But whatever had been asked of him. At one point he went off on blogging and e-mail culture, in that curmudgeonly faux-Luddite tone we all love so much in our college presidents. No, of course, everything he said was right on, but of course I couldn't help but take it personally. Tho when you're sitting in a crowded room like that, and the speaker blasts people who write blogs, you can't help but look around and think, how many others? Twelve? Twenty? Who else is spilling their guts in their pajamas? Leon called blogs "the detritus and cuttings from a publishing house floor" because of their lack of editorial oversight. I got a little satisfaction a few weeks later when he showed up on the Colbert Report and seemed nervous. Ha, Mr Big-Shot International Orchestra Conductor, Prison-Education Initiative Defender, Youngest Ever College President! You got served by a fake conservative on a fake news show!
I have to add to this, on the subject of politically progressive orchestra leaders, big snaps go to Leonard Bernstein. The other night I heard my Dad sing Chichester Psalms with a big group of Jewish choruses. That piece is incredible. I can't believe I never heard it before! In the car on the way home, Mozart's Prague Symphony was on the radio, which meant that I couldn't hold the slightest shred of conversation since I had to sing along with it from beginning to end. I realized the reason there are so many important pieces I have no familiarity with is that I spent all my time listening to the same few pieces over and over. I was the coolest kid in fourth grade.
One story I've been meaning to share: bringing Spinoza to the US. With the officials on either side, remarkably, unbelievably easy. I filled in the circle on my entry form that I was bringing in an animal- which is the same circle that says you're bringing in food. Leaving the last gate of customs in JFK, the guy noticed it was filled in (the first checkpoint noone had noticed!) and asked what food I was bringing. I said, well, I have a cat in here, and some kitty treats for him. The guy glanced at Spin, then asked to look at the package of Friskies treats. The two of us spent a few minutes discussing the ingredients, both of us finding it interesting that while the flavor was "Whitefish-Tuna" the main ingredients were chicken and corn, before I noticed it said "Made in USA," and he passed me off to someone else to look at Spinoza. I showed this guy the paperwork, he took a look inside Spinny's box, saw how cute he looked all knocked out and drugged up, and said, Ok, go ahead. That was it. No physical, he didn't even pick him up.
On the flight, I was given a middle seat, even though I'd asked for an aisle. I was flustered and grumpy about this, and asked the lady to my right if she would switch with me. She didn't understand me and said something about sleeping, and we had a very odd little back-and-forth. I thought she was saying to me she was going to be sleeping very well, and I said, obnoxiously (I'm ashamed of what a brat I was) "Yeah, it's comfortable to be on the end!" Luckily, she realy didn't seem to understand me at all, and after a moment of silence, she asked, "Would you like to switch? You have a cat!" I thanked her profusely and resolved to make up my obnoxiousness somehow in the course of the flight. She was the sweetest, sweetest lady. I could tell she was Asian by her accent, but her face was so wrinkled, it was like the generic mask of a sweet old grandmother. I asked her where she was from after we'd made some more small talk, and she said Florida. Later on, out of the blue, she started telling me about her childhood during World War 2. We had no electricity, no fire, she said. Some soldier would come from the base with a cigarette, and turn his hat (she meant helmet) upside down and we would cook our food in it. I realized she must have been Japanese. I told her how my Mom grew up hearing sirens, which she didn't remember until 9-11 happened. This lady said, "We didn't hate you. All the people, they are the same. War is made by a few people, but the rest, they don't hate each other." She seemed to be worried that somehow I would have some anti-Japanese feeling because of World War 2!! I didn't go into my almost ridiculous love of all things Japanese, from sushi to origami to gardens, but I did tell her how my friend Mayuko had given me a few lessons on the Koto and how much I loved it. Turns out she also plays Koto! And her friend stole her Koto! It got her a little worked up to tell me about it. In case you don't know, a Koto is about 5- 9 feet long. For someone to steal it, especially another little old lady, is incredibly funny.
I'm embarrassed I can't remember her name. I think it was Ayako.
She was so wonderful to Spinoza, and went on about how smart cats are. "If you love them, they love you- and they protect you!" We talked about how much we both love shows on Animal Planet and Discovery Channel (really, that's what TV was made for- pet blooper shows.) She told me she had also flown with her pet, a dachshund, from Japan to the Philippines, to the US. That seemed to put the drama of Spin's and my trip into perspective.
Anyway, when we got near JFK, I helped her fill in the entry form, so I felt at least a little better for my earlier rudeness. The town she was from in Florida was Oviedo, which I'd never heard of before. We landed early in the morning, and she joined up with the rest of her church group with whom she had traveled to Israel. I didn't get to properly say good-by or thank her. But later that day I was walking through Jersey City, and I saw a bronze model of a church in front of City Hall. I looked closer to check it out, and it was from JC's new partner city: Oviedo, Spain.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Friday, May 04, 2007
which cities
I was thinking about why it would be that things in NYC are both so difficult now, with so many good clubs closing or on the brink, and things so apparently bright and fruitful among creative musicians.
I was reminded of a revelation I had a number of years ago. Warning: it's a pretty pathetic, obvious revelation. I was in the back seat with my parents somewhere in Connecticut or New Jersey, and we drove by some projects. I thought, this is the last frontier of the civil rights movement: housing. Having just watched my friend Sara Booth's documentary about Newark "Urban Renewal is People Removal" I am even more convinced. Unfortunately, it seems like in NYC, real estate is the last frontier of all these kinds of "more meaningful" battles. I went to Tonic a bunch of times, for amazing shows it seems like it would be hard to replicate anywhere else. I also went, long ago, to the Wetlands, for their cheap ska and hardcore shows, to Tramps, for 3 + hour (I couldn't take anymore) Ween and Jon Spencer Blues Explosion sets. There was such energy to the audience, it wasn't like the interest was lacking in any respect. But how could we, mere fans, mere musicians, do anything when it comes to facing the machine that is NYC real estate. It was slightly more convenient than, say, Pianos, that Tonic was just off Delancey. It had a big space. It was inevitable that some developer, getting fat off the Lower East Side's gentrification, would be hungry for it.
I write this because at first I disagreed with Judd. I think there is a very similar problem in a lot of cities. It's hard to be a musician and do what you want creatively. The world is messed up and wrong that way. In Tel Aviv, there's one free jazz collective that reminded me of the great stuff I saw in Boston while in school, and it's unpaid and disorganized. That being said, I was much more aware and involved in the cultural life of Boston and Rochester than I am in Tel Aviv. Those are my 3 non-NYC examples, from first-hand experience. At NEC there was a panel discussion with 3 Jazz and Contemporary Improv faculty members, about the music business. I don't remember so many specific questions, but I do remember feeling frustrated that it seemed like everyone was preparing to fight for gigs at the same few clubs. So when I say it's about getting out of the cities, I was thinking sort of about that. About getting out of the same places. But we have to make it pay, obviously. That's the hard part everywhere. Judd and I see NYC from a similar perspective, having grown up here and coming back. And on top of that, like 99% of the folks I went to school with in Boston and Rochester have moved to New York, which makes things very nice and convenient for me when I come home to visit. But it means, again, we're all competing for the same gigs in a city that, as Judd pointed out, isn't interested enough in feeding (literally, not figuratively) its artists. Now that chamber music foundations are funding classical music in bars around town, jazz vs. classical gigs become less of an issue.
I don't know where to take this to make it change. We need radio stations like in Germany, where each one has its own resident ensembles. We need unorthodox philanthropists like the lady who left millions to Poetry magazine. We need to make friends with Larry Silverstein. Ok, I'm not going that far! I was going to mention the good old days when Bernstein and folks were put on the cover of Life magazine, but there's not even Life anymore, let alone (sigh) Bernstein. I guess the point is I have to stop being nostalgic. For my college years, for the 50's, which I never actually experienced... Right now I think the solution is to make a big hit teenage romantic comedy with Hilary Duff and, um, some guy (I don't know the names of any teenage superstars) playing a cellist (everybody loves hot girl cellists) and, say, a clarinetist who meet at an international youth orchestra, and fall in love after lots of snafus and misunderstandings. The movie fades with them playing Brahms together, accompanied by the sarcastic, gay, Asian pianist friend. That will get everybody back in.
I was reminded of a revelation I had a number of years ago. Warning: it's a pretty pathetic, obvious revelation. I was in the back seat with my parents somewhere in Connecticut or New Jersey, and we drove by some projects. I thought, this is the last frontier of the civil rights movement: housing. Having just watched my friend Sara Booth's documentary about Newark "Urban Renewal is People Removal" I am even more convinced. Unfortunately, it seems like in NYC, real estate is the last frontier of all these kinds of "more meaningful" battles. I went to Tonic a bunch of times, for amazing shows it seems like it would be hard to replicate anywhere else. I also went, long ago, to the Wetlands, for their cheap ska and hardcore shows, to Tramps, for 3 + hour (I couldn't take anymore) Ween and Jon Spencer Blues Explosion sets. There was such energy to the audience, it wasn't like the interest was lacking in any respect. But how could we, mere fans, mere musicians, do anything when it comes to facing the machine that is NYC real estate. It was slightly more convenient than, say, Pianos, that Tonic was just off Delancey. It had a big space. It was inevitable that some developer, getting fat off the Lower East Side's gentrification, would be hungry for it.
