tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:/blogs/isn-t-it-nice-collaboration-with-robin-bienemann?p=9
Jenny Bienemann's Creativity & Collaboration Blog
2024-03-17T21:06:16-05:00
Jenny Bienemann
false
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7368556
2024-03-17T21:06:16-05:00
2024-03-17T21:06:17-05:00
Joe Jencks’ “Let It Breathe” live from Two Way Street Coffeehouse
<div class="video-container size_xl justify_center" style=""><iframe data-video-type="youtube" data-video-id="k1URsd4aeLk" data-video-thumb-url="" type="text/html" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/k1URsd4aeLk?rel=0&wmode=transparent&enablejsapi=1" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="true"></iframe></div><p>Dear friend and award winning singer/songwriter and Joe Jencks wrote “Let it Breathe” inspired by this Sunday Haiku Milieu:</p><p>Lay down your weapons<br>Love has got you surrounded<br>There is no way out</p><p>I had the pleasure of witnessing Joe's performance from the stage at Two Way Street Coffeehouse, contributing harmonies, and being part of the heavenly choir when Joe invited the entire room to sing towards the end of the song. Enjoy the video Robin captured of this special song.<br><br>Learn more at <a class="no-pjax" href="https://jennybienemann.us14.list-manage.com/track/click?u=af1fb365d62c7406e55489f16&id=73ee29099a&e=05b55264b0" target="_blank">joejencks.com</a>. You can also enjoy Joe performing “Let It Breathe” solo live on TV <a class="no-pjax" href="https://jennybienemann.us14.list-manage.com/track/click?u=af1fb365d62c7406e55489f16&id=96e31f4d3e&e=05b55264b0" target="_blank">here</a>.</p><p>You can find more songs inspired by my haiku at the Haiku Milieu YouTube channel, <a class="no-pjax" href="https://youtube.com/@haikumilieu?si=uBt53V0pV3ONeMfp" target="_blank" data-link-type="url">here</a>.</p><p>“Let it Breathe” Copyright 2023, Joe Jencks – Turtle Bear Music, ASCAP</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7356964
2024-02-25T07:49:20-06:00
2024-02-25T07:52:03-06:00
"The Life of a Song" a workshop with Steve Dawson at White Oak Savanna
<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/4a10c21c25bc7dd0caad3ed16e81a87eb01b8812/original/image1.jpeg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" height="1117" width="1125" /><p><span style="color:black;"><i><strong>June 21st - 23rd, 2024</strong></i></span><br><span style="color:black;"><i><strong>The Life of a Song with Jenny Bienemann and Steve Dawson</strong></i></span><span style="color:#858585;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p><a class="no-pjax" href="mailto:noah@whiteaoksavanna.com" data-link-type="url"><span style="color:black;"><i><strong><u>Email </u></strong></i></span></a><span style="color:black;"><i><strong>to reserve your spot!</strong></i></span><span style="color:#858585;"><o:p></o:p><o:p></o:p></span></p><p><span style="color:black;">"The Life of a Song," is a songwriter's retreat </span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://stevedawsonmusic.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color:#4CAAD8;">Steve Dawson</span></a><span style="color:black;"> and I created just for you at </span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://www.whiteoaksavanna.com/songwritersretreat" target="_blank"><span style="color:#4CAAD8;">White Oak Savanna</span></a><span style="color:black;">, a center for sustainable creativity, collaboration and community.</span><br><br><span style="color:black;">Attendees will learn how to mine inspiration from the world around us, refine ideas into finished songs, and how to stay inspired and connected to the creative muses while navigating the logistical challenges of performing, recording and releasing new music. </span><br><br><span style="color:black;">We'll address all of your burning questions, including:</span><br><br><span style="color:black;">- how to <u>connect with the creative flow</u> when you feel locked out</span><br><span style="color:black;">- how to <u>make peace with yourself</u> as a creative being and as a music businessperson</span><br><span style="color:black;">- how to <u>protect your songs</u> and <u>leverage opportunities</u></span><br><span style="color:black;">- how to know <u>when to push through</u> and <u>when to take a break</u></span><br><br><span style="color:black;">and most of all:</span><br><span style="color:black;"><strong>how to honor, prioritize and ENJOY yourself and your creative process</strong></span><br><span style="color:black;"><strong>always, and in all ways.</strong></span><br><br><span style="color:black;">We have crafted a weekend of songwriting workshops, prompts and exercises with plenty of time for reflection and sharing, designed to empower YOU to write your own incredible songs and bring them into the world, owning the entire process. </span><span style="color:#858585;"><o:p></o:p><o:p></o:p></span></p><p><span style="color:black;">There is no better place to refresh, renew and focus on one’s craft than White Oak Savanna. The tranquil nature sanctuary provides peaceful surroundings in which to create while the modern facilities, including stage and sound, provides opportunities to perform in a professional setting.</span><br><br><span style="color:black;">Meals included in the registration fee are: Friday Dinner, Saturday Continental Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner, Sunday Brunch. Camp on-sight or find a local B&B or hotel.</span><span style="color:#858585;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p><br><span style="color:black;"><i><strong>June 21st - 23rd, 2024</strong></i></span><br><span style="color:black;"><i><strong>The Life of a Song with Jenny Bienemann and Steve Dawson. Email </strong></i></span><a class="no-pjax" href="noah@whiteaoksavanna.com%C2%A0" data-link-type="url"><span style="color:black;"><i><strong><u>Noah </u></strong></i></span></a><span style="color:black;"><i><strong>to reserve your spot!</strong></i></span></p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/25c622977e8149848381b3fc8f77401615d2c54a/original/image0.jpeg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" height="1080" width="1080" /><p><i>Steve Dawson making me laugh with something so true I don't know why I didn't think of it before.</i></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7356963
