Tipping Point

Spring Morning

Last night I practiced guitar for a couple of hours. My normal practice routine is to start with slow finger movements, such as the "walking" exercise set out in the Andreas Principles book. This exercise is the crux of my current practice routine. Once learned, the student has a set of finger skills which can be used for playing any style of music. However, it is not an easy thing to master, as I have been working with it for 6 months and am still far from obtaining the required speed and accuracy. But the more I work with it the stronger my fingers become, which allows my practice in other areas to become more productive.

After 30 minutes of the walking exercise and a few minutes spent on sliding bar chords, regular chord changes, and the chromatic scale, I played along to an A minor blues jam track for 1 hour. I put the track on repeat, each new time around finding a nuance in note selection, vibrato, string bending, or picking style.

During this session it occurred to me that I had reached one of the tipping points in my guitar quest. One of the reasons I write in this journal is to examine how I go about learning something from the beginning. I have already made note of the 1st year struggles, and how it is important to have faith that the mind and body will discover a way to overcome the many obstacles which prevent the beginning student from playing well. My current learning phase is in the refining of basic skills, allowing for added confidence and momentum, which in turn fuels the desire to practice more. This extended practice and enthusiasm leads to a further gain in skills, which in turn fuels greater momentum. Having reached this stage, learning and progress becomes quicker and easier.

There is another interesting thing to note - the perception that one has put in hundreds of hours of practice. Thinking back on the struggle and the will to continue and push forward, the thought arises as to how many beginning guitar students have put in as much work as I have? The people who have are undoubtedly already proficient in guitar play, but I believe that my Asperger tendency to focus intensely on a subject puts me ahead of a person who believes one hour a day of practice is a lot. On the other hand, my paltry 2-3 hour sessions look pale in comparison to a virtuoso who plays 8-10 hours a day. The lesson here is that the more one plays, the better one gets - practice, practice, practice!

Sophia's Dream

Sophia's Dream, Detail

On the Road Again

This past week I have put in a couple of 2-3 hour practice sessions with the guitar. Since playing with Joseph a month ago one of the things I have been working at is sliding bar chords. Yesterday I was listening to a couple of Canned Heat blues songs (Going Up the Country and On the Road Again), and decided to learn the chords and play along. I found that Going Up the Country required a sliding bar chord going from fret 6 to 11, then down to fret 1. Normally the hardest place to play are the frets near the nut (frets 1-3), but I found placing the fingers in the cramped space of fret 11 to be challenging. To play On the Road Again I was especially satisfied when I was able to create the blues boogie pattern. I had always wanted to play that kind of rambling/rolling blues rhythm, and guessed it would take playing a combination of exotic, hard to finger chords. So I was surprised to find that it was a familiar pattern that I practice everyday - E/G/A. The tricky part is in the timing and strumming, but I quickly picked it up and was jamming along without much problem. This experience taught me that with a few simple chords many different styles of music can be created through timing variations.

The Magpie

Detail from The Magpie

A few weeks ago I began a correspondence with a young woman from Sweden named Sophia. Her letters contain a life bending poetry which leave indelible images in my head, reminding me of dreams I have had of paintings. Sensing the pictures in my mind inspire me to transfer them to paper. The drawing I posted earlier entitled Fur Elise was my first attempt, and tonight I made a second drawing. I have an idea for a third, and if we continue to correspond I hope to make a series of drawings based on Sophia's poetic letters.

Drawing #2 from the Sophia Series

Found Art

This winter I took it easy with my running mojo and let days pass before lacing up the cross country shoes. I just don't like running in cold weather, and even though I numbed myself to it during my 16 month running streak, it wasn't exactly my cup of tea. So it is no surprise that I am woefully out of shape and overweight as the spring season arrives. The long rest period, however, has energized my overworked legs, and this week, with the warm weather arriving in spades, I have run for 5 consecutive days, knocking off the winter rust and a couple of pounds.

After my run on Thursday I was walking back on my usual route, and when I finished crossing the sushi restaurant parking lot on University Avenue I passed a dumpster adjacent the railroad tracks. I had a nice flow going in my head, thinking about Oregon, guitar, Zen, and drawing, when I noticed the edge of a matted picture sticking out of said dumpster. Normally this dumpster is filled with construction refuse, so seeing a colorful picture next to rotted planks and musty cardboard jolted me out of my reveries. I walked over to the blue steel container and gently pulled the picture out, being careful not to rub it against anything rough and dirty. The artwork was large, and placed in an 18"x22" white mat. I was impressed with the subject matter and the execution. As I looked closer I saw that the image was printed on textured watercolor paper, and the backing board behind the mat had a gallery stamp with handwriting, "Altman, 1986". Inscribed on the front left of the picture was "Printed in France by Mourlot", and on the right "Altman".

Looking around and seeing nobody, I decided that the picture was indeed discarded, and carried if off using both hands. I thought of a scene from the film Bobby G Can't Swim, when Bobby has to throw a $20,000 brick of cocaine into a New York City trash can to avoid getting busted by the cops. When he returns to the trash can to retrieve the brick he is unable to find it, and this is the beginning of the end for Bobby G. When I arrived at the Square I stopped at the frame shop and asked how much a basic frame would cost, and agreed to pay $38.

Before picking up the frame today I did some internet research on Altman and discovered he was a prolific lithographic artist. I also found information on the picture, which is entitled "Reflections". I hung the picture in my living room, and it reminds me that I still have some luck left in this life.

