Milwaukee Art Museum
My perspective on top, Krista's underneath
Milwaukee Art Museum
My perspective on top, Krista's underneath
Driving in the Dells
Cruising the main drag in the Wisconsin Dells
Driving in the Dells
Cruising the main drag in the Wisconsin Dells
The internet is a series of tubas*
TubaMania!
There aren’t many professional tuba players out there, but there are no doubt many of them in closets. I suspect that there aren’t many people who love the tuba so much that they are willing to devote their life to it. What can a tuba-dabbler to do? I found an interesting answer to that question this weekend at TubaMania in New Ulm, Minnesota. I drove two hours to see it, largely because I’m amazed that such a thing exists.
The framework is actually a marvel of simplicity. As explained by the bandleader, Martin Meidl, they allow anyone with their own tuba and music stand to participate. They rehearse in the morning and perform the concert the same night. They have been doing it for 14 years now, and have a past membership of nearly 100. Their existence seems to me to be a perfect example of an evolution of process rather than product. Indeed, the perpetuation of this basic model of socialization through music thwarts any hope at a perfected “product” as its result.
Internet research revealed that the idea goes further back to tuba virtuoso Harvey Phillips, inducted into the American Classical Hall of Fame at the University of Cincinnati last month. Phillips introduced the idea of Christmas tuba concerts around the world in 1974, and this same group of New Ulm players has been performing a TubaChristmas in Mankato, Minnesota since 1993. They are branching out and offering Oktubafest at the New Ulm Holiday Inn this year.
As Dick Hardt proclaimed, “simple and open wins.” To leave an open channel for people to gather and contribute without a huge personal or professional investment seems to be genius of a sort.
* with due deference to Ted Stevens
Bavarian Blast, New Ulm, Minnesota
First, there was a parade through the streets, and then
Amazing Grace performed by a pick-up band of tuba players was truly inspiring.
Bavarian Blast, New Ulm, Minnesota
First, there was a parade through the streets, and then
Amazing Grace performed by a pick-up band of tuba players was truly inspiring.
Farmer's Market
Coming Attractions
Stanley Fish’s article in the NYT struck a chord, given the way that I so often “miss” the glory of Shakespeare:
Shakespeare does many voices but identifies with none of them. (His, as Keats said, is a negative capability.) He’s hard to find, as his would-be biographers well know. Milton has many characters, but they all speak with one voice — his. You don’t have look for him; you can’t get away from him. Despite the variety of scenes and genres there’s always just one guy talking to you; the conversation goes on and on and it is a conversation in which, as Barrow first said, everything is at stake. This is a poetry that reads you.
One of my great flaws as a reader is my inability to track massive casts of characters during a story—I’ve always been drawn to lyric, to one voice that sings its own song. Conversation, in my experience, is always more rewarding in small groups rather than massive crowds. Fish continues:
The American Swedish Institute
We were in Ankeny, just north of Des Moines on the way home. Sitting next to the bar in an Outback, staring down a horribly desiccated ribeye, a heated conversation seemed to be progressing about sports teams in the Twin Cities. An older gentlemen opined, “Minneapolis is a fine city, one of the best I’ve ever been in.” A younger kid, who looked fresh off the farm in his tractor hat said: “I went to college in St. Paul, but I never saw much of anything. I pretty much stuck close to my dorm room.”
That’s always been a fear about going to grad school here—when will we be able to see stuff? It turns out that it really isn’t that big of a problem if you just get off your ass. On the other hand, there is just so much to see and do that it seems impossible to cover it all. We hit a new spot yesterday: The American Swedish Institute.
I was motivated by the notice of Stefan Peterson’s photographs. It seemed like a good reason to go. While the show didn’t excite me much, the museum made me think about other issues.