2024-02-25T07:44:42-06:00
2024-02-25T07:52:03-06:00
Naomi Ashley's new album "Love Bug"
<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/1cf840b5fb2c846c7b7f1f49dc8866a7b08883c0/original/img-6137.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" height="1264" width="1280" /><p><i><span>Naomi Ashley’s brilliant new album, “Love Bug.”</span></i><br><br><span>Singer/songwriter </span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://www.naomiashley.com/" target="_blank"><span><u>Naomi Ashley</u></span></a><span> has a phenomenal new album out!</span><br><br><span>And guess what else: a number of the songs were inspired by the haiku and photo I wrote and shared as part of Haiku Milieu, and presented first at a Haiku Milieu concert. I could not be more honored!</span></p><p><span>Naomi was featured on WBEZ this week. Listen to the interview with Sasha Ann Simons </span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://open.spotify.com/episode/6fp3ys05U9Q7sQQB2SGDjj?si=bIqW8f_-R-O551X2Bqvz6g" target="_blank"><span><u>here</u></span></a><span> on Spotify and read the interview with Mark Guarino </span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://www.wbez.org/stories/chicago-musician-naomi-ashley-on-the-art-of-writing-honest-love-songs/709bc835-962b-4c83-95ba-3c9c801a9d29" target="_blank"><span><u>here</u></span></a><span>. </span><br><br><span>Then, I hope you purchase the album, listen to it on repeat and let it inspire your own creative endeavors, creating one big, beautiful circle.</span></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7341384
2024-01-27T12:33:59-06:00
2024-02-25T07:45:01-06:00
Live Music = LOVE
<p> </p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/9c5f50e68178f70f8e66918e6713598c59362403/original/img-6847.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><p> </p><p><i><span>Mike Konen, photo credit from </span></i><a class="no-pjax" href="https://heatherhortonmusic.com/" target="_blank" data-cke-saved-href="https://heatherhortonmusic.com/"><i><span>Heather Horton</span></i></a><i><span>’s January 18, 2024 concert</span></i><br><br><span>KNOW WHAT'S REALLY FUN?</span><br><span>Music!</span><br><br><span>Not that stuff they have on in the background of the grocery store or the doctor's office; although that can be fun too. I mean, real, live, LIVE MUSIC that grew out of someone's life and experience that may be JUST what you need to help you move through that thing you couldn't quite get straight in your mind. That’s the experience I had at Heather Horton’s concert.</span><br><br><span>And if I haven't said it in awhile, let me say it again...we live in a GOLDEN AGE of live music in Chicagoland.</span><br><br><span>It's made by people all around you, people who have lives and kids and families and have to take out the garbage late at night because they should have done it earlier only to have the bag break and spill all over the alley, JUST LIKE YOU and ME! People you can be proud to call your friends and neighbors. And a peaceful army of live music lovers who would be thrilled to welcome you into the family.</span><br><br><span>For instance, these three artists are familiar to Haiku Milieu audiences, and each has something special happening soon:</span><br><br><a class="no-pjax" href="http://naomiashley.com" target="_blank" data-cke-saved-href="http://naomiashley.com"><span>Naomi Ashley</span></a><span> is releasing her album </span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://facebook.com/events/s/naomi-ashley-love-bug-album-re/2550872785077349/" target="_blank" data-cke-saved-href="https://facebook.com/events/s/naomi-ashley-love-bug-album-re/2550872785077349/"><span>LOVE BUG</span></a><span> on Valentine's Day. YOU'RE WELCOME, those of you searching for a perfect Valentine's Day activity! And is the title song on Naomi's album a song inspired by a Haiku Milieu photo and haiku? Are others on the album as well? Why don't you come to the show and find out!! </span><br><br><a class="no-pjax" href="http://racheldrew.com" target="_blank" data-cke-saved-href="http://racheldrew.com"><span>Rachel Drew</span></a><span> is releasing her album OLD SKY NEW on March 28, Holy Thursday for those of you keeping track, so if your family is coming into town for Easter, now you've got something excellent to bring them to. YOU'RE WELCOME! Does she have a song on that album inspired by a Haiku Milieu photo and haiku? Tell you what - you can ask her yourself at the show. </span><br><br><span>And our dear friend </span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://stevedawsonmusic.com/" target="_blank" data-cke-saved-href="https://stevedawsonmusic.com/"><span>Steve Dawson</span></a><a data-cke-saved-href="https://stevedawsonmusic.com/"><span>, no stranger to Haiku Milieuvians, </span></a><span>is mixing his new album for a Father's Day release even as he and I finalize plans for our “Life of a Song” songwriting retreat hosted by </span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://jonasfriddle.com/" target="_blank" data-cke-saved-href="https://jonasfriddle.com/"><span>Jonas Friddle</span></a><span> at </span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://www.whiteoakfolkfest.com/fest-venue-info" target="_blank" data-cke-saved-href="https://www.whiteoakfolkfest.com/fest-venue-info"><span>White Oak Folk Festival</span></a><span> on June 21, 22 and 23, more info </span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://www.whiteoaksavanna.com/songwritersretreat" data-link-type="url"><span>here</span></a><span>. He and I will share our respective creative processes and tips and tricks to bring you into harmony with your own creative capacity.</span><br><br><span>There's SO MUCH to look forward to - and it all revolves around Live Music.</span><br><span> </span><br><span>So if you haven't gotten out to hear music in awhile, mine or anyone else's, why not give it a try? Whatcha got to lose but those stir crazy blues!</span><br><br><span>And, GUESS WHAT ELSE. We're bringing the party to you, Illinois and Wisconsin! We'd love see you and give you a big hug, so COME ON OUT! </span></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7329956
2024-01-07T21:07:56-06:00
2024-01-07T21:07:56-06:00
Extraordinarily Grateful!
