#19: Four Letter Word

I'm going to have to break down and say that today's sunrise was...EPIC (shudder). The world has been super-saturated with this word lately. I'll admit, it started out to be a really cool and meaningful word, but any gravity it once possessed has now dissipated into a popular void. Everything seems to be "epic" these days and I'm completely sick of it! I just finished reading Alfred Lansing's book Endurance about Shackleton's 1914 attempt to cross Antarctica. THAT was definitely epic (you should all read the book by the way--I loved it!). Football games, cell phones, big greasy meals--none of these things qualify. Come to think of it, I'm annoying myself by wanting to call this morning's sunrise epic. I guess I'll just tell you the story and you can decide whether I'm being a melodramatic hypocrite or not.

I got a slow start this morning. NPR's weather forecast warned of a massive blizzard on the way and I sat beside the radio for a few extra minutes making sure I had all the details I'd need to get to school on time and avoid having my car ticketed or towed. When I finally got out the door I was a couple minutes behind. This may sound insignificant, but sunrise waits for no one. To catch the best moments, it's necessary to arrive on time...and even better by far to arrive early. To help keep up a brisk pace I pulled out my shuffle and timed my stride to the determined sounds of Tron. Timing was additionally complicated by the fact that I would have to make a side trip to the Evanston library and return an audio book that was due.

I took my usual route up Chicago Ave and when I reached Davis, looked to the east to see if there were any hints of brightening that would signal a good sunrise. I wasn't expecting much...a thick layer of clouds hung low in the sky above me and the forecast for the day was bleak. What I saw however made my heart race--the clouds broke over the eastern horizon and below them the sky was a luminous bloody red. CRAP! I still had to go to the library and I was missing everything!!! I immediately picked up the pace, running where possible (difficult to do with a loaded shoulder bag). I finally made it to the library a couple minutes later, dropped the case of cds in the slot, and then booked it east along Church street watching the flaming horizon grow before me.

Why the hurry? It's not uncommon for the most brilliant hues of sunrise to occur well before the sun actually arrives, and things can always change in a matter of seconds. It was well within the realm of possibility that by the time I reached the lakeshore, the brilliant red would have dissipated into some pale shade of yellow and--though it would still have been pretty--the intensity and drama of the early climax would be lost. The Tron soundtrack playing in my headphones flipped to a particularly badass track (Derezzed) and I suddenly felt like a superhero on a mission--I smiled:)

When I arrived at the lake's edge, I whispered a cheer "YESSS!" and tried to steady myself against a strong and bitter wind to get some photos. At this point, Tron was playing me a track both forboding and resonant (Fall) that seemed the perfect compliment to this piquant foreshadowing of the sun's arrival.

There was still a good 10-15 minutes to go before sunrise and I continued north along the lake breathing heavily and (despite a vicious wind chill) sweating profusely underneath my layers.

After a while, Tron took a more contemplative turn (Finale...perfect sunrise music) and my walking followed suit. The piece starts out with a dramatic low-brass chorale--actually I think just Tuba and bass trombone at the beginning--and before each note the musicians' enormous intake of breath is easily audible. I love the sound of a good section breathing together--it sets up and leads into the music so easily. At the same time, hearing the shear amount of air that has to be sucked out of the room to create a good low-brass tone gives even the most pianissimo passage an incredible amount of power. Being able to hear extraneous noise--like breathing--is unusual in a studio recording. I was surprised the producers left it in. Now I love that dang soundtrack even more!

I got to school just in time to see this...

Tron was playing End of Line, and the violence of the music mirrored the ferocity with which the waves were surging toward me. The light blue you see at the bottom of the above photo is a mass of rippling pancake ice being moved ashore by the stormy swell.

I snapped a few pictures, and then...my battery died. I knew I didn't have a spare set of AAs so I scrambled around trying the few tricks I know to squeeze every last bit of juice I could out of the pair in my camera. One thing that usually buys me an extra picture or two is switching the batteries around--the one on the right goes to the left, and visa versa. No luck this time. I don't know if this is true, but extreme cold has also seemed to affect my batteries' life in the past. I cupped the camera in my hands and blew hot air around it. Aha! It worked! I got another couple photos before cold and the necessity of practice drove me inside.

I snagged a practice room with the best sunrise view I could find (the fuzziness in this picture was a result of moisture condensing on the lense--like what happens to my glasses all the time. The effect was unintentional--but kinda cute none-the-less--so I left it). I was bummed that I couldn't stay and watch the scene for another hour or so. With cloud formations like this, the colors and shapes created and highlighted by the sun were likely to evolve spectacularly for quite some time. But (sigh) I only had an hour in which to get a good warm up before my 8:30 theory class. And, you know, (contrary to what this blog may indicate) I am here at NU to play trumpet...not to watch the clouds go by.

Still I'm glad I've been able to take this bit of time every morning and indulge my romantic side...even if it turns me sappy enough to inappropriately use a great word like epic. In truth though, I think that was mostly the fault of the soundtrack I chose to accompany my walk. Maybe tomorrow I'll choose some chill-out folky guitar music...see what that does.