Reflections

Fur Elise

Fur Elise

Flowers on the Wall

Evening Walk II

Guitar practice is moving steadily along. A couple of days ago I was barring the 10th fret and discovered a haunting melody, it then occurred to me to use a capo so that I could use all four fingers. It was the first time I used the capo, which I bought when I started playing guitar 15 months ago. After clamping it down I was startled at the unusual beauty of the sound. Since then I have been using the capo at different frets, discovering the convenience of being able to play in any key while still using familiar chord patterns.

Yesterday I was inspired to practice three times throughout the day and night, finally putting the guitar down at 1:00am. The more I learn, the more I want to practice. Each day I feel more comfortable, the fingers becoming not only stronger, but more relaxed and coordinated. I am not sure where all of this is leading but I have a confident feeling that I will continue to improve.

Last week I joined an artist cooperative in downtown Urbana. After paying the monthly fee I carried numerous drawings, paintings, and photographs to the gallery. I talked with one of the resident artists, Mehta. He was loquacious and friendly, sharing ideas on the creative process and even showing me his small studio room where he makes his art pieces. I doubt anything of mine will sell, but it is a good opportunity to exhibit a few things. Before leaving the gallery I bought a large oil painting of flowers for $40, which I hung in my bedroom when I got home.

Wolf 09

Drum and Bass

Evening Walk I

Last Tuesday I went to therapy session IV and afterward rode my bicycle home, got my guitar and a 6 pack, and walked to Joseph's house. When I arrived I saw Joseph and Mike unloading gear and we walked into the house together and down the stairs to the music space, a small room with a drum set, amps, and guitars. Joseph and Mike talked for a few minutes and I stood around, and then Joseph said, "well, James, are you ready?" I took my guitar out of its case, plugged in, and stood awkwardly, unsure how to start.

Mike, being an experienced musician, suggested jamming freestyle to House of the Rising Sun. Well, I know the chords to that song so I started strumming out the notes and Mike played lead as Joseph found the beat on his drums. After a few minutes we stopped, drank beer, and then began improvising with power chords.

I was starting to feel somewhat comfortable, but then I got it in my head to try playing the bass guitar which leaned against the wall. Mike encouraged me to do so and within a few minutes I was creating bass notes in line with Joseph's drum rhythm. My mind focused intently on the music being created, and with Mike playing lead the music began flowing with a creative ease. After an hour of bass Mike wanted me to try playing his high quality guitar, so we switched and I did alright, playing some blues riffs and improvising with other styles.

After 2 hours we stopped and I packed up and walked home. I found the experience to be inspiring and illuminating. Making music with others is not as hard as I thought it would be. I also realize I have a natural sense of rhythm - even though I can't count music in my head I have a sense of time which fits with what is being played. It is similar to how I process language because I don't know the mechanics of language, such as nouns/verbs/adverbs, but simply follow a sense of innate timing which chooses the flow of the words.

This week I have been practicing harder than ever, inspired to improve in all aspects of my play so that I can better express myself the next time I jam with a group. I surprised myself by doing better than expected at Joseph's, but I have a strong desire to play the music which I know is inside of me, and this will require a tremendous amount of work/practice before it is allowed to surface - Rock on!

Crossroads

Walking Home from Therapy I

Therapy session III last Tuesday went well and was productive. Like session I was stuck in the breakroom, however, my therapist knowing I don't like bright neon light brought in a table lamp which created a warm glow. Content, I was able to find a groove and rambled for an hour.

Joseph and I are planning to get together soon to jam guitar and drums. He called yesterday and left a message asking about Tuesday, 8:00pm at his house. Unfortunately my therapy session is set for 6:30, and it takes 90 minutes to walk home, so we most likely will have to wait until he gets back from Ireland. I am somewhat nervous about getting together with him, not only because of my minimal guitar skills, but I have lost all confidence in whatever social abilities I have. Redefining who I am relative to Aspergers, I no longer am willing to jump into scenarios of friendship. Most people I come across don't feel comfortable around me, and I don't understand why my mind tends to shut down in group settings.

I have not worked on my landscape drawing since the last post. In the evenings my mind has been focusing on existential topics related to my therapy, so most of my energy goes to writing private journal entries.

After a winter of little running and lots of rest, I injured my right hip without doing anything. I got up from a computer session last week at the Square and found myself limping home. I have gotten a little better since then, and walked 9 miles yesterday, but with the warm days coming I hope to be able to run when I want.

A few days ago Rachel and I were hanging out and I told her I was spending time contemplating my future. Within the next 5-15 months I may leave Illinois and start anew somewhere else. Not getting Leona's job means I have no long term commitment to the park district. The main idea is to move west, preferably Oregon, and see what unfolds. Being someone with Aspergers and working low paying jobs all my life means I will have trouble finding employment, but I won't let that worry me, as I always seem to find a way to land on my feet.

Lurking in the back of my mind is the desire to practice Zen Buddhism full time somewhere. I believe there are a few places in the USA which offers this opportunity, but there may be better places to study in Asia, at a cheaper cost. If I have to pay monthly room and board it would be financially wiser to go to Southeast Asia. I would have to work at learning the local language, but seeing that I will have an abundance of time to study means it should not be that difficult to do.