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/e8fd0f8f257d60532f2c18808ee59fd6dc95006b/original/img-4987.jpeg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span>Ideally, this is how the New Year has started off for you too.</span></font></span><br><br><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span>Maybe not in a llama onesie, getting ready to plunge into the icy depths of Lake Michigan with 500 of your closest friends at the 44th Parallel on New Year’s Day, but nevertheless in a similar state of wild abandon.</span></font></span><br><br><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4">In 2024, I feel especially grateful for music, friendship and creative community. <span>We just finished the first-ever “New Year’s Steve,” dreamed up by Marilyn Rea Beyer, host of </span></font></span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://www.wfmt.com/programs/the-midnight-special/" target="_blank"><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span><u>WFMT’s Folkstage and The Midnight Special</u></span></font></span></a><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span>.</span></font></span><br><br><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span>The deep dive into </span></font></span><a class="no-pjax" href="http://steve-goodman.hegewisch.net/sg.html" target="_blank"><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span><u>Steve Goodman</u></span></font></span></a><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span>’s songs was a revelation, and working with artists like John Abbey, Naomi Ashley, Robin Bienemann, James Curley, Dennis Leise, Stephen Schuch, Alton Smith and Jon Williams to bring them to life was a joy. You can listen to the replay on the </span></font></span><a class="no-pjax" href="http://In%202024,%20I%20Feel%20Especially%20Grateful%20https://www.wfmt.com/programs/folkstage/" target="_blank"><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span><u>Folkstage archive</u></span></font></span></a><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span> here.</span></font></span><br><br><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span>I’ve said many times, the audience makes the show. We write the songs, sure; but the audience tells us what they mean. I hope you’ll come out for some very special shows in January. We’ve got new some new songs we can’t wait to share with you, along with classics and a few covers for good measure.</span></font></span><br><br><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span>First up: this Tuesday, January 9 at 7 pm, the Singer Songwriter Circle at </span></font></span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://www.fitzgeraldsnightclub.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span><u>FitzGerald’s</u></span></font></span></a><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span>. My special guests are Brandon Reisdorf and Blue Stevenson.</span></font></span><br><br><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span>Then, </span></font></span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://caryslounge.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span><u>Cary’s Lounge</u></span></font></span></a><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span> in Chicago’s West Rogers Park neighborhood on Saturday, January 13, 4-7 pm for the first-ever “Jenny Bienemann and People She Loves” show. Who’s my first guest? Robin Bienemann, of course! Mary Halm on bass and Matthew Pittman on guitar join us.</span></font></span><br><br><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span>Then, on Sunday, January 21, 7:00 pm, we will be at </span></font></span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://thelakecountyfolkclub.org/index.html" target="_blank"><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span><u>The Lake County Folk Club</u></span></font></span></a><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span>, a group of incredible people that have been keeping Lake County a haven for those who love to listen to and make folk music in all of its glorious diversity. Must be experienced to be believed. JOIN US!</span></font></span><br><br><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span>In February, we head to the great state of Wisconsin for shows with Katie Dahl, Julian Hagan, Jess Holland, and Jeanne Kuhns. In fact, we are bringing the party to </span></font></span><a class="no-pjax" href="http://www.friendlymusic.community/" target="_blank"><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span><u>the Friendly Music Community</u></span></font></span></a><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span>. Stay tuned for more on that!</span></font></span><br><br><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span>It never ceases to amaze me how doing what you love puts you in the company of the most amazing people. My new year’s wish is that we will be in each other’s company more often in 2024.</span></font></span></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7329950
2024-01-07T20:55:24-06:00
2024-01-07T20:55:24-06:00
Merry Christmas!