I write this because at first I disagreed with Judd. I think there is a very similar problem in a lot of cities. It's hard to be a musician and do what you want creatively. The world is messed up and wrong that way. In Tel Aviv, there's one free jazz collective that reminded me of the great stuff I saw in Boston while in school, and it's unpaid and disorganized. That being said, I was much more aware and involved in the cultural life of Boston and Rochester than I am in Tel Aviv. Those are my 3 non-NYC examples, from first-hand experience. At NEC there was a panel discussion with 3 Jazz and Contemporary Improv faculty members, about the music business. I don't remember so many specific questions, but I do remember feeling frustrated that it seemed like everyone was preparing to fight for gigs at the same few clubs. So when I say it's about getting out of the cities, I was thinking sort of about that. About getting out of the same places. But we have to make it pay, obviously. That's the hard part everywhere. Judd and I see NYC from a similar perspective, having grown up here and coming back. And on top of that, like 99% of the folks I went to school with in Boston and Rochester have moved to New York, which makes things very nice and convenient for me when I come home to visit. But it means, again, we're all competing for the same gigs in a city that, as Judd pointed out, isn't interested enough in feeding (literally, not figuratively) its artists. Now that chamber music foundations are funding classical music in bars around town, jazz vs. classical gigs become less of an issue.
I don't know where to take this to make it change. We need radio stations like in Germany, where each one has its own resident ensembles. We need unorthodox philanthropists like the lady who left millions to Poetry magazine. We need to make friends with Larry Silverstein. Ok, I'm not going that far! I was going to mention the good old days when Bernstein and folks were put on the cover of Life magazine, but there's not even Life anymore, let alone (sigh) Bernstein. I guess the point is I have to stop being nostalgic. For my college years, for the 50's, which I never actually experienced... Right now I think the solution is to make a big hit teenage romantic comedy with Hilary Duff and, um, some guy (I don't know the names of any teenage superstars) playing a cellist (everybody loves hot girl cellists) and, say, a clarinetist who meet at an international youth orchestra, and fall in love after lots of snafus and misunderstandings. The movie fades with them playing Brahms together, accompanied by the sarcastic, gay, Asian pianist friend. That will get everybody back in.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Rostropovich
I was just reading my friend Judd's blog, and his writing about the sad closing of Tonic got me thinking. It clearly got him thinking too!
(quick little time-out here- this is what I was talking about in the last post about what's going to be so nice when I get home: to talk to Judd about this in person instead of this weird blogversation...)
I'll quote the big questions Judd got to:
The news of Tonic's closing really has me down these days. I've also heard rumors that the Knitting Factory and Galapagos are facing similarly dire straits. Where are we supposed to play?... The free-market approach is simply going to drive out of the city the people who make it an interesting and exciting place to live. Or will it? Certainly, people like me will have to leave, but will the people who are moving here actually care? I see artists as the Dark Matter that keeps the city going - not financially, but spiritually... Will the 20-somethings who move to New York actually stay here to raise a family? I don't know that they plan to. Will they want an active cultural life? For those who stay, I would think that they would. Does the city want to cultivate that type of long-term relationship with those people? I am certain that it does, but right now, the powers-that-be are relying on the big-ticket venues and establishments to provide that cultural backbone, and I don't think that it's working.
really good points. Christopher and I are moving back because we don't want to raise our family in Israel, for various reasons, and whether that goal will be fulfilled in the city or in the Catskills, or by a Maine beach, only time will tell. It's both the best and worst university town anywhere, but as a destination for grown-up-hood, it is scary. Every day I'm looking for new music education postings online. It doesn't feel safe to move somewhere expecting freelancing to feed you. But I do believe there's so many good initiatives happening. Creative endeavors at least, if not solutions, to the problems Judd writes about, and sees much more clearly than lil ol idealistic me can from way out here. And, then again, maybe it is time for all of us to get over the big cities as the centers of our universe. Maybe if public transportation improves, we can start getting out for cultural events like it's a more normal thing, the way my friend Amalia wanted to take me on a traintrip to Leipzig from her homebase of Berlin, to hear some amazing boys' choir. Still kicking myself for not making that happen. My teacher Joe Morris set up a recording studio in his living room. He lives in rural Connecticut. I could see a whole cool scene springing up around his place, if only we could get out of our NYC-Boston fixation. Actually, I don't know many people with Boston fixations these days! Except Mark Wahlberg. We just watched the Basketball Diaries. How does he always get cast as a New Yorker? Are those people deaf? We love him anyway. Or, because.
Big jump. Two nights before I heard the news of Rostropovich's passing, I had a dream about him. I was in his house with Christopher and two of his best friends, Sid (whom I've never met) and Banjo. We were scoping out the place and his routine for our friend Sol, who was going to make a documentary about Slava. The rooms were all huge, and orange and pink, with fireplaces in each one, reminding me of hearts. Slava would teach all day and late into the night, slumped over in a chair by the fire. I don't know, it's not that exciting a dream. I've just been thinking about that, the weird timing of it. He was such a hero. I played under him twice. Once, at Schleswig Holstein, he was a revelation, an inspiration, and absolutely drop-dead hilarious. He would stay up till almost morning playing cards with the Russian-speakers in the orchestra. He conducted us in Shostakovich 5th Symphony and 2nd cello concerto, and then he played the Dvorak concerto, I think the only piece he kept up till the end, or almost the end. Some idiots in the orchestra made comments about his wobbly playing, which made me furious. We were so incredibly lucky to be in the same room with him, let alone actually putting horsehair to string at the same moment!! And there's something about those old folks who keep playing... I remember my teacher Kathy Murdock coaching us on Bartok, encouraging us to try to get "old-man vibrato" as she called it, a vibrato of the bow. It's so human, like the breaking corner of a voice.
I'm tired of writing so I won't get to the second time I played under Rostropovich's baton. Suffice it to say, it was much less positive. It was, unfortunately, like a different person. I live with that first experience as the real one, also because he actually played.
One line I remember him telling us: "Shostakovich was my master in everything- except! for drinking vodka."
In this little reminiscence in the New Yorker, his capital S Soul is alluded to perfectly.
Speaking of missing cellists. I recently inherited a huge collection of sheet music from a cellist, Alida Winokur, mother to one of my Dad's best friends from high school. I hope to play as much of it as possible, and to dedicate concerts to her. I could never imagine a more fortunate windfall, and I am so, so grateful to her.
(quick little time-out here- this is what I was talking about in the last post about what's going to be so nice when I get home: to talk to Judd about this in person instead of this weird blogversation...)
I'll quote the big questions Judd got to:
The news of Tonic's closing really has me down these days. I've also heard rumors that the Knitting Factory and Galapagos are facing similarly dire straits. Where are we supposed to play?... The free-market approach is simply going to drive out of the city the people who make it an interesting and exciting place to live. Or will it? Certainly, people like me will have to leave, but will the people who are moving here actually care? I see artists as the Dark Matter that keeps the city going - not financially, but spiritually... Will the 20-somethings who move to New York actually stay here to raise a family? I don't know that they plan to. Will they want an active cultural life? For those who stay, I would think that they would. Does the city want to cultivate that type of long-term relationship with those people? I am certain that it does, but right now, the powers-that-be are relying on the big-ticket venues and establishments to provide that cultural backbone, and I don't think that it's working.
really good points. Christopher and I are moving back because we don't want to raise our family in Israel, for various reasons, and whether that goal will be fulfilled in the city or in the Catskills, or by a Maine beach, only time will tell. It's both the best and worst university town anywhere, but as a destination for grown-up-hood, it is scary. Every day I'm looking for new music education postings online. It doesn't feel safe to move somewhere expecting freelancing to feed you. But I do believe there's so many good initiatives happening. Creative endeavors at least, if not solutions, to the problems Judd writes about, and sees much more clearly than lil ol idealistic me can from way out here. And, then again, maybe it is time for all of us to get over the big cities as the centers of our universe. Maybe if public transportation improves, we can start getting out for cultural events like it's a more normal thing, the way my friend Amalia wanted to take me on a traintrip to Leipzig from her homebase of Berlin, to hear some amazing boys' choir. Still kicking myself for not making that happen. My teacher Joe Morris set up a recording studio in his living room. He lives in rural Connecticut. I could see a whole cool scene springing up around his place, if only we could get out of our NYC-Boston fixation. Actually, I don't know many people with Boston fixations these days! Except Mark Wahlberg. We just watched the Basketball Diaries. How does he always get cast as a New Yorker? Are those people deaf? We love him anyway. Or, because.
Big jump. Two nights before I heard the news of Rostropovich's passing, I had a dream about him. I was in his house with Christopher and two of his best friends, Sid (whom I've never met) and Banjo. We were scoping out the place and his routine for our friend Sol, who was going to make a documentary about Slava. The rooms were all huge, and orange and pink, with fireplaces in each one, reminding me of hearts. Slava would teach all day and late into the night, slumped over in a chair by the fire. I don't know, it's not that exciting a dream. I've just been thinking about that, the weird timing of it. He was such a hero. I played under him twice. Once, at Schleswig Holstein, he was a revelation, an inspiration, and absolutely drop-dead hilarious. He would stay up till almost morning playing cards with the Russian-speakers in the orchestra. He conducted us in Shostakovich 5th Symphony and 2nd cello concerto, and then he played the Dvorak concerto, I think the only piece he kept up till the end, or almost the end. Some idiots in the orchestra made comments about his wobbly playing, which made me furious. We were so incredibly lucky to be in the same room with him, let alone actually putting horsehair to string at the same moment!! And there's something about those old folks who keep playing... I remember my teacher Kathy Murdock coaching us on Bartok, encouraging us to try to get "old-man vibrato" as she called it, a vibrato of the bow. It's so human, like the breaking corner of a voice.
