I'm idly practicing my violin in the living room, checking the window for my student, who has yet to arrive. Checking the cleanliness of that shift. Checking the accuracy of the string crossing. Checking the window again. While pacing to and from the window, as an ever-enlarging question mark hovers over my head concerning the no-show student, a sudden random thought pops into my mind:
"High-strung". That phrase, did its meaning originate specifically in reference to violinists? I wonder. The double meaning, I reluctantly agree with a chuckle, seems hand tailored.
I check the window.
Each year, out community puts on a recital to benefit the Kenai Peninsula Orchestra. I'm pleased to announce that this year's concert will be held on Saturday, October 6th, at 7:00. In it will be a wide variety of musicians from the area, playing in various ensembles. I will be playing Mozart's Sonata in E minor with Maria Allison, and I hope if any of you are able, you'll stop by for an enjoyable evening. All proceeds are to be donated to the community orchestra.
See you there!
A portrait of my dog, Ben.
So many times I have thought of beginning something in here, of materializing my thoughts into cohesive words, but they won't come.
I cannot write.
It's not that I have nothing to say. It's as though the governing current has slipped steadily through small holes, its energy channeled down into another stream of communication for the time being.
I do have another color pencil drawing entering the final touch-up stage. I'm very excited about its completion, as it's been swallowing me up for two weeks now. Each new picture swallows me up by about thousand words, I think.
I've two more weeks until the art show. Two more weeks of leaving the headlights on, of forgetting the bills, of late night pacing monologues. Then Musician Emily will replace Artist Emily, just in time for the symphony's upcoming performance of Carmina Burana. (Of course, who's to say Musician Emily doesn't forget her headlights, too?)
I'm in love.
Check out track #4
My favorite part was the little mandolin strum right in the pause. Great little fiddle tune. Oh, and the Black and White Rag on this cd is just great, too.
Thanks, mom and dad, for finding this for me. I knew you'd remember it!
That recording I fussed about is now happily in the original blog entry, if anyone still wants to hear my own rendition. It's pretty close.
(I'd appreciate if anyone could help me figure out why I can't attach an audio file to the previous entry? It's in mp3 format, will that not work? Meanwhile, I'm going to go get some coffee and wake up a little.)
We took a ferry over to Cordova and saw swans and calving glaciers.
We also drove across the Bridge to Nowhere, which turned out to be a misnomer because apparently leads to a boat ramp on the other side.
My dad and George designed and built a new pigeon coop, and my mom and I painted it red and white.
They also bought me a gorgeous 1920's style sequined black recital dress, which I will share with you later.
And now I have the week off all by myself while George hunts for caribou up on the north slope with a bow and arrow and a couple of friends. I have all the time I want now, to draw and hike and play music. And not be lonely (so I tell myself).
I picked up my instrument for the first time since its repair from the bridge accident last week, and a lovely little waltz popped out of it, one that I remember hearing when I was young. It's funny, I'd never played it before, but the notes seemed so fresh, and fit the mood just right. So here's a waltz for my parents, who might still have that old tape somewhere, with the name of the waltz on it and the name of the old fiddler who played it. I can't seem to remember, myself.
Enter to win Leonidas Kavakos' recording of the Brahms Violin Concerto.
Emily Grossman is from Soldotna, Alaska. Biography
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