The Bird Sings

It is very dark. People are whispering. On stage, there is a bright, red rug in the shape of a rectangle. On one side sits a medium-sized, marigold gramophone. Sitting at its base is a dilapidated toy monkey, its head cocked to one side. On the other side, there is a violin case, two guitars on their stands, and a small glockenspiel set up. By the front of the rug lays a series of complicated-looking foot pedals and wires. The lights behind the stage begin to glow different colors and suddenly, it seemed as though everyone held their breath. Quickly and quietly, Andrew Bird walks out from the right side of the stage wearing his usual forest green vest, and crinkly brown shoes. A classically trained violinist, former swing jazz musician, his music is an eclectic, passionate mix of gypsy ballads, jazz, folk and rock.

He says hello, picks up his violin, and starts in an instant. The bow runs along the strings—the sound is mere perfection, like the intertwined symmetry of sea and sky. The vibrations of the strings are quick and the sound comes in waves, the audience is softened like the skin of all fruits and suddenly, we’re all in love with the way his neck is bent along the body of his small, wooden instrument.

He will play a simple melody, its tempo ranging from fast to slow, the timbre of the violin like the fullness of a newly-bloomed spring forest, like the smell of pine, the sound of running water—that is how his instrument sounds. And this simple rhythm becomes looped by his foot pedals. Suddenly, he’s playing yet another rhythm, something entirely different, maybe even whistling the notes of a familiar song. And again, this new rhythm  embedded in melody is looped, entwining with the first rhythm. He does this multiple times, using the glockenspiel, using the guitar, banging on the wood, plucking the strings of his violin; staccato, legato, a crescendo! There are the whirling, exposed double-horned Leslie speakers, all of it together is epic, yet intimate.

His music is musical epiphany, it is communication in most primal, human form—of sounds and colors and tastes even. The lyrics he plays with are fantastical and strange and thought-provoking: “Bird’s lyrics often feature archaic language — words such as radiolarian, plecostomus, dermestids, coprophagia — which he chooses mainly for their sound,” Bird says in an interview, “I don’t write poetry and then strum some chords and then fit the words on top of the chords. I start with a very distinct melody, so my options… If one thing is fixed and then the words then have to then conform to the fixed melodies, then it’s like cracking codes. It’s like trying to go through a number of options of things that [will] just be exactly the right word” (NPR, All Things Considered).

His voice is strong and deep and smooth like a viola, it reaches and yearns like an outstretched arm to the audience. I believe that only after imperfection that one can realize its perfection. The sound is raw, he plays with timing and relies on his technology. Sometimes it fails, and he starts over again. The imperfection I talk about does not relate to literal “problems.” It’s the fact that the songs I have heard on his albums are nothing compared to when he plays those songs. He transforms each song to how he feels at the time. Sometimes he’ll hum or whistle a part of a song that he usually plays guitar on. Sometimes he’ll pluck his violin instead of singing. Or he’ll change the rhythm of the song, play on the upbeats, add rests, make some parts louder, and some parts softer. The imperfection here is that it is whimsical in nature, perfect in his eyes, and its translation to the audience and myself is completely mystifying and literally awe inspiring. He plays as a one-man show, he depends only on himself and his instruments. He truly is a magnificent, beautiful, musical human being. Seeing him in concert allows me to transcend this reality into the musical one he creates in the sacred space of the venue.

(PHOTO LINK: NPR First Listen: Andrew Bird, ‘Break It Yourself’)

inside the teddybear

Dear Claire,

Thanks so much for writing. I’m delighted to hear that you found the site helpful. It is my belief that anything can be presented intelligibly. Therefore whenever you don’t understand something, don’t always blame yourself.

With best wishes,

Lawrence Spector
TheMathPage

\ \ \

I emailed the administrator of TheMathPage, this website that taught me an entire precalc chapter in half an hour. This was his response. It’s strange but.. his words of wisdom can apply to much more than just math right now. He’s right. If I don’t understand something, I shouldn’t always blame myself. That is what I tend to do, though.

I find it even stranger that this man, Lawrence Spector, sparked an epiphany within me, and I don’t even know him.

life is strange
life is strange !

Going to Boston with Jiyun & Reem in December, just for the hell of it.
Yeah, that’s right. We’re taking a super bus.

And that’s how memories are made, kids.

Blablabalalbh. Doing my Syracuse application. I’m going to make these admissions officers cry.

Dragonflies

What is the meaning of a dragonfly?
“It lets us see past the illusion, letting light in so that we can see what we need to see to make our lives better. When we’ve tricked ourselves into believing that the limitations of physical existence prevent us from changing and growing, Dragonfly medicine teaches us to pierce our self-created illusions. Dragonfly reminds us to let our colors shine by using the light within.”