I'm tired of writing so I won't get to the second time I played under Rostropovich's baton. Suffice it to say, it was much less positive. It was, unfortunately, like a different person. I live with that first experience as the real one, also because he actually played.
One line I remember him telling us: "Shostakovich was my master in everything- except! for drinking vodka."
In this little reminiscence in the New Yorker, his capital S Soul is alluded to perfectly.
Speaking of missing cellists. I recently inherited a huge collection of sheet music from a cellist, Alida Winokur, mother to one of my Dad's best friends from high school. I hope to play as much of it as possible, and to dedicate concerts to her. I could never imagine a more fortunate windfall, and I am so, so grateful to her.
Monday, April 23, 2007
future remembering
Let your capital be simplicity and contentment. -Henry David Thoreau
just got that quote in a word-a-day email. Liked it and thought I'd start out with it.
I wish I could say I lived that way! With this decision to leave Israel, I'm faced with the various ways my life is about to get at once simpler, and way more complicated. On the simpler side, taxes. The fact that I won't be running to the tax office to file paperwork I may never see again, every time for the least lowly gig-- that's going to be nice. Being able to actually SEE or HEAR friends and family in the place of this endlessly silent internet connection... I saw an article somewhere recently that said some scientists are thinking of dumping the internet and starting over from scratch. I think we could all use a couple weeks break from being wired in. Definitely makes me cheat way too much on crossword puzzles, which were not invented with Google in mind.
then I think about how life is going to get more complicated, and what I'm going to miss here. My friend Daniel asked me yesterday, "So how do you and Christopher feel about hooking up with that big city machine again?" It reminded me of how on an application I recently filled out for a Music Teacher position at a school in Brooklyn, there was a blank for "how many years experience teaching in an urban setting." and I had to stop and think if Jerusalem counts! Even Tel Aviv- I mean, they're the biggest cities in the country, yet when your vegetable stand guy, Bodega guy, health food store guy, and butcher guy all know you, it does not feel like a city. Or maybe this is how cities used to be. Maybe this is how it will be when we go back to Jersey City. One of my friends from high school (in Brooklyn!), totally randomly, is now living 2 doors down from my parents. There are certain friendly, neighborly things I know I won't find back home, though. You can just talk to people's babies here. And the parents will stop the strollers for you to get some quality face time in. And forget about the puppies. Tel Aviv is a world-class dog city. It will be a nice change to not see sad, scraggly stray cats everywhere, tho I'm sure in a way I'll miss them too.
And then there's the quartet. I moved here to fulfill a dream, to play in a professional string quartet. It's not just because of Christopher's job that it's time for me to go home. There are some clear signs that maybe the quartet and I weren't on the same path... but that's hard for me to even write. I made the decision to leave really for reasons that had nothing to do with the 3 of them. I've invited them many times to come live with us! Either in Jersey City or in the Catskills, where my parents have a house, that now Christopher and I will take over the care of. Ever since I moved here I've joked that scientists have got to get to work on making the distance between Israel and New York smaller. Now I know I'm going to be feeling that same thing, but from the other side of the ocean.
I don't know if I'll ever get such an incredible musical experience handed to me like that again. From now on, back in the crazy scene that is NYC, I'm going to have to make it happen much more, that's how it goes there. I still have my dream of bringing music to my hometown, and that, along with the thought of Christopher and I actually having our own house, makes my heart beat faster. Then there's also the thought of seeing my nieces grow up, and not just in emailed photos. Getting to hear my friends' and my cousin's bands play live. Making dinner for my parents, or for our friends in the neighborhood. Going grocery shopping on Saturday...
today is Yom HaZikaron, the day of remembrance for people who died creating and defending Israel. Last week was Yom HaShoah, the day of mourning for the Holocaust. Both "Erevs" or nights before, stores closed early and the streets were quiet. Last night there was also a siren. There will be one again at 10 AM today, as there was at 10 AM on Yom HaShoah. I walked out to the highway to see all the cars stop, and the people get out of them, standing with their heads bowed on the black asphalt of the Ayalon, Tel Aviv's central artery. It was so intense. The only sound you could hear besides the sirens, were birds singing, and cats fighting. Nothing else human-made. I had this tremendous feeling of vertigo, maybe because I was standing on a bridge overlooking the highway. But I felt like I didn't know where I ended and everyone else in the country began. One of the few moments here when I've felt Israeli. It's getting quiet now;I can tell people are preparing for this next siren. I feel like this day is even more personally felt for more of Israel, since it's pretty evenly divided between Ashkenazic and Sephardic Jews, and while World War 2 affected the lives of people in the Middle East and North Africa, it was a very different experience for the Jews there than for the Jews of Europe. Meanwhile, everyone knows someone who was lost, or injured, or who lost a family member, to the violence that has engulfed this country since the beginning.
I'm going to go stand on the bridge again.
just got that quote in a word-a-day email. Liked it and thought I'd start out with it.
I wish I could say I lived that way! With this decision to leave Israel, I'm faced with the various ways my life is about to get at once simpler, and way more complicated. On the simpler side, taxes. The fact that I won't be running to the tax office to file paperwork I may never see again, every time for the least lowly gig-- that's going to be nice. Being able to actually SEE or HEAR friends and family in the place of this endlessly silent internet connection... I saw an article somewhere recently that said some scientists are thinking of dumping the internet and starting over from scratch. I think we could all use a couple weeks break from being wired in. Definitely makes me cheat way too much on crossword puzzles, which were not invented with Google in mind.
then I think about how life is going to get more complicated, and what I'm going to miss here. My friend Daniel asked me yesterday, "So how do you and Christopher feel about hooking up with that big city machine again?" It reminded me of how on an application I recently filled out for a Music Teacher position at a school in Brooklyn, there was a blank for "how many years experience teaching in an urban setting." and I had to stop and think if Jerusalem counts! Even Tel Aviv- I mean, they're the biggest cities in the country, yet when your vegetable stand guy, Bodega guy, health food store guy, and butcher guy all know you, it does not feel like a city. Or maybe this is how cities used to be. Maybe this is how it will be when we go back to Jersey City. One of my friends from high school (in Brooklyn!), totally randomly, is now living 2 doors down from my parents. There are certain friendly, neighborly things I know I won't find back home, though. You can just talk to people's babies here. And the parents will stop the strollers for you to get some quality face time in. And forget about the puppies. Tel Aviv is a world-class dog city. It will be a nice change to not see sad, scraggly stray cats everywhere, tho I'm sure in a way I'll miss them too.
And then there's the quartet. I moved here to fulfill a dream, to play in a professional string quartet. It's not just because of Christopher's job that it's time for me to go home. There are some clear signs that maybe the quartet and I weren't on the same path... but that's hard for me to even write. I made the decision to leave really for reasons that had nothing to do with the 3 of them. I've invited them many times to come live with us! Either in Jersey City or in the Catskills, where my parents have a house, that now Christopher and I will take over the care of. Ever since I moved here I've joked that scientists have got to get to work on making the distance between Israel and New York smaller. Now I know I'm going to be feeling that same thing, but from the other side of the ocean.
I don't know if I'll ever get such an incredible musical experience handed to me like that again. From now on, back in the crazy scene that is NYC, I'm going to have to make it happen much more, that's how it goes there. I still have my dream of bringing music to my hometown, and that, along with the thought of Christopher and I actually having our own house, makes my heart beat faster. Then there's also the thought of seeing my nieces grow up, and not just in emailed photos. Getting to hear my friends' and my cousin's bands play live. Making dinner for my parents, or for our friends in the neighborhood. Going grocery shopping on Saturday...
today is Yom HaZikaron, the day of remembrance for people who died creating and defending Israel. Last week was Yom HaShoah, the day of mourning for the Holocaust. Both "Erevs" or nights before, stores closed early and the streets were quiet. Last night there was also a siren. There will be one again at 10 AM today, as there was at 10 AM on Yom HaShoah. I walked out to the highway to see all the cars stop, and the people get out of them, standing with their heads bowed on the black asphalt of the Ayalon, Tel Aviv's central artery. It was so intense. The only sound you could hear besides the sirens, were birds singing, and cats fighting. Nothing else human-made. I had this tremendous feeling of vertigo, maybe because I was standing on a bridge overlooking the highway. But I felt like I didn't know where I ended and everyone else in the country began. One of the few moments here when I've felt Israeli. It's getting quiet now;I can tell people are preparing for this next siren. I feel like this day is even more personally felt for more of Israel, since it's pretty evenly divided between Ashkenazic and Sephardic Jews, and while World War 2 affected the lives of people in the Middle East and North Africa, it was a very different experience for the Jews there than for the Jews of Europe. Meanwhile, everyone knows someone who was lost, or injured, or who lost a family member, to the violence that has engulfed this country since the beginning.
