Showing posts with label Wind. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wind. Show all posts

Friday, February 8, 2008

Tularosa Sunrise - Opus 16 - Purity


At one point, the man found himself
Walking against the wind in a suit and tie,
The sand sticking to his socks
And filling his shoes.

Weighted, he approached the water.
Standing still, the tide swirled up
To his ankles before he could run backwards,
To escape capture.

Gasping, he sat down and unlaced
Each shoe and rubbed his toes.
He stood with his hair blowing,
While he undid his pants.

The wind caught his jacket
And blew it into the air as
He drew his arm from the sleeve.
His shirt unraveled.

He pulled down his underwear
And stepped naked onto the hard sand.
Everything he came with went
Bouncing down the beach.

He gathered driftwood in the dunes.
He wedged wood together,
Tucking large under small,
Locking up a framework.

The sun warmed the sand.
The wind lay down with the lamb.
The man crawled naked into the
House and dreamed.

Catalina

© Wavepoint Productions 2008

Cathleen and Chris!

“For is not music a language? And of what is it the language? Is it not the language of the dream world, and the world beyond thought?”
Robertson Davies, The Lyre of Orpheus

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

Tularosa Sunrise - Opus 15 - A Song


Sliding up, rolling back,
the tide licks the sand
swallowing sea dabs
and bleached dollars.

Waves signal
coming folds
spreading out
like skirts opening.

Salted and perfumed
wind gives permission
to dance with abandon
at the crest of swells.

Alone, watching
each advance,
wary, I tiptoe
seeking asylum in a shell.


Catalina

Cathleen and Chris!

©WavePoint Productions 2008

“Songs are sneaky things. They can slip across borders. Proliferate in prisons. Penetrate hard shells…I always believed that the right song at the right moment could change history.”
Pete Seeger

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Lake Minnewaska II


March winds whip
across her slate grey body.
Not a boat afloat or a soul trolling.
Light presses through pinholes in the storm.
Unwelcomed, it shimmers, glances, bounces,
unable to penetrate the stern, icy silence.
The barren lake lies aloof,
shrugging off suitors
with wet shoulders and liquid distain.
No encouragement in her slicing surface,
she slaps the pebbled shoreline.
Icebound, hosting fisherman,
she seems friendlier.
Her virginal white invites extended visits,
she suggests a wedding,
a possible marriage.
Melted, she grows colder.
She distances herself.
She waves frigid fingers, carressing the freezing air.
Thankless, turgid, troubled,
she rocks and heaves.
On the edge,
cautious lovers consider her intentions.


Catalina

Cathleen and Chris

"The painter turns a poem into a painting; the musician sets a picture to music."
Robert Schumann

Friday, May 18, 2007

The Making of Toad Hall


Walking by the bookshelf, at the end of the narrow hall, a small, dog-eared paperback copy of The Wind in the Willows slid forward an inch beyond the other books and announced it was time to read its story. I had tried reading it as a child, but it didn't resonate. I wondered what all the fuss was about. Now, it fairly screamed at me that it was a must read. So I read it. Voila. I was in, in so deep that I couldn't put it down. I kept marveling at the poetry of the words, the magic of the story and the music of its tone. Yes, it was a startling experience to discover a book so full of light that years ago had not been able to penetrate the darkness of my imagination. I mentioned to Chris that I thought The Wind in the Willows would make a great musical, because it was so naturally musical itself. He said, "Sure, Whatever you think". Then like a full moon beaming through the window at night, the story wouldn't allow me to sleep. I stumbled up and out to the studio that was a garage and started the long journey that led to the musical Toad Hall.

At the time, their was a wonderful woman singing in the same church choir. Chris was the Music Director then and she and I struck up a friendship. We talked about working together on a project. I went to her house one day to discuss some possibilities. She asked me if I had any ideas. Immediately, I stated that I wanted to write a musical of The Wind in the Willows. She lit up and said it was one of her most all time favorite stories. We agreed to go forward on the project. I would write the book and lyrics. As an expert in child development, she would explore the education instruction aspect, i.e. music and literacy programs that could stem from the musical, and we were on our way.

We went looking for funding for the idea and came up with sand. Seems we needed something to actually put on the table before anyone would invest. Disappointed, but undaunted, we both agreed to tough it out and go it on our own, squeezing in time to create the show. We met once a week to report our progress. Bravely, and with a good heart, her husband announced that he would partner in with some cash and we could go ahead. He knew Chris' music and I think he wanted to hear more.

For two years I read and reread the book and wrote adaptations with dialogue and lyrics that would honor the author, Kenneth Graham and also create a Wind in the Willows world for the stage. At first, I left everything in knowing at some point it would be whittled down. I wanted to have something to whittle. I did three versions, each one narrowing the storytelling and getting to the essence. In the end it was probably 15 to 20 versions before it was presentable and it's still evolving as we speak. The title alone went through several phases and we ultimately settled on Toad Hall.

Chris was also Director of the Santa Ynez Valley Chorale at the time, so we previewed five of the songs at two different Chorale concerts, at the Solvang Pavilion and the Lobero Theatre, in Santa Barbara respectively. The response was extremely positive. We were convinced that there was something there. Meanwhile, a company in LA was convinced too, but there was a long road ahead to get it up as a full stage production.

Finally, in 2005 we did the show in the Santa Ynez Valley. We had a great mix of professional and amateur theatre personnel and fundraising that allowed a modest full stage production running for six nights at the Little Theatre in Santa Ynez. Playing to enthusiastic audiences over the course of the run, we celebrated a successful first production.

Now, it was time to get more serious. So much had gone into the project over the years, we had to go forward. We headed to LA and made a fully professional recording to take the show to the next level.

Making a musical is like brewing coffee in slow motion. Each dripping drop adds to the whole and finally you have a pot of fresh coffee. If it's too strong you can add water or milk. If it's weak, you can throw it out and start over. If it's just right you can share it with guests.

As a Cd, we think Toad Hall is just right, so we're sharing it with you. Meanwhile, another pot is brewing and we'll tell you when it's ready to serve. Toad Hall is as alive as the river and the four friends Toad, Rat, Mole and Badger. Making a musical is not for the faint of heart, it's a wild ride.

Ciao!

Cathleen and Chris!

"The painter turns a poem into a painting; the musician sets a picture to music."
Robert Schumann