Category Archives: thought - Page 6

Practicing

Posted by on July 12, 2011 No comments

I think a lot about practicing. I think it’s a fascinating topic from at least two perspectives. The first being, of course, the act of doing something repeatedly with the intent of improving proficiency and gaining expertise. Then there’s the more monastic approach. The activity that is an end in and of itself. Every time I pick up an instrument or even a pen, my goal is to do both.

Over the past few months I have taken up a writing practice. That is to say, I keep a kind of day book that is independent from my journal. In it, I write for the sake of developing ideas, thoughts, and as a way of keeping things moving. The result is an increased desire to act on those thoughts. I make plans. Those plans are executed. Things get done. A complete win. The other thing that comes from it is a clear head. I think better after a session of even 15 minutes.

More writing leads to more sketches leads to more music leads to more happiness.

Seriously Summer

Posted by on July 5, 2011 No comments

Seriously Serving the Work

Is there any sin a creative person can commit that is worse than taking himself too seriously? Even a genius with a lifetime of brilliant work loses some credibility when it becomes clear that he’s doubling up on the gravitas. I catch myself doing this a lot. It happens most frequently when I am trying to motivate myself. I make what I’m doing seem so important and so dire that I usually wind up faking myself out.

Everything should be taken exactly as seriously as it needs to be and not a bit more or less.

Summer dreams

Thoughts like this only come to me in the summer. It’s something to do with the heat and my inability to do anything useful. The long days and heat make moving difficult and coherent thoughts aren’t as plentiful as they need to be for anything to get done. I can’t help but think that this is why we always read about famous writers and artists going to the ocean for the summer and living like wild animals in villas. Me? I have no villa. I have a nice deck that I can’t sit on when the temperatures hit the triple digits and a lawn that needs mowing. I retreat to the comfort of the ceiling fans and ice water at the very thought of moving.

In these long, hot days it’s very difficult to find that balance. The trigger needs to be tripped and it feels like the mechanism is rusted shut. I’m sure this has something to do with the academic calendar and the way that it drills “Summer Is Slack Time” into the mind of those of us who took our education a little too far. Thus in the summer, only the important things get done. The really important things. Like reading light novels and taking road trips. Or sitting very still on the couch and ignoring the sweat. It’s easy to see why one might resort to over-inflating the importance of one’s work simply to get the butt off of the couch and into the studio.

The summer requires a different strategy. Single sitting exercises. Write a complete piece in one hour. Whatever is done when the time is up, is done. I’m writing a lot of songs that way right now. I give myself the benefit of some editing during my daily review, but for the most part I’m knocking out stuff. It will turn into something when the time is right. Maybe it’s the creative equivalent of laying in stores for the long winter ahead.

Dreaming Big, Living Small

Posted by on June 20, 2011 No comments

I’m still hacking away on my manifesto. The more I dig in, the more there is to say. Here’s a little more from my working copy. The more I post of it, the more likely I am to finish it.

…

The image that sprung to mind when I first started thinking about what it means to try and live parallel lives was of running a marathon while dragging a grand piano. It stuck with me and for whatever reason has become iconic for me. After all, who would do that? No one. Maybe. But even as we start off on the race with our many-toothed beast in tow, our idea of success clings to us and is just as unreasonable as the race we’ve undertaken. Our dreams are stubborn and do not readily accept change.

When we are starting on the path in whatever endeavor found us, it is hard to imagine what real success looks like. There are too many bloated and false ideas of what it means to do something great. We imagine crowded galleries, large checks, and much ink spilled over our greatness. And then, if we are lucky, we have our first real success and see what it really means.

The first time I nailed the difficult arpeggios in Villa-Lobos’ Etude No. 11 I was in a practice room all alone. I played it perfectly twice. Once in that practice room and once in my quarterly jury. A seed was planted there. An idea started to form. A definition of success was trying to make its way into my consciousness.

I’ve known painters who, upon the completion of a canvass, will step back and revel in the beauty of what they have done only to be seized with the sudden urge to hide it forever. That moment of perfection is so personal. The thought of miscommunication or criticism was just too much. That doesn’t mean that the work wasn’t shared, it means that what drove them to create was very private. Success is private.

This is the age of The Almighty Internet and as such we are hounded by the idea that everyone should see what we do. What if we turn that on its side and say that we have the ability to reach people who might care. That’s a very worthy goal. We should try to reach everyone who cares, but no more. Trying to make someone who doesn’t necessarily want or need our work take it is the evil side of sales. If we have relieved our work of the burden of keeping us fed then why add the pressure of being loved by everyone?

