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The art of music

What I would give to play music, or even be able to sing would be nice. I open my mouth to yodel a few notes and kids run screaming to their mothers. It might seem strange for someone who has the gift of creating art well enough to make a living from it, to envy another talent. I appreciate, and am grateful for, my talent. It’s just I think music is a gift to lift the world.
You can be sitting in a plush state of the art concert hall listening to a world-class orchestra or lying in a sleeping bag on a rough old Greek ferry listening to someone strum their guitar, and the feeling is the same. It lifts your spirits, enriches the whole experience and stirs every emotion.
I can still hear the young guy playing his guitar and singing softly to the stars one summer night way back in 1974 as I lay in my sleeping bag on the deck of a ferry bound for Greece from Italy. I eventually went back to live in Athens for six years and have lots of memorable Greek music moments. Not to mention the umpteen concerts I was lucky enough to go to while there, like Jose Feliciano or Van Morrison. But that simple guitar always comes back to me with a stirring of travel excitement.
Mention 4th of July and I go back to 1986 in Ibiza with Sasha. Lee and I were living on our 30-foot sailboat in the Mediterranean. Our celebration was a small BBQ on the rocky wall of a deserted, unfinished harbour when this large Russian clutching a bottle of vodka walked up. He asked politely what we were doing, then
announced he would join us for our 4th July BBQ regardless of the fact we hadn’t invited him. He grinned, “Russian, American, who cares. We can drink together.”
He ate the ribs and salads as he drank his bottle of vodka. We learned he was an opera singer from Moscow and, for some reason he never explained, had disgraced himself. He was wandering around Europe to console himself. The sun got lower, Sasha got drunker. He suddenly threw his head back and started to sing. My God, he hadn’t lied about his voice. It was powerful and magnificent. He sang for about 10 minutes. Then he stopped, had a swig and started weeping, “Oh! poor Sasha, poor Sasha,” he wailed before blabbering in Russian for a minute or two. He took another swig before singing again. The singing was heart stopping. Our own private opera as we watched the soft twilight fade to moonlight on the gentle sea swells. The weeping and wailing added to the atmosphere really. So it continued for some time then abruptly he got up and staggered off. We never saw  him again. But what a gift he had given us that 4th July on the rocky edge of a ‘nearly-finished’ harbour wall. Pure magic.
Every country has a unique musical tradition. No one can say “thank you” the way the Zulu’s do, they sing to you. I worked with the Amandwe Support Group a couple of years ago on landscapes. Afterwards they made tea and we sat together. Then they said, we will sing for you. Even thinking about it brings tears. Singing is pure Africa and just hearing a snippet of it can make me homesick quicker than the thought of Africa’s vistas or the special scent of her earth.
My time in New Orleans was deeply involved in it’s music - and that’s why I wish I could join musicians and play or sing. I’m a huge fan of “Playing for Change,” watching their videos brings all those special musical moments back. And I do believe people can interconnect through music more than any other medium. It can make the world a better place if we let it, and if we really listen to it. And, damn, but it can just make you smile. I"ll always love music and the happy memories it brings. But I guess I’ll just have to keep painting unless some miracle happens!!
Listen to what I mean and get hooked. Go to http://www.playingforchange.com and follow them on face book at https://www.facebook.com/PlayingForChange

Exploring Delaware back roads

Yesterday & Today, Delaware back roads

We explored the back roads of our new state for two days and what a grand time we had. We lunched at an out of the way tavern with newspaper for tablecloths, and met the fisherman having lunch with the owner, his boat still tied up outside after delivering the catch. You don‘t get a plate of flounder much fresher than that!
Completely deserted beaches with miles and miles of sand beckoned. We drove down roads marked ROAD CLOSED (well, it didn’t say DO NOT ENTER, okay?) and entered a wild, quiet area with a wealth of bird life - herons, cranes, egrets and more. We wandered around lonely marsh docks with old dilapidated fishing boats tied up alongside. Restored one-room school houses popped up in the middle of nowhere and falling down barns elegantly sat waiting for time to take it‘s ultimate toll.
We stood awed at marshes older than time with a thin strand of sand and trees protecting it from the ocean. And marveled how man can take these barrier strips of islands and turn them in to ugliness when surrounded by such beauty. Luckily Delaware has protected much of these areas and man is huddled in one corner. But I worry in time they’ll want more. They always do and then it’s ruined.
Little flat Delaware continues to impress us with it's big sky - and it certainly puts on a show with clouds and sparkle! It keep coming up when I paint it - and I just can't resist painting it!
We stumbled on a farm where they sell pork and veal direct to the public… “no preservatives, milk fed and humane slaughter” (is there such a thing?) Definitely must buy some with a group of friends as they sell either the entire pig or half pig. We bought direct from a farm in England and it was pork to stir good memories - tasting like pork we ate as children. I mean, it actually tasted like pork, not the stuff you get in mass supermarkets today.
A yummy Italian deli with charming staff and irresistible fare tempted us to spend far too much money on cheeses and salamis and wafer thin speck. We’ve savored two meals on the purchases already and can’t wait for the next one.
We never turned on our cell phones, didn’t touch a computer at all or listen to the news. We wanted to enjoy the time standing still and we did. Such bliss.
I’ve painted 2 of the scenes and have more still trying to jump out of my memory on to canvas. This one displayed is the painting of a strip of barrier island with the humans encroaching from the right. I’ve called it “Yesterday and Today.” I prefer the “yesterday” part, I don’t trust man to show any respect for the natural world. I also believe I am turning in to a cranky old fart as the years slip by!!

my latest article on the travel ezine American Roads

http://www.americanroads.net/art-trails.htm