domesticity (or rather, the connotations thereof)

Domesticity is a funny word.  Does it mean powerlessness, or empowerment?  I suppose it depends on your personal bent.  I think it can be either.  For the person who needs to be out and about, domesticity can be deadly to the spirit; for the person who seeks a home ground, a safe haven, a place of their own design, then domesticity can be a godsend.

But don't we all want a home?  I would argue yes, but I would also put forward that home can have many definitions.  Home is where the heart is, after all, and if your heart belongs on the road, or on the sea, then a bungalow with a white picket fence just won't do.

How does one seek their home?  I have always sought escape.  From where, what - life? responsibilities? anxiety? depression? yes.  To where, what? ... Good question.  Isolation.  Art.  Intelligence.  A place where I am unafraid.  That is home - where you are unafraid to express yourself.  

I wonder how many artists are ever truly home, in their heart of hearts, in their soul.  

There is beauty in so many things.  There are no confines to beauty.  On beauty.  Beauty has no limits.  We see beauty differently.  And isn't that terrifying?

VISI, day 8

Today flipped over about midway through.

I did not get up at six, as I had wanted to, but at seven-thirty.  Sleeping better with a blanket on top and more towels added to the pile underneath ...  

I went to the performance psychology class, and after that intimate and gentle cajoling of intentions, past experiences, goals, motivations, etc ... I was kaput.  I was depressed.  I was so down.  I could not possibly face two hours of lecture and masterclass.  It just wasn't going to work - not unless I shut down entirely, sat at the back and spent the rest of the day closed to everything ... which was the whole point of the psychology class to get away from, now that I think about, so in the end this was a good thing that ... I didn't go.  I escaped back to my room, spent a while just breathing and reminding myself that it was okay to be hurting, and then wrote a bit.  Not a lot, just a bit.  I'm easing back into the whole writing thing - it bothers me that I don't write as much fiction as I'd like, and instead I do a lot of journaling and written-daydreaming (though mostly journaling nowadays).  Maybe the fiction will come.  Right now my life is tough enough in my head (which on its own makes me sound incredibly egotistical ... one of the things I journal about).

I forced myself out to the concert at one, which wasn't worth it, in my opinion.  I didn't particularly like the voice of the mezzo who was performing - couldn't understand all her words, some of her emotions felt a bit contrived - but I think my lack of connection was mostly due to my mental state, which was still right down in the dumps.  The first lecture afterwards was nice - an hour and a half on why diction is important and how it's actually interesting (which had never really been articulated to me - diction was just a tool before this afternoon, and now, having been contextualized into language, which I adore, it is much more interesting), but the second session ... the coaching ... 

The man coaching, a pianist named Dr Harley who teaches out of Washington DC, was absolutely fantastic.  I ended up going first, and we worked through Die Mainacht (a song I must have coached four times now).  He made it come alive like no other coach had managed to do, and he did more talking than I did singing but it was so fascinating that I really didn't mind.  Each other singer's session was just as fascinating, and I felt my spirits lifting even as he was saying hello and introducing himself at the beginning.  He's very British, and very funny, and managed to hit the right combination of suggestion, encouragement, and a very little bit of correction.  It didn't feel like correction at all, though - just, "well, why don't we try it this way, because xyz?"  reaction: holy crap that is precisely what this means.  It was glorious.  I would definitely want to work with him again.

Right after lectures, I popped away to do a bit of grocery shopping, and then came home.  Eating some dinner now - just veggies and dip (bought an amazing masala salad dressing, love it), will have rice tomorrow sometime.  Yay for buying interesting things, not just staples!

I am feeling better about life right now, but I feel as it the balance is very fragile.  I still feel very tired, and my body is not the way it was before - I am stiff and sore still, and it is very painful to stretch in the morning.  Stupid bed.  Ow.  On the other hand, fresh fruit and vegetables, and the hope for more coachings like this afternoon's ...  and maybe, just maybe, more writing. 

VISI, day 7

Today has been less tiring than the last few.  I put my blankets underneath me, adding to the mattress, and only slept under a sheet - it's a good thing Vancouver is warm even at night, otherwise I would have frozen.  Even as it was I kept waking up because I was cold, but I got a better sleep and was able to cajole myself out of bed.

I went to the performance psychology seminar at nine, during which we looked at our motivation and ignition tactics, as well as whether the focus was external or internal.  I found that much of my motivation was internal, but I feel very much dependent on the outer attention and approbation I receive, which I found interesting ...  The things which ignite me were simpler, but harder to focus on - I thought about rewards, and then thought about the things I receive after a performance ... more concrete than my motivators.  It was an interesting exercise, but difficult.  I walked out feeling tired and beaten down - not through any fault of the instructor, no, she was wonderful and understanding and encouraging - simply because it is difficult to look at what motivates me without thinking about how difficult this all is, and how tiring life seems to be these days ... 

