Blog & Photo Journal Archive

I write in my studio, the only place with electricity at the moment, as Sebastian and Roland are on day 3 of the current electric work on the house, replacing all the old plugs and switches in the central room, the hall and the kitchen (they did my bedroom in October, Diana’s last winter) – next month they will do the “west wing” (euphemism for the tiny bedroom and store room on the west side of the house), the stable (d’s studio) and bathroom, and then we will be au courant – not that this will prevent the electricity from going out when the storms come through, we will still have to trudge through the weather up to the contador at the top of the road to throw the switch, but it should be at least less dangerous… not cheap (sebastian says he will only charge us for the cost of materials but parts are expensive) however it is necessary work, and while there is still money in the bank (swiftly dwindling), we must seize the carp…

The wind is set in the south, with its attendant mild temperatures and high humidity – plus it rains at least part of every day – but the sun usually also puts in an appearance at some point – yesterday there was a humungous storm in the morning, lots of thunder and lightning and lashings of rain, but by late afternoon I was lying on the back of the boathouse at Binibeca, bathed in hot sunshine… and not a soul in sight (other than sis, who had come walking with me) – quite like the early days… in spite of the relatively clement temperatures, I have been lighting the fire in my bedroom in the late afternoon/evening, to try and alleviate some of the damp in there – it is noticeably worse than the rest of the house, being lower and on the north side… my hanging clothes will soon be covered in mould, I fear… I must learn to live with it, after 20 years of the dry cold of new york winters…

My quick trip back to check in with sweet sam and the cottage earlier this month was just that… a quick trip… sam is fine (as was the cottage) and we had a lovely time together, but it broke my heart to leave him again – not sure how many more times I can do that… I had thought I would bring him back with me, but alas diana confessed she couldn’t handle the responsibility of looking after him when I’m not here, which at some point I won’t be… whilst there, the sale of the Shoe Collection at Tennants came up, and diana’s desire not to sell them put a giant spanner in the works, involving endless emails and trips to Leyburn on my part, the withdrawal of a dozen of the best handmade pairs, and the subsequent non-sale of much of the rest – so they will sit in the attic of the cottage and in moppet’s barn, gathering dust and mildew until we finally have to chuck everything… es la vida…

October was a truly stellar month, with good visitors and good weather, and sis in relatively good shape – things continue to go up and down, but we are doing okay for the moment. She has been through the mill recently, with teeth trouble (a bad root canal and another broken tooth) and gut trouble – the latter caused partly, I’m sure, by the worry over Brendan and her planned trip to see the kids next spring – the very thought of having to travel throws her completely out of kilter… for my part, I am trying to learn how to maintain a state of equilibrium in the midst of it all, and not to panic – this triangulated living begins to take its toll on me…

I have planted a winter huerto – lettuce, escarole, spinach, cabbage, swiss chard, carrots, onions – and potatoes! Finally, I have planted my own potatoes… they were doing great, but alas the combination of wet and warm (for november) has resulted in the inevitable blight… hey ho… We now have 7 sheep (6 ewes and a ram) in the old pig fields, courtesy of Bernard the swiss potter who lives up the road – he gave me a fresh leg of lamb (which had to go in the freezer, unfortunately, as I was leaving the next day for the UK, but I look forward to the right occasion for it) and also another flat of potatoes to plant… I will keep trying…

So much to be thankful for… a beautiful place to be, relatively good health

(I creak a bit in the damp, and have a fruity cough left over from the cold I picked up in the north – but “nothing serious, I hope”), a bit of money in the bank, company to keep loneliness at bay, plenty to keep me occupied, and future work to look forward to, hopefully – altho’ rinde wrote to say that princeton is not happening for now, and I don’t know about BAM any more, but I live in hope – I will, and I do… meanwhile I have the mandola and the old uke and an electric piano to play, and Vagabond to work on, a garden to dig, a sister to care for… there it is… the state of play… I will try to remember to skype nyack this evening, to say hi to the gathered tribe… thank you, one and all, for your friendship – let us keep the threads of the web connected…

the end of a perfect week (contrary to the dire weather predictions) alone on the finca – me, myself and I… thank you, sis… I’m just a lucky so-and-so, as louis said… joan schirle arrives tomorrow from california – hopefully the weather will hold…

