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RSO Metro Collection: frontier music

Several weeks ago, I attended a Richmond Symphony concert in its Metro Collection series, which brings a smaller orchestra (e.g. 10 violins instead of 22; 1 horn instead of 5) to venues in the counties surrounding  Richmond. My TD review is here, and it tells you all I'm going to say about the music except, dear Antonio, please forgive me-- by calling your piece "fluff," I didn't mean to imply it was disposable.

A few words about the space, though. The concert was held in a gym at Kingsway Community Church in Midlothian. At least I think it was a gym, because there were basketball court lines on the fake-wood floor, but no evidence of nets. You can sort of tell by this photo from the church's website that the room is shaped like a fan. It felt too wide for the size of the orchestra. And I can't have been much closer than most seats in the Carpenter Theatre.

At intermission, I chatted with the man sitting behind me, who said this was the closest concert to his home he had ever been to. I had been not-quite-grumbling about having to drive so far to it. I guess if the world isn't going to revolve me, it might as well benefit someone else along the way.

In fact, I really do like the Metro Collection concept, both because it invites a different sort of programming and because it puts the orchestra in settings that many people feel are more inviting or familiar. But I really hate the universal lighting that usually comes with these alternative territories. I don't care what the musicians wear--although I appreciate a subdued uniformity--and I don't care when people clap--as long as we do it alertly-- but please, please, at least dim the house lights so I can feel like the music is showing me something beyond myself. And, more realistically, so I'm less likely to be distracted by my surroundings.

From YouTube to Schoenberg in 3 simple steps

The YouTube Symphony Orchestra has announced the musicians selected for its second concert, to be held in Sydney, Australia, in March. (The first, in 2009, was at Carnegie Hall)

Richmond Symphony Orchestra trumpeter Mary Bowden is one of the chosen. You can hear her perform the Haydn trumpet concerto on Feb. 19 in a free concert with the Richmond Symphony Youth Orchestra.

Photo by Lydia Danmiller

But that's not the only Richmond connection. YTSO composer and behind-the-scenester Mason Bates, whose track suit is as handsome in real life as in the photos, is a Richmond native.

One of Bates' composition teachers here in Richmond was Dika Newlin. In 1997, I served her cocktails during a short-lived waiting stint, but I didn't realize until later who she was. I wonder what she would think of the YTSO.

And Newlin was a noted Schoenberg scholar, which brings us to the end of this blog post, almost.

This Wednesday at the Modlin Center, eighth blackbird and six UR faculty musicians will present a free concert of Schoenberg's chamber works,  including the String Trio, Herzgewaechse, Weihnachtsmusik, Nachtwandler, and Anton Webern's arrangements of the Chamber Symphony No. 1 and Five Orchestra Pieces. 

The RSO wonders if you love them now that they can dance

My preview article about this weekend's concert featuring The Contours performing with the Richmond Symphony appeared in today's Times-Dispatch.

This was a last-minute assignment that I initially wasn't going to take, but I'm glad I did. I mean, why not? Well, because I don't always relish the idea of giving valuable print space to out-of-town groups. Sure, they're appearing with our own RSO, but here's the thing: why? I didn't get a call in soon enough to arrange an interview with RSO Associate Conductor Erin Freeman, but I wanted to ask her, "What will a full orchestra add to The Contours' sound? What really is the artistic point of this concert?"

It's not a purely provocative question; I'm sincerely curious about Freeman's answer. If there is something musical to be gained, I'd be willing to have her convince me. But maybe the only reasons for having this concert are extramusical--attracting new audiences, helping people feel comfortable with the RSO, demystifying the Carpenter Theatre, etc. Good. But is that enough? I don't think so, in fact.

Oh, okay. I'll conclude that the artistic point of putting The Contours and a symphony orchestra on the same stage together is have some musical fun. Why not?

Kelley Nassief, Richmond Symphony Orchestra and Chorus

My review of Saturday's Masterworks concert appeared in Monday's Times-Dispatch.