When I mentioned this desire to study Buddhism to Rachel she said she had also been contemplating her future. She said that because she kicked me out of the house she feels obligated to try dating, but she doubted she would find someone who made her feel as happy as when she is with me. She said she would prefer if I did not leave Urbana, and that there was a possibility that when my lease was up at the end of June we could get back together.

I am not sure what to think of Rachel's suggestion. It took a lot of effort to start a new life on my own, and I do not know if it would be a good idea to go backwards instead of forwards. It is something to think about, and maybe I will mention this in therapy session IV.

Beautiful, Strange

Winter Walk III

Went to therapy session no. 2 today. The first session was held in the break room because all of the regular rooms were being used. I did not care for the bright lights and lay out of the room, but this week the session was held in a pleasant space with dusky light - perfect. Jessica, my therapist, seemed open and warm and this led to a discussion of things which I had not planned on navigating.

Jessica steered me into the territory of my recent split with Rachel. I can understand why she did this because it would appear to be more important than my dilemma with social parties. As the session sped along I couldn't help but recognize that how I talked with certain friends was similar to how I was opening up with Jessica. However, some of the topics brought up I most likely would not discuss with a friend.

While I have been neglecting to work on my current drawing, I have been practicing hard with the guitar, and a few days ago made another breakthrough. I have been working on the classical piece Asturias for the past 6-7 months, after 12 or 13 measures the fingering becomes more complex with a consistent wide stretch between the 1 and 4 finger. This stretch prevents me from playing the passage correctly due to the 4 finger not being strong enough to maintain proper pressure upon the fret. When I played the passage this week the 4 finger had finally become strong enough to hold the string in position - it is beautiful and strange to observe how the body and mind slowly adapt to the wishes of the will....

Drawing in Progress

Drawing in Progress

Restructuring

Winter Walk I

The past few days have reminded me of my existential struggles of 25 years ago. As the time of my first therapy session moved closer, my mind began sifting through the important moments of my inner life. Painful memories buried deep under the shadows of many seasons resurfaced as I tried to make sense of my experiences under the new light of autism. All of the odd behaviors and inclinations and rueful experiences began to settle into a new and clearer reality. As if I was a scientist searching for years through random sequences of numbers, trying to find some kind of order and logic, and finally, by chance, the numbers fall into place, a pattern emerging.

In a way the whole thing makes me sad, as I see that all along I was destined for loneliness and isolation. Eventually I realized there was no use trying to break through a brick wall, so I turned away and accepted my fate, which allowed me to live in peace. Along the way I met a few people who I felt comfortable with, and who accepted me. For this I am blessed and lucky, for it could have instead been years of solitude and silence.

When I arrived at the therapy session the doctor asked one question and that set me off on an hour long ramble of spoken thoughts. While I usually don't subject people to that kind of monologue, I have to admit it felt good as it is the only time that my words have any meaning. I thought of a couple of people I used to work with at the Nature Center and laughed to myself that I should have been paying them by the hour because they would let me ramble on about things and were kind enough not to fall asleep on me.

I am not sure what the doctor thinks of me or my problem, but I can see the value is not so much what I say during the session, but all that goes on before and after - it is back to trying to understand my mind and how it relates to the world and the things which inhabit it - picking through memories of events and emotions and faces and things gone bad or good.

I sense that having the knowledge that I was born different than most is going to alter the way I think and act in the future. I used to believe I was just like everyone else, but now I know better. I can see myself in the future being reluctant to speak with words, avoiding unnecessary contact with people I don't feel comfortable with. It is the way it should be - I was born with a poison, but also, luckily, the antidote - a mind which is never bored, and which sees and senses immense beauty in every passing moment.

The Autism Post II

A couple of days ago I made the decision to schedule an appointment to see a therapist. If ever I was to see a therapist, now seems to be the least likely time. More appropriate would have been when I was 16, trying to figure out how to feel comfortable when surrounded by large groups of people. Or when 21, feeling isolated and lonely during my first year at the university. It wasn't until I was 23 that I began to feel a sense that everything was fine, that all I really had to do was just Be.

I cured myself, but of what I did not know. The years of silent struggle were known only to me, and this was made clear when one of my college friends once derisively said, “what have you ever had to struggle with?” I laughed and cried to myself when he uttered those ignorant words. I forgave him his ignorance, for how could he know what I had passed through – it all happened inside my mind, and I never spoke of it to anyone.

Today, at 44 years, my mind has mellowed and matured. Being recently confronted with a dissolving marriage caused only a ripple upon its alert, tranquil surface. My cure, found 21 years ago, remains solid and secure. But the root cause of my earlier troubles is still intact, intertwined with my life, and something which cannot be removed.

One day last year I sat down to read my favorite running blog, and began reading “The Autism Post”. The only thing I knew about autism, was, well, after finishing The Autism Post, I realized I knew nothing of it. But that day I learned that I very well could be afflicted with one of its variations. Many of the symptoms described in the post applied to me. What startled me most was discovering that I could possess such a condition since birth and not find out about it until I was 43 years old. It reminded me of the stories I had read of people on their deathbeds, realizing they had never done what they really wanted to do, and if only they had a chance to go back in time they would tell the people in the world to go fuck themselves, because now they were going to do what they wanted to do! - Alas, it is too late, and they take their last defeated breath in silent anguish.

While I felt a sense of relief at finding out about my possible condition, I was disappointed that knowledge of it had come so late. I had already worked through the most troubling symptoms, and maybe it was a good thing I had to do it on my own, but if I had known earlier it could have perhaps prevented some unnecessary grief.

