Blog
Are You Listening?
Sunday 08 November 2015
We have been listening to some pretty intense free jazz this week in class. Intense. Like, the kind that you can’t even really tap your foot to because you can’t find the beat. And you definitely can’t hum along... I had no idea of where the harmony was, if there was a structure, a melody even...
It’s hard work listening to music like that. It’s the same with avant garde classical music, like the concert I went to a few weeks ago by Krzysztof Penderecki. Music like that puts you on edge. You can’t relax into it, like with Bossa Nova or a nice warm waltz. It wrestles with something inside of you.
It’s hard to listen.
So after talking about the boundaries that free jazz challenged, and what we found so hard about it to appreciate, we were asked the question, “what is listening?”
At first I thought it was a silly question. What’s listening? Well, of course it’s... it’s... but I couldn’t think of a coherent, succinct answer that could really sum up what listening means.
Actually, it is one of the most passive, sometimes even involuntary acts that we can do as humans. Don’t wish that you could just turn your ears off sometimes and not have to listen?
But even though it is such an automatic part of our lives, the act of listening is a complex process. It is, in it’s most basic form, turning our attention to the sound waves that are hitting our eardrums. If I listen now, I hear the steady hum of my air conditioning unit, I hear my fingers typing on the keyboard, I hear a muted wave of traffic 20 storeys below me, and occasionally I hear the call of a bird or the beep of a horn.
Listening reminds me of where I am. It places me squarely in my surroundings.
But listening to music can have the total opposite effect. When you really listen to music, you can be transported to other universes: lost in a sea of sound or emotion or memories.
When you actively listen to music, that is; when you give it your full attention (yes that means turning off all of your other devices...) you allow yourself to fully appreciate all that the artist has layered and placed into their work. There is a difference between hearing and listening.
For example, a lot of people have heard The Police’s song “Every Breath You Take”. In fact, it’s the world’s most played song on radio. But a lot of people have never really listened to it. Most people think it’s a nice, happy love song about being committed to each other.
But when you listen to the song, you will discover that it is about something much darker, much more sinister. It’s about control, about fear and losing love. It’s a little bit creepy, when you really think about it!
When we don’t listen, we miss the point. We don’t fully comprehend.
This is true for music, but also for so many other aspects of our lives. Who are we not properly hearing in our lives? Whose voice is being drowned out? Do we ever just listen to one singular voice? Do we ever make time for silence?
Are you listening? You might just hear something that will shake you up.
It’s hard work listening to music like that. It’s the same with avant garde classical music, like the concert I went to a few weeks ago by Krzysztof Penderecki. Music like that puts you on edge. You can’t relax into it, like with Bossa Nova or a nice warm waltz. It wrestles with something inside of you.
It’s hard to listen.
So after talking about the boundaries that free jazz challenged, and what we found so hard about it to appreciate, we were asked the question, “what is listening?”
At first I thought it was a silly question. What’s listening? Well, of course it’s... it’s... but I couldn’t think of a coherent, succinct answer that could really sum up what listening means.
Actually, it is one of the most passive, sometimes even involuntary acts that we can do as humans. Don’t wish that you could just turn your ears off sometimes and not have to listen?
But even though it is such an automatic part of our lives, the act of listening is a complex process. It is, in it’s most basic form, turning our attention to the sound waves that are hitting our eardrums. If I listen now, I hear the steady hum of my air conditioning unit, I hear my fingers typing on the keyboard, I hear a muted wave of traffic 20 storeys below me, and occasionally I hear the call of a bird or the beep of a horn.
Listening reminds me of where I am. It places me squarely in my surroundings.
But listening to music can have the total opposite effect. When you really listen to music, you can be transported to other universes: lost in a sea of sound or emotion or memories.
When you actively listen to music, that is; when you give it your full attention (yes that means turning off all of your other devices...) you allow yourself to fully appreciate all that the artist has layered and placed into their work. There is a difference between hearing and listening.
For example, a lot of people have heard The Police’s song “Every Breath You Take”. In fact, it’s the world’s most played song on radio. But a lot of people have never really listened to it. Most people think it’s a nice, happy love song about being committed to each other.
But when you listen to the song, you will discover that it is about something much darker, much more sinister. It’s about control, about fear and losing love. It’s a little bit creepy, when you really think about it!
When we don’t listen, we miss the point. We don’t fully comprehend.
This is true for music, but also for so many other aspects of our lives. Who are we not properly hearing in our lives? Whose voice is being drowned out? Do we ever just listen to one singular voice? Do we ever make time for silence?
Are you listening? You might just hear something that will shake you up.
An Artist in Turmoil
Tuesday 08 September 2015
It has been a little bit too long since I last shared with you all...
And the reason?
Turmoil...
OK, perhaps that sounds a tad melodramatic, and it probably is. But the truth is, life has been largely unsettled and un-routined for the past several weeks. With moving back to Asia, starting a new school and picking up old projects, without a permanent place to stay or organised belongings, I have felt... to put it lightly, flustered...
And it has got me thinking about the parameters that I seem to require to be creative.
This isn’t to do with productivity; I can get things done, whether it is writing papers or moving projects forward or practicing scales.
It is more about creating the right environment, both internal and externally, to foster creative thinking and outputs.
