New Rule: The Ordinary Rules

Haven't posted here for a very long time.

Most of my useful computer time for the past month or so has been focused on getting my recording studio rearranged, up and functional again, then getting work done for a very patient client.

Or I've been distracting myself from the frustration of the studio rearrange by endlessly checking email or Facebook, or reading news online, or reading other peoples blogs, or indulging in random websurfing.

For some reason I'd gotten all self-conscious about always needing to say something here that would be super meaningful, which sort of misses the point of living the Quiet Little Life--that meaning is found in the ordinary.

So I'm back, to resume writing about the ordinary stuff of daily life.

And I resolve to post here even if it feels vacuous to do so.

I hereby give myself permission to be banal, insipid, stilted, awkward, or . . . whatever else it is I'm afraid of being.

I absolve myself of guilt if I write but don't include illustrating photographs. Similarly, I intend to remain guilt free when photos appear without annotation.

Whose blog is this anyway?

Who made up all these rules about how it's supposed to be done?

Oops. I did. Or at least I bought into them.

I'm an artist, darn it! I live the creative life, right? Why can't I uncreate rules--especially the ones saying that things always have to be fancy-pants, intensely interesting or . . . (gasp) creative?

Today, I rip away the ratty old cardboard rule-box, step beyond its stale confines, and begin again.

New Rule: The Ordinary Rules.

INTENTION: Mid-Winter Stirrings

The snow is falling outside today.

Inside I've taking steps to plant the things I'd like to see begin to grow this Spring. Nothing particularly exciting, really. Like the first unseen stirrings of seeds and sap beneath the frozen earth, the actions I've taken are mundane though crucial to what I hope will follow.

Yesterday, I installed Adobe Photoshop 7.0 on my iMac--my primary computer now--and began doing graphics work there instead of on my old Mac laptop.

The addition of a title image (header) at the top of this blog is one result. The other is a similar new header on my Sound Krayons Music blog.

[In the past, I've only had an early version of Photoshop installed on my old Mac laptop. It was cumbersome to edit images there then move them over to the new Mac for use on the web and in documents. This upgrade opens up new creative and business possibilities, things I've been hoping to do for a long time. The old Mac is too old to connect easily with the internet.]

Then today, I successfully transferred a song file for the first time from MOTU Performer on my old Mac to Digital Performer (DP) on my iMac.

[Again, I'd done all my MIDI work in the past on the old Mac without the benefit of digital audio available in DP. After some trial and error, I was able to move the files from the old Mac by doing a "Save As" MIDI to a flash drive first, then opening in DP on the iMac and doing a "Save As" a DP file to the desktop did the trick.]

Blah, blah, blah technical stuff...

Like the big bale of seed starting mix I bought yesterday and hauled from the car to barn this morning, now I'll need to move all my old graphics and Performer files from one computer to another before I can use them in this new environment.

This sort of thing--to my mind--is the dry, lifeless part of the creative process.

I get discouraged because this part of the process seems to come so slowly. I thought to myself, yesterday, as I scooped buckets of compressed potting soil from the bale and dumped them into an empty trash can:

Are this year's flower and vegetable seeds planted and growing yet? No.

Are the recycled pots from last year cleaned and ready to set in the sunny spot? No.

Do I have everything I need to get things going? No.

But today I have made one very small dent in a very long process.

One small bucketful at a time. Peat moss fibers flying in the air landing on my skin, smelling fresh earth for the first time since last fall. These are the tangible promises of things to come.

No guarantee that weather or pests or health will cooperate in the months ahead, but on this one day for this short time I've done my part.

Similarly, there is no guarantee that I'll reach my distant creative goals, but on this one day for this short time I've done my part.

With these small, unglamorous efforts--work on my computers solving one small problem at a time, repetitive work to prepare for planting--the things I visualize creating and sharing will have some chance to flourish.

One small bucketful at a time.

(c)2009 Kay Pere ~ Effusive Muse Publishing

Turntable Turns the Tables on Time

I've just returned from a trip to California for a family visit and work on a special project.

I dug into the stacks of old 45s, 78s and LPs we listened to as kids.

Took my ION portable USB turntable and converted childhood memories into digital audio files (wav and m4a), complete with all the nostalgic crackle, pop and hiss. We played those records by the hour, way back when.

The turntable is durable and lightweight, fit easily into my carry-on bag, raised no eyebrows passing through airport security, and was easy to set-up when I arrived.

When I got back, I found an amazing website that has dozens of Kiddie Records and their associated artwork (jackets, books, etc.) from the mid 1940's through early 1950's available for free download.

[I should make it clear that I wasn't around to hear these records when they were new. They belonged first to my older brothers, my parents and grandparents--already scratched and well loved by the time I came along.]

What does all this have to do with the creative process or living a more contented life?

It's all about reclaiming the vividness of happy childhood memories.

