Debussy is my favorite?

I work for a classical music radio station, and as of yet, I only answer phones and lick envelopes. However, I plan on moving on up by creating a bold, visual statement that the station needs. Classical music stations like the one I work for lose listeners every day, due to the fact that most of its listeners are elderly and the rest are probably music majors. Many young people do not want to listen to classical music because it seems boring to them (I'm generalizing, yes, but I also speak the truth). I know this because I used to be one of those young people, and I am only now realizing the immense capacity and potential of which instrumental music holds.

[image via.]

Active listening is the key to realizing that potential, which is why so many people on this earth have a hard time appreciating classical music. I hate to sound like an old toot when I say this, but here it goes: nowadays, we only hear classical music in the background, even if it is playing through our car speakers. This phenomenon is called "muzak," or "elevator music." Classical music is pleasant to hear during the slow moments of our days, like in the elevator or in traffic. Most of us do not crank up the Mozart on our way to work, though, because we can't sing along and we can rarely even hum along with the conductor. I am part of this clueless audience, and consequentially, I hit a wall each time I attempt to work on my visual marketing project.

I majored in art history in college, so I am more of a 'visual' person, which is why I like the composer Debussy. I love how intricate and interesting it is; it's as if Debussy sketched out each note in animated form for those who have never truly listened to music like his. It really is for classical music "virgins" like me (and maybe you)...take a listen (NOTE: "La Mer" means "Sea" or "Ocean," if that helps to put an image to the music):



Beautiful, right? At least I can appreciate good classical music when I hear it (or so I think).

I wish more people knew how to actively listen to such brilliant music, which is why I want my project to appeal to the masses. I want to connect the visual and the audial through strong, compelling graphics.

Visual art reminds me of chaos, emotion and bright, bold, color, while classical music seems to have an obvious science behind it. I am not inferring that art cannot be scientific, but I will imply that classical music seems more obviously calculated, delicate and intricate. There are particular instruments that play particular notes in classical pieces; the notes fit together like a puzzle or a math problem. Logic is a key component in most classical music pieces (again, this is just my opinion/theory).

However, with logic comes beautiful rhythm and graceful expression. If you listen to a piece often enough, the visuals show themselves to you. Color slowly manifests out from under the straight, thin lines of the composition and you, the listener, are immersed in music.

We didn't go to the Beach.

Jeff and I did not actually travel to the nice Texas beach but instead, we drove about an hour out to Marble Falls, where his family lake-house resides. He snapped a few nighttime photos from atop a lofty mountain, we had some ramen at the house, and watched the art-house insanity circus that is Blue Velvet. We then headed back to our tiny home and sickly cat in Austin. It was a nice night.

Now, I'd like to define 'nostalgia': "a yearning for the return of past circumstances; the evocation of these feelings."[via.] Nostalgia can evoke feelings of sentimentality, romance, fondness, or happiness. Nostalgia is a creeping feeling that can overwhelm a person, if properly summoned. Is there anyone out there who has yet to daydream or reminisce about ones' childhood or even just a few years back? My childhood memories might be categorized under the old 'americana' epithet; as a child, I remember running through my backyard, exploring the grass and its companions, playing with Barbies, dolls, cards, marbles, buttons, (trinkets of any kind, really), dressing up in my mom's old clothes, having tea parties and watching great cartoons every morning. One of my favorite cartoons was Rugrats on Nickelodeon. This show definitely conjures up some nostalgia for me. What do you remember?

Mark Mothersbaugh made some great music for the show.

Although I wasn't a baby when I watched the show, I identified with the characters because they had the same thirst for exploration as I did. Also, unlike real babies, they could form coherent sentences.

The patterns and color schemes of the show seem as if they, themselves were awakened from a daydream...purples skies and orange-y clouds, turquoise bushes and deep, green grass...

The archetypal characters were quirky and unique to the show, but they still somehow reminded you of someone you probably knew.

Angelica reminded me of my best friend Charlene, who was mean and would make me play the boy Barbies EVERY. TIME. She was also aloud to say stuff like 'stupid' and 'shut up.' What a villain!

And of course, I loved Didi's style. She had great, flaming hair and she knew how to color coordinate. Those glasses - work it, Deeds!

I like that the Rugrats began most of their adventures based on a tiny misunderstanding that is solved through a big adventure. They find fear in their misunderstandings, yet aim to solve it through courage and exploration. I think that the mistakes and precariousness in which the characters find themselves encompass the great experience that is childhood. Everything seems new, big, bright, and confusing, and when we think back on it now, those memories come as vivid daydreams.

That was a nice walk down memory lane, wasn't it? More to come, including small illustrations or inspirations by me.

I'd like to explore a few concepts in relation to 'nostalgia' in the future: sounds, patterns, color, the act of watching and listening (as a child in particular), past and past-times, daydreams, exploration, and archetypal characters of the 1990s and in cartoons.

What's my fuck-up batting average?