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/d35ae6df0144b8cf925e336c2844aa7bce794a0e/original/a61f90b6-9dc1-427e-9739-64422ba1c389.jpeg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><br><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span>May your holiday season be full of the things that make your heart sing!</span></font></span><br><br><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span>Whether that’s time in the company of those you hold dear, or time in the solicitude of your own thoughts, the best gift we can give is the gift of our loving attention. </span></font></span><br><br><span style="color:#696969;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif" size="4"><span>May we be as generous in giving it to ourselves as we are with others.</span></font></span></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7309794
2023-11-27T06:26:04-06:00
2023-12-31T02:41:28-06:00
Give Thanks for All Of It
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/667c3734797fe437120c384996b505cd2e0a0851/original/3edf0278-f59f-4e8a-a785-758c9cd2e90d.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p><p style="text-align:center;"><span class="text-small"><i>Be part of it all! Sign up at jennybienemann.com.</i></span></p><p style="text-align:center;">This Thanksgiving Sunday's Haiku Milieu is a celebration of our dear and beloved family and friends near and far, like those in the photo the band The Zimmerman, taken by John Carpender mere moments before we went onstage for our annual Black Friday concert of The Last Waltz at FitzGerald's.</p><p style="text-align:center;"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/a4d63856d7db25faf3a6f279172238fc5f153542/original/img-3937.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><span class="text-small"><i>Photo by John Carpender backstage at FitzGerald's, November 24, 2023</i></span><br><br>I hope you, too had a spectacular Thanksgiving weekend with friends and family doing all the things that remind you that being alive is wild and precious gift. <br><br>And as wonderful as it was to celebrate with family and friends, our hearts were full for those who lost someone dear this year. <br><br>Whether they left our world through their passing, changing professional affiliations, or just by moving away, it is a loss especially noticeable at this time of year. We all live on in the hearts of those we love and have loved. Our missing of them is infused with a golden gratitude for being forever changed by the simple fact that we were together for a time. <br><br>I am so very grateful to those that live on in my heart, those family and friends old and new, near and far, then and now who have taught me so much, loved me so well, and even not loved me so well sometimes. <br><br>I give thanks for all of it, and hope you do too.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7298939
2023-11-05T06:29:18-06:00
2023-11-07T09:52:35-06:00
Mimi and Ezra
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/526b16900db519a391889784d42a40fb38818b65/original/img-3305.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p><p><span style="color:#6F6F6F;">When my daughter was little and learning to speak, she called everyone in the family by the second half of their first names. So my dad, Grandpa, was “Papa;” her dad, Daddy, was “Didi;” my mom, Grandma (who would ultimately adopt the moniker Gams) was “Mama;” and I, Mommy, was “Mimi.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align:center;"><span style="color:#6F6F6F;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p><span style="color:#6F6F6F;">So it happened that my son had a son, and when it came time for him to call me something, we settled on Mimi.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align:center;"><span style="color:#6F6F6F;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p><span style="color:#6F6F6F;">I love my name.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align:center;"><span style="color:#6F6F6F;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p><span style="color:#6F6F6F;">I, of course, call him Ezra. His parents call him E-Z. He is wrapped in love on both sides of his large extended family. Health concerns, the press of work and other family responsibilities combined with geographical distance conspires to bring us into each other’s company just a precious few times a year.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align:center;"><span style="color:#6F6F6F;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p><span style="color:#6F6F6F;">And what a few times they are!</span></p><p><span style="color:#6F6F6F;">Already at 5 years old, Ezra knows his mind about many things. Crocodiles are the fairest of God’s creatures. Green is the best color. Alligators are NOT the same as crocodiles. And when I don’t do what he wants me to do, he says, “Mom, this Mimi is broken! You’ll have to get me another one.”<o:p></o:p><o:p></o:p></span></p><p><span style="color:#6F6F6F;">I didn’t have grandparents on either side growing up, but my kids were blessed with three intact sets of two grandparents (six people total) until deep into their adulthood. Even now, four of these wonderful adults walk the earth. What a gift!</span></p><p><span style="color:#6F6F6F;">A mere bystander, I watched the confidences, the little jokes, the candy slipped between them. How my kids kept in touch with them, how they told them things they didn’t tell me.</span></p><p><span style="color:#6F6F6F;">And as special as it was for my kids, it was just as special for my parents. “United against a common enemy,” some have characterized the bond between grandchild and grandparent, and while that was not so much my experience, I know the gentle, sweet loneliness of being “left out” because of the deep love between grandchild and grandparent.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7298938
2023-11-05T06:27:03-06:00
2023-11-07T09:52:35-06:00
Shadows lengthen and home fires burn brighter
