It's now been a little over a week since I returned from this year's Deep Listening Retreat, and I am so glad I went. There's something about getting away from the computer and the phone, and really spending time concentrating on listening, living life more slowly, and paying attention, that helps to invigorate my life.
The retreat happens once each year, and is taught by Pauline Oliveros, Ione, and Heloise Gold. It's often held in off-the-grid New Mexico, but this year it happened to be in upstate New York at the Lifebridge Sanctuary.
For the first time, I started to hear sounds in my dreams - a wonderful, high wind chime is one I remember. And of course starting and finishing my day doing Tai Chi was amazing. I have definitely been trying to keep up the listening practice since I've been back. Last Wednesday's thunderstorm (the Brooklyn tornado) made for some extraordinary listening - loud thundercracks and varying rain speeds. I was about to say I'm sorry I didn't record it, but -- not really. I'm just glad I had the chance to listen.
This listening practice will have an effect on my dissertation chapter about listening, I'm sure. And it is helping as I prepare my piece for the Conflux Festival.

It's been a long week of cranking out project proposals, artist statements, and the like. All stuff I'm really excited about (especially the LMCC workspace program) but lots of work.
I did want to mention, however, a project that I'm planning on doing for Conflux Festival, or just on my own. I'd hoped to do it for the Red Hook BWAC open studios weekend (June 9-10), but don't think I'll be able to finish one in time. Anyhow, here it is: Park Bench Cinema.
It's almost gone. I can't even bear to post a picture.
I suppose it HAS been a week. And the henna artist was right that it would definitely be gone by the 13th. Yesterday I expressed surprise that no one was mentioning the fact that I had words written on my forehead, and a friend told me that they could easily be mistaken for a nasty rash. (Thanks, Judd). Today it's not even clear enough to be that.
Wow.
Yesterday, I spent five and a half hours at Avery Fisher Hall experiencing the Tristan Project, Bill Viola's rendering of Wagner's opera Tristan und Isolde, with a live unstaged performance. The first act was incredible; not just in terms of how the video interacted with the music, but the spatialization of sound created by placing singers and soloists throughout the balconies. The sailor's chorus was shouting Land Ho about two feet from my right ear, and the trombones weren't far off either!

It's now the seventh day that I've had this message on my forehead, and I haven't posted nearly enough about it. There are a few assorted points I'd like to make about it. I guess I'll make them as separate posts since they are different enough in meaning. I'll start with the thing that bothers me the most.

Solo percussionist Sam Solomon will perform my piece "Happy Idiot" along with pieces by Marcos Balter, Judd Greenstein, Andrew Lee, and David Little. All pieces are world premieres for Sam's amazing Setup #1 project.
Sunday, May 6, 2007, 5pm
Seully Hall, Boston Conservatory
Directions: http://bostonconservatory.edu/about/directions.html
Free!
Happy Idiot was written for Sam Solomon last year. I wanted to create a musical space, a set of possibilities for Sam to play with at his own temporal pleasure, while lurching between happy idiocy and mystery, as our own lives often do. The piece is composed of musical modules, which might be thought of as narratives or memories; Sam's job is to create his own fragmented narrative by jumping amidst the notes.
I've had many thoughts about this piece over the last couple of days, but haven't had a chance till now to write them down. I will say that in general, I have found it very liberating, especially at first. It felt very much like the first time I shaved off almost all of my hair. Maybe it's just the act of daring myself to do something.
For the next ten days or so, I will be participating in Adrian Piper's performance piece, "Everything #10." Earlier today I had the phrase EVERYTHING WILL BE TAKEN AWAY written in henna on my forehead in capital letters. I was a bit nervous. And I only want it to last for several days, not for weeks. And it turns out that the "away" slants upwards a little bit. But still, it's been an interesting experience.
I have been meaning to post for months, and it's begun to seem overwhelming. I've had something like fifteen events in the last six months, several new pieces of music, several new pieces of art, and a very busy teaching schedule. There was so much I wanted to post about... art I saw... ideas I had... new sounds I heard. Really too much. Literally. To dig up all the old notes and type them up would take weeks. And so instead I've decided to simply start afresh, tabula rasa. And why today? Well, really two reasons.