Home again, home again… I got back last night, and this morning took sis to the airport for her UK vacation, allowing me some time alone here – heaven… it is autumn, or rather, second spring – mixed skies, sun and rain, a green blush in all the fields, things starting to bloom again. Today I swept, swam, raked, pruned, potted, did laundry and made quince jam – yes… still haven’t unpacked…

The second half of the Sicilian adventure was as great as the first – more writing, more great dinners and excursions, including Mt. Etna (in the first rain the island has seen since February – suitably spooky) and Siracusa (I could happily live in Ortigia). Two very long weekends to finish with: the first was the festival of Sta Maria Addolorata, involving several processions with the fabulous banda, immense pealing of bells and massive heart-stopping, ear-splitting firework displays including 21-gun salutes & “bombs” to break your eardrums, the streets lit up like there was no tomorrow – plus a very brisk business of raking in the dough (really big bills) on the madonna’s portable platform in return for lifting up naked babies to be blessed in front of the crowd – ah, the roman catholic church… the last weekend was 3 evenings of performances from us artists (including Chef Turi), and also including a memorable P.R. train-ride through town on the saturday morning, drumming up business – shades of our Broadway parade through Times Square back in 1983…

My last afternoon I finally found the site of the temple of Cybele, dating from late 4th/early 3rd century BC – the site was gated & locked but I managed to scale both sets of gates and walls (with the help of an ancient olive tree at the second set, meredith remaining behind to keep a look-out) and found my way down into the hidden valley. The images, carved as they are, out of and into the limestone hillsides, are badly worn away but the seated figures are clearly visible… the “mother goddess” from Anatolia, pre-figuring the greek gods – it’s interesting that her temple is nestled deep in the cleft of a valley, completely hidden, as opposed to the greek choice of sites as high and exposed as possible… such a sense of peace there – I finally reached that point of true stasis that is so necessary before beginning the return, the completion of the journey… now on to the next chapter…

Halfway through my gift from the Akrai Residency program of a month in Palazzolo Acreide, a lovely old hill town in the Hyblaean mountains of southern Sicily. How lucky can you get… [<www.akrai.org> http://www.facebook.com/akrairesidency]

I have been working away… I share a piano with the other composer/musician in residence (Roman, a genial bear of a man from Siberia with a marked resemblance to Jesus), and said piano resides in a little monastic cell with a skylight as the only window – I go every day for a couple of hours, and I like the discipline of it very much – going to the office… I have written a piece a day there so far, with a time limit of 45 minutes and space limit of one page (I have very small MS writing), watching the little square of sunlight traverse the wall in front of me – who knows if any of it is any good but at least the wheels are getting greased – it’s about time… then I work at home on Vagabond, and play the mandola on my rooftop terrace every evening for an hour before gathering for dinner – nice work if you can get it…

Two days ago we (6 of the 7 resident artists plus our 2 hosts) took the day off and went to the beach (earning it by 2 hot hours in another larger hill town with 50 baroque churches – a bit too much of a good thing, but the back streets were beautiful, and I got a hat for the beach) – an hour’s drive through hairpin bends, down to the southern tip of the island (hello africa – we are actually south of Tunis) to a national park, with a healthy walk through ullastres and wild (dry) thyme to the beautiful beach – very reminiscent of menorca, with reddish earth and limestone rock, even caña at the head of the baranca, only more african somehow – drier for sure… oh so happy to be in the embrace of my beloved blue water again, even if only for a short while… thank you, Claudia and Salvatore, for all of it…

things that grab me: doors, bells, birds, balconies & balustrades….