I was surprised how small the audience was, and I'm curious if Sunday afternoon's was any larger. I thought people would like the concept--many short pieces in a sort of "best of opera" format. (To be clear, it was not marketed as a "best-of" concert, and the programmatic choices were thoughtful, not just a riffle through old cartoon soundtrack archives.)

I wonder if the symphony erred in not posting/announcing the detailed program ahead of time. When I checked the website about two days before the concert, nothing beyond the Britten and Ravel was listed. (But just now when I checked, the whole program is up... hmm.) People like to know what they're buying.

By the way, be sure to check the RSO's blog now and then. The entries are a little unpredictable in their tone and content, but almost always of some interest. Associate Conductor Erin Freeman's post about this most recent Masterworks Concert is excellent. A commenter remarked that she should be writing the program notes. That indeed would be wonderful, since not only is Freeman an excellent communicator, but in an ideal world all program notes would be written locally and specifically, placing each performance in context. The RSO's notes are currently procured from John P. Varineau, associate conductor of the Grand Rapids Symphony (I just looked this up), and are much better than they were several years ago.

Y'all come back to the land of sweets, y'hear?

Richmond was giddy with delight at NY Times dance critic Alastair Macaulay's praise for Richmond Ballet's "Nutcracker." (here --and there's more! here)

I enjoyed mulling over his description of the production as "the one that follows its own internal logic with most unflagging consistency and detail." His next sentence is the start of a new paragraph, but is intimately related: "It’s also the one that seems most right for its theater and its audience..." 

And speaking of related, here's another sentence from earlier in the review: "Just from the way people are greeting one another in the foyers here, I can sense I’m in the South: people take time over civilities here, and it seems as if half the people are well acquainted."

Isn't that nice? Bless our hearts.

Is this a sign that too many of the same people are always in the audience? (This isn't limited to the ballet's Nutcracker; I see this at Richmond Symphony concerts too.) Or just that the people who stand around talking to each other are more noticeable, because everyone else has already taken their seats?

Rhetorical questions are so easy to ask. I'm taking the cheap way out by ending here. (I was going to write more, but I'm already late in posting this.)

Repeat Button

Tim Smith, classical music critic at the Baltimore Sun, in a review of a performance of David Lang's "A Little Match Girl Passion," writes:

The only disappointment, given the roughly 40-minute duration of the composition, was that it didn't get performed twice. I'm sure the sold-out crowd would have gladly stayed for a complete encore. 

I'm glad to hear of someone else who thinks this is a good idea. A single listen is not really enough for most new music and music that isn't performed frequently. A repeat encore performance would give the audience more time to really listen to the music.

Oh-- you noticed that I used the word "most"? I'm thinking about how I read new poems twice, once for feeling and once for a little more discovery--except that I don't read everything twice. I can decide quickly, and for myself, whether I think a poem is worth repeating. It's a different situation in a concert hall, where a conductor or an ensemble must usually make that decision in advance, regardless of audience reaction, being aware that some people trapped in the middle of rows won't want to hear a piece again.

I say what the heck, just play new works under 8 minutes long twice no matter what, and at least consider it in other cases. 

Central Virginia's Salvation Army School of Performing Arts

Matt Sims turned a corner in the maze of basement hallways in the Salvation Army Boys and Girls Club. Suddenly, a girl appeared at his elbow.

“Now?” she asked.

“Not yet, Naomi,” he said.

She lingered a moment, then drifted into a nearby room where a dozen kids practiced footwork in a hip-hop dance class.

Matt is the director of the Central Virginia Salvation Army's School of Performing Arts, a program that gives free music and dance training to kids in the greater Richmond area. It was a sunny Thursday afternoon in late fall, and the Boys and Girls Club buzzed with elementary and middle school kids doing homework, talking about doing homework, eating a hot meal, messing around, dancing, talking about dancing--and one persistent girl in glasses waiting for something else.