As a creature of the wind, the dragonfly totem represents change. It’s iridescent wings are incredibly sensitive to the slightest breeze, and so we are reminded to heed where the proverbial wind blows – lest we run into stormy weather.

TONIGHT was Ms. Thomas’ wedding. Their big day. The first day of their lives, the day when Love conquers all, no matter what.
>>>After a long and grueling trip in Katie’s car, putting up with Mildred, the British GPS lady going completely insane, stopping at Melanie’s aunt’s home and meeting the pug that stared at me with huge eyes and speeding out of a giant storm cloud on the NJ Turnpike, we, myself, Samantha, Katie, and Melanie, made it to the wedding–five minutes late. As we jumped out of the car and allowed the Valet Parking men to do their jobs, I noticed the hazy blue and white sky above us. The storm didn’t dare to approach and disturb this wedding. I quickly dashed across the lawn to the river edge of the Glen Foerd Mansion in Pennsylvania, seeing that Hope had already been walked down the aisle and many of the colorful guests were seated. Hands with fans moved in a synchronized motion like an orchestra on this humid July evening. Behind the bride, groom and the priest, the Delaware river gently swayed with the soft summer breeze. Upon seeing Ms. Thomas–Hope Thomas, in her stunning dress, I dropped everything and quickly pulled out my camera. I looked to my left at the “professional” photographer for the evening, and he glanced back at me, smirking. Of course I knew what he was thinking; me with my Nikon D40 with it’s original lens. I stood up taller and positioned myself, making myself busy with all the different angles and settings. So what if he has a nicer lens? We’re still capturing the same memories, right?
>>>The flower girl waddled along near the bridesmaids dressed in mauve. She approached Hope’s long, white dress, lost her balance and toppled over! Her mother, a bridesmaid, quickly rushed to her aid as the crowd started to giggle. Hope’s two friends stood up to read the prayers and response prayers, and as the short Asian in the green dress started to say, “We pray…” she started to laugh out loud, causing an immediate chain reaction. After some more giggles, Richard, the groom, Hope’s love, had his band play a song for them. Hope and Richard stood hand in hand looking intently at one another, softening each moment with a smile. After the five minute song, the priest says, “Can we get on to Part two now?” In a sarcastic tone. More laughter from the crowd.
>>>Richard cleared his voice, ready to read his wedding vows. “I love you.” He said that first. He looked into her eyes and said it. Like he was saying it directly to her soul. He said he was nervous. He spoke about when he and Hope first met at a cafe, hoping to see her again, how he had connections and how he knew he was in love when he first saw her. He spoke about how he loved that she talked a lot when she got nervous–the complete opposite of what he does, and how that completes him, that they had perfect chemistry from the get-go. She quickly wiped a tear from the crest of her eye and laughed.
With a shaky voice and watery eyes, Hope proceeded on reading her wedding vows. She talked about the butterflies in her stomach when she first met him, and how at that moment they were gigantic butterflies. She said that she felt the butterflies from her head down to her toes. She told him she loves him. She told him how special he was, how much she loves him, and some reasons why. “I love when you try to dance.” “When I ask you to run to the store for paper towels and milk, and come back with three types of cookies and no paper towels.” “I love how I can’t stay mad at you, after minutes we’re laughing and joking again.” She mentioned the two friends that hooked them up, and how she didn’t know whether he liked her when they first met.
>>>Every single moment, from the silence between them as they held hands, to the last breath she took after her wedding vows, I felt enveloped in happiness and love. Like nothing else existed. Tears welled up in my eyes, I couldn’t feel the heat or the sweat, I saw them kiss, and kiss again, and again, and again. Hope said, “Hey.. the priest told us to do it!” after the sixth kiss. My camera didn’t stop clicking. I prayed, I hoped that I could capture more than just the light, more than just the picture and the colors. I hoped to capture the essence of the love they shared between them, their happiness and their peace.
>>>We all entered the mansion after the huge group photo, and began to follow the waitresses and waiters around, chasing them down for the scrumptious and intricately placed appetizers. There were crab balls, fried ravioli, pork with sweet apple dressing, seared tuna and crackers, cheese pasta and bread and various colored drinks from the bar. I walked around slowly, savoring the perseverance of the mansion. Art was hung everywhere, mahogany and gold were dominant, and guests walked lightly with glasses of wine at hand, chatting merrily. Each room at the mansion was unique, some had shelves of colorful china, stained glass cups and glasses of every shape and size, painted portraits and exotic flowers and aged wine caskets. The main room was dressed beautifully with white tablecloths and chandeliers and vintage artifacts on display. Candles were sprawled amongst the tables, glowing heartily.
