March 15, 2009
Overview
Vista of dreams.
I must look like an avid tourist each time I fly the puddle jumper to and from Friday Harbor. And I don’t mind one bit. The camera which is always in my satchel, a petite 8 megapixel Nikon, is held snugly in my hand on every flight, eager to capture… anything. Above are two “anythings” that I like: a sandy spit emerging mysteriously from the sea, variably sized with the tides, tailing off of a small atoll over which I have flown many times and have never managed to identify. And, one of many overviews of this amazing archipelago; islands like pebbles scattered randomly from a child’s fist.
I am a tourist through life, observing as much as possible, visually, sonically, emotionally. I miss plenty. Just ask my husband. But what I capture, I hold on to and appreciate. And share, whenever possible. This blog gives me the selfish opportunity to share all three at once with strangers scattered like those pebbly islands around the world. If anyone had told us thirty years ago that we’d all have the ability to connect like this, 24/7, with the click of a “go to” or “send” button, well, it might have been hard for us to grasp the concept. But here we are.
If anyone had told me thirty years ago what my life would look and feel like today, I think I might have had a tough time grasping that concept, too. I would not have guessed that the die-hard city rat who grew up in Manhattan in the gritty 70’s would have morphed into a country mouse living in the seaside woods on a bridge-less island few have even heard of. Juggling an existence composing and recording chamber music, indie pop tunes, concert wind band pieces, jazz, electroacoustic, and anything else that pops into my feeble brain, plus flying around the country yapping on a lot of panels about the business of how all this gets out into the world so that my peers can also do it more easily, plus writing articles, plus serving on boards and committees for groovy music, science, and education projects, plus making sure I get my backside into my kayak and my toes onto the sand as often as possible, plus playing with the cats and any other somewhat taller denizen who wander into and around the house… well… here I am.
I just ordered a very tiny video camera that will keep my Nikon company in my purse. Maybe they’ll mate and I’ll find a little MP3 player in there one day. My hope is that I’ll be able to share an occasional moving picture with you, to further express the three dimensional reality that surrounds me. Stay tuned!
Glenn Buttkus said,
March 16, 2009 @ 6:05 am
Yes, yes, the DreamVista@1:33 transported me from the darkness, the rain and snow mixed down here in America, aloft, beside you on the puddle jumper, beside you in your poet’s composer’s cottage in the woods, on the island, apart from stress and mainland madness. Always a pleasure to read your heart thoughts, your soul syllables here. I not a singular voice, albeit a persistant one. Many read this blog, are touched, are amazed, are hugged, and move on quietly. Such is the way for most men and women clicking their way across the vastness of cyber city and land. Yes, there was a poem therein too, and folks can link to it and read it, Vista of Dreams, of course at:
http://bibiiosity.blogspot.com/2009/03/vista-of-dreams.html and I hope some folks read it. It is always a treat to insert the linebreaks in your prose early in the morning. It sounds like “poetry”.
Glenn
Barry said,
March 16, 2009 @ 5:53 pm
Alex,
Remembering that girl of thirty years ago in her flannel shirt and jeans tramping around Aspen’s woods and creeks, it doesn’t surprise me a bit where you wound up!
The well from which you draw to pull so much emotion into your music has to come from a meditative state. You’re still going all over the place and seem to enjoy the variety that comes with your travels, but the peaceful end of the journeys on the isle of your choice truly is where your heart resides. It’s wonderful to recognize the silence and tranquility of your environs moves not only you, but the recipients of your compositions. That would be us lucky listeners and the musicians who play ’em!
Barry
Alex Shapiro said,
March 19, 2009 @ 2:45 am
What sweet comments! The two summers I spent at Aspen were absolutely life-changing for me, and they planted the seed for the adult who, many years later, would choose to live a rural island life. I will never forget the utter freedom and beauty of the expansive surroundings in Colorado. When I returned each time to Manhattan, the transition was tough. I had found my muse in nature, even back then.