Matt was showing me around the rooms the arts program uses inside the club. I was on assignment for the Times-Dispatch, writing an article which would run in advance of an upcoming Salvation Army Christmas concert. (The article ran Monday.) 

He led me back into the Instrumental Room, smaller than my sister-in-law's master bathroom, where several keyboards shared space with drums, milk crates filled with tap shoes, and a laundry basket with a packages labeled "Trombone Maintenance Kit." 

We talked about the school's work a bit more, then Matt said with a half-grin, “If you want, the kids would love to perform on drums."

He stuck his head out of the room and flagged down a passing child to go round up the percussion students. Within a minute, Naomi popped in, along with three boys. Soon, each sat on an upended 10-gallon bucket, with another in front for drumming.

Matt settled down on a bucket. “Do you remember your parts?” he asked. After a quick review, he pointed at Gerald, the youngest, to set the beat. Music from the dance class down the hall worked at cross-purposes with Gerald, and Naomi looked up at me and pointed her chin at the door.

"Close that," she said. "It's distracting." Just straightforward, assured.

One by one, each child entered with a different rhythm. Matt led them through a tempo change and a few call-and-response shouts. Gerald bit his lower lip in concentration, Justin dragged sometimes. Brandon wavered between confidence and hesitancy, but Naomi was bright and on. 

After the performance, I asked each kid to tell me about why they like drumming, or something along those lines. That's when I learned a bit about Naomi's family, which is in the T-D article. I bet there's much more to her story. Naomi strikes me as being a natural achiever; I really hope her story keeps on going, and whether or not music is always central to it, music seems to be having a crucial role right now.

Virginia Opera: Cosi fan tutte

Confession: I am new to Virginia Opera. (The Times-Dispatch's regular freelance reviewer, Roy Proctor, was out of town, so I took on the post-Thanksgiving show.) But after this experience, I plan to return, and Lilian Groag's name will be an incentive. I'd like to see how she works with other operas.

I only wish VO would stretch a bit out of the canon. I guess it has figured out what works with the audiences it has, and has calculated there aren't any other audiences to be had (in profitable enough sizes). Some day, some day, I will get up to D.C. or elsewhere for opera that is my age or younger.

The Seasons Project: Venice Baroque Orchestra, Robert McDuffie play Vivaldi and Glass

My review of this performance, here.

This concert was the perfect confluence of performers, composers and space. I left ready to swear off  full-sized orchestras forever. No matter how talented the conductor or phenomenal the orchestra, the energy of a small, self-led group is unmatchable.

And though I can't extrapolate, this particular performance of the VBO was superior to the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra's Modlin Center performance last year, at least in terms of ensemble-playing.

RSO Masterworks: Shatin, Dvorak, Saint-Saens, Copland

My review of this past weekend's RSO Masterworks concert ran in Monday's Times-Dispatch. Shatin's "Jefferson, In His Own Words" was the headline work; Copland's "Fanfare for the Common Man," Saint-Saens' Cello Concert No. 2 and Dvorak's Symphony No. 6 were also on the program.

Re-reading my review, I'm not sure why I felt I had to make the point that Baliles spoke clearly; that should be expected. What I wanted to say, but didn't have the brainpower to formulate properly on deadline, had to do with the simplicity of his delivery. He didn't over-inflect, and didn't need to; we weren't children gathered round a chair at storytime. As I listened, I took a few moments to imagine what it might sound like if he had crafted a more dramatic--or perhaps one might say a more musical--narrative style, and that made me even more appreciative of his choices.

Probably imprudently, I also imagined what else the Dvorak symphony could have sounded like--thus my review's closing comment. I don't know the sixth symphony well enough to know what has or hasn't been, or should or shouldn't be done with it, but it seems to me if you're going to pick a composer to rough up a bit, Dvorak is a good candidate. Take some risks, show me the difference between playing music and just performing it.

