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| Me playing with The Stanton Street Collective (2010) |
In most depictions in popular culture, Sherlock Holmes would enter his “mind palace” by playing his violin (or, at least that’s the way I understood it). It would become a pure act of meditation - as natural as breathing. I can completely understand this; when I play my saxophone, I enter another realm of being - of meditation, of creation. It’s spectacular!
I think there is much to be said about the connection between 'breathing' and creation, much as it is to meditation. Part of my Master's (and possible PhD thesis) considers the necessity of breath (whether it be literal, or more figurative) in spontaneous arts (poetry, music, painting, dance, freestyling, etc). One of my best friends, helped me think a bit further in this regard after he posted a deep and insightful piece on the benefits of freestyling in: "9 Healthy Reasons to Freestyle"
Even more recently, I wrote my reflections on the passing of El Paso legend, Art Lewis, and after reading a story about the type of connection he had with his music, I understood it. There is a Zen quality to be realized in those moments in which a musician (or dancer, poet, artist, etc) gets LOST in their craft. It is both an actualization of being in the ever-present moment as the Universe unfolds before you - while simultaneously -- deconstructing the Universe to create a sense of Nothingness, that is, a sense of "formlessness." If you want to see any of the healthy reasons for being formless, please consider reading the "Tao Te Ching" by Lao Tzu, "Free Play: Improvisation in the Arts" by Stephen Nachmanovitch, "Striking Thoughts" by Bruce Lee, or even "The Essentials of Modern Spontaneous Prose" by Jack Kerouac. (Note: This is not intended to be a definitive list; in a much larger bibliography my sources would be more rounded and inclusive)
When I think of that moment of getting lost in the profound depth of creation and innovation, I think back to the certain stories from the age of jazz and bebop; stories that have been told, and re-told, but continue to resonate powerfully through our consciousness because of that small, kernel of....something.
The first is the story of Big Jay Macneely, driving an LA audience wild during one of his legendary live solos in which he ran around, fell to his knees, and played on his back to an audience who was hanging on to every chord, every note, every bop and wail. Big Jay was the epitome of a Pied Piper of Cool...Below is one of my favorite captured images taken that night:
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| Big Jay McNeely, Los Angeles, 1951 (photo: Bob Wiloughby) |
What strikes me as remarkable about this photograph (aside from the sheer excellence in timing and positioning) are the genuine expressions of raw emotion. Big Jay is "in the zone," most likely in another dimension as he plays to a more than grateful crowd. The Pied-Piper of Cool.
My second story, is closely related. It's another story of a legendary saxophone solo that drove the audience to the verge of rioting from pure excitement; one of the most famous solos in the history of Jazz. In 1956, Duke Ellington and his Orchestra played at the Newport Jazz Festival. The band starts playing the song "Diminuendo in Blue," everything seems normal, the band is jiving, and so on. THEN about 4 minutes in, Paul Gonsalves (on Tenor Sax) starts to solo in order to bridge into the song "Crescendo in Blue." Gonsalves enters smoothly, playing as he always does. Second by second, as the solo progresses, people start chanting from the crowd. As legend states, a young blonde woman in a stylish black dress sprung out of her box seat and began to dance. By the sixth minute the audience is starting to erupt - broken from their facades, the crowd rushed from their seats and toward the stage as they start dancing, whistling, and roaring Gonsalves on. Being the musical genius that he is, Ellington notices this and urges Gonsalves to just KEEP ON PLAYING! He went on to play for a blistering 27 choruses and the creation of one of Jazz's best told stories.
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| Paul Gonsalves, in Milano (Photo: Robert Polillo) |
Below is a recording of "Diminuendo and Crescendo in Blue" by Ellington and his Orchestra Live at Newport on that fateful night:
For many, music is a very powerful event; especially when an artist is able to connect somehow to the listener. For me, when a musician gets lost in the music and vice-versa, every motion, every utterance is the music of the soul made visible. Stephen Nachmanovitch writes:
"there is an old Sanskrit word, Lila (Leela), which means play. Richer than our word, it means
divine play, the play of creation and destruction...it means love. Lila may be the simplest thing there
is -- spontaneous, childish, disarming. But as we grow and experience the complexities of life, it
may also be the most difficult and hard won achievement imaginable, and its coming to fruition is a
kind of homecoming to our true selves."
I haven't even mentioned the drum circle group that i've been playing with for several years! I'll tell the story of how I came to join this group at some other point, but to me, the type of creation and improvisation found in these drum circles invokes the very essence of that concept, Lila.
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| An Echoes in the Park drum circle, El Paso, TX, 2011 (Photo: Jenna Martin) |
Playing with this drum circle group has been exhilarating and life-changing -- it has really allowed me to mature and explore as an artist; more importantly I've created friendships based on a mutual love for expression and rhythm.
Through rhythm we can temporarily leave the plane of language and concepts. This process of liberation allows us to enter a realm of risk, instinct, and improvisation. We are living in the now, the present-moment. It is then that our bodies talk to us, manifested in the forms of art, dance and music.
More importantly, we are connecting to others through rhythm and music. As Nachmanovitch suggests, “Shared art making is, in and of itself, the expression of, the vehicle for, and the stimulus of human relationships.” We must liberate ourselves through self-expression while also relearning how to listen, especially to others. This promotes the integration of the different parts – of the individual or of the group – that moves together from silence into a cosmic dance.
Now...breathe.
When do you feel like you are at your most creative? Please share your thoughts and experiences! :D
- Rich
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