Waiting

In Waiting, I fuse the element of the still image character, with the moving smoke, that spirals upwards and fills the room with the character's anticipation.  I enjoy creating this type of contrast - the still image, versus an element of motion.  I also like to play with coupling motifs: the condensation on the window, partnered with the character's anticipation, and the smoke that seeps through the cracks in the wall, to find the character's beloved.  Similarly, I play with aspects of shading that enable me to have a softer smudged look, in contrast to a pointed and more focused line: the highlighted smoke, versus the harder edged umbrella.  I weave a personal motif  from our family life with autism into this piece (our six year old son lives with autism): the element of not being able to look directly at someones face, and the sensory processing difficulty, which the character experiences with the jumble of music, voices, and smoke.  Ever since I had originally created this drawing, I've had elements of a story cycling through my head.  This week, I put it down "on paper;" giving closure to this round of creation.  I wait no more!  The character is left suspended there, indefinitely waiting.  His experience of waiting, is tied into and reflected by the readers, who are being left with a question mark, thus also experiencing their own waiting. 

Waiting

Overlooking the Mediterranean Sea, perched high up on a cliff, lays an old rustic pub.   Inside, I position myself on an uneven wooden stool, leisurely nursing a spirit from the bar.  The balancing midpoint of the rocking of my seat, hooks me into the swaying motion of the sea water, way down bellow the cliff.  I can barely tell whether I'm on dry land, or out at sea.  Being far up above sea level provides me with some clarity of just how far I have traveled.

With my raincoat still on, I am only slightly warmer from the dampness of the rain and the draft from which I just came.  My umbrella, amongst other dark ones in the corner, drapes over a slanted coat rack.  The uneven texture of the rust colored brick wall, juxtaposes a backdrop to little consecutive drops of remaining rain water.  They descend from the umbrella trunk onto the floor, smoothly sliding down at their convenience.  The drops crackle down in a repetitive fashion onto the increasingly glistening wet surface.  With each downwards glissando, my pulse rises.  It loops in rhythmic thumps, just like the rain drops, almost audibly.

A dull ache continues to fill my chest with anxiety.  I attempt to focus on my breathing, just to slow down, to moderate some sense of composure.  Sweat beads form on my brow and smudge the glass of my lenses, leaving me all the more mindful of my own thoughts.  I remain adrift, much like the boat which I had just departed, far from coming into a satisfying focus.  Still, I sit there, waiting in the dampness of this room.

Condensation forms on the inside of an arched triangular window that overlooks the ocean bellow.  It layers onto the cold glass, as if consumed in its own anticipation.  It partners with that of my very own.  I wonder how long it would take for it to completely evaporate; perhaps as long as my own anticipation were to finally dissipate.

Still, I wait.

Settled in for a prime view, my gaze hypnotically locks onto the entryway.  I gradually forget about my little ails, as the effect of my drink now blurs them into a milder haze.  I am transfixed.  A dim light from a ceiling lantern hanging over the doorway, forms a cozy rendezvous for petite night bugs' delight.  Voices jumble in polyphony coincide with background music.  Phasing in and out, they become increasingly distant in their fading counterpoint.  Here and there, I am sobered into reality by someones staccato laugh.  Voices interlace with music, and music interweaves with voices, in a swirl which leaves me questioning if my senses are acutely heightened, versus further intoxication.  An overlay of smoke and the faint sent of alcohol in the air, ties this all into one confusing concoction.  I attempt to refocus on my breathing, to regain some sense of clarity.

Shadowed images pass by in my periphery, as if coasting beside me in slow motion.  I do not turn my gaze away to look at their faces, nonetheless.  I am not one who's comfortable with direct gazes, as I've been told that "the eyes are the windows to someones soul."   Growing up, I took that meaning too literally.  Until this day, it frightens me.  Only one face will capture my eye.  I will know it when it is time; I will recognize this particular silhouette.

Time seems to have suspended indefinitely.  It is in no hurry to appease my unswerving intent.  My eyes fixate on the antique metal keyhole on the arched wooden door.  If only the stroke of a single key turn were to conjure up the one I await.  Several times, I think that I see the door nob turning, but then, no one enters; my mind plays tricks at my own expense.

Still, I want.  Still, I hope.

Puff, inhale slowly, then exhale, and another breath, and another puff.  I sit there alone, in the scattered crowd, waiting.  Waiting is the only real thing over which I posses any sort of control.  Single strands of smoke from my cigarette float upwards and onwards, interlocking in their graceful assent, getting drawn to some mysterious sway.  They accept the lantern's subliminal invitation, becoming encapsulated by its magnetic glow.   Smoke elevates and thickens, smoldering with each of my passing breaths.  With each slow exhale, it spirals up, voluminously filling out the space of the increasingly clouded tavern.