Steven Smith and the Vision Thing

Richmond Symphony Music Director Steven Smith delivered the talk at this past Friday's "Eyes on Richmond" series. I covered it for the Times-Dispatch, but the article, which ran Saturday, isn't posted online. You can read it at the end of this post.

His 25-minute speech rambled around in the Great Plans territory. There was a jackalope sighting ("a vision that we'll be able to put an instrument into the hands of every single young person"), and several trailheads were spotted but not confirmed to lead anywhere (vague references to desirable partnerships with regional institutions).

Okay, so I'm being too clever. But listen to the questions people asked in the Q&A session afterward:

-What is a conductor really doing up on stage during a concert?

-How do you respond to potential donors who say that they shouldn't have to pick up the government's slack when funding for music education is cut from public schools?

-When the symphony is planning a whole season, how do you decide how much/which new music to program?

-If you were to write a symphony that incorporated both "Give me liberty or give me death" and "I have a dream," what would it sound like?

Also, I ran into an acquaintance the next evening who had attended the lecture. He said he wanted to ask how the symphony could make good on Smith's expressed desire to make concerts "accessible"-- for people like himself and his wife, who have three children. (He meant ticket prices, mostly.)

For the most part, these people sought concrete information. Whether or not that day's disconnect between what Smith wanted to say and what people wanted to learn is representative of anything larger, I don't know. (But of course the fact that I wrote that sentence means I think it's worth considering.)

Smith did mention specific things the Richmond Symphony could do to "energize the tradition" and bring people together: hold post-concert talk-backs, invite writers or painters to be guest artists, and do something with VUU (a historically black college/university), among other ideas. However, it was impossible to tell which items, if any, were actually being planned and which were probably long-distant or even pipe dreams.

 

I wish he had told a story from his own experience that supported his claim, "Arts bring us together as human beings to allow us to explore world in ways we might not have otherwise thought of."

And y'know, I do think visions are important. If you really do dream of putting an instrument in the hands of every child, hopefully you'll start doing it one child at a time. (The RSO's Symphony at School program, for which the Nov. 21 Come and Play event is a fundraiser, does some instrument donation, and the Richmond Concert Band has been doing it for many years..)

Here's the article as I submitted it:

In a world that seems to have moved beyond the possibility of civil discourse, the arts can be a way to bring people back together, said Steven Smith, music director of the Richmond Symphony. He added that Virginia, home of history's greatest political and cultural discussions, is a natural place to “recapture” a spirit of cooperation. In particular, the Richmond Symphony can bring people together using the medium of music.

Smith spoke Friday at the Eyes on Richmond lecture series held at St. Paul's Episcopal Church. The title of his talk, “Richmond Changes its Tune,” was assigned to him, he said, and he decided to approach it from the perspective of a composer. 

When writing music, composers will change a tune by “playing around with it … turning it upside-down and backwards, taking it apart, playing with its structure or harmony.”

In that sense, the Richmond Symphony can change or “energize” its tune not by discarding a time-honored repertoire but by sharing music in new ways.

For example, it can program compositions that use influences from various musical traditions, create concert experiences that include art forms such as architecture, art and literature, and find community partnerships that result in “thought-provoking opportunities for everyone,” he said.

Smith discussed the importance of music and the arts in education. Participation in the arts can teach young people the same things as sports participation does, as well as nurture “creative health.” He said that arts institutions should be catalysts for promoting the value of the arts for learning.

Smith described three of the Richmond Symphony's education programs and said, “It doesn't have to stop there. I have a vision that we'll be able to put an instrument into the hands of every single young person” or give all children the chance to sing in a chorus.

To address the problem of polarization and the lack of civil discourse, arts institutions should use the arts to “explore aspects of critical thinking.” He added, “Arts bring us together as human beings and allow us to explore the world in ways we might not have otherwise thought of.”

The Richmond Symphony's challenge is to communicate this vision to new generations and a “much, much wider audience.”