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/d58a0e1cb52ceb3d62a0d0f97967765a376bcba8/original/8b54efdb-da58-4414-8867-964e0bc314ea.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p><p><span style="color:#6F6F6F;">It’s a special time of year.</span><br><br><span style="color:#6F6F6F;">We are attuning to the cycles of the Earth, the temporary fallowness of the fields, and all that we may have neglected in ourselves in the rush to make the most of the sunlit hours of the warm seasons. </span><br><br><span style="color:#6F6F6F;">I have found this growing quietness in me can be confused for kind of sadness, nostalgia, or even depression, but it is really a gentle knocking at the door of my heart, an invitation to accept that all of life is change. </span><br><br><span style="color:#6F6F6F;">When this brings me to the kind of dark places I have trouble navigating alone, I turn to the light of others. My friends. My fellow artists. </span><br><br><span style="color:#6F6F6F;">This week in Haiku Milieu, I will be sharing collaborations between me and other people. </span><br><br><span style="color:#6F6F6F;">Some of them I’ve known about for a while — a particular photo from </span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://www.facebook.com/jason.bennett.33821"><span style="color:#4CAAD8;">Jason Bennett</span></a><span style="color:#6F6F6F;"> some months ago inspired this idea of a collaboration week in the first place — and then an image from </span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://www.lemonstreetgallery.org/missy-isely-poltrock.html"><span style="color:#4CAAD8;">Missy Isley Poltrock</span></a><span style="color:#6F6F6F;">, tumbled me forward into a haiku. But it yesterday's photo taken by my husband </span><a class="no-pjax" href="http://robinb.org/"><span style="color:#4CAAD8;">Robin</span></a><span style="color:#6F6F6F;">, who does Sidewalk Rorshak, that confirmed this path. </span><br><br><span style="color:#6F6F6F;">Is it a coincidence?</span><br><br><span style="color:#6F6F6F;">Every show I am a part of in November and December is a group show, bringing together the talents of multiple artists to share their gifts over the course of just one night.</span><br><br><span style="color:#6F6F6F;">I hope you’ll join us for as many of these shows as feels good to you, and particularly the one coming up with </span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009280456463"><span style="color:#4CAAD8;">Kyle Rausche</span></a><span style="color:#6F6F6F;"> at </span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://www.jarvissquarepottery.com/"><span style="color:#4CAAD8;">Jarvis Square Pottery</span></a><span style="color:#6F6F6F;">. Kyle is a spectacular human being, a </span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://www.kerrvillefolkfestival.org/"><span style="color:#4CAAD8;">Kerrville</span></a><span style="color:#6F6F6F;"> winning songwriter from the state of Michigan, and a dear friend.</span><br><br><span style="color:#6F6F6F;">As the daylight hours condense, let us seek the light of friendship and music to raise our spirits. </span><br><br><span style="color:#6F6F6F;">Cheers to you my friend, and to us, as the shadows lengthen and the home fires burn brighter.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7287962
2023-10-15T00:35:15-05:00
2023-10-16T09:57:18-05:00
The Farther Foundation
<p style="text-align:center;"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/41e0dbb2585966849d563816d201744ef83cbcfb/original/401bac9e-b572-4a7d-b6aa-72b8cc04bd8c.jpeg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" />I had the good fortune of learning about the Farther Foundation, and speaking at their benefit this past Thursday. </font><br><br><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif">In addition to helping a great cause and helping send young scholars to travel the world to inform their aspirations for themselves and their future, it was a chance for me to reflect on my life, past and future and dig deeper into elements I have been sharing with you in this blog.</font><br><br><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif">If you click this </font><a class="no-pjax" href="https://www.fartherscholar.org/" target="_blank" data-cke-saved-href="https://www.fartherscholar.org/"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif">link</font></a><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif"> or the photo, you will be taken to the video of me reading the story. There are captions! If you prefer to read it on the page, you’ll find it below.</font><br><br><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif">Either way, I hope you will take a moment and learn more about </font><a class="no-pjax" href="https://www.fartherscholar.org/" target="_blank" data-cke-saved-href="https://www.fartherscholar.org/"><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif">The Farther Foundation</font></a><font face="lucida sans unicode, lucida grande, sans-serif">.</font><br><br>———————————————</p><p>“As we learned in 5th grade, Haiku is a Japanese poetic form that consists of three lines, with five syllables in the first line, seven in the second, and five in the third.</p><p>I started writing haiku as a way to be creative every day, and because I thought it would be faster than writing a song.</p><p>That madcap misunderstanding has kept me very busy for the last six years. When I started, I hoped the endeavor would blossom; and it did, it just didn’t make me faster at writing songs.</p><p>One of the great pleasures of Haiku is counting the syllables with your fingers. I invite you to do as I do, place your hand over your heart, and count along:</p><p>If you told me then // Things would be like they are now // I would be amazed</p><p>What do you think of, when you think of things that have blossomed, but not in the way that you planned? Maybe you think of yourself, your garden? Maybe it makes you think of your mother. If you’re like me, it makes you think of all three.</p><p>My Saintly Mother, Loretta Ann Carol Marie Therese Lind. Mrs. McCarthy, as they called her at the High School, or as I called her in the grocery store when she wouldn't turn around after I yelled MOM! a thousand times.<br><br>If you said Mrs. McCarthy she would turn around and give you her full attention, unless it turned out that you were me, calling her Mrs. McCarthy because you knew she had been deliberately ignoring your poorly behaved self as you wandered the aisles begging for a treat until she had no alternative but either lose her mind or push the cart forward and pretend she didn't know you.</p><p>This all took place in Naperville, just to the west of us. We grew up in Naperville, Illinois, when Naperville was a little river town, set on the roaring DuPage River, which was neither roaring nor hardly deserving the title of River.</p><p>What is currently known in Naperville as the Riverwalk<strong>,</strong> was where you took your recycling.</p><p>There was a bridge along that river, the middle of town, Washington Street Bridge, where flanks of hippies sat, wedged one next to the other, inspiring dark imaginings and the fear that one of them might fall off the bridge in a fit of blissful inebriation. “Don’t look at them,” my mom would say to us, clutching my dad’s arm in an ultimately successful effort to control his impulse to push the peace-loving hippies off the bridge into the river.</p><p>Meanwhile some guy who went to Naperville North High School (the wrong high school) would go on to pen a joke for Chris Farley about living in a van down by the river. Story for another time, but yes, Bob Odenkirk went to Naperville North High School around the time my older sister went to Naperville Central High School (the right one), and as an early career, unknown SNL writer, he penned an iconic sketch for the now-deceased icon, that grew out of my home town, Naperville, Il. But I digress.