Sunday, July 23, 2006
Concert on the Lawn
Clay Guy in the studio with some of the big vases ready to ship out to artists. He's over six foot tall... these are BIG vases. I just love this project, I'll be boring you with pictures as it develops for some time! In his defense, I made CG stop his work (mixing slip this day, a very messy job) so I could take the picture. He doesn't normally walk around in dirty shirts. (There, are you happy now CG?)
Library Lo and I escaped for a little fun at the Lancaster Festival yesterday. I've lived here for fifteen years, and I can't believe I've never heard of this festival. It's nine days long, a celebration of arts of every kind. Our purpose was to see the Saturday night concert, this day featuring The Pointer Sisters.
It was a perfect night, clear and cool. Seating is on the lawn (unless you're a Hurst or a Gates and can afford one of the tables in front of the stage... looked crowded and uncomfortable to me, I'm glad I'm poor). We toted our lawn chairs up to a spot in the chair section, carefully selected based on it's view of the stage and proximity to the porta pottys (me and Lo can't afford to be very far from facilities). The concert opened with an hour of music by the festival orchestra followed by The Pointer Sisters and ending with one of the most phenomenal fireworks displays I've seen, straight over the top of us. Breathtaking with the orchestra playing in the background.
Some things that caught my eye during the concert... little girls spontaneously dancing in the aisle when the orchestra played, the sullen teenagers next to us who couldn't keep their foot from tapping during Neutron Dance, the elderly couple doing a vintage swing dance (at half speed) on the bridge and the overall great behavior of the hundreds of children attending this concert of music that was probably as alien to them as the outer banks of Mongolia. It's important to expose kids to all kinds of music, all kinds of art. They aren't competent to make their own way from birth to 18, parents need to take the reigns because our next great composer or artist won't come into the world knowing that's what they are. We have to show them.