The recent event which tipped the balance inside my mind was a retirement party at my place of employment. The familiar dread of having to attend a social function for 4 hours inside a small, brightly lit room packed with people began to creep its way into my consciousness, and as the day drew near I searched for excuses for nonattendance. With the event a few days away it occurred to me that the feelings which I felt about it were not logical of cause and effect - why would I choose to skip a work event, knowing that not attending would make me look bad and thus harm my reputation with people I see everyday? I was happy that I was cognizant of this fact, and is the only reason I attend the annual Christmas party and autumn retreat. It would not be an exaggeration to say that I would prefer to experience physical torments, e.g., spending 4 hours in a dental chair with a continuous intrusion of drills and needles, than to sit in a room filled with people whom I know, but do not understand. I questioned how something which appears so innocent could give me the impression that I was being asked to commit a great crime, such as murder or rape - attending was such an affront to my senses that it felt like a breach of personal ethics.

The odd thing is that no anxiety or fear accompanies this sense of dread. Indeed, one of the things which I discovered in my early 20's is that anxiety is useless, and fear one of the stupidest things a person can abuse themselves with. So if anxiety and fear of people is not the cause of my dread, what is?

Not being able to answer the above question, I decided it was the correct time to seek out a therapist who knows something of mind disorders, and to discover if I am afflicted with a type of autism. Never having been to a therapist I do not know what to expect, but I keep thinking back to my negative experiences with guitar teachers – one did not listen, the other listened with too much ego. I know that who I will be speaking with is a fallible person who possesses no absolute truth, but maybe hearing a dose of relative knowledge could help put into perspective what I have had to experience throughout my life. After 44 years of botched attempts at fitting in when forced to by external circumstance, I shout emphatically - uncle!

Little Known Bird of the Inner Eye II

7 Notes +

Yesterday while practicing guitar I was doing one of the Principles exercises and my fingers and hand tension loosened considerably at the half way point (did the exercise for about an hour), allowing for faster and more accurate movement. While my fingers seemed relaxed when I started, it was shocking to feel the switch. I had a very slight impression of what a good violinist or master guitarist feels like when playing.

I was reminded of the year of meditation study in my early 20's, when one day after months of practice something switched in my brain - the normal state, which I thought to be relaxed and aware, moved into an altogether different realm, making me feel foolish and ignorant. One of the first thoughts which arrived was "do most people live like this, with everyone forgetting to tell me how to get there"? After reflection, I realized the answer was no, because most people who came into contact with me were angry, confused, and violent.....

(As I write this in the corridor of the Square, an older couple just walked by discussing the following - "I wonder how many people actually still use film anymore", "yeah, not many", "you know, develop their own film, use a darkroom" "professionals maybe". I looked up wondering why in the world they would be discussing something as arcane as film photography, when my mind made the connection - they probably had just come from the b/w photography exhibit at the coop, where some ((myself included)) had submitted silver prints developed in a darkroom. I had completely forgotten about the exhibit, and now I am inspired to maybe go and see it).

......and so I am wondering how many more levels are possible with finger/hand relaxation - maybe it depends upon the amount of time I practice and how much luck I possess. I have been watching some of the videos posted of students at the Principles website and a few of them practice more than I do yet seem tight and tentative. I guess like with anything, a bit of genetics luck is required.

As the night got late I decided to plug the electric in and make some music. I hooked the ipod to the amp and put it on shuffle. I discovered that I now have the ability to not only find the right key, but can listen to a riff and after working for a few minutes find the notes to play it. One of my favorite Lanterna songs began and I soon was able to play along with the riff. This made me happy, and after I got tired and put the guitar down it occurred to me that I can find the notes of any riff just by playing along 1 string. I almost always forget that the standard musical language has only 7 whole notes, and a handful of in-betweens. When compared to a spoken language, this seems very manageable.

I am also getting more skilled with bending.vibrato, my mind/body figuring out that if the thumb presses into the wood as I am making the movement, the bend/vibrato becomes easier to execute.

One thing which still eludes me is how to make a fast run of notes. I believe I have the necessary coordination but I have not learned how to sequence the placing of fretting fingers and pick. When I watch videos of fast playing I see that the pick is hardly moving at all, maybe 1 pick and then 4 or 5 notes are played until another pick, which tells me that the fretting fingers are pressing down making the notes sound out. Thus far this does not seem doable, but I will keep working on it.

Little Known Bird of the Inner Eye

I am beginning to create a way of living which is meaningful, enjoyable, and filled with mystery and excitement. I have been somewhat successful in eliminating the things which bring me no peace and do not contribute to my well being. I no longer read news written by the government, and have stopped following sports. Because of this my mind must confront from moment to moment what is directly in front of it - useless details and harmful gossip (which is what 99% of news and sports is) no longer have the opportunity to poison my mind.

By adding meditation to the recent subtractions, my life is once again thriving in a world created by my own imagination. Time has slowed, productivity is high, and common activities, such as cooking and eating a meal, allow for reflections upon the day's rich experiences.

While at work yesterday I was contemplating how to spend the rest of the day after leaving the office at noon. I decided that I would walk to the Square and work on another drawing.

Upon arriving at home I packed a lunch, hot tea, the laptop, and my drawing materials. I also carried with me 3 framed photographs, which I dropped off at the Art Coop (a new store at the Square), which is having an open b/w photography exhibit. I normally do not enter my photographs into competitions, but since there is no judge to accept or reject, I decided it would be nice to share a few of my pictures.