With each exhale, the room expands with my anticipation.  Smoke escapes out through the cracks and into the cold air, to find the one that I await.  I am becoming part of the fixtures of this room; it knows of my desire.  The cracks on the walls mirror my journey.  Much like the sturdiness of the brick which they affect, nonetheless, they do not affect my resolve.  My spirit remains uncrackable.

I will not move from this one spot, as I had promised.  I will not betray.  Paralyzed by my own impassioned state; I do not dare part from this uneven stool.  I have waited already this long.  Maybe she is held up just a bit longer?  I am tormented by my trepidation, by my longing for her.  I want, but I do not know for certain what is yet to follow.  I remain suspended there, on a cliff, waiting.

Still, I love.  Still, I wait.

2 Black Keys

Piano, my oldest friend, I have known you since my seventh year.  My first instrument loaned from a neighbor's, while they were far overseas.  I used to go to their home and treat myself to your black and white keys, as if you were a candy treat.  I chose you, my oldest friend, but little did I know that this was going to be a life long friendship, like the 2-colors of your ivory keys.  Or maybe, it was you that chose to help me find my path: to help me express things without having to find words, without labels, without making things fit into boxes.  Not even needing to see pictures in my mind, I only need to hear your resonating sound, and my spirit is ever uplifted.

How could I not share music with my kids?   

Growing up, I always thought that when I have kids, I would of course teach them to play the piano.  Having taught piano lessons for over twenty years (hard to believe how fast those twenty years have flown), it seemed even more natural for me to want to do that.  With Jake's autism however, it wasn't going to be that straight forward, as nothing usually is with autism.  Even teaching the basic recognition of the two different colors of the keys, and that the black keys were grouped in alternating groups of twos and threes, was not so simple as it typically was when teaching others' kids.   If I ever encountered behavioral challenges of young kids, it was mostly because they didn't want to sit through a lesson.  With Jake's autism, it wasn't an issue of him not wanting to be there.  It was the challenge of finding a new unfamiliar way, that would work for him, to teach him what I have taught for years.

 

 Piano For Autism

I decided that I wanted music to be a part of Jake's ABA therapy.  I have his therapist use a toy baby grand piano as well as our upright acoustic piano, to have him repeat short basic rhythmic patterns that she plays.  This develops pattern recognition and aural skills.  Through his therapy and music being taught in an ABA manner (Applied Behavioral Analysis is the most common autism therapy that instructs with lots of short repetitions) I figured that he would build some tolerance to eventually sit through a real half hour long lesson with me.  I also did a bunch of experimenting, to see how long of an attention span I could get from him.


I did a lot of hand over hand instruction, so that he could feel the keys move under his fingers; tapping into potential muscle memory.  I tried to not speak a whole lot, since his attention span was short already.  When I did speak, I would do so in a consistent rhythmic pattern.  For example, I took the pattern of short-short-long while simultaneously saying "2 black keys" at least two times in a row.  I positioned his index and third fingers to make a V shape/peace sign, and with hand over hand did the "2 black keys" exercise with him.  He eventually followed along and started chanting those words in that short-short-long rhythmic pattern.  Since then, he has on several occasions, sat on his own at the piano, and did this pattern by himself while using his words.

I used the same type of teaching with the twins, even though they are not living with autism.  Using ABA teaching techniques can be used to teach anyone.  Kids living with autism will benefit from it the most, because they don't pick up on many things as naturally as their neuro-typically developed piers, especially social things (but that's saved for another blog post).  The teaching style of breaking a task down into several smaller/shorter steps with many many repetitions, is what gets optimal results.  

The twins are only three years old, so their attention span is not very long.  They just mostly want to play on the piano for a few minutes and move on to somethings else.  I don't push it on them or Jake.  I want to expose them to music and have them take interest by seeing me playing the piano.  I then have them play at their request and just interject brief spurts of teaching moments.  The other day, they were both fighting over playing the piano.  They both wanted to show me that they can do the "2 black keys" in rhythm.  So far, they have not differentiated between the groups of 2s and 3s, so they chant "2 black keys" while playing on the 3 black key group with an open hand.  Forget that peace sign Mom.  I don't force correcting them very much, because they want to be independent so much.


For now my old friend, I'll keep exposing the kids to your two-toned steps, and as their attention and tolerance develops, more teaching will take place for the musical Roses.  A moment of reflection puts things into new perspective for this one student.  Just as the two black piano keys repetitively resonate for my kids and unlock a world of possibilities; with one key turn I wave goodbye to my childhood piano lessons.  The second key turns, unlocking a door to a hope with new possibilities.  Once again, I am ever uplifted.

The Inspiration for Creationlily

A blank canvas is full of potential.  
It opens up a spectrum of limitless possibilities, 
and that is enlightening to me.

Photos from the score to my oratorio, The Last Days of King Saul  
(I will feature the piece in a blog post of it's own).

