"It's Full Moon next week, isn't it?" said my coworker.
"Dear God," I thought. "All I need now is Mercury going retrograde." (Though this article puts that in a very positive light.)
In an effort to inspire some sweetness, gentleness, compassion, generosity, order, introspection and thoughtfulness --amongst other things-- in the world (well: my life, at least), I present this performance of JS Bach's 3 part invention in g minor, (BWV 797). Robert Hill plays it on the fortepiano.
Part 1
Thank you to everyone who sent ideas about getting a gadget, either in posts or emails. Your thoughts were very useful in my getting clear about how much technology I want. After much consideration I've bought an i-Pod "Nano" (16 GB) which should hold a few Beethoven symphonies, a couple of Bach canatas, some chamber music by Telemann, some gospel tunes, a bit of folk music, etc.
I've downloaded and installed the i-Tunes thingie and am staring at the interface to determine how to get it to talk with the Nano. I must be missing something really obvious. Where is a teen-ager when you need one?
Really, though, thank you for your thoughts. I came very close to getting an i-Phone, but in the end decided that I simply wouldn't use the functionalities it offers.
Part 2
This is a fabulous performance of Maurizio Cazzati's "Ciaconne". There are a few videos of this on YooToob: the piece is played by groups of various sizes, at various speeds, and are of different lengths. This version is stripped down in length and number of performers (2 violins, harpsichord, theorbo), and it is a beautifully restrained and elegant performance.
Part 3
Very busy at work; life is throwing some curveballs. Not inspired to spin or knit. Not sure when I will next post.
Over and Out.
Richard’s post about a nifty I-Phone application reminded me of the recent conversation I had with K. about acquiring some technology.
A conversation between me and my nephew about getting a Mac has been documented here, and there have also been ongoing discussions about my getting a cell phone. (Actually, I think everyone in the family is tired of the discussions about that one.) Every so often I make noises about a portable music-player-thingy that I can plug into my car’s sound system as well as using with earphones or earbuds or whatever they’re called.
And then there’s my desire for a GPS which will interface with googlemaps, so I can plan my route and download it to the GPS, rather than the GPS trying to put me on every toll road on the continent when there’s a perfectly good no-toll road providing a more direct route to the destination just a little further along the way.
“I-Phone,” my nephew said. “Get an I-Phone. It does it all. It will take pictures: you can throw away that digital camera that you can’t figure out how to use. Then you can instantly upload the picture to your Flickr account. You can search the web. You can have googlemaps open and running while you’re driving the car; you won’t need a GPS. You can read your email. You can text people. You can use it like a “portable music-player-thingy’. It will do it all. There are all kinds of applications to do everything. There’s probably even an application to run a knitting machine, if you have one. By the way, have you bought a Mac yet?”
(I don’t. I haven’t.)
The I-Phone sounds great, except for a few things. I’d considered dumping my landline and using only a cell-phone. But I have maybe 4 phone calls in and out of my home on a weekly basis. Maybe 4; likely fewer. One of those calls will be long-distance to the USA. Canadian readers with cell phones have already seen the issue here: this is going to cost money because of the way the plans work. Further, I really don’t want to have a phone in my pocket, because there are plenty of times when I just don’t want to talk to people (having done it all day at work). Yes, I could simply turn it off, but then why have one? Why have a cell phone to be accessible and then turn it off so you're not accessible. (Unless you're in a concert or church service or class or some situation where you --and everyone around you-- shouldn't be interrupted.)
A cell phone would be convenient if I’m in downtown Toronto and need to call my dinner companion to see if I’m really in the right restaurant or am I in the wrong one or did I get the time and date wrong. Or if my car breaks down on the highway and I need to call CAA for a tow. Or when I'm in the grocery store and need to call Mom and ask her to clarify: "Did you want the low pulp, no pulp or regular pulp orange juice, in low acid or regular, with or without added vitamin C and/or calcium?" But I’m not in Toronto very often, and if my car is going to break down on the highway it will likely be in the USA, so I’d be paying roaming charges and so on, if I can figure out which plan I need that will give me service in the USA.
Mom writes very detailed shopping lists. On paper.