what can I say about the past 6 weeks?
– lots of visitors, all of them really lovely but I didn’t I actually invite any of them…
not that I wasn’t thrilled to see them, each and every one of them…
– when I finally got a couple of weeks without visitors, sis and I fought pretty much every day…
– then the Pyrenees for 5 days, which was Fantastic but exhausting…
– then more lovely visitors…
-and the final 3rd week sans visitors (now) I’ve been sick as a dog, in bed and currently on antibiotics in an attempt to rid myself of it before I fly to sicily next week…
-but the weather’s been glorious, with plenty of good swimming in spite of the predominantly south wind – tho’ I did finally get stung in the Bathtub on my last swim before succombing to la grippe – I think my body just decided “basta”…

too much fun, but also too much stress…

it’s the the sant lluis fiesta and the announcements of the festivities are floating over loud and clear on the breeze…

the garden is looking pretty great, albeit in the latter stages of summer – we’ve been having a bumper crop of green figs from the tree in the front – even a few black ones from the surviving bits of the big one out back… we splurged on a bunch of big pots for the front garden, of varying shapes and sizes, which we are slowly filling with presents from Rob and Paco (with wonderful help from June and Laurie) – mostly succulents but the odd clipping of potentially beautiful bushes and trees… the vines are a disaster – I didn’t spray them soon enough and I fear this may be the end of them… caña on the gina patio next year? que lastima… and one of the big pines in the front has the blight – looks very nearly dead, only a few green needles on the extremities… if it’s the dreaded beetle then we need to fell it asap before it spreads to the others… another massive bill…
I must just learn to let go and accept what comes down the pike, particularly with regard to my sister, it would make life a lot less stressful… the silver lining of finally giving in and lying in bed on drugs is that I’ve been watching movies and listening to music – including my own, trying to remind myself of who I am and that I am still an artist in my own right… which I will get to work on very soon, hopefully

– Sicily here I come – oh lucky me… count your blessings, girl… time to get back to work…

pirineos august

Back on my beloved isle, on the finca with sister and youngest nephew Brendan. All is well here, and I am slowly catching up on sleep, unwinding by working in the garden and swimming in the big blue bathtub…

Orfeo was a triumph, ultimately – the giant rabbit popped out of the tiny hat in all its glory, in spite of massive hurdles, and thanks to everyone going above and beyond, in true chautauqua spirit…I hope we can do it again – the piece deserves more life, and of course there’s still more work to be done, as always…
John Conklin, our éminence grise and great collaborator, wrote a report on his return to new york that puts it much better than I can, so here it is (thanks, John):

“Over the course of three nights last week the Colombari production of ORFEO in ORVIETO emerged into Umbrian night. As the sky floating like an immense Baroque ceiling above the courtyard of the Palazzo Simoncelli gradually darkened, the faded pink and pale yellow wall began to glow, the flowering urn in the center of the space took on shape and color, the grass burned green in the theatrical light. The singers and musicians in their magnificent costumes – all rich as jewels in a golden setting – started to inhabit the space. It had begun – after so many months of preparation and planning. Karin’s elegant direction; Gina’s equally elegant musical adaptations; the nuanced work of the soloists (Stephen, Francesca, Stefano) – now joyous, now poignant; the vital intensity of the musicians; the dramatic force of Andrea as the narrator (speaking the words of Ovid, Virgil and Rilke) ; the beauty of Oana’s costumes; the revelation of Peter’s lights as they explored the mysterious depths of the columns and recesses of the courtyard – all now came into play. There were many memorable moments – the exuberance of the final scene of the opera itself (the singers joined in by the audience who had been carefully prepared by Gina and the irrepressible accordionist Sandro before the start), the laments of Orfeo, the narration of the death of Eurydice, the grotesque presence of Caron in his wrinkled white suit and crazy hat, oar in hand; the shocking finality of the sharp metallic clang of the iron gate at one end of the courtyard as it closed behind Eurydice; the ghostly almost inaudible but deeply present sound of Gina “playing” the rim of a wine glass as Eurydice was sucked back into the underworld; the mad drumming of Alessandro and rest of the musicians as a wild frightening cry of primal pain at the loss of Eurydice. The very wall of the courtyard took on a dramatic life. (at one rehearsal suddenly one of the rose blossoms shed its petals – tears for Eurydice?) Amid the arches and cornices and the climbing rose vines, words, phrases appeared (projected). Indeed the final image of the evening was the last words of a Rilke sonnet “Io sono” (“Ich bin” “I am”) on the wall.