Sitting through two lectures was hard, but not impossible - very interesting topics, as always.  The first was about how Schubert conceived of his Lieder, covering topics including original keys, transposition, published vs. manuscript copies, etc.  Fascinating.  Probably more so if I'd been more awake.  The second lecture was about the sonnet Silent Noon (Dante Rossetti).  Very much an English class - a bit more advanced than IB, but more or less the same thing.  I connected very closely to it ... makes me wonder again about writing as a career ... 

(no, I still think I have to do more than one thing.  I need variety.)

After the lectures, I showered and had lunch, then went for the two coachings of the day.  Both were somewhat piano-centric, which was nice for a change - I could work on the things that the coach told me, but I had a little bit less to remember.  The second one was particularly good: I worked on Die Mainacht, and the focus of the coaching was really dramatic - what is the story I am telling, how can I make the phrases work for me in this way, and so on.  It made singing the song a lot easier with just a few small adjustments!

My pianist and I practiced briefly afterwards, and then I headed back to the dorms to make supper.  Since then I've been checking up on the world and talking to people.  I'm going to try to head to bed around ten tonight, and wake up at six - another Manitoban said that it worked really well for her, with the schedule we're keeping, to be up earlier than classes started rather than later after they finished, with the added bonus of still more-or-less being on Manitoba time. 

'Post-script': when I first arrived on campus I saw a truck that said "UBC Plant Operations".  I thought, oh, wouldn't it be funny if it actually had to do with plants, since there's so many around?  But I had seen similar trucks on my home campus, and it's just the physical plant operations - maintenance and such.  The next day (or later that day, I don't remember), I saw another truck like that ... except it had a trailer, and it was full of gardening implements.  It turns out it really does mean plant operations!  The trucks show up all over the place, tending to the flowerbeds and trees and such.  One flowerbed went from prairie wildflowers to bedding plants in about two days.  It was a bit surreal.

VISI, day 3

I am having a particularly difficult evening, in spite of the fact that the day was quite good, so I don't know how this is going to go ... 

This morning was fine.  Breakfast, then I bussed to a church I picked that was nearby and enjoyed a wonderful service.  I will definitely be going back next week; very welcoming atmosphere and an intellectual, challenging and profound sermon.  

I then went back to the university and met with my pianist for the first time: we practiced for half an hour and I think we will work well together.  I am definitely less experienced than she is, but that is alright ... we are all learning.

After practicing, I attended the VISI opening session.  After a brief presentation from the performance psychologist attending the conference, the artistic director talked about the philosophy behind art song theatre, which is, in short, turning the very cerebral performance form of art song into ... theatre.  Basically, you take away the old traditions of standing very primly and singing from the piano, and turn it into the real story that it was likely meant to be in the first place.  

The second lecture of the day was on collaboration and the fact that it is really an art.  Some interesting insights on technique and artistic interpretation, but not much to detail here.  After this, we did half an hour of icebreaker games, highlighting the difference between competition and collaboration.  This was a lot of fun.

The final lecture of the day was very thought-provoking.  It was delivered by Max Wyman, author of The Defiant Imagination: Why Culture Matters.  You should definitely go read this book.  Just Google it.  He discussed how the imagination is really the centre of the whole human experience, and as a result of this, so too should our societies be.  Alas, this is not the case.  It was slightly odd to have one's soul explained so concisely and clearly - a bit off-putting, to tell the truth.  I was not unhappy when I left the lecture hall, but I was slightly off-kilter.  I still have not managed to get back into kilter, if that's even a valid term.

I went back to my room and ate some supper, and pondered.  My ponderings have led me, for the moment, into a very dark place of not knowing what path is best to take right now, and who can join me on it, and why some may and some may not, and what kind of person I need as a companion, and whether to not it is a good idea for others to be such, for me, in the first place.  In so pondering, I have hurt someone very close to me ... and so now, I am very dark.

I hope the morning sun will bring more happiness.

In related news, I am feeling like I cannot limit myself to one art form.  Perhaps that will make me happy.  But I have a sneaking suspicion that I will never, ever feel complete.  And that bothers me to no end.

moments when you realize you're an artist

And in my case, a musician, more often than not.

I had a very strange and surreal moment yesterday morning.  I realized that I was off the beat - as in not playing on the beat.  In time.  It wasn't a regular beat.

I then abruptly came to a halt in my thinking as I realized that, in fact, I was not living my life in any specific time signature at all, and furthermore, never had.  And this was truly a terrible thing.

And then I pondered where the heck that came from.