Creative art making is dependent upon the ability to tap into childlike playfulness and curiosity at will. What better way to access this mindset than to revisit joyful times from ones distant personal past?

For me, the pull of these old recordings was irresistible. As I played them I found myself wearing an unsuppressible smile. I finally had to get up and gave in to the urge to dance around.

For me, living a contented life is all about enjoying what is. Happy memories from my childhood are things that will always be mine to enjoy. They cost nothing and offer a guaranteed high.

They also have the added benefit of helping to free my creative work in the present.

When I revisit the things I enjoyed as a 5-year-old it becomes impossible for me to take myself or anything else too seriously. This sort of time travel enables me to approach my art with the spontaneity and fearlessness I felt back then. I can transport those feelings into the here-an-now on the scratchy strains from an old 45.

Now if you'll, please, excuse me. I'm going to go listen again to my favorite well-worn recording of "I'm a Little Teapot," then the "Hukilau" song, followed Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians playing "Stumbling" (link to an original piano roll MIDI file).

(c)2009 Kay Pere ~ Effusive Muse Publishing

ECO ACTION: Disconnecting / Reconnecting

The photo I took earlier today of the cables under the desk in my studio, shows that there's a lot left to do to finish "disassembling all the recording and audio equipment."

With an eye toward conservation, I've decided to rearrange all the electrical connections in the studio, too.

The goal is to eliminate the unnecessary consumption of electricity used in standby mode when the computers, printers, and music gear are off. (AKA all those little glowing power lights that make the studio look like Christmas even after I've turned everything off and flipped the light switch at the end of the day.)

The solution is to put segments of the studio on separate power strips with ON/OFF switches, to be turned on only when needed.

• one power strip for the studio equipment I use for teaching and my own practicing/songwriting activities
• one power strip for the computer and frequently used peripherals
• one power strip for my recording equipment
• one power strip--that stays on all the time--for my studio phone/answering machine and cellphone charger

That ought to do it.

I can't stop using electricity and still record my music, but I can reduce what I consume. This is one step toward making my music studio/office more eco-friendly.

Time Between Years

Each year for the past several I've taken the week between Christmas and New Years to dive into the process of cleaning and reorganizing my studio, and other parts of the house, with an eye toward what I envision accomplishing in the coming year.

It's always a time of reflection, a shifting of energy from past ways of being and doing toward ways that are a better fit for where the new year finds me and where I hope it will take me.

This is one of the few times of year when I don't have music students coming and going on a daily basis, or weekly rehearsals in our home with the 20 or more kids in our ensemble. I'm able to shift my focus from helping others define and achieve their goals toward looking at and working toward my own, without distractions.

It's always a relaxed, playful and intense time.

Here are some of the results from previous years:

Little New Year's Things - JAN 2006

Time Between Years - DEC 2006

Don't know what I did between Christmas and New Years last year at this time (12/07-1/08). Maybe I'll dig back and see if I can figure that out.

This past year has been a bit of a bumpy ride, with the bumpy bits that I hope will not repeat in the year ahead, or any other for that matter. 4 months of less than optimal health, plus another encounter with the darker side of the human condition, are things to be left in the past, if at all possible.

We don't always get to choose what happens to us, but we can choose to continue making plans and working to make them real. I'm actively choosing to move forward into the coming year, making my plans based on the likely assumption that these difficult things won't repeat in 2009.

And even if they do, or some other challenges come along, well ... here I am anyway. And here are the ones I love and the life we have together.

Here's to making life simpler.

Here's to enjoying what is.

Started last night disassembling all the recording and audio equipment in my studio, to be simplified and rearranged.

I've removed the things I no longer use (maybe never used) and the things that have worn out or broken from frequent use (an old amplifier, a CD changer/player and a cassette tape deck), and have begun to arrange the few things needed for my new set up in a way that will make for easier work flow. And maybe some actual recordings.

Between each thing that gets moved or removed there's pausing, looking, thinking, wiping up dust and grime, imagining whether this is the best way.

It's hard work to rearrange.

I'm trying to keep in mind that "good enough" and done is far better than the perpetual struggle for an ideal "best" that's forever incomplete. (Same goes for the editing/re-editing of this blog post.)

Now, back to it.

Powering down. Disconnecting.

Reconnecting in a new way. Powering back up again.

RECORDING: Secretive Computer Cajoled

Progress.

MIDI setup is working with my iMac through MOTU Digital Performer

MOTU 828 digital audio interface drivers are installed and signal is visible in Garage Band, though not audible even though all the settings are correct. Not sure why.

Next step will be a focused effort on getting digital audio I/O between 828 and Digital Performer.

MOTU has great phone tech support!

They have completely avoided using the phone purgatory systems most companies employ. No dealing with automated menus saying, "For blah-blah-blah press 1, for yada-yada press 2, for bippity-boppity press 8." You just dial a phone number given in the front of the users' manual and an actual, knowledgeable person, who speaks English even, picks up the line to answer your questions.