I'm going to go stand on the bridge again.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
languages of animals
Just got back the other day from a tour with Tel Aviv Soloists to Switzerland and Austria. mostly Austria, actually, only spent the last few days of the tour in Interlaken. It got funner and funner. Started out kind of ok, kind of a drag. The orchestra has this incredibly tightknit social vibe. I specify social because it doesn't always manifest itself musically! Maybe it was the stress of the tour, a city a day, a concert a city, a lot of time in the same bus. All the social stuff, it tends to feel a little bit like high school when you're not super comfortable with the language. But I got less and less stressed about that aspect as I felt more comfortable with more and more folks. I think it was the mid-tour break I took to go visit with Peter and Wendy Moes, my viola family, at their farmhouse outside of Munich. I was only there for a night, but it chilled me out as much as a week at a spa. Good healthy food, good conversation, purring cats and a midday rainbow sprouting out of the middle of a field will do that.
A nice thing for me was being put in the "married" hotel for our first couple nights- the 9 wedded members of the group (none to each other) were put in this adorable little inn outside of Villach. It was nice to get a little bit of air, an early break from the crowd. Hadas and Tali were in that hotel with me, so we had an opportunity to just hang out despite all the weirdness of my impending departure. The hotel was a bit too adorable, in fact: no phones in the rooms. But I did get to use their ancient computer in their office for email. At one point a man with a giGANtic handlebar moustache in traditional south-Austrian costumer stopped by to check that I knew how to use the computer just fine. Later that night I channelsurfed the TV stations and found Full House and the Cosby Show dubbed in German, as well as a comedy about a man in lederhosen and his dachshund. The dachshund had it in for is master and peed on his leg.
Why am I writing about the TV?? Well, I did have one enlightening TV experience (in English). Christopher gave me an amazing book to read on the tour: "A Language Older than Words" by Derrick Jensen. It's hard to describe in even a few sentences what it's about. Basically the author sees his abused childhood through the same lens he sees the abuse of the whole natural and native human world, and charts the destruction Western European society has wrought all across the planet. He ascribes part of the reason this has happened to the fact that humans long ago stopped believing they could communicate with the natural world. He writes about making deals with the coyotes who've been stealing his chickens and finding mouse poop in his sink after he'd destroyed the mice's nests in his garage... Anyway, at one of our little Austrian town stops, I found a movie in English, which made me happy (Germany doesn't subtitle, just dubs, so usually the only English TV is CNN) I don't know the name of it, but it's computer-animated, and about a deer and a bear running away from an evil hunter. I think one of the voices is Ashton Kutcher maybe? The movie felt like a manifestation of this book, about the possibilities of interspecies communication, and how much we miss when we assume we're the only beings on this earth with a language.
I think the book's turning me into a hippie.
Or--- back into a hippie.
I tried asking Spinoza nicely to please stop gnawing on my leg, but we haven't yet found a mutual language.
The best thing of the tour, aside from this book, and the views, and the lovely time with the Moes',-- was getting to know the people in the orchestra. First time in a while I feel I have really good new friends in Israel. And I'm leaving in a month and a half. It's sad I guess. But I've learned over the years, many times, that there is no goodbye in the tiny world of classical music.
I put up tons of pictures of the trip on the flickr site, www.flickr.com/photos/hollerames
A nice thing for me was being put in the "married" hotel for our first couple nights- the 9 wedded members of the group (none to each other) were put in this adorable little inn outside of Villach. It was nice to get a little bit of air, an early break from the crowd. Hadas and Tali were in that hotel with me, so we had an opportunity to just hang out despite all the weirdness of my impending departure. The hotel was a bit too adorable, in fact: no phones in the rooms. But I did get to use their ancient computer in their office for email. At one point a man with a giGANtic handlebar moustache in traditional south-Austrian costumer stopped by to check that I knew how to use the computer just fine. Later that night I channelsurfed the TV stations and found Full House and the Cosby Show dubbed in German, as well as a comedy about a man in lederhosen and his dachshund. The dachshund had it in for is master and peed on his leg.
Why am I writing about the TV?? Well, I did have one enlightening TV experience (in English). Christopher gave me an amazing book to read on the tour: "A Language Older than Words" by Derrick Jensen. It's hard to describe in even a few sentences what it's about. Basically the author sees his abused childhood through the same lens he sees the abuse of the whole natural and native human world, and charts the destruction Western European society has wrought all across the planet. He ascribes part of the reason this has happened to the fact that humans long ago stopped believing they could communicate with the natural world. He writes about making deals with the coyotes who've been stealing his chickens and finding mouse poop in his sink after he'd destroyed the mice's nests in his garage... Anyway, at one of our little Austrian town stops, I found a movie in English, which made me happy (Germany doesn't subtitle, just dubs, so usually the only English TV is CNN) I don't know the name of it, but it's computer-animated, and about a deer and a bear running away from an evil hunter. I think one of the voices is Ashton Kutcher maybe? The movie felt like a manifestation of this book, about the possibilities of interspecies communication, and how much we miss when we assume we're the only beings on this earth with a language.
I think the book's turning me into a hippie.
Or--- back into a hippie.
I tried asking Spinoza nicely to please stop gnawing on my leg, but we haven't yet found a mutual language.
The best thing of the tour, aside from this book, and the views, and the lovely time with the Moes',-- was getting to know the people in the orchestra. First time in a while I feel I have really good new friends in Israel. And I'm leaving in a month and a half. It's sad I guess. But I've learned over the years, many times, that there is no goodbye in the tiny world of classical music.
I put up tons of pictures of the trip on the flickr site, www.flickr.com/photos/hollerames
Friday, March 02, 2007
slam-bang
I'm randomly moved to write right now because I just remembered this really funny thing that happened while we were in New York in December. It was after the last of the quartet's five concerts (in 6 days!). The show was at noon, in this increidble theater in Rockefeller University. I'd never even heard of the school before we were asked to play there, but it's very cool, tucked away in the very far East Side. The theater is this fifties-ish space-age white bubble, with awesome acoustics. Only thing is, no backstage, just this kind of screened-off corner of the stage that most of the audience can see over anyway. After we'd finished the encore, we awkwardly retired to that "backstage" to grab glasses of water and let the audience leave before they saw us going offstage and out the same way they were. A smiling elderly man with a heavy lisp came to the "backstage" to say how much he'd enjoyed the concert. He was so sweet and complimentary, it took me a second to realize he was Harris Goldsmith, who had coached my piano quartet sophomore year at Mannes! Mr. Goldsmith is brilliant about music, but more than your typical absent-minded professor. I said, "Mr. Goldsmith!" and told him how I knew him, and how honored I was that he'd come to our concert. He stared at me a little, but I could tell he had no idea what I was talking about.
We got offstage finally, after thanking the rest of the folks who kind of trapped us in that corner of the stage to say nice things. I think it was just me and Hadas waiting for the little elevator that would take us to our dressingroom. "Brahms A Major piano quartet!" Mr. Goldsmith exclaimed as soon as the elevator doors opened to reveal him standing there alone, as if he'd expected to see us. "And Mei Ting was the pianist!" I almost burst out laughing, but told him he was correct. That made my day- I remember that little exchange better than anything we played.
But I also should write with the news. Christopher and I will be moving back to the states as of the end of May.
I'm not really moved to write anything more than that now. It's hard to process all the different emotions involved. I should say, just to be clear, that it has nothing to do with my relationship with the girls of the quartet, all of whom I love dearly, and all of whom I hope I will be friends with for a long, long time. But it does have to do with time, and a wonderful opportunity, and homesickness... And needing to get our poor kitten some more space. This apartment's too small for him- North America is more his size.
We got offstage finally, after thanking the rest of the folks who kind of trapped us in that corner of the stage to say nice things. I think it was just me and Hadas waiting for the little elevator that would take us to our dressingroom. "Brahms A Major piano quartet!" Mr. Goldsmith exclaimed as soon as the elevator doors opened to reveal him standing there alone, as if he'd expected to see us. "And Mei Ting was the pianist!" I almost burst out laughing, but told him he was correct. That made my day- I remember that little exchange better than anything we played.
But I also should write with the news. Christopher and I will be moving back to the states as of the end of May.
I'm not really moved to write anything more than that now. It's hard to process all the different emotions involved. I should say, just to be clear, that it has nothing to do with my relationship with the girls of the quartet, all of whom I love dearly, and all of whom I hope I will be friends with for a long, long time. But it does have to do with time, and a wonderful opportunity, and homesickness... And needing to get our poor kitten some more space. This apartment's too small for him- North America is more his size.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
new CD on Tzadik!
Hey, a project we did with this amazing bayan (kinda like an accordion) player Boris Malkovsky was just released on Tzadik. The album is called "Time Petah Tikva" and it's on Tzadik's website.
sorry to have been reticent recently. big changes afoot, and I promise to chronicle it all soon.
sorry to have been reticent recently. big changes afoot, and I promise to chronicle it all soon.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
2 new links
I just wanted to call attention to them here before I stick them in that list over there:
one is my friend Carolyn's lovely blog about about the life of a musician in the city.
and the other is for news about my friend William's incredible Music for the People project. A recent post mentions how he read a government paper of cultural diplomacy that had him turning pages like it was a Harry Potter book.
one is my friend Carolyn's lovely blog about about the life of a musician in the city.
and the other is for news about my friend William's incredible Music for the People project. A recent post mentions how he read a government paper of cultural diplomacy that had him turning pages like it was a Harry Potter book.