Smith said he is looking forward to participating in the sesquicentennial commemoration of the Civil War, which he called an opportunity to bring people together. He also mentioned the orchestra's goals of giving more outdoor performances and creating more community partnerships, such as with Virginia Union University, MCV, history museums and other regional institutions.

“I believe the symphony can touch the life of every single person in this community,” he said. 

Judith Shatin's "Jefferson, In His Own Words"

Here's my article about the upcoming performance of Judith Shatin's "Jefferson, In His Own Words" by the Richmond Symphony, with former Virginia Gov. Gerald Baliles as narrator.

In the article, I refer to "Rotunda," a quite different work of Shatin's (with Robert Arnold) that combines video, music, recorded sound and voices. Here's an excerpt from that piece.

Charles Rosen, victim of careless program notes

Generally, I think the discussion of applause at concerts is a horse that should go ahead and die, but the situation at Saturday's concert was so weird, I want to elaborate on a point I made at the end of my review, which appears in today's Times-Dispatch.

Here's a blow-by-blow:
-Charles Rosen takes the stage to applause.
-He performs R. Schumann's Intermezzo from "Faschingsschwank aus Wien."
-Silence. More silence.
-Rosen fidgets, takes something from his left breast pocket (glasses? but he's not using music), fiddles with it, takes something from his right pocket, puts both things back into the right pocket.
-He plays the opening chord of Schumann's "Fantasia in C," stops, grunts, fidgets and begins again.
-After the second movement of the Fantasia, a quarter to a third of the audience bursts into applause that lasts several seconds until people realize by Rosen's body language that he's not done.
-Rosen finishes "Fantasia," everyone applauds. Two rounds of bows, then intermission.

The absence of applause after the first piece was not because the audience didn't like the performance. I'll lay double my life savings on that.

Even though the program listing showed the Intermezzo, the program notes didn't mention it, diving instead straight into the middle of a discussion of the differences between the first published, revised version of the Fantasia and Schumann's original version. Dutiful note readers saw the titles of the 3 movements that Schumann originally gave the work (but no movements were noted in the program listing) and must have gotten confused about what was what. They counted three chunks of music, then clapped.

I'm still thinking about why I and other people who knew that the Intermezzo had ended didn't applaud. I guess I'm not used to being the first person to start clapping--I kind of like waiting a breath-length first--and then the longer the silence went on, the harder it became for anyone to be the first to clap. I started thinking that maybe other people knew something I didn't, like he was going to add the last movement of the Faschingsschwank.

In any case, the second half of the program probably erased the awkwardness of the first in the minds of most people. I'm just hung up on the program note thing, maybe because it's so fixable.

The two tenors of Tracey Welborn

First, here's my review of an August concert by the Richmond Chamber Players.  Even though I spent just as much space on the Clarke viola sonata as on "Ten Blake Songs" by Vaughn Williams, I was much more captivated by the latter. Tracey Welborn's voice was a perfect match for the music, words, oboe and space, which was a church sanctuary.

So I was looking forward to hearing him sing again, the tenor solo in Beethoven's Ninth when the RSO performed it in September. My review of that concert is here, but Clarke Bustard's has a more accurate analysis of what was happening with the Ninth.

My sense was that Welborn wasn't a good match with Kevin Deas, the bass. The first is wildflowers, the other lawn. And had the tempo been less "breathless," as Clarke notes, I think Welborn's voice wouldn't have given the impression that he was lost in the hall. I'm looking forward to hearing him sing again under different circumstances.

Erin Freeman's Advice for Conductors

In May, I observed Richmond Symphony Associate Conductor Erin Freeman give Bobbie Barajas, classical music director for WCVE, a conducting lesson in preparation for the symphony's "Celebrity Maestro" fundraising event.

In the course of the hour-or-so lesson, Erin said, in effect: If things seem about to fall apart, a conductor should direct her attention to the section of the orchestra that is doing things right, not the section that's struggling. The musicians pay attention to what the conductor is paying attention to.

