Going to the Moon

I've been thinking a lot about the moon lately. The full moon was last week. I've been planning two upcoming moon-centered programs with a naturalist at the Wellington Reservation: one in November about observing the first-quarter moon, and one in December about observing under a new-moon sky (so that one's really about the absence of the moon...but still). I went to the library and checked out a stack of books dealing with lunar observation, mythology, exploration...and one that asks the question "What if there were two moons in our sky?" 

A couple nights ago I watched a charming documentary, Lunarcy, that profiles various moon enthusiasts operating on the fringes. One character that stood out in particular to me was Christopher Carson: a man obsessed with mounting a grass-roots effort to colonize the moon. Perhaps his ideas are a bit outside the norm, but I confess that I was still inspired by his resolve, persistence, and unfailing hope in the face of monumental challenges. Toward the end of the documentary, Carson is given the opportunity to meet Alan Bean, a former astronaut turned painter, and one of his special heroes.

Here is how the scene plays out.

Carson (driving a car): Today, I am heading over to have a little chat with the great Alan Bean. The path that he took to get to the moon is not anything like the path I'm taking, and it's not a path which is open to me....Alan is kind of interesting because in a sense here's one guy from my town who went to the moon...so: how many more?  

In Bean's Studio: Carson: You can't accomplish anything just by talking about it, you've gotta go out there and get actual experience. 

Bean: You do. If something's gonna happen, people are gonna hafta actually do it. 

Carson: I suppose the question is, do you have any advice for another hometown boy who never thought of himself as being the most special person in the world, but really would like to do those great things? If you have anything, you know, you could suggest...? 

Bean: Well, I can suggest that moving history forward, which is what you're talking about, a very worthy endeavor, is difficult. Don't lose your spirit. And you've gotta get other people. And all of you working together MAY be able to achieve the dream you're talking about.  

Carson: Well, Thank you! Thank you... 

Carson (speaking excitedly soon after his visit): Every time I have contact with somebody who really has done these things, it serves, I guess, as a kind of a pick-me-up, or a booster...or just a reminder, you know, that this is not (as one in the dark of the night thinks) "is this really just a dream, is this really just a fantasy, is this truly realistic?" And I can say "NO! Look! This guy! Right here! This guy who's got his arm around my shoulder. This is a guy who's actually gone...Clop, Clop, Clop, ACROSS THE SURFACE OF THE MOON! SO, if somebody says, "Oh, that's crazy." What crazy?! What crazy?! It's not crazy. It's as real as the living flesh of the man who's hand I am shaking." 

So when you think about it, the moon, once a symbol of the utterly unattainable...of the pie-in-the-sky impossible dreams that we can only reach for and miss...might now most reasonably serve as a symbol of what IS possible...the pie-in-the-sky we could actually touch, and taste, and feel under our moon boots as we bound across its surface at a fraction of our Earthly weight.

Well...I don't know if I'll actually ever be so lucky. But some have been. And who's to say that Carson, and others like him, won't make it either? 

Anyway. As I said at the beginning of this post: I've been thinking a lot about the moon lately...and so I made this collage...

As with my last one, it's assembled from torn pieces of black construction paper, spattered and brushed with varying levels of white paint. I've enjoyed exploring this new (for me) mode of creativity. My past work hasn't always had such a prominent textural aspect. I almost feel I could come in for a landing on this surface...

Art in Nature

Yesterday afternoon I desperately needed to get out of the house. I thought it would be fun to explore some new territory so I googled a few possibilities and then drove out to Meyers Park in south Lansing. Located on the eastern shore of Cayuga Lake--right at the first knuckle of the giant finger--it is home to a marina and camping area and offers superb lake-side views for picnicers and one of the loveliest swimming areas I know of.

The water was clear, calm, and surprisingly warm. It had been a hot day so I rolled up my pants legs and waded slowly into the shallows. Little schools of tiny fish darted about--so well camouflaged as to be almost invisible above the brown pebbly bottom. I looked around and was overwhelmed by the idyllic scene surrounding me...

As is frequently my habit I looked down toward my feet as they scuffled over the algae-covered rocks below me. I noticed a beautiful piece of succulent lake flora floating by...

...and marveled at all the tiny white mussel shells that peppered the ground surrounding the stones. When I noticed a particularly interesting piece of water-carved shale I brought it to the surface and started rubbing away some of the algae. After only a little effort the slimy booger-green skin gave way to a lusciously dark red-brown surface. I put it back in the water and the stone gleamed. Almost black against its surroundings it looked like a work of art.

I suddenly remembered an incredible documentary I'd seen a few years ago about artist Andy Goldsworthy entitled Rivers and Tides. Goldsworthy uses nature herself as his medium as he wanders the countryside looking for ways to manipulate colored leaves, stones, native vegetation, and even ice into beautiful natural sculptures that remain intact anywhere from a few seconds to a few weeks. Indeed, the temporary nature of his creations is often key to their unique appeal. Here's a link to a short excerpt from the film that poignantly illustrates the beauty and fragility of his work.