That's the way customer service should always be.

RECORDING: Secretive Computers

Today I did battle with technology. It won.

Today my computers refused to play nice and make things easy.

Today they kept secrets and snickered behind their shiny screens.

Today I tried a lot of things that didn't work.

Today ended with more questions than answers.

Today I learned a few of the right questions to ask.

That was my one success.

Tomorrow I will ask again and learn a little more.

In plain English: Today I attempted for the first time, unsuccessfully, to get my Mac Mini to send and receive digital audio with the MOTU 828 interface. I spent about 5 hours in failed attempts, while digging through my studio for a missing software disc.

Tomorrow I start again.

Quantum Leap!

Tonight, I started editing a song we recorded about a week ago up at Ascension Studios.

I'm learning to use MOTU Digital Performing. I spent 3 hours in one sitting, editing the vocals and trimming other tracks while learning, experimenting with the mix. Still much to do.

It's been a goal of mine for a long time to learn this. Knowing how to use this program puts the power in my own hands to create the balance of sounds I imagine. Very exciting!

I feel the way opening before me.

RECORDING: Process & Meaning

I'm in the early stage of writing a book about the creative process. In preparation for organizing my material and bringing the project into better focus I ordered a pile of used books through Amazon.com about creativity. I wanted to see what had already been written and how these other books were organized, so could be sure that my ideas will offer something new and different.

This reading has been good for me, both artistically and personally. After a long time way from the studio, I've started recording again. I don't have much to show for it yet, but I'm on my way.

The process of recording a song is much more than sitting down at the piano with a microphone and pressing the record button. Although I use this simple method, on a minidisc (MD) recorder, to capture ideas and develop songs in progress, much more is needed to produce a radio ready recording. Even more will be required if the finished recording is to reflect my vision of the sound I want for my music.

So first thing in the morning, I've spent 2-3 hours each on Wednesday and Thursday this week moving a few tiny steps closer to a recording I'm ready to release. After 6 hours of work, I've completed STEPS 1-4 below for a new song B and I wrote back in June called "So Little Time (Time at the Table)". I'm hoping I'll get faster at all this with more experience.

I start by working in MIDI using MOTU Performer on a Mac. Here's my process:

STEP 0 - Practice, arrange, and visualize in preparation for performance and recording.
STEP 1 - Make a rhythm track that works with the feel of the song. This is a temporary placeholder used to set tempo and provide a grid.
STEP 2 - (could have been STEP 1) Make a chord sheet for the song so I'm not working from memory, not chancing chord and structure mistakes while the record button in armed. This is also essential for communicating the song to others involved in the process.
STEP 3 - Record a rough piano part.
STEP 4 - Enter markers into the conductor track to show beginnings of intro, verses, chorus, bridge and outro.
STEP 5 - Record and quantize piano. Cut and paste together if necessary.
STEP 6 - Record bass track, pad or organ track, lead instrumental track.
STEP 7 - Hand it off to my recording partner. Record a rough vocal to use as a reference while he's detailing the arrangement. Work collaboratively until the results are on target.
STEP 8 - This depends on the nature of the project. Ultimately, for my next CD, many of the MIDI tracks will be replaced by acoustic instruments. This may involve sessions at various locations with hired musicians, then combining audio tracks back in our studio.
STEP 8 - Record final vocals.
STEP 9 - Mix and master completed song.
(Repeat STEPS 1-9 for each song)
STEP 10 - Master completed CD project.

Beyond this, I design my own artwork and graphics for the packaging, make duplication decisions, arrange for band rehearsals, handle distribution and booking, do publicity. I've put off recording because all of this takes time away from my first love - writing a new song.

The joy, for me, is in the process of writing of a song then bringing it live to an audience. Recording is an artform I am learning to love. I see it as a vehicle that carry songs from the intense, solitary environment where they were written out into the marketplace where they may catch the ear of someone passing by. To go through this, I have to believe there's something of value in what I'm doing, at least on some small scale.

Selling my art and recordings to raise money for hunger relief and social services through LUNCH is a part of creating meaning through my creative work. Just as important, for me, is the ideas of using art and music to create an awareness of our deep connectedness as human being.

Like my Sacred Shards pottery and the Gaia Luna garden, the songs I record are tangible manifestations of my solitary creative experience, things I can share with you.

When I create, I dive deep and bring back meaning from ancient dream places. Beauty in simplicity, values of family and the natural world, stories of ordinary lives lived in extraordinary ways, and mythic tales from the shadow world. I know the value this holds for me. Beyond that, I'm only guess.

So, I record. I make things. And I bring these things to the marketplace, where I'll chat with whoever stops by to look and listen.

©2006 Kay Pere - Effusive Muse Publishing