This made immediate sense to me, in that way that feels like you've known something all along, but didn't know that you knew it.

On the surface, the principle is counter-intuitive: Shouldn't a leader help errants correct their errors? Why wouldn't this mean that the conductor should turn to the section that's having trouble, make sure they can see her beat, her face, and her gestures?

Musicians listen as much as they watch, which is one of the reasons Erin's lesson works, but I think the bigger insight has to do with where the true power of a leader lies, and how leaders can use that power most effectively.

As it happened, the very next week I subbed for two days in a classroom of kindergarteners. I deliberately tried to apply Erin's advice. I can't say it helped in any immediate, practical way (probably because the kids didn't regard me as their leader), but its validity was evident when, for example, I was reading a book to the class. Previously in that same classroom when I'd stop reading to (firmly, kindly) admonish interrupters, it would take forever to get through a book and even the listeners would start to lose focus. This time, I just kept reading, paying attention to the book and looking in the eyes of children who were listening. 

I don't know how far outside the concert hall this principle stretches. It's related to how sleight-of-hand magicians work, but isn't it more satisfying to reap insights from conductors of beautiful music than from sweaty men with cards on a TV dinner tray outside the second-run movie theater?

Metro Collection for 2010-11

This preview of the Richmond Symphony's 2010-11 season ran in the Times-Dispatch last month. At that point--which was after brochures had been printed and subscription sales started--the Metro Collection series had not been announced.

I just checked the symphony's website-- the Metro Collection line-up is now posted. This is the series that takes a smaller orchestra--a large chamber orchestra, really--to locations in the surrounding counties. Each of the Friday night concerts is in a different location, while the Sunday afternoon concerts are all at Randolph-Macon College.

"Now I'm suddenly hungry for beef"*

I once worked at an establishment that was next to a McDonalds and across the street from a little Jamaican restaurant. The McDonalds was often so busy at lunch time that what it served was neither fast nor, you might argue, food. On the other hand, I could walk into the Jamaican restaurant and out five minutes later with a veggie or meat pocket and a freshly made pineapple-banana smoothie. The cost was no different than a comparable amount of food at McDonalds. It was probably healthier, although the pockets were made with fried dough... mmmm.

Why were people willing to wait longer at McDonalds? Because they knew what they were getting.

"How do you know what you'll like if you won't even try anything?" asked Father.


Well," said Frances, "there are many different things to eat, and they taste many different ways. But when I have bread and jam I always know what I am getting, and I am always pleased."

Familiarity may breed contempt, but usually it first inspires loyalty. When we're busy, when we have to spend money, when we're tired, we don't want surprises.

Not that orchestras want to be like McDonalds, except, you know, it'd nice to be profitable.

At the first Lollipops concert this year, the Richmond Symphony performed "The Composer is Dead," written in 2006. It was sort of well attended. At the second Lollipops concert, they performed "Peter and the Wolf." The concert hall was nearly full. 

So Frances' parents start feeding her nothing but bread and jam.

"Aren't you worried that maybe I will get sick and all my teeth will fall out from eating so much bread and jam?" asked Frances.

"I don't think that will happen for quite a while," said Mother. "So eat it all up and enjoy it."

(That's my favorite line.) By the end of the book, of course, Frances is eating "cream of tomato soup,... a lobster-salad sandwich on thin slices of white bread... celery, carrot sticks, and black olives, and a little cardboard shaker of salt for the celery. And two plums and a tiny basket of cherries. And vanilla pudding with chocolate sprinkles."

If only it were so simple for orchestras.

The League of American Orchestras recently started a discussion site, where you can spend days reading various thoughts on--to grossly oversimplify-- what's wrong with orchestras and what to do to fix them. It's all very interesting, if not a little discouraging, once the reality sinks in that there is no single right answer.