Inspired by the memory of the film I decided to try my hand at a little nature art myself. To be sure my constructions are like children's scribbles when compared with Goldsworthy's work, but I had a tremendous amount of fun putting them together and definitely enjoyed having an excuse to wade around in Cayuga's luxuriant waters for a little over an hour.

Here are some of the results...

I'm calling this last one "self portrait with camera" even though I didn't notice my reflection in the water until I got home and looked over the photos (oops!)...

Die Meistersängerin

There may be "No Kangaroos in Austria," (as many cheesy tourist t-shirts here advertise), but there are definitely Meistersängerinnen in Australia. The winner of last night's Meistersinger competition was Siobhán Stagg, a soprano from Melbourne who had been giving the orchestra goosebumps in every rehearsal with her rendition of Bellini's O quante volte.

***Note: the picture above is not Siobhán, but another of the finalists warming up during our morning dress rehearsal.

The Meistersinger competition began soon after the beginning of the festival and progressed through several eliminating rounds till the final eight contestants, plus two alternates, were presented in concert last night at the Helmut-List Halle. A panel of distinguished judges listened to each of the eight finalists and then left the stage to deliberate over a winner while the two alternates sang. After all ten singers had performed, the audience and orchestra were invited to vote for their own favorite on a paper ballot that had been distributed at the beginning of the concert. The ballots were collected by AIMS staff and as the orchestra commenced with Walter Piston's The Incredible Flutist, the results were tallied.

Over the course of the week, all us orchestra folks had overwhelmingly fallen in love with Siobhán. There are no adequate words to describe the smooth and penetrating quality of her voice, or the exquisite artistic timing she applied to every phrase, but whenever she sang it was impossible to do anything but gaze adoringly and submit to the waves of buttery tonefulness she sent permeating throughout the hall...her singing even made our little rehearsal gym at the Elisabethschule seem beautiful and resonant. Despite our confidence in Siobhán we were all sitting on pins and needles to see who would actually come out on top in the end. Every finalist delivered a superb performance and I was actually a little torn between Siobhán, Eliana Piedrahita--a Colombian soprano who absolutely sparkled through the virtuosic antics of Rossini's Una voce poco fa--and an incredible countertenor whose rendition of Mozart's Parto, parto, ah si ben mio surprised and thrilled us all.

A quirky little highlight for me was hearing Michelle Pretto sing Puccini's Vissi d'arte from Tosca. When the piece began, I was surprised to recognize the same melody and chord progression that accompanies Inigo Montoya in that scene from The Princess Bride where he's lost in a circle of trees and kneels down with his sword pointed to the sky and prays to his father to help him find the "man in black." I always have to smile when I find the source of a soundtrack...like when I discovered a portion of a triumphant theme from the Willow score is quite close to the opening of Schumann's Rhenish Symphony, or when I noticed how much of The Gladiator is taken directly from Holst's Mars.

After the final ecstatic notes of the Piston, the judges came back from their deliberations, the final vote count was turned in, and our artistic director Andrea Huber took the stage to announce the winners. She stressed that everyone who had sung that night was a winner and that all would likely go on to maintain long and illustrious operatic careers. Still, everyone knew there were artist agents and talent scouts in attendance, and that the pressure was on to see who'd gain the highest praise (as well as the hefty cash prize). When it was announced that Siobhán had won both the Meistersinger and the popular vote, the crowd erupted into thunderous applause. The orchestra accompanied the thrill with Strauss' Radetsky March and capped the night off with Sousa's Stars and Stripes Forever...complete with a piccolo trio and a (somewhat grudgingly) standing brass section during the grandioso.

So...the 2011 AIMS festival is officially over. I'm leaving dark and early tomorrow morning (my ride to the airport departs at 4:00...ugh!) and will be back in Ithaca by dinnertime. Through all its ups and downs it has been a great summer and--though I have no idea what's going to happen over the course of this coming school year--right now I think I'd like to find a way to come back to Graz next summer.

#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.

Passing Time

So, I know I haven't been posting consistently enough...especially considering I've been on an extended holiday break with ample time to fill even after the 4 hours of daily practice I put in. Even more condemning is the fact that here at Rob's (as opposed to my place in Evanston) I have access to the world wide web all the time...don't have to trek to school if I wanna check my email, watch some PBS...or write a blog. In this case it seems as though it's primarily when things get easy that I get lazy.

So here's my catch-up post.

Some things I've/we've been doing for the holiday break...