</p><p>Back to my saintly, still alive, still feisty mother. She wants you to know she is either sweet 16 or 105, whichever you prefer, and she has been on the planet long enough to learn a few things. One of them, is how to lower your center of gravity so when your children try to pick you up they can't actually do it.<br><br>Except for this one time...<br><br>We were in Alton's Drugstore in Naperville, Illinois. My little sister and I had been trying to lift her off her feet for YEARS, and through some amazing convergence of events, we successfully caught my mother just before she could lower her center of gravity and lifted her into the grocery cart. <br><br>None of the three of us could believe it. The achievement shocked us into silence. We had to lift her out of the cart, and then she just walked out of the store. My sister and I just looked at each other, followed her, and never spoke of it again. My saintly Mother.<br><br>We were the four McCarthy children, born of a Northside/Southside marriage, to parents who each had only one parent from the time they were young. We did what was required of every child growing up: having opinions, testing limits, lifting each other into grocery carts...and they did their part. </p><p>Trying to hold back the young hellions from their own untimely demise, trying to protect us from the riptides of the past, and trying to prepare their children for a future none of us could have anticipated.</p><p>I think my Mom thought she would be raising four similarly-saintly children. She kept our faces clean, tried valiantly to keep us on the straight and narrow, and trained up us in the way she (and my dearly deceased father) believed we should us to go.</p><p>Yet despite her best efforts to tame what she might have termed “the weeds” growing up in our personalities, all four of her kids went their own respective ways. And while all four are gainfully employed and changing the world in own respective ways, only three of them got married, one of them twice. Only two of them had children, one just within a hair’s breadth of wedlock. Only one of them brought grandchildren into the world (so far.)</p><p>Can you imagine what she must think, when she thinks about what she was trying to do, and what actually happened?</p><p>Place your hand on your heart with me again, if you will.</p><p>hopes for the future // I should have used a pencil // but I used a pen</p><p>not all dreams come true // not all dreams are supposed to // that’s the point of dreams</p><p>how sweet the visions // that made me do all I did // and become myself</p><p>This makes me think of my garden. <br><br>Over the course of the 20 years we’ve lived in this house I have invested the proverbial blood, sweat, and tears, as well as copious financial resources, into a garden that for whatever reason simply will not take. I have even had a garden service keep the earth around my fledgling plants weed free to support their growth! </p><p>One day through a misunderstanding, the gardeners came and they removed all vegetation. I called them, while the operator was sympathetic, the owner of the company was not. When it came time for them to do the fall cleanup, as we have paid green green American money to have them do for us for the past 15 years, he said we don’t have a time for your house.</p><p>That day I turned to a dear friend who is excellent at gardening and said: what do we do? These patches of dirt have hosted countless plants, and been lovingly maintained to the limits of my imagination! Nothing seems to grow. Even the vinca vine bought from a reputable establishment only hunkers down in its own little cluster, and though its branches reach towards each other from plant to plant, each year the attempt seems a little more halfhearted.</p><p><br>She said that focus on keeping the planting beds "clean" means the soil has received no nourishment, and that those patches of dirt, weed free as they may be, will admit no growth.</p><p>Does this sound familiar? The weed-free, shining-faced garden beds, clean, on the straight and narrow, and trained up in the way we believed they should go?</p><p>And then, I happened to notice the vinca vine I planted under my yew bushes had jumped the cement sidewalk into my neighbor's yard, where it is THRIVING!</p><p>My garden had a mind of its own.</p><p>This makes me think of my Mom.<br><br>Much of the good my Mom, at great personal expense, tried to do to get us to bloom in the direction she thought we should go, might look to her like it did not take. <br><br>But just like the vinca, the gifts she gave us did take root, and they did blossom just like she hoped they would, just maybe not in the way she thought they should.</p><p>This makes me think of Haiku Milieu. On some level, I was trying to “fix” a deficiency, and train myself to be “more” creative, “more” quickly.</p><p>In the process, I learned two things:</p><p>One: all I can do is permit the forces of creativity to move through me, I can’t dictate what it turns into.</p><p>Second, it takes a village. It takes friends, and family, and community. Especially now.</p><p>Whatever it takes to forgive others, and yourself, is worth it. When things don’t turn out the way you planned, forgive. When you forget to lower your center of gravity and your kids lift you up and put you in a grocery cart in front of God and everybody, forgive.<br><br>Because love for the people who surround you is what inspired you to try anything, and is what makes life worth writing about.</p><p>Hands on hearts again please.</p><p>by the light of day // the mistakes were innocent // the sun rests its case</p><p>it is not your job // to fix other people, just // to love who they are</p><p>one day we will see // that things only could have gone // the way that they went.”</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7278122
2023-09-24T19:32:49-05:00
2023-09-24T19:58:52-05:00
Tuesday Song arounds at FitzGerald's
<p><span style="color:#696969;"><span><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/988beae1bb83ab47d5507dcd56d4f8e9bbd173ee/original/c2bdd7d9-4be1-45f1-9a83-98f9af218f6b.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_orig justify_center border_" /></span></span>On the third Tuesday of every month, I host the Songwriter in the Round series at FitzGerald’s Sidebar.</p><p>This past week my guests were Jeremy David Miller, a well-known Chicago-area music veteran, and Erich Specht of the Push Puppets, who has a new album. They were both GREAT. We had a FANTASTIC time with D. Anson Brody on sound, sharing new songs, seeing mutual longtime friends like Michael Dailey, riffing on themes, and generally just acknowledging that it is good be alive, in all of its messy splendor.</p><p>By the time these shows wind up, folks from nearby establishments make their way to FitzGerald's, like Kim, Tammy, Isaac David Lyons, Braxton, Robin Rolder, and John, to sit at the bar as Gonzo tends it, alongside each other, laughing and talking. It's happened for several shows, but I somehow just made the connection that it happens every Tuesday.</p><p>If there is anything I want my songs, haiku, shows, this email and actually - my meals, my conversations, my drawings, my work at my day job, anything I set out to DO - I want it to feel like it feels at FitzGerald's, before, during and after these Tuesday night songwriters shows, where we come together, share who we are, and have a good laugh, maybe a cry, and go home a little better than we came out of the house.</p><p>The next one is on Tuesday, October 17 with Michelle Held from Michigan and Christina Marie Eltrevoog from non-Chicago Illinois. I hope you'll join us, and who knows - maybe we’ll hang out at the bar afterwards.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7274741