While it's true that most people crave familiarity--and this applies to both the music and the concert-going experience (for whom is sitting quietly in a darkened hall feeling nervous about when to clap a familiar experience?)--I'm not suggesting that orchestras should only program Mozart or that they must rely on so-called big-name soloists to get attendance figures up. (Gil Shaham? Big name to maybe 7% of the U.S. population. Have some perspective.) I'm not actually suggesting anything, except that it would be foolish to forget the power of familiarity. Knowing what to expect gives a feeling of control to the lunch-eaters and the ticket-buyers--who wants to feel helpless and adrift?

Okay, a little suggestion. Post video clips--as long as is legally allowed, up to 4 or 5 minutes each-- of all the pieces on a program at the beginning of the season or as soon as possible. Show the November clips in the lobby during your October concerts. Put them on YouTube and start forwarding. Those depraved, money-making Hollywood folks may have hit on a good idea with their previews. [UPDATE: Not long after I wrote this, I learned that musicians' union restrictions would prevent such a plan. Somebody else can get into union territory... not me.]

*The title of this post is a quote from local Fox News anchor Ryan Nobles, who was the MC for the Richmond Symphony's "Celebrity Maestro" concert in May, after Susan Greenbaum conducted "Hoe Down" from Copland's "Rodeo."  (Watch the first 15 seconds of the linked video--the woman who exclaims, "Yes! It is the beef song!" sounds so happy to be alive.)

Organ-ization

My review of Saturday's Masterworks concert ran in Monday's Times-Dispatch. To be honest, it was not a concert I looked forward to. "Chorus" and "organ" just aren't appealing words to me on a beautiful May evening. But as I listened to the opening work, "Rainbow Body," (which uses neither chorus nor organ), I could feel the day's tension leaving my  body; when "Gesang der Parzen" began, I thought, "Oh, that's right, I like Brahms!" And by the time the organ began playing in the Saint-Saens, I was completely relaxed and happy.

Mr. Van Pelt (see the comments below the review on the RTD site) contacted me personally to make sure I understood the location of the organ's pipes, which is pretty much directly behind the loudspeakers in the Carpenter Theater, hidden behind paneling, as pipes sometimes are. His correction clears up my confusion, and I was able to get more fascinating information from him about the Carpenter's organ-- for one thing, it's apparently made from parts of the organ that was originally in the building in the late 1920s.

I'm happy enough to blame Saint-Saens for writing an organ into an orchestral work; I think organs are best left to their own devices, of which they have many-- sort of the point, no? And I'm not going to spend the next 25 years grousing about the acoustics in the Carpenter Theater. It may not be the Schermerhorn, but it's no Dogwood Dell, either. (Plus, I've been to a concert in the Schermerhorn, in the balcony, and it was like watching a very good television. I'm fine with the middle ground between perfect acoustics and extreme intimacy that the Carpenter gives.)

The image, by the way, is of the only organ I've ever truly, truly appreciated. It's 25 years old this year and is installed in the chapel of Bethel College in North Newton, Kansas.

People who are far more dedicated writers than I am

I filed this story on journaling with this sidebar in response to an assignment. It ran on the cover of the Flair section in the Sunday, March 21, Richmond Times-Dispatch, which is why there aren't any men in the article.

I had a hard time finding a locally owned bookstore that sells journals, but discovered that Precious Memories on Idlewood Avenue both sells blank books and conducts journaling workshops. The shop is currently only open by appointment or for workshops (of various kinds) and I still haven't visited in person. I had seen signs for it, coming off the Downtown Expressway near the Kickers stadium, and had been curious about it despite the saccharine name.

I'm glad I called. It was an inspiring encounter with a woman who seems to be making her own way in the world, doing what she loves outside traditional models of success.

Before I made the call, however, I had asked the owner of another local bookshop--one not even a mile away--if she knew whether Precious Memories sold blank books. She had not heard of the store. This surprised me, and I was left to speculate why.