Monday, January 15, 2007
snooze cruise (i'm on it)
It's almost 1 in the morning, and I'm sitting on the floor with a runny nose and bowl of (instant) chicken soup. I never can go straight to sleep after I get home from a concert. Last night I fell asleep hours after the concert and still woke up in the middle of the night with tunes from the program running through my head.
The concerts were with Tel Aviv Soloists, and we were the backup band for this incredible counter-tenor, Andreas Scholl. I'd never been in the presence of a real live counter-tenor, that I know of, certainly wasn't prepared for this big burly German guy to come to the first rehearsal, clear his throat with a deep gutteral growl, and then let loose notes that , ok, enough of the fancy language, are high! Way high. I almost started laughing. Most of the other players were big fans of Mr. Scholl, so I felt very gauche and ignorant. I got used to it, and the performances went well. Maybe the biggest audiences I've seen for this group. Shows the power of opera fans. I thought it would be hard to get big crowds for something this... esoteric. But whatever folks' reaction to a grown man singing in boy soprano territory, the music (Handel and Vivaldi) speaks for itself. And we're very lucky to have gotten to work with him.
I'm just raw, though, worn down from this cold I haven't been able to shake for a week, and stress about my recital, which is coming up in 10 days. So to play this particular music on gut strings with a Baroque bow all felt pretty out of the way for me. This morning the quartet started off rehearsal with our instruments upside down (well, not the cello, the cello's always upside down) to work on the parts of George Crumb's "Black Angels" where we have to play behind our left hands, our bows way up next to the scrolls. Such a cool effect. So disgusting when I can barely play it at all, let alone even close to in tune. The others memorized this piece as their first project as a quartet, and my first time playing it with them will be at another first for me: my first competition. We're playing at the Gaudeamus in Amsterdam, which is just for new music. It's in April. Anyway, after that and work on some sections in the piece in which we imitate insects (musically, not behaviorily) we played through Steve Reich's "Different Trains," another piece the girls put on their first, legendary concert, that I'm doing for the first time. Not for the competition, but at a Kibbutz concert. Playing it through is so intense. It really is a journey, and the viola more than any other instrument plays with the voices on the tape track, all the people telling their stories of where they were during WW2. It's only tiny fragments that are caught ("1941 I guess it must have been," "No more school," and the creepiest one for me to play with, "They shaved us.") and Reich writes out for us his approximation of the voices' rhythms. Speech patterns become melodies that somehow are incredibly, annoyingly catchy. We'll play it with a beautiful video piece, and we'll sit in a row like we're on a train. There are pictures of the quartet's performance of it on the website.
After that, taught. Suzuki, Twinkle, Humoresque. I'm spent now. I'd meant for this to be a musing on the variety of music my day saw. But, really, that's not so remarkable these days. We all are involved in crazy stuff. My friend Judd told me he got a commission from a choir in Rome for a piece involving the Hebrew alphabet. I've gotta hear that one (this is how tired I am- I just typed I gotta here, than I gotta heart) maybe it'll help me actually remember the order.
good night.
The concerts were with Tel Aviv Soloists, and we were the backup band for this incredible counter-tenor, Andreas Scholl. I'd never been in the presence of a real live counter-tenor, that I know of, certainly wasn't prepared for this big burly German guy to come to the first rehearsal, clear his throat with a deep gutteral growl, and then let loose notes that , ok, enough of the fancy language, are high! Way high. I almost started laughing. Most of the other players were big fans of Mr. Scholl, so I felt very gauche and ignorant. I got used to it, and the performances went well. Maybe the biggest audiences I've seen for this group. Shows the power of opera fans. I thought it would be hard to get big crowds for something this... esoteric. But whatever folks' reaction to a grown man singing in boy soprano territory, the music (Handel and Vivaldi) speaks for itself. And we're very lucky to have gotten to work with him.
I'm just raw, though, worn down from this cold I haven't been able to shake for a week, and stress about my recital, which is coming up in 10 days. So to play this particular music on gut strings with a Baroque bow all felt pretty out of the way for me. This morning the quartet started off rehearsal with our instruments upside down (well, not the cello, the cello's always upside down) to work on the parts of George Crumb's "Black Angels" where we have to play behind our left hands, our bows way up next to the scrolls. Such a cool effect. So disgusting when I can barely play it at all, let alone even close to in tune. The others memorized this piece as their first project as a quartet, and my first time playing it with them will be at another first for me: my first competition. We're playing at the Gaudeamus in Amsterdam, which is just for new music. It's in April. Anyway, after that and work on some sections in the piece in which we imitate insects (musically, not behaviorily) we played through Steve Reich's "Different Trains," another piece the girls put on their first, legendary concert, that I'm doing for the first time. Not for the competition, but at a Kibbutz concert. Playing it through is so intense. It really is a journey, and the viola more than any other instrument plays with the voices on the tape track, all the people telling their stories of where they were during WW2. It's only tiny fragments that are caught ("1941 I guess it must have been," "No more school," and the creepiest one for me to play with, "They shaved us.") and Reich writes out for us his approximation of the voices' rhythms. Speech patterns become melodies that somehow are incredibly, annoyingly catchy. We'll play it with a beautiful video piece, and we'll sit in a row like we're on a train. There are pictures of the quartet's performance of it on the website.
After that, taught. Suzuki, Twinkle, Humoresque. I'm spent now. I'd meant for this to be a musing on the variety of music my day saw. But, really, that's not so remarkable these days. We all are involved in crazy stuff. My friend Judd told me he got a commission from a choir in Rome for a piece involving the Hebrew alphabet. I've gotta hear that one (this is how tired I am- I just typed I gotta here, than I gotta heart) maybe it'll help me actually remember the order.
good night.
Monday, January 01, 2007
2007
In honor of the new year, I have to tell about two of my students' adorable responses to it. Yesterday as I flipped through 9-year-old Dor's notebook to find the next blank page to write his homework, I came to an explosively illustrated "Happy New Year" in pen waiting for me on that very page. So so cute. Dor doesn't speak English is the thing. As I exclaimed at how great that was that he wrote it, he said "In Australia it's already over." And then he proceeded to tell me all about the crazy celebrations in Australia. I understood not a word until he got to "Opera House" and "bridge." So I said something acknowledging I knew he was talking about Sydney, which just encouraged him so he talked even faster about those crazy Australians. I asked if he'd ever been there, and he said, "No, I've never been outside of the country." In Israel, there's a compound word for that: Khool, standing for "Khootz" (outside) La'aretz (of The Land- Aretz is a very important word here). It's often spoken in almost reverent tones. At any rate, Dor was very, very embarrassed he hadn't been to "Khool." I said, don't worry, when I was 9 I hadn't been either. Then I remembered I'd been to Canada. But that's practically the U.S. anyway (I know I'm going to catch some flak for that!) It just made me think again how crazy it is to be living here. Christopher and I have been to Jordan and Egypt, and it's no problem for us with our passports. Israelies can't even go to Jordan without a special visa, forget about the rest besides the Sinai part of Egypt. And this country's the size of New Jersey!
I know I'm stating the obvious, and repeating what's been said many times before. I find myself becoming more Israeli not just as I get more fluent in Hebrew and start to slip slang phrases from it into my English ("I'm dead from that!" = I love it) but more so in terms of distances. I used to have no problem with the back-and-forth to Jerusalem. It's the same as, like somewhere in Long Island or even parts of Brooklyn, into Downtown Manhattan. But now I'm finding it more and more draining. Maybe I'm just tired!
Back to my other student. Reut is my only violist now that Evyotar not only quit viola for violin (shame on me!!) but moved to Zurich. She's also 9, and one of triplets- and her brothers play violin and cello! How cute is that?! IT's a religious family, and Reut is always in long skirt and sleeves, in the brightest, loudest color combinations. She attends a religious school, and laughs whenever I date her homework page in her notebook. "I don't know what that is" she says. She only knows the Hebrew calendar! Isnt that incredible? I don't know why I get such a kick out of it. The idea of people living in the middle of this metropolis, on their own schedule. Anyway, yesterday I asked her, by any chance did she know what today was? "Oh, it's a fast day!" I was shocked. "For what?" I asked her. Again, I didnt quite understand her explanation. Something about one of the temples being destroyed, on top of it being a special Yom HaShoah (day commemorating the HOlocaust) only for the Haredim (that is, ultra-Orthodox). Just confirming my suspicion that every day on the Jewish calendar is a fast-day for something!!
Just want to wish everyone a very happy 2007, full of abundance, explorations, good health, love, and good conversation. Keep in touch.
I know I'm stating the obvious, and repeating what's been said many times before. I find myself becoming more Israeli not just as I get more fluent in Hebrew and start to slip slang phrases from it into my English ("I'm dead from that!" = I love it) but more so in terms of distances. I used to have no problem with the back-and-forth to Jerusalem. It's the same as, like somewhere in Long Island or even parts of Brooklyn, into Downtown Manhattan. But now I'm finding it more and more draining. Maybe I'm just tired!