I am not convinced that I want to be able to access email, or send text messages, from anywhere in the world at any time of day. Sometimes, I think, it is useful and important to get away from that immediacy communication.
It sounds like the I-Phone would be supplying me with functionality that I'm not interested in having in the first place. And I think I would be paying a lot of money for that functionality.
So what do I want the I-Gadget to do for me?
So, Dear Readers, if you wanted a gadget to do those things, what would you buy? And what am I not considering that I should be thinking about?
So here’s my redux of the Men’s Spring Knitting Retreat. I’d like to say I took ooodles of photos, but I didn’t.
I started by driving down to Alan’s place near Niagara Falls after work last Tuesday, and we left Canada early Wednesday morning, smoothly crossing into the USA at Buffalo. The drive to Easton Mountain was uneventful. I love the landscape around Herkimer; Alan remembered the Beechnut factory. We arrived mid-afternoon (I think) and spent the balance of the afternoon knitting on the lodge’s veranda. It was a warm, bright, breezy day; a real contrast to the balance of the weekend when it was generally cool with lots and lots of rain. Jeff, from Florida, had also arrived a day early, and it was great to get caught up and look at what he was knitting. Last year he was a true Knewbie Knitter; this year he was barreling along on a baby blanket made from mitred squares. (Excellent craftsmanship.) After dinner on Wednesday, Scott and Dave (who live at Easton Mountain), and Jeff, Alan and I made a stop at the local ice cream stand (“Strawberry Daiquiri” flavour is highly recommended, and watch out for the portion sizes: they’re ginormous) and then headed up to the coffee shop in Saratoga Springs to knit.
Thursday morning, Joe arrived (surprisingly early) and we did some set up for the event. We packed the participants’ knitting bags, and set aside some of the wonderful donated items to be given as gifts to the guys who taught classes. In late morning, Dave headed to the airport to pick up a few of our group, and then we met at the local Turkish restaurant for lunch. Scott took Kyle, Chuck and me to the yarn store in Saratoga Springs, and then back to Easton Mountain where the majority of the group had arrived.
At this point, it all pretty much becomes a blur of laughing, learning, knitting, crocheting, eating, sharing stories, late nights and early mornings, more laughing, more eating, more knitting and crocheting, and show’n’tell (some spectacular lace from Joe, Chris and Alastair). It was wonderful, truly, to see familiar faces from last year’s 2 retreats: Chris, Kenny, John, Bob, Kyle, Chuck, Jeff, Sean, Josh, Thad, Michael, Tom, Paul, Guido, Stephen, Steve -- I know I’ve missed some of you. (We had 6 guys who’d look up when you called the name “Steve” or “Steven” or “Stephen”). We welcomed some first-timers: Daniel, Lars, Stephen, Gary (fabulous weaving), John, Joseph, Matthew (who presented me with early birthday gifts from himself and Kate), Peter from OZ, Solomon from Mexico, Juan, Mark – who have I missed?
It was different to last year’s Spring retreat, but of course it would have to be. Same lovely space to gather; same relaxed pace; but we were a different group of people in a different time. Everyone, I think – I hope – had a really good time.
Post-lunch on Sunday, the majority of the crew packed up to return home, leaving Alan, Peter, Bob and me. I dashed out to the local garden centre with Leo, who tends the gardens at Easton Mountain, to pick up some annuals and a couple of shrubs. Supper was with the residents who live at Easton Mountain, then a trip to the coffee shop in Saratoga Springs for knitting and conversation.
Alan and I headed out Monday morning on our trip home, arriving at his place in time for supper. I fell into bed and, yesterday (Tuesday), after a leisurely breakfast, started the drive home. A short stop for lunch with K in Guelph, and then a shorter stop to see Buffy at Shelridge Farm and deliver the lace scarf I knit.
I like to say, because I think it’s true, that while Joe and I handle the administration and planning of the event and generally steer things day-to-day, it’s the participants who make the event a success. It’s their willingness to come together and share, to laugh, to be respectful, to go with the flow, etc. Many thanks to all the guys who attended this year for their part in making the retreat a good time.