After dropping off the photographs I set up at a wooden table in the corridor. I have not yet had the chance to photograph any more old negatives, so while eating leftover pasta I visited my Flickr account and looked at some of the painting-like photographs I had made a couple of years ago. Those images were meant to one day be painted, and last year I began the project by printing 4 of the images on watercolor paper and painting over the ink with paint. The results pleased me, and I have one of the pictures hanging in my apartment.

Since I am now drawing again, I find no reason to print the photo-paintings, as I can draw them instead. While my hand will not be as accurate with lines and perspective, it allows my mind to slow down and closely examine the details of the scene. The process is therefore more meaningful, soothing, and memorable.

I decided upon an image which I entitled Little Known Bird of the Inner Eye, which shows my hand adjacent a sunlit wall spotted with heavy shadows. Upon the wall appears an apparition of a bird. It is one of my more imaginative creations, as the bird did not exist on the wall, and I am unsure where it came from.

After finishing my meal I began the drawing and finished half of the hand. As I began to pack up my materials I checked my email and found a message from Frank Ward, a man who manages a rum refinery in Barbados. Frank owns many of my best photographs, and he told me in his message that he was wondering what I was up to, so he searched for me on the internet and found my Flickr page. He was drawn to the set "Darkroom Work, 2009", and asked if he could buy 6 or 7 of the photographs, if they were still available. The prints in that set were the last of my darkroom work, and I still have many of them. After 18 years of work, all that is left are two boxes of photographs. It will be hard to part with the prints he wants, because I will not be able to replace them, but I won't refuse to sell them to Frank because he already owns many of my best photographs. It is a playful dream of mine to one day visit him in Barbados so that I can view all of the photographs collected together into one sunny room.

Wall Street

Wall Street, Test Sketch #2

Last night I dreamt of the Wall Street drawing. I was working it on a large sheet of paper, but a woman who sat next to me in Lincoln Square a couple of days ago showed up in the dream and looked at the drawing, then asked me to come with her. I did, and I never returned. When I woke, I had trouble deciding which part of the dream I liked better, but was inspired to work on the drawing nonetheless.

After meditating for an hour and cleaning the apt. I decided that rather than work in an isolated environment, it would be more enjoyable to be in a public place, so I packed up my drawing materials, laptop and a small thermos filled with green tea and walked 500 yards to the square. The corridor outside Common Ground is a pleasant area with little foot traffic, a nice place to spend a winter morning.

I pulled up the Wall Street image on the computer and began sketching in the drawing pad. While the dream had inspired me to work it into a large format, I thought it would be a good idea to make a more complete test drawing. Unlike the quick scribble I made a couple of days ago, I started with the hardest part, the side of the bank, followed by the figures.

Initially it was my idea to work in only the three main figures, but as I studied the image I decided that it would be best to include all the people because it seemed more true to the day.

I listened to music on my headphones, scratched down the lines, and soon got into a flow which made me remember my days spent in the darkroom. I could easily work 10-12 hours printing and yet it would feel like an hour. About half way through a young woman sat down next to me and it felt like I had re-entered the previous evening's dream.

Seven hours later I rose from my seat and stretched, too tired to put the finishing touches on the drawing. While I was able to complete the composition, I was unsure how to breathe more life into it. Usually when all the lines are put down the fun begins with the shading and erasing, but my mind was too beat to go any further. I am not sure if I will return to test sketch No. 2, as I plan to one day paint it.

The Beginner's Path

Wall Street

Paul Strand

I am currently working on my second drawing, from a negative exposed during my visit to Manhattan in 1992. I was searching for the spot where Paul Strand stood to make his famous photograph of Wall Street. I recognized the bank with the long, cavernous windows, and then walked up the steps of a building across the street. I sensed that Strand must have stood close by, so I lined up the angles of the building and aimed the camera. There were some elements of the composition I would have liked to erase, such as the bulky news stand and an ugly sign board. There were 3 people standing marvelously synchronized, but there were a few others who stood around looking out of place. I released the shutter and then listened to a black man preaching to a small crowd about racism. A large German man standing with his wife shouted to the black man about lies and the two shouted each other down.

Upon first glance the Wall street composition seems simple enough, so I decided to make a quick test sketch to accustom my mind with the main lines. As I began to scribble I found that the eye had fooled me – while the perspective is straight forward, there are numerous elements which the eye glosses over. I spent a few hours working out the difficult parts. The 3 figures will be challenging, as well as the part where the bank changes direction. I will be happy to leave out the news stand and the unneeded bystanders.

Wall Street, Test Sketch

******

One of the reasons I began this journal is to document the process of learning the guitar. More than my personal progress, I wanted to attempt to understand how a person of average ability goes about learning something complex. After 14 months of practice and progress, it is time to write a summary of the first phase.

The first thing needed was the inspiration to make the decision to practice and learn the guitar for a long period of time. Also helpful was the fact that I knew nothing of the instrument or music theory – I was going in blind, deaf, and dumb. Joseph from work provided the spark for me to buy an electric guitar, and in December, 2009 began the journey.