#18

There wasn't much of an actual sunrise this morning, but the lake sure was beautiful. I juat can't get over the shades of color that can show up in the water...

Pictures never do justice (as true as it is, I'm sick of hearing it!), but I love how the furthest horizon of water deepens to a rich blue-green before meeting the changing hues of the sky.

The chops are a bit of a struggle today, but I keep working at it. Chris Martin (principal in the Chicago Symphony--phenomenal player, really nice guy, and--wouldn't ya know it--an astronomy buff) just issued a single-tongueing challenge to all us NU trumpeters. First, we send him a recording of Clarke Etude IV by Feb 1st using whatever tempo at which we can maintain a clean single-tongue the whole way through without stopping. Over the next month we are to focus on improving the speed and accuracy of our single tongue. Whoever improves the most by March 1st (again based on a Clarke etude IV test) will get a $40 gift certificate. $40 aside--this sounds like a fun project and a nice way to get my focus away from the embouchure and onto something a bit more objectively manageable. I'm in!

Today I bought my first full MP3 album from Amazon. This is surprising for me because I've been insisting for years that I much prefer owning cds to worrying about less-than-tangible music tracks disappearing if I hit a wrong button or about somehow losing everything if a device breaks. I love looking at cover art and reading liner notes, and I much prefer listening to whole (well-constructed) albums than single songs in some sort of random mix. I loaded my new mp3 album onto a little ipod Shuffle I inherited from Patrick and spent a good hour at the gym with it's pump-me-up rhythms encouraging my efforts on the treadmill. The music I picked (as well as the fact that I love it) is a bit condemning. Any guesses? Here are some clues: recent release, soundtrack, not entirely orchestral...ok, ok...it's the Tron score by Daft Punk.

I know, it's not Beethoven...but c'mon...you have to admit that if you listen to it while working out it sorta makes you feel like you can conquer anything--and I need a little of that feeling in my life at the moment.

#17

Yesterday's knife-edged ice mountains have all but disappeared. Left behind are enormous rafts of old stitched-together and melted-over pancake ice floating south along the shoreline at a snail's pace. The edges of these enormous shards have melted just enough to develop a buffer of snowy slush and when the gentle swelling of the water pushes one against another a barely audible "shhhh" hums between them and little bits of white crystal slough off into the depths.

I went inside to collect my things and prepare to practice. When I got to the lounge I caught one final glimpse of the sun before it disappeared behind an ever-growing mass of cloud cover.

As the morning has progressed, the warm hues of sunrise have been replaced by the usual wintery gray to which we've all grown so accustomed. Earlier I'd noticed at least two couples (and a dog) who'd paused along the lake shore to watch the day begin--how fortunate to be among the lucky few who know how beautifully everything started.

Today Regenstein is filled with young musicians auditioning for NU and I've been remembering the day I was among them a little less than a year ago. After my audition (which I felt had gone quite poorly) I took a walk along the lake to let off some steam. The sun was shining in full force and it's reflection off the snow was blinding (I'll bet the sunrise had been gorgeous!). The surface of Lake Michigan was dotted with mini icebergs and though I was fascinated by the sight and relished the thought of living near such an amazing body of water, I was trying not to get my hopes up to high.

Good luck to everyone who's auditioning today--I hope you are as lucky as I was.

Sunrise #16--Photo essay

Today's sunrise was so awesome I found it impossible to narrow the experience down to just 2 or 3 photos...so I won't! I'll keep my talking to a minimum and let the pictures speak for themselves.

Enjoy...

Here's an example of the pressure-induced ice ranges I talked about in my post from a few days back. To give you a sense of scale, that lethal looking peak on the right must have been close to 3 feet tall.

I'm currently reading a book about Ernest Shackleton's ill-fated trans-Antarctic attempt begun in 1914. After his ship, the Endurance, was trapped and ultimately destroyed in the ice floes of the Weddell Sea, the group of men spent over a year camped out on top of the sea ice waiting for it to either break up and allow passage by boat, or carry them close enough to land to make a run for it over the ice. Can you imagine...they WINTERED in Antarctica...camped in little canvas tents atop a floating mass of sea ice...their boots were made of felt!

Anyway, at this point in the story it's mid April and the ice pack is breaking up. The floe cracked underneath their tents during the night and sent one of the party into the sea while still curled up in his sleeping bag (he survived by running around the remaining ice chunk until his frozen clothing dried out). Shackleton then made the decision that ice-top camping was no longer safe and ordered everyone to pile into three rafts and set out across the still heavily icy water. This is where things start to get really bad. Imagine trying to navigate around a broken ice pack rising up to 5 feet above the water. These immense chunks occasionally collide raising ice ranges stories tall and crushing anything that happens to be in their way. The ocean swells are so large that, when separated, each boat is hidden from the other behind huge rolling hills of water.