This was not an easy trip – but then what journey from the depths of Hades to the light of day could be? Conflicts made scheduling difficult; a suitcase full of costumes (which were built in NYC) was (for a few really bad hours) lost at the airport; the delivered chairs for the audience were wrong (white plastic instead of the ordered – and eventually obtained – chaste black metal ones ) At first there didn’t even seem to be adequate electrical power for the lighting – but all this was overcome. Peter, Oana, Gina, Karin and her totally invaluable assistant director Nerina, all the other backstage workers, John Skillen of Gordon College (co -producer) – all coped with enthusiasm and optimism – and never looked back. Colombari should be proud.”

And so to family life on the island… the finca needs constant attention, so it’s never truly just R&R, but I love to caretake this place… the saddest news is that Mateo died last week. Beloved Mateo, without whom we wouldn’t be here, who spent every day here for 40 years, and who turned it into the place of beauty that it is… we can’t possibly keep it up in the same fashion (we don’t have the time, or the money for the water bills!) but we can husband it as best we can… after going to the cemetery to pay our respects (open coffin, as is the way here – oh dear…), we went to the plant place next door for basil, and ended up buying a whole load of things to plant in his honour… and of course every time Julia and Rob come over, Rob has some more cuttings of something for us… talking of whom, we had a lovely impromptu dinner last night when they and Nuria came over for a drink and stayed and stayed – luckily I had just made a large tortilla… then I raced off to town with Brendan to catch the Tuesday night music in the streets – diana and nuria joined us later and we danced our asses off to a group in the cloisters playing the songs of antonio machin… 50 years on they are playing the same music as they were in Sa Tanca (the old nightclub in San Luis) in the 1960s… here’s to the the Nonpareils of Biniparrell…

Brendan leaves Friday morning (in spite of his seeming discomfort at many things, I think he will be genuinely very sorry to go), followed a few hours later by the arrival of Olive – just time to change the sheets and clean the bathroom… good to have young about, otherwise it’s just the pair of us old crocks… la vida social del verano… onward…

After being home in NYC for just over a month, I’m back across the pond again, this time in Italy, for the Colombari/Monteverdi project, which began last summer and is finally coming to fruition. We arrived the weekend of Corpus Domini, a major milestone in the Orvieto calendar, with huge processions through the streets – similar to Semana Santa in Mao, but bigger and with more variety of costumes, thankfully – fewer drums but also bagpipes and many, many flags… lovely…

We are ensconced in Palazzo Simoncelli, a fabulous old pile where we both live and work (assorted convents have also been pressed into service for accommodations, since we are quite numerous) – the courtyard of the palazzo is where the performances will take place next weekend. We are attempting to pull a giant rabbit out of a very small hat… it is so beautiful here, when the usual theater hell threatens to overwhelm, one only has to look around to realise one’s good fortune… and it is, after all, a very merry band of magicians (American, Italian, and English) with a beautiful rabbit and elegant hat… my lack of spoken italian is frustrating, but the musicians are very willing and we muddle along with a mixture of french, spanish, italian and english. Every day brings new challenges and rewards – yesterday it appeared that there was not enough electricity in the old place to light the show, but last night, at the end of a long week, we were rewarded with deserts to die for at a local restaurant, washed down by their own limoncello – and today a bunch of equipment showed up (on a sunday, no less) and Peter and Nerina are busy figuring out how to make it work… the costumes are gorgeous, it would be nice to see them!

Before leaving the States, I managed a long weekend up in Maine, the first in many years – Biddeford Pool, to be exact, the summer home of family friends from way back when – I hadn’t been there since I was 7 – my childhood memories were of mud flats, lobster dinners, and learning the facts of life by eavesdropping on my sister and the eldest boy of the family, sitting in the dark under the house with the bright seaside world glimpsed through the slats of the siding around the raised foundations (the house sits right by the ocean). Zin was madly fixing and painting the place in preparation for the summer renters but refused to let me help, insisting that I serenade her instead – which I gladly did, sitting on the lawn with a spectacular ocean view, getting to know the mandola… the only time I left during the 5 days was to take a kayak across to various of the outlying islands one afternoon… what bliss, to wake up to the sight and sound of the ocean…

