Engery and Art

Yesterday during The Child's Kung-Fu practice, I discovered I'd brought the wrong manuscripts with me, so I turned the moment into a improv-writing session.   I wrote a little from a phrase that had struck me earlier, but it was more a vingette or image and not a character with a reaction.  I looked around the training mats.   Sometimes when the instructors are demonstrating something, their moves are so dance-like that I can almost see the energy they are directing.  I defocused my eyes in order to try to see any patterns along the mat and get a prompt, but nothing presented itself.

Last night I went to a warehouse warming held by a local costumer; she's going to move her inventory from her small warehouse space in town to a much lager space west of town (by our old vet).  The  event was a salon, really, with sculptors, painters, writers, costumers, and musicians all talking with each other.

Ken Scholls performed songs with guitar and harmonica, and it sent me back to the early 1990's when Mark Heiman used to play in someone's room after a Saturday Night of Dr. Who and Blake's Seven.  

After Ken, Cullen Vance, a guitarist/violinist played.  He used loop-tracks to layer what he was doing. His wife, Mia, is a belly dancer and she danced during one number.  I almost asked if they played music for Neo-Pagan ritual, because what he was doing could have really worked well with one.  I wanted to write the performance into a story.

What really struck me was that these people were happy making their art.  They were creating things.  They weren't complaining or dour or grousing (or if they were, it wasn't the dominant vibe).