Back to my other student. Reut is my only violist now that Evyotar not only quit viola for violin (shame on me!!) but moved to Zurich. She's also 9, and one of triplets- and her brothers play violin and cello! How cute is that?! IT's a religious family, and Reut is always in long skirt and sleeves, in the brightest, loudest color combinations. She attends a religious school, and laughs whenever I date her homework page in her notebook. "I don't know what that is" she says. She only knows the Hebrew calendar! Isnt that incredible? I don't know why I get such a kick out of it. The idea of people living in the middle of this metropolis, on their own schedule. Anyway, yesterday I asked her, by any chance did she know what today was? "Oh, it's a fast day!" I was shocked. "For what?" I asked her. Again, I didnt quite understand her explanation. Something about one of the temples being destroyed, on top of it being a special Yom HaShoah (day commemorating the HOlocaust) only for the Haredim (that is, ultra-Orthodox). Just confirming my suspicion that every day on the Jewish calendar is a fast-day for something!!
Just want to wish everyone a very happy 2007, full of abundance, explorations, good health, love, and good conversation. Keep in touch.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
home is where...
where you make it, where the heart is, where the heart of the one you love is, where your viola is...
I returned yesterday from a trip home, to many homes. To Jersey City and NYC, to Maryland, where my sister and brother-in-law and their fabulous twins live, to Florida, where my grandmother and aunt and uncle and cousins and their fabulous kids live... I wish to Maine, where my husband's fabulous family lives, but it was not to be on this trip. I return to our new apartment in Givatayim, the first neighborhood I lived in when I moved to Israel almost 2 years ago. I lived with the sweetest woman named Bracha, and certainly she was a blessing. She'd tell me what it was like when she moved to ISrael from Poland in 1935. "I built this country," she said at least 20 times while I lived with her. When it was hot I'd come home and find her in her stockings and bra, laid out on her white leather couch, feet up on the glass coffee table. "It's ok," she said, "as long as it's just you and me."
Now Christopher and I live in a completely renovated shoebox of a place, paying almost 3 times what I paid to share Bracha's lovely, lived-in flat. It's the way of all things, what's going on with apartments in every urban area in the world I guess. Our landlords bought an apartment and split it in two, adding a wall to what used to be a big living room so we have a narrow living room and a narrow bedroom- a studio disguised as a one-bedroom. On this trip I saw that along with the dizzying numbers of high rises and fancy condo buildings going up all over Jersey City, and even Bayonne (when that place gets gentrified... well, you never know. Everyone used to say Jersey City was a slum and look at it now!) two of my three (!) nursery schools are being turned into condos, one of them being Washington Square Church! How weird is it to live in a church, knowing it was ripped apart inside for the likes of the yuppiest people ever?
Anyway, there's much more I could tell of the trip than just to report on the gentrification of the tri-state area. Oh, but on that subject- Red Hook Brooklyn! Wow. I'd never even been there before. My last night in town I drove out with my friend Ed to see the incredible Heather and the Barbarians. (Look them up on myspace for the most gorgeous singer ever, in ever sense of the word). Ed grew up in Brooklyn Heights, and remarked as we drove deeper and deeper into the hood that he used to be afraid to even go near Red Hook because of the wild dogs. Well, now it's all cozy taverns and upscale MExican joints. The show was so so good. I miss that family of mine so much, the Boston crowd. Almost all of whom live in or around NYC now! Really makes it easy for me when I get home. Or, easier anyway. I barely had time to see my friends at all on this trip. It was the second time this year the 4tet had a little US tour, and we played some of our best concerts ever. I had such an awesome time with them. Christopher and I try to take advantage of these tours to see our family and friends since one ticket is paid for, but when it's not a real vacation it makes everything hard. I can't believe the amount I squeezed into the time- a litte over 2 weeks. It was made even shorter by the awfully inconvenient strike, which started an hour before our flight was to leave. I feel bad even complaining about it, even though it was a royal pain in the tush. It was the first time I'd ever even been anywhere during a strike, one that affected me anyway, and I agreed it was necessary... but can't they just strike in a way that doesn't make my plane late?
Anyway, we're playing a project now with Tel Aviv Soloists with one of my all-time heroes, Tabea Zimmermann, leading the orchestra from the principal viola chair. So I need to practice! I'll try to be more... regular in this space. Please keep in touch if you're reading this! I miss everyone back home.
I returned yesterday from a trip home, to many homes. To Jersey City and NYC, to Maryland, where my sister and brother-in-law and their fabulous twins live, to Florida, where my grandmother and aunt and uncle and cousins and their fabulous kids live... I wish to Maine, where my husband's fabulous family lives, but it was not to be on this trip. I return to our new apartment in Givatayim, the first neighborhood I lived in when I moved to Israel almost 2 years ago. I lived with the sweetest woman named Bracha, and certainly she was a blessing. She'd tell me what it was like when she moved to ISrael from Poland in 1935. "I built this country," she said at least 20 times while I lived with her. When it was hot I'd come home and find her in her stockings and bra, laid out on her white leather couch, feet up on the glass coffee table. "It's ok," she said, "as long as it's just you and me."
Now Christopher and I live in a completely renovated shoebox of a place, paying almost 3 times what I paid to share Bracha's lovely, lived-in flat. It's the way of all things, what's going on with apartments in every urban area in the world I guess. Our landlords bought an apartment and split it in two, adding a wall to what used to be a big living room so we have a narrow living room and a narrow bedroom- a studio disguised as a one-bedroom. On this trip I saw that along with the dizzying numbers of high rises and fancy condo buildings going up all over Jersey City, and even Bayonne (when that place gets gentrified... well, you never know. Everyone used to say Jersey City was a slum and look at it now!) two of my three (!) nursery schools are being turned into condos, one of them being Washington Square Church! How weird is it to live in a church, knowing it was ripped apart inside for the likes of the yuppiest people ever?
Anyway, there's much more I could tell of the trip than just to report on the gentrification of the tri-state area. Oh, but on that subject- Red Hook Brooklyn! Wow. I'd never even been there before. My last night in town I drove out with my friend Ed to see the incredible Heather and the Barbarians. (Look them up on myspace for the most gorgeous singer ever, in ever sense of the word). Ed grew up in Brooklyn Heights, and remarked as we drove deeper and deeper into the hood that he used to be afraid to even go near Red Hook because of the wild dogs. Well, now it's all cozy taverns and upscale MExican joints. The show was so so good. I miss that family of mine so much, the Boston crowd. Almost all of whom live in or around NYC now! Really makes it easy for me when I get home. Or, easier anyway. I barely had time to see my friends at all on this trip. It was the second time this year the 4tet had a little US tour, and we played some of our best concerts ever. I had such an awesome time with them. Christopher and I try to take advantage of these tours to see our family and friends since one ticket is paid for, but when it's not a real vacation it makes everything hard. I can't believe the amount I squeezed into the time- a litte over 2 weeks. It was made even shorter by the awfully inconvenient strike, which started an hour before our flight was to leave. I feel bad even complaining about it, even though it was a royal pain in the tush. It was the first time I'd ever even been anywhere during a strike, one that affected me anyway, and I agreed it was necessary... but can't they just strike in a way that doesn't make my plane late?
Anyway, we're playing a project now with Tel Aviv Soloists with one of my all-time heroes, Tabea Zimmermann, leading the orchestra from the principal viola chair. So I need to practice! I'll try to be more... regular in this space. Please keep in touch if you're reading this! I miss everyone back home.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Morning after the last of three concerts in as many days (two on Saturday, one last night)... enjoying a little time off, sad that Christopher has to work all day... tooling around on the internet, found this great interview with Jeffrey Sebelia, who won Project Runway. I miss that show.
I promise more than just links, but my brain isn't at full capacity these days.
I promise more than just links, but my brain isn't at full capacity these days.
Monday, November 06, 2006
Friday, October 27, 2006
Israel's friends
Just saw this piece on yahoo news, about right-wing Christian evangelicals who sailed a boat from Louisiana to Israel. "We had to be nice to these people," port spokesman Yigal Ben-Zikry said. "They're more Zionist than any Israelis I know." Been hearing about these evangelical Israel-lovers (like our President) for a while. In particular, heard that they were some of the biggest donors of the money I got for moving here. I made Aliyah with the help of an Israeli foundation called Nefesh B'Nefesh (soul with soul), but rumor has it the money they gave me came from people who want all the Jews to move to ISrael so the apocalypse will come. Or something like that. Obviously I'm not extremely well-informed on their beliefs here! I do know that some Americans and Canadians who've made Aliyah with Nefesh B'NEfesh's help have donated the money they got to Palestinian right-of-return causes.
I donated my money to my college-loan collectors, and to a trip to Mexico last year. The latter expenditure turned out to have an effect they would have liked. I brought another soul to Israel!
I donated my money to my college-loan collectors, and to a trip to Mexico last year. The latter expenditure turned out to have an effect they would have liked. I brought another soul to Israel!
Thursday, October 26, 2006
photos, grammar, and farts
You may have noticed I've stopped putting photos up here. My computer hates me, and takes hours eating the photos I try to upload to this. If you want to look at pictures, scroll down to earlier posts. OR check out Christopher's and my* flickr page.
*By the way, any grammar nerds out there know how to deal with this? I remember from English class, if you want to talk about something that belongs to two people, you would say, for example: Molly and Jenn's adventure. If you want to talk about Molly's and Jenn's individual books (which I know each will write some day- though they may do it together too!), you'd say Molly's and Jenn's books. If i'm talking about, say, Christopher and my demonic hellkitten Spinoza, doesn't that sound weird?