Creative Impulses

Creativity can come in all sorts of forms and inspirations.  I hope to share this with my children throughout their life, with music and art, being a form of expression and in reaching inner-peace.  Growing up, I was involved in art, music and dance.  Music eventually took to the forefront as my career and life-passion.  I became a pianist, composer and music educator.  Art was something that I continued to do for pure enjoyment.  It became my downtime activity and enabled me to have boundary-free canvas for a creative platform. 

We all see and perceive things differently. 

How does creativity play into your life?

Above is a mask that I made a few years ago.  I edited its photo with several effects to illustrate how we can look at the same object and view it with slight differences.  One piece of art will speak differently to each one of us.  We are all different, and we perceive things in different ways, even if we tend to agree on the same general idea.   This especially speaks volumes with raising a six year old son that lives with autism and sees things naturally in a different light.  My son Jake, has reinforced this idea for me of how everyone perceives things differently and learns differently.  To me, this is the basic foundation to creativity and self expression.  One image or a piece of music, can tell a story that holds a different meaning to its observer or listener. 

Movement-Inspired Art

My love for dance intertwines itself in my music and art, by inspiring me to compose a piece of music or art that captures an element of movement.  I often like to juxtapose the illusion of movement with still-life imagery.  Some of my art creations are inspired by my music.  I love to couple music with art by using musical imagery in the form of an abstract.  I often think and write in an abstract way, and perhaps this is why I am so drawn to this genre.

    Synesthesia 

Through the years, art has weaved itself into my musical fabric in the form of synesthesia - the ability to associate colors with music.  Due to my perfect pitch with piano and other instruments, since very early on, I associated colors with the white and black keys of the keyboard.  I associate certain keys with colors and their various shades when I hear one pitch at a time, or if a piece of music is written in a certain key: For example, C -reds, D - oranges, E - pinks/purples, F - greens, G - blues, A - browns, B - yellows.  Mozart had favorite keys that were meaningful to him, and I wonder if it may have been because of synesthesia.  I often gravitate to composing music in some of my favorite keys: B minor - yellows, E flat minor - pinks/lavenders/purples, and C minor - reds.  

Musical Imagery in Art / Visual Imagery in Music

Music evokes much imagery and movement for me, so I am connected intuitively to art and dance when I play the piano, and when I compose a piece of music.  I often think of my fingers dancing on the keyboard while I play the piano, and how every movement I make is done for a specific purpose, such as getting a certain tone, or a certain type of articulation.  I think about the release of my hands from the keys, and how it causes the follow-through to my arms to create a wave-like motion.  It also reminds me of Tai-chi movements (the ancient discipline of Chinese meditative movements practiced as a system exercises) as well.  I sometimes think of the sound of the ocean when releasing my hands off the keys and visualize the base, crest and downfall of the wave.  I teach the visualization of the wave to my piano students when teaching how to release the hands off the keyboard.  I incorporate visual imagery when playing and teaching music in order to achieve a particular sound, technique or effect.  It helps me internalize what I am doing, enabling me to personalize the story that I am telling without the use of words.  

Tapping into elements from art, music, dance and photography enables me to cross over and create in various genres, with a multitude of connections across the creative spectrum.  I find myself alternating between music and art when I need a mental or emotional break from one or the other, as well as a way to decompress from other stresses.  It is wonderful to be able to make this type of shift and to be able find a creative outlet at any time.  

Travel and Creativity 

My husband, Alex and I love to travel.  Since we've had our three kids however, (our darling 3 year old boy/girl twins, Max and Miriam, and a wonderful 6 year old son, Jake) it's been harder to do.  We try to take one trip away from the kids once a year to have some time to reconnect, see some new sites and get some much needed rest as well.  Travel is one special means to creativity for several reasons.  When we are taken out of our daily structure, are exposed to a new setting with new scenery, new cultural nuances, different foods, smells and a different language, it puts us in a perfect circumstance through this new experience, to see things differently than we normally would.  It makes us have to adjust to big and little cultural differences.  In doing so, we often have to abandon old rules and accept new ones.  Having new sensory experiences provides us with new ways of viewing things.  This enables us to find new paths to creativity, just by changing our perception a little bit.  My favorite thing to take home as souvenirs from a trip are masks and art.  For me, masks are the embodiment of a culture.  Taking home a piece of art, is like taking a piece of a country's heart back home with me.  It is taking something very personal, that someone had created as a precious gift for its future possessor. 

Bellow are some of my travel "souvenirs" 
from Japan from December 2011

Mt. Fuji

The Tokyo tower

Pagoda in Kyoto

Shiraito Falls, near Mt. Fuji

Fruit drying - Mt. Fuji in the background

Picturesque street of Kyoto shops

The grand tori (gate) to Tokyo's Mejii shrine