The next step was deciding how to proceed. Being ignorant left me feeling helpless and overwhelmed. Using the internet I sought out beginner's guides to guitar. I decided upon a site which offered a logical step by step approach. There were 11 chapters, and I am currently on Chapter 9. While being helpful and allowing me to take my first baby steps, what lacked was an overall universal plan which described how I could get to where I wanted to go.

The one thing I did know was where I wanted to be – possessing the knowledge and skill to sit with the guitar and produce sounds which reflected my emotions and ideas. However, I was walking the first mile of a thousand mile trip, and the only guide I had was a few lines drawn in the sand. What I yearned for was a detailed atlas clearly illustrating the traps, dangers, and dead ends which surely awaited me.

Not knowing of any guitar books written like an atlas, I decided a live teacher could show me the way. I chose one at random at the local guitar store, which was probably not the best way to go about finding a guitar sage - not only was I ignorant of the guitar, but also guitar teachers. I knew I had erred when, during the first lesson, the teacher put aside without reading the guitar goals I had taken the time to write out for him. Without knowing who I was and how my mind worked, how could a teacher get me to where I wanted to go?

I soon quit going to the teacher, and did a more diligent search for an appropriate master. I found a pleasant enough young man who was willing to listen to my ideas, goals and concerns, but within a few weeks time he decided he could no longer teach me due to my attitude of disrespect toward teachers in general. The only things I was learning from the master were things which could easily be found on the internet – chords, songs, how to hold the guitar correctly, etc. The purpose of the master was to inspire and make sure I did not lose the way. This second teacher was merely like all of the other teachers in other fields I had come across – a parrot which repeated things found in books.

I decided that while there were probably a few teachers in the world who could fit my idea of what a master should be, I was convinced that finding one would take as long as mastering the guitar. I therefore reluctantly returned to my step by step internet manual.

I was now wandering around in a thick forest, off of any clear pathway. Not wanting to stand still, I decided I had to move forward and used whatever sense I had to bushwhack my way to light and open space. There were times when I felt I wanted to give up, that the darkness which clouded my mind would be too difficult to remove. Yet I knew that these early struggles could be overcome if I just did not give up, so every day I entered the music studio and did what I could.

I continued searching for guides and teachers on the internet. I found a master named Claude who had created a software program which helped with learning patterns on the fretboard. This intrigued me and I began to use it. Claude sent me mass emails every couple of days, and I found his good humor and knowledge to be inspiring.

Soon after finding Claude I discovered a book called the Principles of Correct Guitar Practice. I had read a few of the author's online essays, and the Zen philosophy which flavored the ideas attracted me. I decided to buy the book, hoping it would be a partial atlas which could help guide me.

After reading through the book I was pleased with the direction it could take me. A few “simple” guitar exercises were the only physical things which I had to do. The majority of the book was aimed at creating the proper attitude in the student. I greedily took in these ideas of attitude change and began to practice two of the exercises.

The exercises are aimed at creating a relaxed, yet strong fretting hand, as well as a way to relax the entire body. The principles of Zen were once again evident – focus on the present, correctly breathe, relax the body, and at the proper time use the strength of muscle and mind. This philosophy of guitar is as close as I have come to finding the path which will lead me to where I want to go.

Summary of things learned after year 1 :

• Important to spend time with the guitar as much as possible.

• Fretting exercises should be done with the intent of creating finger strength, autonomy, and relaxation.

• Use effort to learn basic music theory – notes, fret board patterns, scales.

• Keep in mind where I want to go – use of the guitar as a way to express emotions and ideas.

• Spend time playing along to music which interests me (blues, instrumental solos).

• Glean information from as many sources as possible, and always be looking for a master teacher who fits my philosophy of learning.

• Never give up!

Playing the Blues

Lately I have been tuning into internet radio and listening to a stream of various blues music. With my apartment being isolated I do not need to worry about disturbing neighbors so I crank the amp and as it pulses the music I begin jamming on my guitar. Last night I did this and shook my head in wonderment as things which once seemed foreign now occurred without my having to think about it. Finding the correct key used to take me 20 minutes, as I learned more 10, then 5, now it takes between 10-20 seconds. I find one note which sounds correct, move up 2 frets, if that sounds off I know the 3rd fret is good, and I then quickly deduce the pattern I am in, which allows me to create a giant pattern on the whole fretboard.

Along with pattern knowledge, my comfort with the mechanics continues to improve. The pick usually hits the right string and the fretting hand is daily becoming more relaxed, allowing for longer and more accurate movements. This week my string bending and vibrato improved due to increased strength in the hand and fingers. The flow of knowing which notes to pick when soloing is also becoming more intuitive and clear.

All of the above are basics which have to be mastered before any music can be played or created, but as my surprising progress continues to unfold, the music aspect becomes more interesting and varied. It is so much like my experience with photography. When I began I could make 1 good negative out of 100 tries, and as the years went by and the amount of practice time accumulated, that ratio was improved until I was hitting 1 out of every 2, sometimes better. With printing, it took me 5 years before I made a print I liked, but it eventually became normal to produce one good print per darkroom session, sometimes making as many as 5 decent prints in just a few hours. With guitar I still have not made that first good "print", and like photography, it will probably come at the 5 year mark, so 4 more years of struggle until the music begins to magically appear.

With the above being said, the music is gradually surfacing in small chunks. Things appear suddenly out of nowhere - a phrase, melody, or bass line. One recent example being the main riff from Cream's Sunshine of Your Love. By accident I played the first 3 notes of the phrase, recognized it, and then pieced together the remaining 7-10 notes. Last night I found a phrase from a song by The Doors. Along with the well known phrases, I find I am constantly coming up with original ones. It reminds me of the writing process - piecing together words in a pleasing way to convey a mood or atmosphere.

