March 9, 2009
Unabashedly reminded
Unabashedly beautiful.
I write this from my midtown Manhattan outpost in a lovely little boutique hotel, to tend my blog, as well as to tend my psyche. I adore this city and it was my home from 0 to 21.5 years. I return often these days for various work-related activities, framed by visits with friends and my mother, who like so many New Yorkers tethered to a great piece of real estate, still lives in the same apartment in which I grew up. There’s something really adorable about getting a big hug from the doorman, Tony, who has known me since I was six and instantly recognizes me from 41 years ago the moment I step out of the taxicab. I fight the urge to ask him for a piece of candy.
It ain’t news to anyone that New York is a very noisy place. But the unending onslaught of construction, honking, sirens, jack-hammering, and rumbling subways underneath the ground on which this hotel stands, starkly reminds me that I am no longer inured to this noise in any way. Each hair in my ears is on full alert and on edge with every blasting horn, and I have not experienced a single moment of atmospheric silence since arriving last week. It’s exhausting.
I think back to growing up here, and of how I seemingly heard next to nothing of this racket. Or, more to the point, I heard it but it did not register. I was deaf to the noise; my subconscious automatically tuned it out. My thoughts were rarely interrupted by incessant city sounds and I probably even found some tribal reassurance in them, as my senses were swathed 24/7 in the utterances of civilization. I was not alone, even if I was alone.
I enjoy being alone. The utter silence around my home on the far other edge of this continent swaddles my psyche in a different way, allowing my own thoughts and sounds to appear within my head. The photo above, taken from a ferry at dusk a couple of weeks ago, contrasts the noise that accompanies me as I type this. And for further contrast, I’ve chosen a clip of some very active chamber music that makes a joyous noise, to me at least. An unabashed reminder that my life encompasses the full spectrum of frequencies with some frequency. A dichotomy to which I am not inured in the least.
William Belote said,
March 9, 2009 @ 8:33 pm
My God what a great chunk of music you have there! I can’t wait to hear the entire piece. Great photo as well! I also really enjoyed your blog. Your sharing of yourself always connects with me – and many others obviously.
My last New York experience was almost 40 years ago, yet I vividly remember the energy and currents of humanity overwhelming and exciting me. I occasionally fantasize about some cool Manhattan apartment to camp in for awhile. But upon just a moments reflection, I think your quiet island home is much more ideal.
Artists need to listen ever deeper to what springs from within, and getting past our own internal chatter is challenge enough without having to contend with millions of neighbors and all of the noise, messages, emotions, and various vibrations that belong to us humans. Visiting is great, solitude is awesome.
Glenn Buttkus said,
March 10, 2009 @ 5:18 am
William is so right, the Chamber Music Palisade, UnAbashedly @ 2:14 is great stuff–and once again thanks for giving us some extra time on the snippet, that extra 40 seconds feels so fine early in the Morn. It must be a trip to revisit your actual childhood home, in the same apartment where you grew up. What a touchstone! We moved every year or so, so I travel around Seattle and there are 15 childhood homes; most of which are already gone or morphed into Condos. I have only visited NYC twice, and it was qute the challenge to the senses. I met actor friends who lived there, and that buffered some of the anxiety. The fact that you don’t even like to be distracted by a ticking clock there in your studio certainly sets up a sanctuary of silence that very few could immerse themselves in. The only noises your hear are mostly generated by you, and the cats. Bird calls and deer munching your lawn are your only distractions. Manhattan must be a cachophony of noise, a overwhelming overlapping mix of machines and techno hums and human grunting, yelling, sighing, and screaming, that one day will turn itself back into the music you will create. How did the Tacoma concert go? Sorry I could not attend. ‘
Glenn
Paul H. Muller said,
March 10, 2009 @ 9:03 pm
Another great photo! You’ve got several album covers.
Great music also.
Last time I visited Bergen County, NJ where I grew up, I got lost.
I guess its true – you can’t go hme.
Alex Shapiro said,
March 12, 2009 @ 6:49 pm
Love your comments, guys. The Tacoma concert went well– I rehearsed with the band earlier in the week and they were terrific. NY was a great trip, but as always, I’m very happy to be home and the weather is awesome right now– crystal clear and in the mid-40’s– just beautiful. I’ll post something more within the next day or so.