I'll be the first to admit that since I've been living here in Evanston I haven't visited downtown Chicago nearly as much as I should have. One of the first bits of advice I received as a new grad student was to take full advantage of "our little metropolis" to the south, but always--as the demands of life and school begin to pile up--I find I'm frequently too busy or too exhausted to muster up the wherewithal to devote a full afternoon/evening to experiencing all that Chicago has to offer.
Last night I had to make an exception. The CSO put on a program of Ives and Strauss that I couldn't possibly miss, AND they were featuring one of NU's clarinet faculty performing a bass clarinet concerto. How often does the bass clarinet get a feature? Well...like...NEVER. It was a once in a lifetime experience I couldn't pass up.
Though many of my fellow brass geeks might be shocked to hear it, even with a big "warhorse" like Also Sprach Zarathustra on the program, I was still most excited to hear Ive's The Unanswered Question (a personal favorite I'd not seen live in at least 13 years) and Three Places in New England (an iconic work with which I was previously unfamiliar).
Except for an annoyingly disruptive couple one row in front of me who were laughing (mostly) silently but hysterically throughout The Unanswered Question, the performance was transcendent. The piece is performed by three "characters": a string section--representing "the silence of the Druids--who know, see, and hear nothing," a trumpeter who asks "the perennial question of existence," and a quartet of flutists who "seek the invisible answer, but abandon it in frustration, sot that ultimately the question is answered only by the silences." (I'm quoting from Wikipedia there) The strings began their etherial chorale so softly I felt that if I were to close my eyes I would no longer be able to hear them, and each time the invisible offstage trumpeter entered with a new statement of the "question" he used a different horn or mute, creating the impression of a single question being asked from a series of perspectives.
I hate to sound overly mystical here, but I've occasionally felt that there's a quality about Ives' music that seems to well from some eternal state of being in the universe and reach into the core of my soul like a magnet seeking its complimentary pole. I suppose it's not just Ives' music (though his offers an especially poignant example), works from a few composers, artists, dancers, and writers occasionally resonate within me in this manner. And it's the same quasi-religious feeling I get when I watch the sun rise, look out into the radiance of the milky way illuminating a dark sky, watch the form of a drawing take shape out of a blank piece of paper in front of me, or gaze upon the profile of my beloved in a moment of clarity and warmth.
I guess it's primarily a sense of timelessness I'm talking about here. Always was, and always will be. Permanence...
Ok...I guess that's enough gushy babble for one afternoon, and I should be getting back to writing my midterm soon anyway. As a parting gift, here are a couple interesting sights from the last day and a half.
First: the largest orb weaver I've ever seen in person...
And second: a Sunday morning sailing class going on just as beautiful autumn light begins to break through a cloudy morning...
(of course it helps a lot that sunrise is happening later and later every day!)
While working on my recital poster on Friday, I opened up my box of colored pencils and began testing out the colors to see which would work best for my autumn-themed design. When I'd encounter a particularly flamboyant shade, I'd crinkle my nose and set it aside. "That color never shows up in nature," I thought.
Man, I'm envious of that guy out on his kayak!
I thought I could hear the honking of geese somewhere off in the distance, but took little notice until a whole flock flew right over where I was standing...
It felt like one of those moments that great photographers always talk about...when multiple unexpected elements fortuitously coincide to create a uniquely memorable scene. 
To tell you the truth, I'm totally ok with that. My little studio apartment retains heat really well...uncomfortably well in the summer, and even a little beyond what I'd like in the winter when my radiator gets going at full throttle. I find that I'm actually looking forward to the briskness of late fall...wearing sweaters, drinking hot tea, and cuddling up underneath my covers at bedtime. And as for the brutal chill of Chicago winter...bring it on! (I can't believe I just said that!)
...along with the sunlight.
I looked up for a moment and noticed an asian man crouched nearby with his camera pointed directly at me. As I gathered my stuff and prepared to head back to the music building he approached with a friendly "Hello!" and showed me the screen of his digital camera. 
...actually, there were quite a few spectators...
It's a good thing too...the dawn put on a good show this morning!
Yup, that's right! And just in case you can't read the fine print...
This baby's not going anywhere!