2023-09-17T16:08:07-05:00
2023-09-17T16:10:01-05:00
Celebration of Blair Hull’s Life
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/e33dee5add5b3e6683ef049d531fd80be601449c/original/8a134a4a-1868-4d18-a2bf-bddf1ef184b8.jpeg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">Robin and I had the great honor of playing at the Celebration of Blair Hull’s life concert with a number of fellow musicians we are lucky to also call friends. </span><br><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">Blair is truly an example of living with generosity and compassion, bringing the Divine into all things. It was incredibly gracious of Blair to let those who love her celebrate her now, and incredibly generous of Jan Krist to organize it. </span><br><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">The artists who performed brought stories, traditional and original songs, and poems as befitted the occasion of honoring a woman who dedicated her life to lifting others up. Blair herself sang us a song!</span></p><p><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">It was a meaningful afternoon with friends who gathered from near and far to celebrate this remarkable woman’s life.</span></p><p><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">Here is the Mary Oliver poem Andrew Calhoun shared aloud. </span><br><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">OF LOVE</span><br><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">I have been in love more times than one,</span><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">thank the Lord. Sometimes it was lasting</span><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">whether active or not. Sometimes</span><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">it was all but ephemeral, maybe only</span><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">an afternoon, but not less real for that.</span><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">They stay in my mind, these beautiful people,</span><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">or anyway beautiful people to me, of which</span><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">there are so many. You, and you, and you,</span><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">whom I had the fortune to meet, or maybe</span><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">missed. Love, love, love, it was the</span><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">core of my life, from which, of course, comes</span><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">the word for the heart. And, oh, have I mentioned</span><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">that some of them were men and some were women</span><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">and some—now carry my revelation with you—</span><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">were trees. Or places. Or music flying above</span><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">the names of their makers. Or clouds, or the sun</span><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">which was the first, and the best, the most</span><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">loyal for certain, who looked so faithfully into</span><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">my eyes, every morning. So I imagine</span><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">such love of the world—its fervency, its shining, its</span><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">innocence and hunger to give of itself—I imagine</span><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">this is how it began.</span></p><p><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">-Mary Oliver, from </span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://www.amazon.com/Red-Bird-Poems-Mary-Oliver-dp-0807068934/dp/0807068934"><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);"><i>Red Bird</i></span></a><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);"> (</span><a class="no-pjax" href="http://www.beacon.org/Red-Bird-P661.aspx"><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">Beacon Press</span></a><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);">, 2008).</span></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7268565
2023-09-04T12:08:48-05:00
2023-09-04T12:08:48-05:00
The Path of Joy
<p><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/2fc5df673531c78f62ba8bfd5397fc5ef97e9526/original/83a7c8c8-b6d4-4a3e-a494-81b56c144db2.jpeg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_m justify_center border_" /><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);"><span>As hard as we work</span></span><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);"><span>the best things in life are free</span></span><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);"><span>and freely given</span></span><br><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);"><span>Labor Day.</span></span><br><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);"><span>It means the end of summer to some of us, the beginning of our favorite season to others, and with the beginning of the school year, an almost universal feeling of return to days of deeper and more profound labor.</span></span><br><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);"><span>The Haiku Milieu event at FitzGerald’s this past Friday was itself a celebration of labor, the kind of labor you are born to, but have to choose over and over again.</span></span><br><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);"><span>Do anything you do with love, and it becomes an art. Cooking? Yes. Listening to a friend? Yes. Cleaning? Debatable, but likely yes. Done with love, these things are all an artistic practice.</span></span><br><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);"><span>And what is an artistic practice but a kind of prayer, a hymn to the great, loving, irrepressible and irresistible calling of one wild beloved thing to another, the call of all of creation to each of us, saying, take what you’ve been given. Here, it’s FREE! And make some thing of it. </span></span><br><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);"><span>Make something beautiful! Make something ugly! Make something life affirming, make some thing challenging!