One of the things that I have often found strange is my need to have a tidy and organised creative space. This feels in some ways atypical for an artist - the classic picture of the creative genius is one of a studio littered with sketches, semi-read books, coffee cups, notes, and the occasional odd sock or half eaten sandwich. My husband’s studio is often like this, a highly complex mass of cables and equipment, with several things piled up on and under and around the desk. I wonder how he can see through the chaos.
I also have to tick everything else off of my to-do list before I can give myself over to the wash of creativity that trying to be an artist requires.
In essence, I have to clear my physical and my mental slates.
And I wonder why.
Perhaps it is that I don’t assign enough priority to just taking time to create. Other needs become more pressing; I would love to call my mum, I need to pick up something for dinner, so-and-so is expecting me to send her my review... These things are important. But should they top the list and stop me from doing what I call my first passion?
Perhaps it is just a focus issue; my husband is able to (sometimes unwittingly) give 100% of his attention to whatever he is doing. It makes me jealous! I can’t help but be distracted by the nagging to-dos and visual anomalies that surround me.
Perhaps it is lack of routine; if there was a time and space that was repeatedly given to music and writing, maybe I would be able to look past the usual obstacles and get into the discipline of creating.
But I think, one thing has to be true for all of us who have to create: your space should be a little haven. It should be a stimulating and peaceful place, where art is glorified as the highest achievement. It should be somewhere that you long for, get lost in, a creative womb where your most spectacular ideas can be birthed.
In Hong Kong, it will be hard to devote a whole room to creative space since the number of square feet at my disposal will be severely limited!
But, I will find a perfect corner of our little home, and keep it sanctified as my little temple of creativity.
How do you set up yours?
And the reason?
Turmoil...
OK, perhaps that sounds a tad melodramatic, and it probably is. But the truth is, life has been largely unsettled and un-routined for the past several weeks. With moving back to Asia, starting a new school and picking up old projects, without a permanent place to stay or organised belongings, I have felt... to put it lightly, flustered...
And it has got me thinking about the parameters that I seem to require to be creative.
This isn’t to do with productivity; I can get things done, whether it is writing papers or moving projects forward or practicing scales.
It is more about creating the right environment, both internal and externally, to foster creative thinking and outputs.
One of the things that I have often found strange is my need to have a tidy and organised creative space. This feels in some ways atypical for an artist - the classic picture of the creative genius is one of a studio littered with sketches, semi-read books, coffee cups, notes, and the occasional odd sock or half eaten sandwich. My husband’s studio is often like this, a highly complex mass of cables and equipment, with several things piled up on and under and around the desk. I wonder how he can see through the chaos.
I also have to tick everything else off of my to-do list before I can give myself over to the wash of creativity that trying to be an artist requires.
In essence, I have to clear my physical and my mental slates.
And I wonder why.
Perhaps it is that I don’t assign enough priority to just taking time to create. Other needs become more pressing; I would love to call my mum, I need to pick up something for dinner, so-and-so is expecting me to send her my review... These things are important. But should they top the list and stop me from doing what I call my first passion?
Perhaps it is just a focus issue; my husband is able to (sometimes unwittingly) give 100% of his attention to whatever he is doing. It makes me jealous! I can’t help but be distracted by the nagging to-dos and visual anomalies that surround me.
Perhaps it is lack of routine; if there was a time and space that was repeatedly given to music and writing, maybe I would be able to look past the usual obstacles and get into the discipline of creating.
But I think, one thing has to be true for all of us who have to create: your space should be a little haven. It should be a stimulating and peaceful place, where art is glorified as the highest achievement. It should be somewhere that you long for, get lost in, a creative womb where your most spectacular ideas can be birthed.
In Hong Kong, it will be hard to devote a whole room to creative space since the number of square feet at my disposal will be severely limited!
But, I will find a perfect corner of our little home, and keep it sanctified as my little temple of creativity.
How do you set up yours?
The Collaborator
Thursday 13 August 2015
On the road, as I think I have thought about in previous posts, I knew I would find it hard to write music...
But I truly had no idea, that on a trip which is about music, how little I would actually get to play! Perhaps it would be different if I was a guitar player - I could pull out my guitar wherever we happen to be, with no need for electricity or amplification. But with my electric piano, no matter how much I love it, the number of times that I have been able to get it out just to play, practice, write... well I can count them on one hand...
Read More...
Small
Sunday 12 July 2015
Standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon, coming to the realisation that I have a small but perhaps wise fear of heights, I was, like all who are privileged to stand in that spot, awed by its grandness.
The first glance of the great crack in the earth’s crust stole a beat from my heart and the air from my lungs.
Read More...
The first glance of the great crack in the earth’s crust stole a beat from my heart and the air from my lungs.
Read More...
The Words vs The Sounds
Thursday 02 July 2015
When I was younger, and I first started out writing songs, I never cared about the lyrics.
I wrote, experimenting with music and songwriting, and filled the lines with school-girl poetry. Not surprisingly, my first songs were almost laughable subject matter. I remember, at the age of 13, writing a song with my best friend that started with the lines:
Read More...
Made
Tuesday 16 June 2015
Do you remember when people just used to have two pairs of clothes: their working clothes and their Sunday Best?
There were no massive January Sales, no Black Friday, no walk in closets. And there were no sweatshops in Bangladesh, the Philippines or Venezuela to make our $7 t-shirts.
No, I don’t remember either...
Read More...
There were no massive January Sales, no Black Friday, no walk in closets. And there were no sweatshops in Bangladesh, the Philippines or Venezuela to make our $7 t-shirts.
No, I don’t remember either...
Read More...