Well, the fact that this is just about my second post on this blog and it is currently February might be a signal that my batting average is quite high. I have an entire list of goals for the year, and I have accomplished none of them so far. However, I will try not dwell on this fact, because the podcast I've been tuning into encourages me (as a person with ADHD) to acknowledge my fuck-ups but then continue an inward discussion focused on moving forward, which is more productive.

This week was a long and difficult one. I worry that every week/day seems that way lately, and that maybe my depression is worsening. I feel somewhat trapped inside myself - like my ADHD thoughts have become more and more sporadic, and less and less easy to control. I asked myself, "Who am I in relation to this world? Where am I, what am I, and why do I feel as if I should be ten feet taller, so maybe I could gain more control over this chaos? What the FUCK am I going to do after graduation? I want to do everything. At once."

However, this beautiful Friday morning gave my soul the good lifting it needed. Today, I visited a school in Austin called the Waldorf School. I am part of a class (in my final year of undergrad education) called Innovative Schools. I am not an education major, and aside from the information my mother (who is a teacher) has divulged over the years, I do not know much about education. However, it seemed like an interesting class and an appropriate choice for this day and age in which the U.S.'s education system struggles more and more.

My Innovative Schools class wakes up SUPER early every other Friday to go on a field trip to a nearby school that is considered "innovative" in some way. After visiting three schools, I have gathered that the phrase "innovative school" includes schools, either public or private, which employ different, creative, and inventive forms of education for secondary-level students. The Waldorf school was located in a financially "privileged" part of Austin, on a secluded woods property. As I pulled into the long driveway of the school's parking lot, through the towering trees and still under the gray light of the breaking dawn, my hazy stupor was immediately broken when I saw a sign pointing to the school's tree house.

WHAT? This school is awesome already.

We walked over a rocky bridge and underneath a gentle canopy of evergreens, and approached a humble, single-story wooden building with the doors wide open, as if to welcome any guests - forest friends or otherwise. I felt comfortable and instantly soothed as we cramped into the tiny building; the walls were painted a soft pink, the staff all wore scarves or loose pants with their hair curly and flowing or short, with an androgynous edge. The teachers and staff seemed completely 'at home,' settled with themselves and their current positions. The woman who gave us the tour had an awkward, thinly trimmed shoulder haircut and wore a lumpy combination of khaki-cargo-capri pants, a white fleece hiking vest over a black 3/4 sleeve blouse and tennis shoes. Yes, this combination did catch my eye and bother me a little bit, but who cares? She didn't seem to, and who am I to judge? She was way more comfortable with herself than I am.

Moving forward, our class left the administration building and followed our tour guide through the woods, stepping on carefully-placed stones and stopped in the middle of what seemed to be just a peaceful meditation ground. To our left was a wooden fort that was built by the fifth-graders, their teachers and their parents. To our right - a fountain  in which water flowed melodically down four levels of concave stones. The teacher explained that lessons are taught there so that students are able to engage and situate their bodies in accordance with the earth. Any subject could be taught that way - physics, art, math, etc. Students are constantly acknowledging the sense of "self" at Waldorf.

After observing an eighth grade class lecture (more like a French Revolution story-time), our class was lead to the fine arts building. Each room embodied a different narrative that was displayed through the paint on the wall; one music room was painted in gradation from peach to purple to light pink, to represent the personal journey each student has from birth to high school graduation. We sat in a room that was painted like a sunset and discussed the education system at Waldorf with the teacher a little further. I have reflected upon our discussion for an assignment, and maybe I'll share that later. My concern or question or contemplation or whatever it is from my behaviors and reactions to Waldorf and our class discussion is my focus here.

In art history, I have often studied gender representations, which includes situating the "feminine" or "female form" within popular culture and modern society. Where then, is my gendered and intellectual body? I know that this is an ancient question, which is normally asked when one is going through puberty, but this question is not sexual in nature. It is more of an academic and philosophical pursuit that I may never have a palpable answer to. I wish though, that I could know the answer, because life would probably be a lot easier that way. I think that as a person, I am too chaotic and malleable to my ever-changing surroundings that my "self" cannot be defined by means of gendered or age-specific choices or journeys.

My reaction to the Waldorf school and my inability to stay still the entire time or directly focus upon the information being spouted about the school confused and frightened me, but also gave me insight into my most honest being. Waldorf has an arts and crafts center, and everything there is underscored by artistic creativity and invention. (Knitting is used as an early form of learning math, I kid you not.) I believe that my inward self was so excited and intrigued by this spa/summer-camp-like institution that she could hardly contain her ideas and thoughts for her own artistic potential. As mentioned above, my thoughts are so scattered that I have a high fuck-up batting average. That may partially be because my journey thus far has not included enough stimulation for my truest, most artistic and creative soul. This soul, I think, is my strongest and most vibrant piece of me, and in order to succeed in life and become a balanced self, I must replenish my thirst for the arts. If I were to paint a self-portrait right now, it would most likely include a sunset of some kind, because even though that hippy-dippy school was weird as fuck, the people there are onto something innovative.