Done. We gave Liz a good send off – at the crematorium, at the church and at the village hall – her house is empty, and mum is finally laid to rest with her parents and her brother in the family plot in chicago – enough of being a Leishman! However, mum is carved on the back of dad’s memorial down by the river Tees, so they are together there – it all feels right… but what a huge hole Liz has left – I hadn’t realised how much she was the anchor of the family – everyone else came and went, but she has ALWAYS been there, all my life – I’ve never known the place without her…
but sic transit… it’s our turn next…

meanwhile, it’s time to turn my full attention to monteverdi and the mandola, and enjoy these days back in new york, before the next chapter… signing off for now…

Hooray hooray the first of may… and here I am back in cotherstone, not on a ‘plane back to New York as planned…

the sad news is the reason for the return: dear sweet Liz died a couple days ago, just as I had landed in london from menorca. I was planning to come up to see her for 24 hours before heading back across the pond today… so now I will stay on here for the funeral and thanksgiving service next week, after which I will hightail it back to nyc in time to do a quick recording session and then fly to chicago early the following morning to inter mum’s ashes… jeez…

But all in all, Liz’s timing was impeccable: she slipped away while I was still over here rather than back in nyc – a day later would have meant another very expensive and time-consuming transatlantic shuffle – but she also waited long enough for me to have those two beautiful weeks in menorca, for which I will always be grateful.

The other silver lining is that Sam and I get another week together. And if it ever stops raining (actually, even if it doesn’t), in between planning the ceremonies with cousin David and taking care of business, I hope to take some of Liz’s favourite walks around here – I have no car until Diana comes back down from scotland, so they will be local ones out of necessity, which is appropriate – and I will hang out with mr. monteverdi and the mandola in the evenings…

It’s truly the end of an era… she was the last of her generation, they’re all gone now. And it feels really different here, suddenly, really empty. I knew this was coming, but it’s hitting harder than I thought…

one week in, one week to go…

it’s more like June than April – hot sun, blue sky, hot days, cold nights – but so dry an island… I cannot complain, but I do wish rain for the island, we will be in deep trouble soon without it… traditionally it ALWAYS rains at Easter, but all we got were a few drops as the bells began to ring at 11.30 Easter Sunday morning, with the sun coming out a few minutes later… at least it was a nod to tradition…

In 50 years, this is the first time I have been here for Semana Santa… I went to watch the processions Friday evening and Sunday mornings, both at Santa Maria in Mao – with the main street in Sant Lluis being torn up at the moment, nothing much going on locally, but the rites in Mao were fantastic…

Friday night was hordes of klu-klux-klan-hooded priests carrying effigies, accompanied by massed drummers in similar garb and phalanxes of Roman centurions, slowly wending their way through the narrow streets of central Mao – all very medieval… they process with an extraordinary side-swaying gait that has the effigies also swaying massively on their perches – muy impressionante…

Sunday morning was altogether cheerier, with the same drummers amplified by brass bands, and the same Roman centurions, their armour and multi-coloured helmet feathers blazing in the sunshine, but now only two effigies, those of Jesus and the Virgin Mary, who after doing the tour of the backstreets, accompanied by their individual coteries, approach the plaza of Santa Maria from opposite ends, meet in the middle in front of the cathedral and bow 3 times to each other to great applause – and then every bell in every church in town started to peal – it was deafening, in the very best possible way. On Friday night I had found myself a perch on the balcony of the Bar Nou overlooking the square and so got the birds’ eye view, but it was closed on Sunday morning so I perched on the corner of the wall at the top of the road leading down to the harbour, from where I could see the whole length of the square, up the side of the cathedral to its entrance and up to the Plaza Colon where I could see them processing away and then back… all very satisfactory… there were times when I could hear three different bands playing at the same time – yes…

Other than holy rites, I have been engaged in not much other than eating, sleeping and gardening – the things I most like to do here. I did baptize myself in the sea on good friday – god it was cold, but so clear I couldn’t help myself. I took a walk along the cliffs past Rinco Fondu to the caves, where there were a couple of guys perched on the top step. As I stood on the precipice looking down, one of them shouted across (in spanish) “do you live in biniparrell?” when I said “how did you know?” he said “I sold firewood to your sister”… It was Antonio, from the Biniparrell farm, whom I have never met, but who recognised me as diana’s sister – good lord… and who should he be sitting with but a young american.. talk about a small world…