Finding practice rooms for me:

After the first few days I was here (during which I did my aforementioned daily 4 hours at Rob's apartment) I started to get the idea that the neighbors were sick and tired of hearing scales, arpeggios, and atonal solos. When I'd start playing for instance I thought I could hear their voices change from quiet muffles to annoyed yells. I HATE thinking that I'm bothering anyone with my playing and I can TOTALLY understand how one might tire of hearing all the crap I go through during my practice--especially the tedious but necessary stuff I tackle as part of my technical routine. I started to worry that they'd call the landlord and complain or send the cops over to shut me up. At that point I was unable to make myself put the horn to my lips and blow. My worry had completely shut me down.

Initially, I spent some time practicing in the Cornell music building. There are a few practice rooms there and though I was clearly breaking the rules by using them (not only are they for Cornell students only, but those students have to pay a sizable fee at the beginning of the year just to be granted access) but as it was finals week, few people were around and no one approached me about it. After finals week however, the music building was locked for holiday break...so there goes that option.

Another member of Rob's relativity group is a drummer and lives in this apartment complex. One day while making a laundry run Rob noticed him practicing in the apartment's common room--a sitting-room-like area next to the work-out facility that is totally separate from anyone's living quarters. He came home all excited and suggested that I could try practicing in there as well. Just to make sure I wouldn't be breaking any rules, I asked Rob to email the guy and see if he had been given any guidelines to regulate his use of the room . Sure enough: he had an arrangement with the landlord (confirmed with a $250 deposit) that he could use the room for 2 hours every Saturday...dangit!

Sooo...I thought, "I'll call Hickey's and see if they have any studio space for rent." In fact, they do...but they wouldn't allow me to use it for private practice as it was designated for lessons only. ARGGGH!!! At the end of my rope, I told the guy at Hickey's about my predicament and if he had any suggestions. "Have you tried going to IC?" He asked. "You can sneak into those practice rooms any time and I know they're going to be open during the break."

There was my solution: Ithaca College. I had to drive all the way across town and up a formidable hill (pleeeease don't let it get icy!), but was rewarded by having access to a lovely new building loaded with empty practice rooms. What a lifesaver!!!

Unfortunately IC did finally lock up over the Christmas weekend, but at that point Rob figured no one would be around in the Cornell Space Sciences Building (Carl Sagan's old stomping ground). His office is there and he has a key to the whole place. For a couple days he let me in to the large conference room on the 6th floor where I was able to squawk to my hearts content.

As much as I'm sad to be leaving Rob again tomorrow, I have to admit I'm looking forward to having a consistent, non-disruptive...and LEGAL way to practice my horn every day.

We watched a pile o' movies (ok mom, don't freak out...I know the list is long...it's just that I've been here a long time...I promise I haven't just been sitting on my butt for a whole month!).

Here's a list along with personal ratings (I should stress personal! I am decidedly NOT any sort of film critic) from 1 to 5 "stars."

Black Swan--****CREEPY!!! But disturbingly compelling and beautiful. Natalie Portman did a fantastic job as a paranoid and perfectionistic work horse...can I relate a little?...hmmm...hate to think so.

True Grit--*****A bit bloody, but only enough for PG-13. An excellent classic-style western with great characters, gripping story, and a ton of heart. See this one!!!

Tron--***An excellent ride! Loved the effects. Decent story (it helps if you read about or watch the first Tron before seeing this one) and (blush) I really liked the music. I think you even deserve to see this one in 3-D.

Fire in the Sky--*Um, it was an ok movie, but the acting was a little over the top and, most disappointingly, the scenes inside the alien ship are completely fabricated--they bear no resemblance to the "actual" abduction experiences described in the book. According to wikipedia, the movie makers all thought the book was too boring--so they hyped everything up into this overdone horror scene in order to be more dramatic. Lame! The truth is out there!

127 Hours--*****You already know I loved this one, but I'll continue by saying it's even better the second time.

Modern Times--****My first Chaplin film! Purely delightful entertaining, origin of the song "Smile," and the first time Chaplin's voice is heard on film.

Miracle on 34th Street--****Also a classic. This is a great flick to put you in the Christmas spirit. I hadn't seen it in years...brought me back to my childhood.

Elf--***Uproariously funny and surprisingly sweet (a little too much so in the spaghetti scene).

Scrooged--***Enjoyed it as always..."it's aaaa TOASTER!!!!"

Groundhog Day--***Another Fun Bill Murray selection with a good moral and heartwarming ending.

Time Bandits--****Very imaginative and wonderfully unpredictable.

The Fisher King--****Ditto...just turn away when Robin Williams is shaking his naked booty in Central Park. The characters in this movie are wonderful (Jeff Bridges' girlfriend is awesome) and even though it ends with a hollywoodish "happily ever after," it's so chock full of creativity you won't even notice the cliches.

Life of Brian--****It's Monty Python...need I say more?