Another new ability is I can now play comfortably standing up. I recall the first time I tried it I pulled a muscle in my foot, strained my neck, and the guitar felt heavy and cumbersome. My muscles have now become adjusted to the weight and shape of the instrument, so things have become much easier.

I have kept my old photography attitude about the learning process. I never wanted to take a photography class because I thought it would hinder my progress - I knew what I wanted, and I had the confidence that my mind and spirit would be able to figure out how to achieve it. In the end that assumption was correct. When I began guitar I recognized that music is more complicated than photography, so I decided a teacher was needed to teach me the basic grammar and spelling rules. Now that I know the bare bones of notes and playing mechanics, I believe the rest of the journey should be traveled alone. I know what I want from music, and the task is to find out how to get it. That after all is the point of doing it - the challenge and fun of bringing into reality the music which already exists inside of me.

Drawing I

Chicago Winter, Morning

Today work was canceled due to a severe winter storm, although I think in this case what the weather was forecast to be influenced the perception of what actually happened. 1 foot of snow isn't exactly stay home weather, but I was happy to remain indoors and work on the drawing which I started last week.

The first session with the drawing I stopped with only 1/4 completed. The perspective of the bridge was a bit tricky, but the fact that I had not made a drawing in so long made my confidence waver when looking upon the initial lines I had put to paper. While I was aware that the beginning of any drawing is not going to look very good, I still doubted whether I could push past the first awkward looking lines.

So I let the drawing sit for 6 or 7 days on my kitchen table where it could taunt me by the hour. A few days ago I had a dream that I sat down to the drawing and picked out a pencil which marked dark, heavy lines. It helped to create the shadows needed to offset the stick figure lines which I had begun with. When I woke from the dream I was pleased and confident that I could finish the drawing. Not only is it pleasurable to observe the mind create detailed works of art, but I now believed that picking a shading pencil would help me finish the drawing.

Today I sat down and chose a thick charcoal pencil and began to draw, shape, shade, erase - my mind got into that special flow where time stops and the only thing that matters are the lines on the page.

Learning to Read

I am becoming accustomed to my new lifestyle. Living alone I have longer strands of uninterrupted moments, and this leads to more focused attention on whatever task is at hand. I have been practicing guitar 1-2 hours a day, my fingers have toughened up quickly after a one month layoff. I have also noticed another jump in progress.

A few weeks ago I decided to buy a cord which hooks up the ipod/computer to the amp. I am not sure why I did not do this earlier, because it is great to have the guitar sound and the backup music emit from the same source (also a nice sound when playing movies from the computer). I have the laptop set up on a small stand next to the amp, and when I want to practice to backing tracks I link to YouTube and jam away (I forgot to mention that I can connect to the city wifi from my apt., but the signal is choppy so it does not work all the time).

Yesterday I wanted to jam to backing tracks but could not get a steady internet signal so I plugged in the ipod and put it on shuffle. For most of the songs I was able to find the appropriate notes/scales and play along easily enough. What surprised me was the ability to play along with any style of song, rather than just blues. But even more than that, I found myself playing without having to over analyze what I was doing - it felt like speaking or writing - After 13 months of practice I had finally reached the point where playing the guitar felt somewhat natural and easy. I felt a comfort with the pentatonic scale which had been missing, I was able to mesh all the patterns along the frets so that it felt like one big pattern, at least for the bottom 3 strings. The coordination between fretting and picking hand had also improved, the two working together without over thinking everything. Consequently the speed increased, which made the notes begin to sound like music. The vibrato was also sounding better, although that still needs a lot of work.

I was reminded of the day I learned to read - sitting in front of the tv watching a Bugs Bunny cartoon (I was 4 or 5 years old), I was able to read the credits at the end of the cartoon - it was a beautiful feeling as I was able to string the words together with speed and clarity to understand the meaning behind the symbols. Having reached the first plateau of the guitar quest makes me excited, and makes me want to practice longer and harder.

Surprise

I was left a voicemail this morning from Dottie at work. She said a letter was waiting for me on my desk, and that I would be pleased with it. I took this to mean that I was offered the job I interviewed for a few days ago. I decided to go into work and retrieve the letter, and a couple of hours later I opened it to find the first sentence of the letter stating that the job had been offered to another applicant. My mind can usually anticipate the correct sequence of cause and effect, but this time I was completely inaccurate in my deduction. Wondering how I could possibly be pleased with not being offered the job, I read on to find that I was being offered expanded duties in my current position, and beginning on May 1st my job would become a 40 hour per week, full time position.

After thinking over the letter I agree with Dottie's prediction that I would be pleased, although the outcome was far from what I had imagined. I get to keep my current position but with 10 added hours initially, and going to 40 on May 1. Completely unexpected, yet still a favorable outcome.

Beachcombing

First Month in Chicago, Winter, 1991

I'm working on settling into my new apt, and am beginning to feel comfortable. The living room has the guitars, amp, and computer, the kitchen is filled with green plants and a table for me to eat and work on, and one of the bedrooms is set up for painting.