While I’m extending gratitude, a huge thank-you goes to our sponsoring businesses that donated items we used as thank-you gifts to the guys who lead workshops or that were given as prizes in the opening night ice-breaker activity. These businesses are, in no particular order,
Kristin Spurkland and Ten Speed Press
Straw Into Gold / Crystal Palace
We’ll see you next year!
Alert the media: I've knitted something.
A coupla months ago, Buffy Taylor of Shelridge Farm asked me if I'd work this design for her to have as a shop model, as the design calls for her laceweight yarn.
I read through the pattern and immediately found a couple of things I'd do differently. However, as this is a shop model, I chose to follow the pattern (almost exactly) as written.
(Sorry for the poor pictures: I couldn't find good light for the photos. I'm on a really tight schedule today as I'm scrambling to get things done so I can get on the road on Tuesday immediately after work to get to the Men's Spring Knitting Retreat. BTW, this scarf will be part of my show-n-tell.)
The design is simplicity itself, and honestly, the centre pattern is one of those that relies on the most basic elements. A chevron enhanced with a couple of nupps. This is well within the skills of the novice laceknitter, and a knitter with a good understanding of basic technique will have no problems with it.
I do, however, have a couple of cautionary comments. Firstly, Nancy has you slip the first stitch of each row, which mean that this stitch has to span 2 rows in a garment that will be severe stretched in dressing. You have to work this stitch (and, likely, the one beside it) very loosely, because if it is not long enough, the edge will bind and you won't be able to dress the scarf properly. Work a sample, pin it out, wet it and let dry: I was surprised by just how loose and long that stitch had to be.
If you usually think "Samples: oh pish, who gives a rat's ass..." this is one case where the sampling is a really, really good idea.
Secondly, I think the scarf would benefit from being worked at a closer gauge. (And I think that about a couple of the other projects in the book, as well.) The fabric feels a bit flimsy, and it "clings" rather than draping. Maybe this is the way traditional Estonian lace fabrics perform, and if so, I'd break with tradition. I'd be interested to see how it performs in wear.
All in all, a really nice project. Didn't find any errors in the instructions or charts. But, consider my 2 comments, and work and dress some samples so you know what you're dealing with. One skein of yarn for some good knitting. Highly recommended.
To Recap
Pattern: “Triinu Scarf" from Nancy Bush's Knitted Lace of Estonia (Interweave, and available lots of places)
Yarn: Shelridge Farm "Soft Touch Lace" 1 skein. Colour is "Rust", same as used in the book. I had about a dozen yards remaining. (The yarn retails for about $11 CDN.)
In Other News
I've done some spinning. 2 ply laceweight yarn. The skein weighs between 38 and 40 grams. (I've weighed it 4 times, and it keeps changing.) It is 48 inches in circumference, and I've counted out the number of threads in the round and put them into groups of 50. (I'm sure there's some correct terminology for a round in a skein. Anybody?) Counting it all off and doing the arithmetic tells me there are 20061 inches, or about 557 yards.
I think it could use more twist.
Hand combed merino locks; singles spun on a high whorl spindle and wound off onto felt balls. These were wound doubled on to another ball, and then plied from that using my wheel.
That's it for now. Next post will be after the knitting retreat.
This year I will be 50 years old.
Perhaps I spend a bit too much time thinking “So: when are you going to get it together and actually do something with your life? When are you going to have some kind of meaningful impact on someone’s life, or really help someone with something, or make some kind of meaningful contribution somewhere along the line?”. I believe there’s a Jewish saying that goes somewhere along the lines of how you don’t actually contribute anything to the world until you’re 50, because up until that point you don’t have enough maturity or know enough. I get some hope from that idea. (A lot of "some" in that paragraph.)
Frankly, somedays I marvel that I’ve even made it this far.
Given that I barely notice birthdays at all, it’s odd, I think, that I’m considering marking this one somehow. Assuming I still have a job (read: sufficient disposable income) in a few months, there are some things I might do.
1) Go to SOAR. Though in all honesty, I think it would be prohibitively expensive for me. And I don’t spin well enough.