Exit Through the Gift Shop--*****!!MUST SEE!! A very interesting documentary (or is the film itself a set up?) about street art and the characters behind it. Loved it!

Barton Fink--****This film was part of the Coen Brothers education Rob has been providing to me. It was a strange film--intense--beautifully shot--full of scenes and references begging for further interpretation yet always seeming to elude being figured out for sure.

Roger and Me--***Michael Moore's first documentary. It's about his persistent quest to get an interview with GM Chairman Roger Smith and have him answer for his decision to close the GM plants in Flint Michigan. Tragic. Depressing. Funny and shocking in spots.

We went to see another frozen waterfall...

Here's the sign that greeted us when we crossed the stream and headed over to this closest observation point...

No arguments here!

Just as with Ithaca Falls a few days previous, the air in this gorge was filled with a fine spray of freezing water particles that coated everything within 50 feet of the falls with a thick layer of ice. Interestingly, we noticed that the ice built up on the rocks, trees, and blades of grass existed almost exclusively on the side facing the falls...

And here it is...Taughannock Falls...215 feet of spectacular!

And here's what it looked like in May of 2008--the first time Rob and I visited the falls...now it's a bit easier to understand the need for a sign prohibiting swimming.

BRRRRRRRR!!!!!!

And it's a good thing we didn't get pummeled by a falling geometric boulder on the way out. The walls of the gorge were so high they seemed to curve in towards us at the top. I was reminded of something I read in Aron Ralston's book..."Geologic time is now."

After this freezing trip we went home and made crepes...Mmmmmmm!

ANYWAY...you already know about the scrabble and crosswords (Thanks Mal and Ry for the great Xword dictionaries!), and as you may have noticed in my post from 2 days ago, I made a fair number of paper snowflakes (the CORRECT 6 sided ones...not the RIDICULOUS 4 sided ones)...

by the way, if you want to check out an AWESOME website with everything you ever wanted to know about snowflakes and ice formations check out this Caltech site. The images are phenomenal!

Oh! We celebrated Rob's excellent teaching reviews. Here's what a few students anonymously commented about his class...

"ROB OWEN IS THE BEST TA I'VE EVER HAD (SO FAR). He knows his subject really well, he is able to capture our attention and make physics understandable. If I could I would take every class that Rob Owen teaches/co-teaches regardless of the subject, because I know that even if the subject is hard he'll find a way to make it easy to understand!"

"My TA was very good, he made me even more interested in physics than I already was. For a couple of days after he gave a mini-lecture on magnetism's relation to special relativity I was seriously considering switching my major to physics."

"Rob is the man"

"I would nominate Rob Owen for whatever teaching award the physics dept. or Cornell has to offer. He's a wonderful person and displays incredible mastery of our course material."

I agree completely. Though I've never taken a formal course offered by Dr. Owen, I frequently badger him with crazy physics or math questions that force him to make something really complex accessible to a simple mind such as mine. He's a great teacher:) And now that the class is over he's also thrilled to have more time to get back to his research.

I went shopping and bought myself some new (and badly needed) winter clothing.

I played around with a new section of the Zooniverse website called The Milky Way Project. If any of you ever had an interest in doing something fun that actually contributes to significant scientific research here's your chance. The whole thing started out with Galaxy Zoo--a site where hundreds of thousands of people helped classify the millions of galaxy images sent back by the Sloan Digital Sky survey (a couple of my favorites are pictured here). I guess humans do a much better job than a computer does when it comes to picking out an object's subtle details and when you have feedback on the same object from several different volunteers, the data turns out to be quite accurate. Now that the Sloan's images have been completed, we're picking through Hubble's shots of the most distant galaxies ever imaged. It's quite exciting!

In the Milky Way Project my "job" is to map "bubbles" and other interesting features I find in infrared images taken of our own home galaxy. The data collected is supposed to help astronomers better understand how stars form. The images are especially gorgeous (see below), and even though this particular activity is a bit more time consuming and complex than the original Galaxy Zoo (which was easy-peasy) it's quite satisfying to finish each frame and send it off. It also makes up a bit for my current inability to take part in the astronomy club activities of which I grew so fond. Sigh...I'll be back to it someday soon I'm sure.

Ok, let's see, is that everything? Pretty much. I guess we also listened to some music and had tickle wars. I worked out here and there. There were a couple days I found myself feeling bleak and hopeless. I was hating myself, was reduced to tears and full-body tremors, and became for a little while utterly unable to function normally. Rob quietly held me close and stroked my hair during all of it. I seriously don't deserve this guy!

Bumps and all it was a good holiday. As I said before I'm sad to leave my man, but am also looking forward to the excitement and (hopefully rewarding) challenges that await in the coming quarter. Hey...it's almost 2011. Wow! Time sure flies when you're having fun:)