>>>As Hope walked in after the long photo shoot outside, she spotted me and shrieked happily. She asked me if I had seen “the upstairs” yet, I shook my head, and she told me it is an art gallery! So I walked up with her, and looked around. There in this grand room there was a stained glass skylight, a room adorned with age old paintings, china, glass wear and pottery from the mid-1800’s! The details and colors were simply marvelous. I exited the room and was about to climb to the third floor when I read a sign, “Bridal Party ONLY!” and I quickly backed away. At that exact moment, I turned around and faced the groom! Nervously I blurted out, “Hi, Congratulations! I’m…Ms. Thomas’ student.”
“Oh I’m sorry, what was your name again?”
“Claire!”
“Thank you so much for coming, I appreciate it.”
“I’m glad to be here.”
>>>And the small talk continued, until he finally headed upstairs. I went back down and realized the crowd was gathering around the staircase: They were going to make their second grand entrance. I skillfully slipped next to the staircase in a corner, equipped with my camera. To the song, “Such Great Heights,” by The Postal Service, each pair of the Wedding Party was announced as I quickly snapped photos of them. Hope and Richard were last, Hope in her dancing dress and Richard in a lesser suit. Everyone cleared the main floor as they went hand and hand and began to dance. They truly were lovers meant for one another.
Afterwards, we were allowed to get dinner buffet style. There was pork stuffed with greens, smoked bass, spinach greens and bread, filet mignon, grilled chicken, sweet potato in brown sugar butter sauce, stuffed onions and the vegetable platter. The steak was soft, the sweet potato was sweet, the fish was delicious; everything was delectable!
>>>A lady came around to each table telling us that the wedding cake and dessert was to be served in the ball room. The room was beautifully set up, with the shiny white cake sitting atop a table, other tables across the room with white cloths and candles upon them, windows surrounded us and beyond them, the shimmering lake. The bride and groom entered and I found yet another cozy spot, perfect photo opportunities. I’ve never seen two people more happy to hold a knife at the same time to cut a cake. Hope and Richard being the jokesters they are, their first pose with the knife was the “serial killer pose:” knife in both hands in a downwards stabbing motion, plus angry face. Everyone laughed. Cake was served, and music started to blast as Hope started the party! She hopped onto the dance floor with some of her friends, and they were tearing it up. The flower girl and her older sister danced too–they were the most hyper. I stood there taking more photos, laughing at Hope dancing as if she was 21 in her first club.
Richard soon joined her, and as they danced and laughed like maniacs, I realized once again how much time and life we have left. I was with a group of seventeen year olds and we were dancing alongside 30 year olds. I smiled and let the moment take me once again. Music filled the room as cakes, canolies, cheese cake and chocolate covered strawberries filled our anxious tummies.
>>>To relax, Meghan and I took a stroll around the river’s path. The full moon casted her enchanting spell upon the earth below, calming the river, creating a soft, white glow around everything it touched, even the shadows. She just graduated, and we talked about our futures, where we think we would end up, what we’ve seen and what we haven’t. She said she has never been on an airplane. I wanted to show her everything, all my travels, what I felt, my experiences. I told her that I want to live my life experience to experience, place to place. After sitting quietly just watching the moon, we decided to go back in and dance.
Finally, upbeat music started to play, and feet were on fire on the dance floor! The photographer was hot on the spot, taking hundreds of pictures in an instant on the growing dance floor. Hope and Richard left the room for a few minutes, and a small crowd of 15 were left. The music didn’t stop here though. Slowly we heard it: One More Time by Daft Punk. Everyone started to clap their hands and move their feet. We created a giant circle and some guests danced crazily in the center. The flower girl’s sister performed Irish river dancing, which was quite amazing. Hours were spent dancing the night away, getting down and getting dirty. Patricia told me to put down my camera and dance some more. I complied and walked hastily back to my camera bag, thinking.
>>>We said our goodbyes and took one last group photograph. Sitting in the car preparing for the hour and a half drive back, I thought about what being a photographer meant. I’m in no way a professional, but a question loomed upon me, To capture or be captured? I realized that being in the moment is just as important as capturing the moment. I became so caught up in capturing the moments and savoring the memories through my photographs that I almost forgot to enjoy them myself. Being on the dance floor without the camera for that hour allowed me to fully immerse myself in the moment without having to worry about lighting or angles or settings. When I thought I was missing great photo ops, I really wasn’t. I was in that opportunity, I was experiencing it first hand. Dresses twirled, arms waved, bodies swayed, I lived in the moment. I, for once, was captivated.
>>>Hope and Richard’s theme was the Dragonfly, and what the dragonfly brings. Change. Ironic, huh? For me, this summer has been all about change, seeing it, being it, embracing it and hating it. Change for the good and for the bad. For Hope and Richard, they’re spending the rest of their lives together. As for me, I have so much of my life to live. How beautiful, I thought, when they first kissed, and kissed again. How beautiful true love is. Being a photographer teaches two great skills: it allows one to zoom into the fine details of an experience as well as to zoom out to see the big picture, to see life in the long run.