Also, another appeal for advice: anyone out there have the experience of the little kids you're teaching (in private lessons) farting all the time? I usually just pretend nothing happened, and maybe, on some pretext like looking for my pencil, take a couple steps back. I wish I could high-five them or make a stupid joke. I don't want them to feel embarrassed, but I was never very comfortable with that whole functioning of the body in public thing. When I was their age I was a champ at holding it in. Then again, I always had awful stomach problems! The whole thing of it being embarrassing is so dumb. Anyone read the BFG? In it, the giants believe it's polite to fart and rude to burp. I could never make it there.
*By the way, any grammar nerds out there know how to deal with this? I remember from English class, if you want to talk about something that belongs to two people, you would say, for example: Molly and Jenn's adventure. If you want to talk about Molly's and Jenn's individual books (which I know each will write some day- though they may do it together too!), you'd say Molly's and Jenn's books. If i'm talking about, say, Christopher and my demonic hellkitten Spinoza, doesn't that sound weird?
Also, another appeal for advice: anyone out there have the experience of the little kids you're teaching (in private lessons) farting all the time? I usually just pretend nothing happened, and maybe, on some pretext like looking for my pencil, take a couple steps back. I wish I could high-five them or make a stupid joke. I don't want them to feel embarrassed, but I was never very comfortable with that whole functioning of the body in public thing. When I was their age I was a champ at holding it in. Then again, I always had awful stomach problems! The whole thing of it being embarrassing is so dumb. Anyone read the BFG? In it, the giants believe it's polite to fart and rude to burp. I could never make it there.
amazing news
I just saw the headline: New Jersey Court Backs Full Rights for Gay Couples. (full article)
Some friends of our family just got married in Massachusetts, and my parents told me that the Rabbi said some moving words about how much it means to be married in the one state where gay couples are allowed to as well. Another friend of mine, after I'd told him about Christopher's and my marriage, shared some of his thoughts on the subject, mentioning that friends of his had opted out because of its not being allowed for everyone. I can't say we had given it so much thought! Or maybe that's not right- we made the choice we wanted to make. But New Jersey is proving, once again, that it's the awesomest state in the nation. It was so meaningful to make our commitment legal at the crazy, crooked-facing City Hall building I walked past every day I lived in Jersey City, for tons of reasons. And now there's another one. I hope the legislature now does what it should and calls a spade a spade. That word is so ---what's the word? I'm wanting to say tantalizing (marriage, not spade. Yikes!) or paralyzing but I mean dividing. Oh, polarizing!! I can't say I have much faith that the elected branch of government can be as brave and forward-thinking as our courts. Guess I'm an elitist.
Some friends of our family just got married in Massachusetts, and my parents told me that the Rabbi said some moving words about how much it means to be married in the one state where gay couples are allowed to as well. Another friend of mine, after I'd told him about Christopher's and my marriage, shared some of his thoughts on the subject, mentioning that friends of his had opted out because of its not being allowed for everyone. I can't say we had given it so much thought! Or maybe that's not right- we made the choice we wanted to make. But New Jersey is proving, once again, that it's the awesomest state in the nation. It was so meaningful to make our commitment legal at the crazy, crooked-facing City Hall building I walked past every day I lived in Jersey City, for tons of reasons. And now there's another one. I hope the legislature now does what it should and calls a spade a spade. That word is so ---what's the word? I'm wanting to say tantalizing (marriage, not spade. Yikes!) or paralyzing but I mean dividing. Oh, polarizing!! I can't say I have much faith that the elected branch of government can be as brave and forward-thinking as our courts. Guess I'm an elitist.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
brilliance
you may have noticed the change in my profile. That's because I did, actually, clean my viola with cough syrup last night. We got back from Masada and the Dead Sea in the afternoon, collapsed for a long nap, I woke up, took out the axe, and saw it needed cleaning. Reaching for the rubbing alcohol bottle, I grabbed another of similar size. And that's the story. I scrubbed away at the fingerboard and strings, thinking the alcohol must have aged and that's why it had changed color. The fingerboard was very shiny, but the rosin at the end by the bridge wasn't coming off. Turns out I was caking it on even more.
Kids, don't clean your viola with sugar-based substances!!!
Luckily, the alcohol got it all off. But there's still a faint smell.
So, that's my news. We went to Petra, Aqaba, MAsada and the Dead Sea since I last wrote, but that's what I felt needed to be shared.
Oh yeah, and that I fell off a skateboard the other day. Christopher was teaching me the basics of going downhill, and when I finally felt I'd mastered them I started for a long run from the top of a very, very shallow hill to go the length of a parking lot. C videoed me on our little camera- I wish I could post video here, because I have to say it's pretty funny. I go by him all smiles then almost at the bottom I "start to go all squirrelly" (C's words) and fall on my face. Or my knee, to be more precise. It hurt. I was worried we couldn't go ahead with our whirlwind Masada trip. But it was fine, and by the time we were climbing I was barely aware of it.
We left Tel Aviv at 3 AM and were at the base of the fortress at 5, the sun just starting to come up. I felt like a true ISraeli, climbing Masada for my third time. My first time, with Birthright, we met a bunch of high school kids at the youth hostel, some of whom were climbing it for their 9th time! We got up quicker than the other two times I'd gone. My second time was with my friend Sara and we took our time, chatting and resting to enjoy the view. Climbing with Christopher, I strangely remembered all the stories Sara had told me on our trip. One was about a documentary she'd seen about a WW2 ghetto in which the women all wore the same dress to get married in. And the dress is still around apparently.
So, random interjection here: Christopher and I were married last March. We had done it for practical as well as emotional reasons. And had been quiet about it because we didn't want any confusion with the "big" wedding.
Figured I needed to write that here sometime.
We will still have a big celebration. More a renewal of vows. But something so I can wear the amazing dress from MY past: my grandmother's dress from the 30's, which my aunt Susan also wore, and preserved so perfectly, you'd think it was just made. So beautiful.
Also, getting back to my "story," had to write that news now so you'd understand when I wrote that I've married a mountain goat. I knew of C's climbing tendencies on the vertical wall. But he left me scrambling behind him going up Masada. It was great to be so challenged- quoting my yoga CD "we often give up before fulfilling our true potential." I definitely didn't think I could get up there that fast, but it was fun. I found the only way I could do it was talking. If I let him get too far away from me so that he couldn't hear my ramble anymore, I would just start focusing on how weak I felt. So I'd chase after him to keep the steady stream of nonsense carrying me.
After we explored the top, yelled into the echo canyon, ate sandwiched and drank bug juice just like a good school group, descended- by the end we had "Elvis leg" from the stress of straight-down on the knees- we went to check out the Ein Gedi Spa, where Sara and I had gone on my last trip. Massages, mud dips, hot springs. All perfect after a crazy early-morning mountain climb and no sleep. But, instead, we slept. In the spa parking lot. And then went to swim in the Dead Sea for free at the local public beach. The water was the most beautiful emerald green. It didn't sting at all on my skateboard scrapes, but hurt like hell on my many scars from Spinoza. He's a beast to us. On our way back, we stopped for Moroccan "harira" soup and salads at this bedouin-tent-style restaurant. MAde it back home in less than 12 hours.
just enough time to clean my instrument.
Kids, don't clean your viola with sugar-based substances!!!
Luckily, the alcohol got it all off. But there's still a faint smell.
So, that's my news. We went to Petra, Aqaba, MAsada and the Dead Sea since I last wrote, but that's what I felt needed to be shared.
Oh yeah, and that I fell off a skateboard the other day. Christopher was teaching me the basics of going downhill, and when I finally felt I'd mastered them I started for a long run from the top of a very, very shallow hill to go the length of a parking lot. C videoed me on our little camera- I wish I could post video here, because I have to say it's pretty funny. I go by him all smiles then almost at the bottom I "start to go all squirrelly" (C's words) and fall on my face. Or my knee, to be more precise. It hurt. I was worried we couldn't go ahead with our whirlwind Masada trip. But it was fine, and by the time we were climbing I was barely aware of it.
We left Tel Aviv at 3 AM and were at the base of the fortress at 5, the sun just starting to come up. I felt like a true ISraeli, climbing Masada for my third time. My first time, with Birthright, we met a bunch of high school kids at the youth hostel, some of whom were climbing it for their 9th time! We got up quicker than the other two times I'd gone. My second time was with my friend Sara and we took our time, chatting and resting to enjoy the view. Climbing with Christopher, I strangely remembered all the stories Sara had told me on our trip. One was about a documentary she'd seen about a WW2 ghetto in which the women all wore the same dress to get married in. And the dress is still around apparently.
So, random interjection here: Christopher and I were married last March. We had done it for practical as well as emotional reasons. And had been quiet about it because we didn't want any confusion with the "big" wedding.
Figured I needed to write that here sometime.
We will still have a big celebration. More a renewal of vows. But something so I can wear the amazing dress from MY past: my grandmother's dress from the 30's, which my aunt Susan also wore, and preserved so perfectly, you'd think it was just made. So beautiful.
Also, getting back to my "story," had to write that news now so you'd understand when I wrote that I've married a mountain goat. I knew of C's climbing tendencies on the vertical wall. But he left me scrambling behind him going up Masada. It was great to be so challenged- quoting my yoga CD "we often give up before fulfilling our true potential." I definitely didn't think I could get up there that fast, but it was fun. I found the only way I could do it was talking. If I let him get too far away from me so that he couldn't hear my ramble anymore, I would just start focusing on how weak I felt. So I'd chase after him to keep the steady stream of nonsense carrying me.