My dream is still to have 200 people who are interested in my work and follow it but my ultimate goal is to write something that someone would call their favorite. Just one person. One connection. That seems like a low bar until we try to clear it.

Have A Plan

Posted by on June 7, 2011 No comments

The odds are very, very good that I will never be a master luthier. If I ever build a truly magnificent instrument, it will likely be a function of luck and repetition. But that has nothing to do with my quest.

I don’t want to buy the perfect guitar. I do want to have it. I want to play it. I want to know that it’s mine for a while. But buying it seems like a cop out. Building and playing shouldn’t be related in any way, because they aren’t, but that’s the quest. I believe that we create our own challenges – if we didn’t, what else would we do?

I look at my workbench every day when I pass through the garage and I think about the things that I could do on it. I think about the half finished guitar in my studio closet. I run my fingers over the plane on the bench and consider spending an hour or two on finishing up that OM. Then the sweat begins to collect on my spine and I remember that it is 100F outside and probably warmer in the garage. I abandon the thought, or try to, and go inside.

Recently, a chunk of my time was spent looking at guitars. Flipping through the portfolios of great builders and digging through the catalogs of different companies. The price points are painful. All of the instruments that I identified as being in my range were serious compromises. For example, I don’t want any plastic on my guitar. That’s a tough one. A lot of bindings on instruments under $2000 are plastic. And no composite necks. One piece of wood, not fragments, please. For a quarter of the price of an instrument that barely meets my specs I can have the makings of one that has no compromises in material – but I have to build it myself. That is to say, I get the enjoyment of building it. That’s still only half of the quest.

I can picture very clearly tuning up the guitar that I’ve built myself. I can feel the strings. I imagine the action of the instrument. The way the neck feels as my thumb slides over its length. It is perfect for me in every way. The most important detail is the flare on the headstock. The indicator that it is my instrument. Made with and played by my own hands. That’s the quest. It’s important.

Why is it important? Because it’s the sum of all the traits and desires that make me who I am. There are thousands of reasons not to do it, but ignoring the urge won’t make it go away. I like to think that everyone has that itch somewhere and that we all take a swipe at scratching it. I shouldn’t be so optimistic, maybe, but as long as we’re alive there’s a chance.

So I have a quest. It’s now a plan. I’ll start my next instrument in September. By then I will have all of the bits and pieces necessary for the project. The important thing is to remember that this is The Plan. No more catalogs or reviews. No more day dreaming about a custom Collings guitar. There’s only me, some wood, the tools, and the time. That’s The Plan.

New Instrument Ramble

Posted by on May 31, 2011 No comments

Thinking about the state of the world as it relates to the important things in your life is an exercise worthy of consideration. How do the things that you love impact the world around you and how does that impact agree or disagree with your values? I ask this of myself whenever I start in on a new instrument building project. The thing is, a lot of the wood that is used in building a guitar isn’t managed the way it should be for maximum sustainability. I derive a great deal of pleasure from building an instrument, not just from playing the final product and I’d like for others long after me to have that experience. So I check myself.

There’s a documentary being filmed right now called [LINK] that talks about the wood that goes into the instruments that I love so dearly. They are digging into the supply chain starting in the forest. I can’t wait to see it and to hear the analysis of the filmmakers. I’m sure that this is just one of a million problems that fly under the radar when we talk about conservation, but since it’s important to me and my values, I really want to get down in the mud and think about it. After all, it’s my responsibility to think critically about the things that I do. I have an example to set.

This of course comes back to acquiring a new instrument. My dream is to someday build the perfect (for me) guitar. Right now, I have a couple of instruments that are clearly early first drafts. Not too shabby for a guy who learned from a pile of books, but a far cry from a wonderful instrument. As a result, I’m looking.

I’m looking for an instrument that inspires me. I’m sure that I could order one and drop a few grand on it. That would be fine (assuming I had a few grand to drop), but I’m more interested in finding the right instrument. A workhorse that begs to be played. I would prefer a used guitar to a new one if only for the history and to have a more settled instrument. If I do buy new, I have to consider what I said above. Luckily, there are a few makers that are building with sustainably harvested materials. I need to do more research on that, but if I go with a new instrument I pretty much have to do it that way.

There is a lot to think about and having a price constraint makes the game more interesting. It adds a bit of chance. Walking around with a bit of cash makes every trip into a music shop dangerous. Who knows what I will see and where that might lead? There’s always something to buy. But this is more of an artistic quest. When and where will I find the right instrument? What will it look like and will I know it when I see it?

Sounds like it’s time for some deep research.