Yesterday I listened to one of Will Basinski's Disintegration Loops. The piece is 45 minutes long, I love running to it when I am out on the snowy South Farms route – white space in all directions, the wind messing with my balance and resolve – the music makes everything settle into a dream reality. So yesterday I plugged the piece into my amp, and then picked up the strat guitar. I lit a couple of candles and let the piece sink into the room and I began to hit the strings with the pick. I soon found that the notes F, D, G, and A # worked well with it, it was pretty cool to hear the sounds of the guitar mesh with the music in the amp. After 35 minutes of playing along to the ethereal music I discovered that what I was playing was the G pentatonic scale. Once I realized this I was able to play many more notes, and much quicker, as I have the pentatonic scale memorized. When the piece ended I wanted to play it again but my fingers were sore. The month long lay off has made them a bit soft.

The full time job opening at the UPD will soon be decided. I submitted my resume/cover letter, which I feel confident about, and then I was required to take a test at a local employment agency. I ran 4 miles in snow to get there, and then ran back after I completed the 90 minute test. I feel I did well in 3 of the 4 categories, but I messed up the data entry part by reading the wrong list of numbers. Tomorrow is the final step, a group interview with 5 people at 10:30am. I have no illusions about my interviewing skills, I pretty much suck. I plan to run 8-10 miles at dawn tomorrow, that should put me into a favorable state of mind. Regardless of the outcome, I believe I will be happy with the future direction of my life.

I have a project in mind. I want to look back at my old film negatives and interpret them not with chemicals, but with a pencil. I would like to make drawings based on the negatives. I will study the negatives on a light box, and then make digital photos of the ones which interest me. I will work the negative photos in Photoshop, first inverting them and then paring them down using filters so that they resemble a drawing. I will then use the digital study to aid me in my drawing. I would like to make 20-30 drawings from each period of my photography quest.

I am rereading Beachcombing at Miramar by Richard Bode. I came across this last night –

“I left my marriage exactly as I entered it three decades earlier. I had no mortgage, no credit-card balance, no bank loans. What I did have, somewhere in the middle of my mind, was a gyroscope, pointing me in a direction, telling me where I had to go. I set out, driving through snow-covered cornfields and prairie, crossing the Continental Divide, going from one coast to the other in quest of a place that felt like home.

And now I am here, walking the beach, watching the fist-sized shorebirds as they feed. They have no cache, no hoard, no store; like me, they live by their wits, taking what they want from the sea.

How is it, I ask myself, that I have so little money, yet I live so well?”

Library Blogging

Night Walk

I walked to the library this afternoon with my laptop to test the internet connection, after a delay of a few minutes my computer linked with the server and I am now writing this blog entry.

Yesterday Rachel and I did more shopping for both of our homes. I bought a kitchen table at Habitat's store, they will deliver it sometime next week. I believe I have everything I need except a sofa, so I will continue to check the 2nd hand shops for something.

I talked with the apt manager yesterday and she said Cyndi already moved out and I could move in whenever I would like. She also mentioned that they are working on replacing two bedroom windows, so I am going to wait until Saturday to move in. I have a feeling the windows will not be finished before I move in because when I walk by the apt on my way home from work I see no evidence of work being done.

I submitted my application for Leona's job a few days ago. Rachel helped me edit my resume and cover letter, both read pretty good. The job is currently open to internal applicants only and I have been thinking about who else would apply. My initial guess was anyone who was working part time, such as myself. This morning Leona mentioned that she doesn't think it fair that the job is not open to people outside the district because she has a friend who wants to apply. That led her to say that she knew of two people applying thus far. I questioned her about the two, she said I was one, the other being Caty from the APNC. I was surprised to hear this because Caty works full time at a place which I believed she enjoyed, and the pay would be similar. Caty is smart and competent, so my odds of getting the job have gotten slimmer, but I still like my chances. I will try my best and let things fall where they may. If I do not get the job I will still have my old position, and even though I will be broke most days, I will still be happy because I will have much time to do things that I love. I have been somewhat dreading having to work 40 hours a week - it is either no time and lots of money, or no money and lots of time - either one is fine by me.

Co-op Blogging

Rest Stop Outside Kankakee

I walked over to Lincoln Square this morning with my laptop to test the wifi connection. When I sat down in the main lobby all of the available connections were secure and needed a password. As I sat there wondering what to do, I recalled that Cyndi, the nice lady who just moved out of my soon-to-be apt, said that she would connect while at the Common Ground Food Co-op. So I packed up my stuff and walked a few hundred feet and found that there are attractive wood tables set up in the corridor leading to the store. I sat down at one of the tables, set up the laptop and tried to connect. I saw a connection for Guest and Guest Common Ground, I chose Guest and was successful at establishing a connection.

So as I sit here in the corridor, I just finished working on a recent picture I took while on the road to my parents on Christmas Eve, and am now writing this entry.

Yesterday was 57 degrees, all of the snow melted. I went for a run, I felt great, no asthma for a couple of weeks now, and getting sleep every night.

Last night Rachel's sister Amy and her husband Brian and son Andrew came over to celebrate the end of 2010. I made homemade sag paneer, Rachel made Samosas, rice pudding, and sweet dough balls. We drank Fat Tire India Pale Ale and played penny poker after the meal.

Andrew is currently a student at Univ of Chicago. Next year he is planning to study in Paris, France for a few months. He said he can't speak French, but he is smart and should pick it up quick. I like his style - he walks everywhere, refuses to ride in cars for environmental reasons, is a vegetarian, and always appears calm.