Revival

It's a cliche, I know-but, in order to really appreciate something it is okay to walk away and gather one's thoughts. So was the case with this blog. I got in too deep, my feelings hurt, my soul-a little scarred. I was so involved in the plight facing the American Indian, my Middle Eastern friends fleeing to Chicago for asylum, traveling to South Africa, and my own struggles with cancer and growing into adulthood; that I needed space. Have you ever felt annoyed with yourself? Have you every found yourself saying yes to every project, every invite, every performance, etc. to just distract yourself from yourself?

If so, then you know how I felt. The energy it took for me to find the motivation to talk about things both good and bad when I felt like hell inside was too much. I threw myself into my projects, work, and charitable endeavors. But, it was one defining moment-too horrible but, too great in impact to ignore-that woke me up. In November, I was held up at gunpoint while unloading groceries from my car. I nearly lost my life over a cell phone and pocket change. By the grace of God and knowing how to keep calm (I come from a long line of police men and women) I made it out however, NOT unscathed.

A couple of months later we are told the state is going bankrupt, my educational institution that provided me with such healing and wisdom may not re-open, and the violence in the city has become astronomical, and the presidential race for 2016 becomes a damn joke. It was the final straw. Then, I receive the call that my work on camera is well received and I was asked to revive this blog as my point of view is considered "unique." That last part makes me laugh. Isn't everyone's point of view unique? But, for some reason there is an audience out there listening so, I will write. I will continue to interview and I will continue to draw attention to the incredible people that cross my path no matter how well or unwell it is received.

So, there you have it. No trumpets or parade tape. No tented parties in the heat of the summer singing to Jesus. This is a revival of a different kind. It will continue as humbly as it began. Stay tuned for the next podcast. My next guest will be announced shortly. As always, thank you for listening.

-W-

Exhibition(ist)

I woke up at 4:45 Saturday morning with a pounding migraine in my head and extreme nausea in my stomach. Spending most of the day in bed, I managed to drag myself to the studio to record the music for Rhinoceros and attend a friend's daughter's sixteenth birthday party. At the end of the evening, I was just wrecked and my migraine returned along with the nausea. I found myself calling in sick, something I rarely do-especially if I have to conduct (one of my favorite things to do).

So, I had a free Sunday afternoon for a change. After the migraine and nausea subsided, I felt restless and had to move. That's when the Galician suggested we check out a new exhibit at the Chicago Cultural Center of a collection by the esteemed former art dealer Richard Harris, called Morbid Curiosity. I had seen many articles and press about the exhibit and was, excuse the awful pun.....dying to see the exhibit. See, his collection features works from Europe, Mexico, the United States, and Latin America, showcasing perception of death and the macabre from each of these areas of the world. Which, one assumes would be naturally morbid-true to its title-but maybe, even a bit gruesome. It was anything but. Yes, some works were unavoidably a bit gross-death can be violent and messy at times, but most of the works were spooky, clever, thought provoking, and just plain gorgeous.

Some of my favorites included a work from Swiss artist Roger Reutimann, entitled Death of Venus. Which, is a mixed medium red sculpture capturing the endearing and beautiful feminine figure of the goddess Venus, with her head replaced with a shrouded skull. Truly ingenious. Another favorite of mine was a bronze sculpture by Leonard Baskin called Death Satiated and Exhausted. Which, true to its name, was a hunched over, glutted and bloated form of the Angel of Death, it's famous plume of dark wings falling weakened, from the shoulders to the ground.

The collection ranged on in a collection of skulls, human figures (real and faux), paintings, collections of poetry, odds and end pieces, jewelry, graphic design, and so much more. Intrigued to see a sign pointing towards a special work by none other than the legendary Goya, I found myself in a side gallery-the end of the tour. Arguably the show piece of the entire exhibit lay at the far end of the gallery. A work by the trio of Argentinian artists Guerra De La Paz, and their incredible work Tribute, a gigantic structure composed of thousands of pieces of clothing ranging the spectrum of the rainbow.

It was in this gallery that I noticed a smartly dressed fellow browsing the works. He had a short greying beard and looked completely enthralled by the exhibit. I don't know why he caught my attention, but I remember thinking to myself at one point that he must be a professor. I decided to make my way to the lobby to take a look at some other objects from the exhibit, when the Galician came and excitedly dragged me back into the gallery. "It's Richard Harris, the Exhibitor," he said in his lovely accent. As I looked in the direction where he was pointing, my gaze fell upon the very same man I had noticed before. My first reaction was, it couldn't be him as for some reason I thought he looked different on television. But, the Galician insisted and pointed to his picture in the brochure. It was Richard Harris! Just as a huge grin spread across my face, Mr. Harris turned and looked in our direction and walked over to us.