2) Take Abby Franquemont’s class on Andean backstrap weaving at Beth’s shop. (Maybe I could get a spindle-spinning lesson from Abby while we’re both there?) Except that it’s in July, which will be smack in the middle of busy season at work. (That’s assuming I have a job.) I’m sure the class would be excellent, and backstrap weaving is something I was interested in many, many years ago. But in the middle of busy season, I don’t think I could focus on it.
3) Go on a cruise. I don’t enjoy hot weather, so the tropics are out. Last year my sister and her daughter did Vancouver to Alaska, and enjoyed it immensely. They got off the boat at each port stop, and did things like visiting a dog-mushing camp, and snorkeling in the Pacific Ocean.
I’d need someone to share a cabin with.
Then I started thinking that I’d have to get across the country to Vancouver and the flight would cost as much as the cruise, and I wondered if there were cruises a bit closer. Holland America has one from Boston to Montreal (or vice versa), which I think would be quite lovely, and the end ports are (considerably) closer than Vancouver. Apparently, with the sad state of the economy, cruises are practically being given away, so if you want a cruise, this is the time to go. (Except that I noticed the Boston-Montreal run jumped $500CDN last week.)
And then I started thinking, so what if a group of us went? Surely I could find someone to share a cabin with. Maybe we could get a group rate? What if it was a group of spinners/knitters, but we didn’t run it as “Knitting at Sea”? We’d gather as a group to do some of that each day, yes, but we’d also do other things...just so we weren’t –as a group- spending 9 hours a day sitting and knitting. That way we could learn about each other, share other common interests, enjoy the companionship. What would that be like? I mean, if people really wanted to sit on the deck with knitting and a martini and watch the scenery go by, well, yes, they could choose to do that. But the point would be to do other things, find other common interests, share ideas, have conversations. Get away from cell phones and computers and email and just hang out.
I’ve mentioned it to a few people, but nobody has bitten at the idea.
4) Spend a few days at a B&B, after Rhinebeck. I expect I’ll get to the New York Sheep and Wool Festival again this year to see Joe and Mar and Carol and Mel and David and whoever else gets there. I was hunting around for something online and found the Frog Meadow B&B near Newfane Vermont, and thought “If you're at Rhinebeck you’re 3/4 of the way there, so why not just hop over for a couple of days. There’s got to be something fibery to do in the area. Green Mountain Spinnery (which sends yarn for the Men’s Spring Knitting Retreat) can’t be that far away. SpiderChick is over there somewhere. Chris is in Vermont, somewhere. Surely we could meet up?”
Dave and Scott have a beautiful place, judging by the pictures. While Frog Meadow looks like it might be more welcoming to jocky, sporty types than a sedentary knitter, perhaps, if the apples are on the trees in October, I could simply sit and knit and take in the smell. I love the winey smell of ripe apples. They have a hot tub. Dave is a licenced massage therapist, and if I survive the busy season at work, a thoughtful, skilled massage would be a very good idea, indeed.
5) Go to NYC for a couple of days. Also likely post-Rhinebeck. Except I don’t want to be alone in NYC, and everyone I know there has a day job.
What would you do to mark your 50th birthday?
(Next post will be knitting-related. I promise.)
The final duet from the opera "L'incoronazione di Poppea", which was either written or compiled by Claudio Monteverdi. Emperor Nero and his mistress Poppea sing a love duet at the end of an opera filled with intrigue, bloodshed, deception, jealousy, plotting and scheming, love lost, love found, etc., etc. (Opera plots didn't change much in 300 years or so.)
An exquisitely intimate performance.
Well, "Paradise and Hell". I was was hunting around yootoob earlier this week, and found this Chiacona, which carries a dialog between a citizen of Paradise and 2 from Hell. This is Holy Week, for Christians, so somehow it seems appropriate.
So, a chiacona -- or a chaconne or a ciaconne; different spelling depending which country you lived in -- is a set of variations on a harmonic progression or a set of variations on recurring theme in the bass. In this case, it's both. If you listen carefully, you'll hear the bass theme repeated over and over -- 6 times in each verse. And you'll hear it 9 times in the first 30 seconds, before anyone starts singing.