After we explored the top, yelled into the echo canyon, ate sandwiched and drank bug juice just like a good school group, descended- by the end we had "Elvis leg" from the stress of straight-down on the knees- we went to check out the Ein Gedi Spa, where Sara and I had gone on my last trip. Massages, mud dips, hot springs. All perfect after a crazy early-morning mountain climb and no sleep. But, instead, we slept. In the spa parking lot. And then went to swim in the Dead Sea for free at the local public beach. The water was the most beautiful emerald green. It didn't sting at all on my skateboard scrapes, but hurt like hell on my many scars from Spinoza. He's a beast to us. On our way back, we stopped for Moroccan "harira" soup and salads at this bedouin-tent-style restaurant. MAde it back home in less than 12 hours.
just enough time to clean my instrument.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
save the Mexican garter snake!!!
just saw on my yahoo page that they're facing extinction. How sad. Cause they're not cute and cuddly, so you know there's no big international movement to keep them from harm.
Isn't it crazy how many things are going extinct in our lifetimes? The ever faster motion of evolution.
Anyway, we're going to Jordan tonight. And I'm so excited for this little vacation, I've put on this girly disco-dancing music even though I'm all done packing. Now I'm sort of just typing so I can keep listening to this old Stereolab song my high-school idol and queen bee Shannon Hughes put on a mix for me waaaaaaaaayyyyyyy back in the day. When mix meant tape. Where is Shannon Hughes now? Can anyone tell me? I'm so much of who I am because of her. She's probably why I always think at first that the people who end up being my best friends hate me. And why I'm scared of people. But I love her!!! If anyone has any knowledge of her whereabouts please tell me.
We're going to see Petra, of Indiana Jones fame. I can't wait. I'll post pictures (if you're lucky).
Isn't it crazy how many things are going extinct in our lifetimes? The ever faster motion of evolution.
Anyway, we're going to Jordan tonight. And I'm so excited for this little vacation, I've put on this girly disco-dancing music even though I'm all done packing. Now I'm sort of just typing so I can keep listening to this old Stereolab song my high-school idol and queen bee Shannon Hughes put on a mix for me waaaaaaaaayyyyyyy back in the day. When mix meant tape. Where is Shannon Hughes now? Can anyone tell me? I'm so much of who I am because of her. She's probably why I always think at first that the people who end up being my best friends hate me. And why I'm scared of people. But I love her!!! If anyone has any knowledge of her whereabouts please tell me.
We're going to see Petra, of Indiana Jones fame. I can't wait. I'll post pictures (if you're lucky).
Sunday, September 24, 2006
it's a new year
So the year has changed. It's like 557890 now. I have no idea actually. I made a dumb joke to Christopher the other day about how lucky Jewish Chinese people living in America are. Three new years.
On Thursday the quartet recorded some songs for a pop singer here, Daphna Dekel. Hilla told us that she's Itamar's(her five-year old) favorite singer. During the war, she made a song for kids about how soon everyone will be hugging each other and we'll all live in peace. Hilla said the video was on TV three times a day, and every time, Itamar dragged her in front of it and told her she had to watch it again because it was such a beautiful song. When you're recording string tracks, usually the singer isn't even there, but Daphna stayed through the whole session, and kept offering to bring us coffee. She was probably the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and I secretly made a plan to go over to Hilla's so I could sit on the couch and watch with Itamar. Every time she'd stick her head in, I'd nudge Hilla, like, "get her autograph for Itamar!!" How happy would you be if you found out you were a five-year old's favorite? I guess when you get to a certain level of fame, you just know you're popular with a lot of kids. But it's got to always feel good.
One of my students in Jerusalem has, well the only way I've found to put it is a "little-girl crush" on me. Whenever she plays, even if she should be looking at the music, she's looking up at me to see my expression. It makes me giggle, and when I giggle she giggles, and it's a very funny vibe for a lesson. Both of us like, awww, she likes me. She's 8, and practices everything I give her. I've never had a studio before, I've only subbed for friends. That feeling, when the kids comes in and has practiced? Priceless. Now I understand everything! And on the other hand, when you have a kid who clearly doesn't want to play at all, it's torture. Luckily, my one student who was like that decided she wanted to play guitar. I tried to find music at her level that was fun to play, to draw her in. I tried playing for her. I tried simple duets we could play together. And I liked her a lot, she was sweet and funny. But I'm not doing this for the money, you know? I wish I could make someone want to play who doesn't, cause we should have little kids everywhere playing. There should be orchestras in every school. But classical music is so irrelevant to most little kids' lives now. It's super sad to say, but true. That New Yorker article I mentioned before is great because it talks about a program that's introducing music to kids in an awesome way- through ensemble playing. It's so classic, the kid who can't play with his friends cause he has to practice. Alone. There's this self-fulfilling culture of isolation in classical music. The other program mentioned was a school big band in Newark, where the teacher encourages kids to arrange music they listen to, stuff on the radio, to play in school. I will never forget Lenny Smith, who taught me to play "Boom Boom Boom Let's Go Back to my Room" on my violin while we were on a Synagogue retreat in the Poconos. I was 8. When I played a bit of Dvorak's "Humoreske" for my 10-year old viola student, telling her it was the next piece I was going to give her, she exclaimed, "That's a cell phone ring!"
On Thursday the quartet recorded some songs for a pop singer here, Daphna Dekel. Hilla told us that she's Itamar's(her five-year old) favorite singer. During the war, she made a song for kids about how soon everyone will be hugging each other and we'll all live in peace. Hilla said the video was on TV three times a day, and every time, Itamar dragged her in front of it and told her she had to watch it again because it was such a beautiful song. When you're recording string tracks, usually the singer isn't even there, but Daphna stayed through the whole session, and kept offering to bring us coffee. She was probably the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and I secretly made a plan to go over to Hilla's so I could sit on the couch and watch with Itamar. Every time she'd stick her head in, I'd nudge Hilla, like, "get her autograph for Itamar!!" How happy would you be if you found out you were a five-year old's favorite? I guess when you get to a certain level of fame, you just know you're popular with a lot of kids. But it's got to always feel good.
One of my students in Jerusalem has, well the only way I've found to put it is a "little-girl crush" on me. Whenever she plays, even if she should be looking at the music, she's looking up at me to see my expression. It makes me giggle, and when I giggle she giggles, and it's a very funny vibe for a lesson. Both of us like, awww, she likes me. She's 8, and practices everything I give her. I've never had a studio before, I've only subbed for friends. That feeling, when the kids comes in and has practiced? Priceless. Now I understand everything! And on the other hand, when you have a kid who clearly doesn't want to play at all, it's torture. Luckily, my one student who was like that decided she wanted to play guitar. I tried to find music at her level that was fun to play, to draw her in. I tried playing for her. I tried simple duets we could play together. And I liked her a lot, she was sweet and funny. But I'm not doing this for the money, you know? I wish I could make someone want to play who doesn't, cause we should have little kids everywhere playing. There should be orchestras in every school. But classical music is so irrelevant to most little kids' lives now. It's super sad to say, but true. That New Yorker article I mentioned before is great because it talks about a program that's introducing music to kids in an awesome way- through ensemble playing. It's so classic, the kid who can't play with his friends cause he has to practice. Alone. There's this self-fulfilling culture of isolation in classical music. The other program mentioned was a school big band in Newark, where the teacher encourages kids to arrange music they listen to, stuff on the radio, to play in school. I will never forget Lenny Smith, who taught me to play "Boom Boom Boom Let's Go Back to my Room" on my violin while we were on a Synagogue retreat in the Poconos. I was 8. When I played a bit of Dvorak's "Humoreske" for my 10-year old viola student, telling her it was the next piece I was going to give her, she exclaimed, "That's a cell phone ring!"
Sunday, September 10, 2006
wire interviews
I just discovered a little treasure-trove archive of interviews with heroes of mine. I can say I've been in the same room as all these people except for Le Tigre, but I have faith that will happen someday. I want to choreograph dances for them to do at our quartet concerts
Anthony Braxton
"I feel very grateful that I discovered early the role models that will allow me to work for the rest of my life - and still be frustrated."
Steve Lacy
"I don't care whether it's Dixieland, Flixieland, Pixieland, or a private or public joke or no joke at all - if it's alive, I'm for it."
Lee Perry
"I introduced dub because I knew it was the roots of the heartbeat. The drum represent your heartbeat, the bass represent your mind and brain. I'm a heart and brain protector, and I'm a projector. I'm also an inspector, a director and imitator. The liquidator and Exterminator."
Le Tigre
"Right when I was figuring out I had a voice I was told I had to speak in tongues."
"who took the bomp from the bompalompalomp?/who took the ram from the ramalama dingdong?"
Anthony Braxton
"I feel very grateful that I discovered early the role models that will allow me to work for the rest of my life - and still be frustrated."
Steve Lacy
"I don't care whether it's Dixieland, Flixieland, Pixieland, or a private or public joke or no joke at all - if it's alive, I'm for it."
Lee Perry
"I introduced dub because I knew it was the roots of the heartbeat. The drum represent your heartbeat, the bass represent your mind and brain. I'm a heart and brain protector, and I'm a projector. I'm also an inspector, a director and imitator. The liquidator and Exterminator."
Le Tigre
"Right when I was figuring out I had a voice I was told I had to speak in tongues."
"who took the bomp from the bompalompalomp?/who took the ram from the ramalama dingdong?"
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