He asked us how we liked the exhibit and both of us gushed about how wonderful we thought his collection was and how much of an honor is was to meet him. Now, I know for some of you, you're thinking...what's the big deal? It's not like he's Brad Pitt or something. Trust me, I've met plenty of celebrities and famous people from all walks of life in my short life and they are truly no big deal. They are just like any of us, but receive by far more attention for their talents and achievements. Meeting Richard Harris invoked the same feeling I felt when I first stepped into a Frank Lloyd Wright House/Museum that I happen to live close to. To be in the presence of true art, brought to you by someone who understands art and the artist is a special gift. For Richard Harris to bring Chicago his incredible collection is an honor in itself, and is a welcomed relief from all of the pomp and circumstance, and the celebrity crap mentioned in last week's blog that one is barraged with when turning on the television set or logs onto the internet.

So, check him out sometime and his thought-provoking exhibit. He has a blog too, which I think many will find interesting. I think you can sense the theme of my blogs this season will revolve around art. The reason being, I want to share stories about happiness and I believe art can invoke happiness, which in today's world is an art form in and of itself.

Blessings,

Jenne

Rhinoceros

Well, it has been quite sometime since my last blog. I ended up taking a far lengthier break from writing than expected, due to a very hectic end to 2011 and beginning of 2012! I experienced a professional and creative success that was not anticipated and it really did demand all of my time and energy. How funny is it that being creative in one aspect can actually stifle creativity in another?

Nonetheless, our project Shishonnah with its debut album released in November, has really picked up momentum. Our performances in March were very successful and we have already started production on the second album along with many other projects which will be announced soon! So, after all of the craziness of the New Year and March Madness, I found myself overlooking Lake Michigan at sunset in Chicago, instantly inspired to write. I was attending a rehearsal for a small theater company that I compose music for. They are putting on a production of Rhinoceros-a comedy and social commentary of sorts about people who abruptly morph into rhinoceroses and take over the town. Now, it is a lot more involved than that and the play has many moments of hilarity and irony. Not to mention this particular production is well cast which adds to the amusement. But, the intended theme to take away from the performance is that rhinoceroses, or anyone in fact who is discriminated against merely because of their physical appearance, can in actuality, be beautiful.

A nice thought, huh? Maybe a bit too Kumbayah for some of you, but definitely a creative way of conveying a sometimes cliched social observation. Especially, in our current cultural climate where we are inundated with news surrounding celebrity gossip and scandal, current beauty trends, recent non FDA approved weight loss drugs, the latest in plastic surgery, The Real Housewives of Timbuktu, and all sorts of nonsense. Now, this blog is not meant to be a social commentary of sorts-are you sensing the irony?-but merely a creative commentary on an old world in a new century.

My mentor's wife spoke about artists in an interesting way once, when we were having dinner. She said, "Artists are not happy with the world around them, so in order to fulfill a need to re-create the world, they creating works of art, thus creating their own world."  As one who prides herself as an artist, I had never thought of the act of being creative in those terms. She had an interesting point of view and one that took me only until last night at a rehearsal above the great lake to realize what she was really saying. Are all artists trying to re-create the world? Are writers, photographers, singers, dancers, actors, designers, producers, and the like trying to re-create the world? And, if so-if there are really millions of creative and hopefully talented and intelligent individuals out there trying to re-create the world; well, then why is the world full of so much....crap?

And, I'm not talking about just the obvious crap of war, hate, poverty, genocide, etc., but the creative crap-the amateur in nature. Why does the run-of-the mill and the status quo dominate the airwaves and pre-occupy the minds of billions of teenagers, adolescents, and adults alike all over the world? When did crap become more desired than art? The answer is...since the dawn of time! Since art began. But, that is a whole other conversation entirely and this is not meant to be a political or overtly philosophical blog as I formerly mentioned.  I just couldn't help but think this way last night as I watched this hilarious play and started composing the music for it.

The Rhinoceros......considered by most to be aesthetically, one of nature's ugliest animals. Maybe, in the minds of some-say, in comparison to the peacock-crap? Perhaps, we need to take a closer look at this animal. Maybe, just like the author of of Rhinoceros, we can look deeper behind the mere aesthetics and see what's really there. A tough, courageous animal that lives in the most beautiful and rough terrain in the world. An artist would. Picasso in fact, would probably paint it its dimensions in cubes, stripes, inversions, and turn it into something that wouldn't even resemble a rhinoceros anymore.

Maybe, we could do that to the real crap out there. Invert it, change it's dimensions and turn it into a work of art. That's all us artists are trying to do anyway...right? What if we could go a step further? Maybe invert one another-humanity. What could we create then? The Hopi of the North American Plains believe that the world re-creates itself. In fact, they believe that it has re-created itself five times and that we are currently in the Fifth World.  I wonder how much the Rhino has changed during all five worlds. Regardless, it makes me think and makes me want to create. It's going to be beautiful weather this weekend and I know exactly which exhibit I'm visiting first at the zoo!

Blessings,

Jenne

WindTalker Radio Episode 2 - Interview with Gary Whitedeer and Peadar J. McCarthy

This week, we have a video podcast interview from Chicago to Ireland.  Jenne and Roland talk with film maker Peadar J. McCarthy and Professor and artist Gary Whitedeer.

WindTalker Radio - Episode 1 Part 2

Here is part 2 of episode 1 of WindTalker Radio!  Jenne continues her interview with Shadi about her experiences moving from Iran to America and becoming a doctor.