"Paradiso" is sung by counter-tenor Philippe Jaroussky. "Inferno" is sung by the pair of bass-baritones. Notice how the voice of Paradiso is accompanied only by the plucked strings: the 2 theorbos and the lute. There's a lovely, transparent, gentle sound, and Jaroussky's voice simply floats along above the band. When Inferno is singing, the orchestration fills out: the harpsichord, hammered dulcimer and drum are added, so there's a thicker, heavier, more complex sound: the voices seem to be embedded within the band. It's a wonderful affect created by use of the instruments.
The band is "Arpeggiata", led by the Christina Pluhar. (She's the red-headed theorbo player with the big smile.) Lyrics were copied from scores, found here.
Paradiso:
O che bel stare è stare in Paradiso
Dove si vive sempre in fest'e riso
Vedendosi di Dio svelato il viso
O che bel stare è star in Paradiso.
O che bel stare è star in Paradiso.
O how lovely to be in Paradise, where we live in constant laughter and merriment,
under the eye of God; how lovely to be in Paradise.
Inferno:
Ohimè che orribil star qui nell'inferno
Ove si vive in pianto e foco eterno
Senza veder mai Dio in sempiterno
Ahi, ahi, che orribil star giù nell'inferno.
Ahi, ahi, che orribil star giù nell'inferno.
Alas, how horrible it is to be in Hell! where we live in tears and everlasting fire,
without ever seeing God; ay! how horrible to be in Hell.
Paradiso:
Là non vi regna giel, vento, calore,
Che il tempo è temperato a tutte l'hore
Pioggia non v'è, tempesta, nè baleno,
Che il Ciel là sempre si vede sereno.
Che il Ciel là sempre si vede sereno.
Here there is never cold, wind or heat, but always temperate weather, nor is there rain, storm or lightning,
for Heaven is always calm; how lovely to be in Paradise.
Inferno:
Il fuoco e 'l ghiaccio là, o che stupore
Le brine, le tempeste, e il sommo ardore
Stanno in un loco tute l'intemperie
Si radunan laggiù, o che miserie.
Si radunan laggiù, o che miserie.
The fire and ice here, o great wonder! the brine, the storms, and the great burning all in one place,
gathered here below; how horrible to be in Hell.
Paradiso:
Havrai insomma là quanto vorrai
E quanto non vorrai non haverai
E questo è quanto, o Musa, posso dire
Però fa pausa il canto e fin l'ardire.
Però fa pausa il canto e fin l'ardire.
Words cannot describe the pleasing sound that every instrument makes up there, our citterns and sweet organs
join with the shepherds' pipes: how lovely to be in Paradise.
Inferno:
Quel ch'aborrisce qua, là tutto havrai
Quel te diletta e piace mai havrai
E pieno d'ogni male tu sarai
Disperato d'uscirne mai, mai, mai!
Disperato d'uscirne mai, mai, mai!
The noise of chains and cauldrons, of swords and knives and hatchets, sound in infernal concert down there,
which strikes horrendous fear into your heart; ay! how horrible to be in Hell.
Paradiso:
O che bel stare è star in Paradiso
Dove si vive sempr'in fest'e riso
Vedendosi di Dio svelato il viso
O che bel stare é stare in Paradiso.
O che bel stare é stare in Paradiso.
O how lovely to be in Paradise, where we live in constant laughter and merriment,
under the eye of God; how lovely to be in Paradise.
This almost has me thinking I should get a cell phone.
But maybe I should warm up to the cell phone by getting a TV or a microwave oven?
Definitely worth a watch.
Thanks to my sister who pointed me to it. She got the link from her daughter-in-law Natalie (opera singer), who got it from her husband (my sis' son), who's jazz piano player Chris Donnelly.
Okay...how did this happen? Perhaps while I was at work. (Or reading blogs, because at the end of the day it's about all I have brainspace for.)
In Other News
While mindlessly roaming through Yootoob one night last week, I found this performance of Antonio Vivaldi's Concerto for 4 Violins in b minor, Opus 10 #3. It one of his better known concerti.
This is really a splendid performance. Many performances on modern instruments miss that this piece is about sonic colour and a driving rhythm. This one is grounded in the concept of the Baroque concerto grosso style, where a group of instrumentalist come together to play together: you're actually only aware of the accompanying orchestra because the texture thickens.
Have a great week. ( Or month.)