An email from David saying Liz is fading fast… oh dear… but I actually hope that she is – having made it to 90, and having seen us all, she really has nothing left to look forward to, and the quality of her life has taken a massive downward turn, so I hope she gets out as quickly and painlessly as possible. We had a wonderful conversation the day I left – she was more present than she’d been the whole 2 weeks… talking about all my traveling, she said “I don’t know where I’ll end up – after all, I’m 90, and I don’t suppose they’ll give me a job.” God bless her, I do love her so, and wish her god speed…

And so the 2 weeks are up, and tomorrow I move on… talk about event density… we have sorted the contents of Fern House , the potting shed is bursting at the seams; Diana and I did our gig at the Village Hall; and I am the proud owner of a brand new Fylde mandola – what a beauty… quite the star of the show, even if I don’t really know what I’m doing yet… plus the day I went over to Penrith to pick it up I asked Roger Bucknall and his wife where I could go hiking around there and they recommended Aira Force, off Ullswater – fabulous ravine with a series of falls – a lovely day all ‘round – happy birthday to me…

the village hall concert was a great success – we had a good crowd, about 50 or so, any more would have been tricky with the purely acoustic set-up, so it’s just as well there was a coach trip to darlington that evening to see ‘Grease” at the Civic Theatre! It was mostly friends but some strangers, a good mix; we raised a bunch of money for the Hall and one and all had a really good time. Might try for an annual event… btw, the backdrop in the photos is a fabulous mural of the Balder viaduct, just up the river, that used to adorn the sitting room wall of the house next door to Saltoun (where lovely neighbours Jeff and Carol now live). It was painted by Maxwell Fry, a noted architect and old friend of the family from the Tehran days, who many years ago came to stay the weekend with my folks (along with his wife Jane Drew, also architect and generally mad-wonderful person) and they ended up buying and moving into the house next door! quite a flamboyant addition to the village and source of much gossip… after they died and the house was sold, the mural was rescued and put into the village hall – a wonderful memorial to Max and Jane and the perfect backdrop for an intimate “living room” concert…

The downside of the week has been that I did something seriously wicked to one of my knees moving heavy furniture on Friday and I am a total gimp at the moment – not ideal for traveling, but oh well… poc a poc… don’t want to think about leaving sam again, but I’ll be back, and sooner than I think, possibly, depending on the state of dear aunt Liz… diana went up to scotland this morning to face her old home – what a pair of yo-yos we are… god speed…

6 months away, I come back and it’s like putting on a pair of comfortable old slippers – it’s like I’ve never been gone… the weather is filthy, it’s cold and wet, the predominant colours are grey and green – but no sooner have I landed in the village than I run into old friends and neighbors … village life… the cottage is none the worse for wear, a bit cold and damp but no leaks, and sweet sam is looking fighting fit and so happy to see me…

but not all is fun and games… dear sweet Liz is on the way out, barely in the land of the living… the first days back we have good visits, relatively, with good conversation – her body has totally crapped out on her, she is bed-ridden, but her eyes and spirit are still totally there… but by today, her 90th birthday, she has to make a supreme effort to stay with us long enough for us to give her the gifts, cut the cake, and sing a couple of songs, before she has drifted off to the land of nod… I find myself wishing she would drift off to sleep while sis and I are singing and never come back…

the past few days been a ghastly whirlwind of going through her house and dividing up the spoils between the cousins – the house is all but sold – her decision, no blame attached – but what I need like a hole in my head is more stuff, and somehow it all seems premature, altho’ I know it’s not…. however, I – we all – want to honour her life and her memory by taking on the things of her life, giving them a home with us, a continuation of some sort – plus it’s all so redolent of family, of the grandparents and generations before… but the cottage is already crammed to the gills with things from saltoun…. what will I do with it all??

we went to the morritt arms anyway, the 4 of us, david, nepole, diana and I, where we would have taken Liz, had she been up for it, and had lunch in her honour, watching the rain pour down in torrents outside… and tonight we all went to have supper with moppet and johnny (cook-hurle), which was a whole load of fun, coming home under the light of a beautiful half moon and a sky full of stars – typical of this part of the world – dreary days and clear, crisp nights…

as I said, sam is sooo happy – he is a cotherstone cat, I cannot move him; angela is happy to continue feeding him with the hope that he will move in with her by next winter… so be it… if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it…