Just click the link above - "WindTalker Radio Episode 1 Part 2" to listen to part one of the interview.


We'd love to have your comments in the box below!

Under The Big Sky

Today I am writing to you from one of my childhood homes Montana, Big Sky Country. After 3 days of driving endlessly through state after state stopping only for provisions, I was relieved to find myself taking a much needed run after dinner. I have suffered an awful case of insomnia for several years now and I feel that a run before bed can help the sleeping process. As I ran out onto Main street, breathing in the fresh mountain air, basking in the sheer beauty and confident silence of this space, I found myself almost colliding with a rush of brown mass. Nearly knocked to my feet, I stumbled a bit catching my balance long enough to realize that I had nearly been run over by heard of 9 elk! I stopped for a little bit to watch them graze on the grass nearby and to catch my breath, when all of the neighbors came outside to join me on the road to watch. After a few moments, I decided to carry on with my run, when out of a patch of tall trees to my right, came two young elk, their antlers barely reaching the tips of their ears and still coated with fur. Less than a yard away, they stared directly at me. The largest of the two was gently chewing on grass and his huge brown eyes staring straight into mine, unwavering. I froze in place and stood in a stupor staring back at the gorgeous creature for what felt like an eternity. My heart began to beat faster the longer he didn't move and I found myself becoming a little unnerved. Almost, as if it had been a human looking back at me. When I finally moved I took a step back without realizing. This scared the smaller, younger elk at his side and he began to move away from me in the other direction. I am positive he sensed my apprehension and mistook my surprise as fear. But, the larger of the two stared on and moved a couple of paces closer. Positive I could reach out and touch him, it took all of my restraint in the world not to. It wasn't the fear of being bitten or charged (a normal city folk fear), that stopped me, it was the fear of disrespecting his space, his peace. If his companion was that afraid of me, how would my touch affect him? I decided not to find out. I started to run again, the taller elk never moving his gaze from me. I ran for almost a mile until I could no longer see him, when I happened upon a bridge overlooking the yellowstone river. Wishing desperately to be rafting on those rapids, I looked up into the sky, meeting the most beautiful image my eyes have set gaze on in many years. The sun was setting in the West, just behind the peak of the great mountains etching the skyline. The confident silence I mentioned before fell upon me like a ton of bricks. I stopped in the middle of the bridge to bask in the sight, my ears listening as the soft wind began to talk. Almost, like a child's whisper. As I stared up at the firey hues disappearing into the mountains, I realized that there was nowhere else on earth I was meant to be at that moment. Alone, staring over the roaring river rapids, staring off into the West, breathing easy at the sight of Creator's great work. It was so simple and so needed. Complete and utter peace. I ran back to my lodgings trying to return before sundown. I ran with a renewed energy and spirit. My pace quickened and I felt as I had when I first came across the elk. Insomnia or no, tonight I will rest my head upon my pillow, the sweet images of tonight's run under the Big Sky in my head. I hope to sleep well (like a bear as the Galician says) as I dream of tomorrow's adventures. A run at sunup, followed by a trip to the ranch for a horse ride, and a celebration in the evening in Livingston. Riding boots and cowboy hat at the ready, I am looking forward to an experience that may one day lead to a wisdom and peace as great as the sky in Montana.

Friends In All The Right Places

Part one of our first Windtalker Podcast show highlights an interview I did back in April with a dear friend Shadi. Shadi is from Iran and came to this country seeking asylum and the opportunity to pursue her dream as a doctor in the United States.
It was an unseasonably cold April afternoon in Chicago. I was racing down Michigan afternoon with the Galician in tow, snow pummeling us from head to toe.  When I finally reached the Intercontinental Hotel, I was greeted by a warm cup of coffee and a warm smile from Shadi. We were all covered from head to toe in winter apparel-our clothes as dark as the skies outside. But despite the weather outside, we were eager to meet. The uprisings in Lybia had started a couple of weeks prior and many similar demonstrations were springing up all over the Middle East, including Iran. I was excited to hear Shadi's story and she was excited to share it.
 We were seated on a veranda overlooking the large marble entryway of the front lobby. Security guards stood close by to make sure no one would interrupt the interview.  Shadi unwrapped the soaked pashmina from around her head, her hair falling in a sea of black silk around her shoulders. She smiled brightly at me, eyes reflecting the light from the chandalier above us. I felt so plain sitting across from her. Well, to be honest I felt like a drowned sewer rat. Shadi radiated joy and pure happiness as she realized she was going to share her story-a story she was very proud of, with the rest of the world.  The interview went on for almost an hour. We shared laughs and opinions, anecdotes, and the joys of being in control of one's own future. Shadi was a successful doctor in Iran, but risked everything to come to America leaving behind her husband (whom she intended to return for) and her entire family in the hopes of a better future.  It was the first time in a while that I had felt divinely out of control. It was a moment when I let the universe take hold and could just bask in the happiness of a good conversation with a good friend. Moments like that only happen a few times in one's life. Here's hoping this season of Windtalker Radio Podcast will bring many more stories and moments to share! Blessings,
J