This morning while gazing at the knife-edge shards of broken ice uplifted above the surface of Lake Michigan, I tried to scale up the scene and imagine the dire intensity of Shackleton's travails. I heard about this book (Endurance by Alfred Lansing) on NPR as part of a segment recommending good reads for grad students. Their rationale was that while struggling through the worst of your studies, you could pause for a moment and think, "well, I guess things could be worse."

Indeed.

Constellation

Still no sun this morning.

I've continued to arrive at the lakeside daily at sunrise despite the clouds because, as has been demonstrated time and again, surprising things can happen on the horizon no matter the forecast.

Downsides to this:

1. Loss of sleep (especially when Rob and I have a good bedtime chat and stay up late...like last night).

2. Disappointment over an effort that seems wasted.

Upsides:

1. It's always nice to get a little exercise in the morning (and BOY do I NEED it these days!).

2. When I get to school early I'm guaranteed a good practice room.

3. By requiring myself to walk to school every day I've become rather acclimated to the wintry weather. Today's temps were down around 20 (relatively warm) and I didn't feel the need (or ultimately miss) my usual 3 layers on top and 2 on bottom. In fact, compared to how hot some of the buildings here are kept, it usually feels pretty refreshing to step out into the chill.

This morning I got an added bonus when I noticed this frosty assemblage of stones, pine needles, and seed pods.

As I walked past it, the flow of line and jumble of minutiae reminded me of works I'd seen by Spanish painter Joan Miro. To confirm my hunch I googled the artist this morning and found this...

Joan Miro: Constellation 3

...something of a big-city (or psych-ward) cousin to my back-woodsy composition wouldn't ya say?

...

No sunrise today. In fact, though the sun is up somewhere behind the clouds, it's still too dark to get a good picture of the lake at all. When I left school yesterday afternoon, the water was still ice free and roiling with boisterous waves. This morning the surface appears to be frozen solid, and long piles of crumpled debris have been pushed above the otherwise smooth surface like miniature mountain ranges.

#15

I just about missed the sunrise today.

I had a good productive day yesterday and was in a great mood when I got back from my evening practice--mostly because I'd spent the first hour and 1/2 of it playing duets with Riccardo. Finding a regular duet partner has continued to enliven my playing. After a day spent drilling fundamentals and devoting near constant focus to refining my embouchure, it is a welcome change to sit down with another musician and play (go figure)...MUSIC! Having another's sound in my ears causes my body to instinctively make subtle physical adjustments in order to match their sound. Riccardo is an excellent player. He's got a brilliant tone and pays constant attention to small details of dynamics and articulation. He's a super nice guy, but when I start to get sloppy with things like sound, intonation, and style, he'll stop and ask me to play it again. I appreciate being challenged in this way and when the music finally comes together, it's thrilling.

Last night we finished the last duet in Alan Vizzutti's New Concepts for Trumpet, and started working through more of Chris Gekker's 44 Duos for Trumpet. Gekker's book is a real challenge. Though on the surface the music appears rather simple, it's deceptively revealing and requires fluidity throughout every key, an impeccable sense of time and rhythm, and an ear totally locked into the pitch of the other player. We've also been working up a fun concert duet by Eugene Bozza: Dialogue pour Deux Trompettes.

When I got home I was in the mood to stay up late, and if it weren't for my current sunrise obsession I might have diddled around into the wee hours doing who-knows-what. After making some dinner, I listened to a couple recordings of pieces scheduled for SWE's (Symphonic Wind Ensemble) second concert/recording session of the quarter, and then stayed up till around 11:00 talking to Rob...no harm in having a little Saturday-night "date" right?

This morning came early. My alarm went off at 6:01...then 6:03 (for some reason I never like setting it for evens or 5s) and I grudgingly rolled out of bed and peeked out the window. A couple fluffy inches of snow had fallen overnight and the sky looked as overcast as ever. I very nearly assumed it would stay that way and almost allowed myself to crawl back under the covers for another few hours of shut eye. But no...I said I'd be there for sunrise every day...and even though I was almost certain it would be cloudy down to the horizon, there's always a chance it the sun could peek through and give a really good show.

So, I groggily mustered up the wherewithal to make breakfast, take a shower, and scrape off my frosted car just in time to get to school and see this...

Can you believe these colors?!

These pictures don't begin to do justice to the scene. It was actually snowing rather substantially during every one of these shots--I was hoping the little flakes would be visible in the pictures, but it appears they just served to dilute the richness of color and somewhat blur the resolution of each photo. I am glad I spent a good amount of time with the camera away from my face so I could fully appreciate the loveliness of the spectacle.

As our star's disc further rose above the horizon, I started to notice an area of parallel brightening off to the north. It appears the sun decided it'd be a good morning to walk the dog...

Actually the little rainbows we call "sun dogs" are created when countless hexagonal ice crystals floating through the air bend the rays of the sun like a prism. The one in this photo is rather dim, but you can see much better views of the effect by googling sun dog.

I'm really glad I didn't sleep in!

Snowflake

No sun this morning. Instead we're getting a nice friendly dusting of snow.

I tried taking pictures of some flakes that landed on the hood of my car...but I think I'll need a better camera before I can really do them justice.