</span></span><br><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);"><span>Embrace what you have been given, and turn it into something. </span></span><br><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);"><span>Do it again and again, wielding it like a scythe through the wilderness of EVERYTHING.</span></span><br><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);"><span>All that you asked for that didn’t turn out the way you expected.</span></span><br><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);"><span>All the things you didn’t ask for, and don’t know what to do with.</span></span><br><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);"><span>And all the things that went way better than you dared to dream they could go.</span></span><br><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);"><span>Making anything -- make that, laboring intentionally and with love -- makes finding the path of joy easier, even if nothing makes it easier to follow.</span></span><br><br><span style="color:rgb(105,105,105);"><span>To our labors, my dear friends, and always with love, Jenny</span></span></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7246870
2023-07-25T06:32:18-05:00
2023-07-25T06:32:18-05:00
The Strung Out podcast with Marty McCormack
<p><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/5337cde1883e3b23adbe76cdbe5b182742e6ab22/original/748370f4-9dca-43e0-8de8-8c7474cc1abe.jpeg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><br><span style="color:rgb(36,28,21);">Martin McCormack. If you ever get the chance to spend a little time with him don’t hesitate. He’s the real deal, as a solo artist, as part of the band Switchback, and as a visual artist, family man, and friend.</span><br><br><span style="color:rgb(36,28,21);">We had a great time recording this conversation for his legendary STRUNG OUT podcast. Hope you enjoy it! </span><br><br><span style="color:rgb(36,28,21);">https://www.buzzsprout.com/1236899/12954639</span></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7246868
2023-07-25T06:28:47-05:00
2023-07-25T06:28:47-05:00
Annie Capps, Annie Bacon, and thou
<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/e25da42f076659a10d0f90fcbca7d12313a6594f/original/7a494c84-9e83-46b4-8b2b-57fa18ae298b.jpeg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><p><span style="color:rgb(36,28,21);">What a time it was!</span><br><br><a class="no-pjax" href="https://www.anniebacon.me/" target="_blank" data-cke-saved-href="https://www.anniebacon.me/">Annie Bacon</a><span style="color:rgb(36,28,21);">, </span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://www.anniecapps.com/" target="_blank" data-cke-saved-href="https://www.anniecapps.com/">Annie Capps</a><span style="color:rgb(36,28,21);"> were together for a few shows in Michigan at </span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://www.celebratehudson.com/" target="_blank" data-cke-saved-href="https://www.celebratehudson.com/">Celebrate Hudson</a><span style="color:rgb(36,28,21);"> and </span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://www.20frontstreet.com/" target="_blank" data-cke-saved-href="https://www.20frontstreet.com/">20Front Street</a><span style="color:rgb(36,28,21);">.</span><br><br><span style="color:rgb(36,28,21);">It was magical. Having gotten back just an hour or so ago, I'll leave it at that for now.</span><br><br><span style="color:rgb(36,28,21);">So very grateful for Annie and Annie’s wonderful company and superb musicianship, for audiences that listen, laugh and sing along, and for the great gift of being able do what we love.</span><br><br><span style="color:rgb(36,28,21);">Speaking of which…thanks for reading. It means the world to me.</span></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7236909
2023-07-04T17:53:18-05:00
2023-07-04T17:53:19-05:00
Kerrville, TX 2023 and/or eternity
<p>With June in the rear view and the summer about to roar full speed ahead, here in the trough of the wave, I’m remembering the lovely time we had just one month ago at the 2023 Kerrville Festival.</p><p>What a time it was. Old friends, new friends, new friends that felt like old friends, music and sleep deprivation and new songs and cover songs and coffee and guitars GALORE and MORE!</p><p>One night as we returned from the concert, the wind blew in out of nowhere. Tents lifted themselves up from their moorings as if to greet the storm, and even the electricity hightailed it out of there. In the dark, by the glow of candles, a group of singer songwriters did what they’re made to do and sang into the darkness. </p><p>Enjoy these 50 seconds of a night in 2023 that could have been happening on that very land since the beginning of time.</p><p>https://youtu.be/dP6bA5G_g5w</p><p>With Robin Bienemann, Sadie B. GZ, Belle-Skinner, Kirsten Maxwell, Aaron Smith, Oliver Steck, Lindsey Lee and more.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7228377
2023-06-17T22:25:53-05:00
2023-06-17T22:55:46-05:00
Happy Father's Day
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/d150d75cf7044f4083a0843402b3160f2b2e4a88/original/img-1481.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p><p style="text-align:center;">Happy Father's Day</p><p style="text-align:center;">to anyone who ever</p><p style="text-align:center;">kept something alive</p><p> </p><p><span>There he is. My father, Thomas Joseph James McCarthy. </span><o:p></o:p></p><p><span>Surrounded by his four children, after a profound game of SHARK in which he would dive under the water with one hand just above the surface and chase us, shrieking, hearts racing, arms and legs a blur of motion towards the sides of the pool that we never somehow reached before he captured us in his big bear arms. </span></p><p><span>You know, like a shark would, if a shark were in the motel pool on Saturday morning in the wilds of Waukeshau, Wisconsin after a Friday night where you woke up raring and ready to go after a long and decadent night at the all-you-can-eat fried chicken place. The waiters are still probably shaking their heads about how much those McCarthy children could tuck in!</span><o:p></o:p></p><p><span>My father could tell you a story if he got in the mood. He wasn’t always in the mood though. He was of the generation where if you needed money, you got a second job. He worked days, then he came home and took a nap, then he worked nights, and came home and took a nap, then worked days again. </span><o:p></o:p></p><p><span>I, who as you may recall, eschewed my own bed on a nightly basis in favor of my parent’s bed, was inwardly thrilled when he would start a new night job, happily sleeping on his side of the bed until he came home sometime before 6:00 am as the birds were singing. I’d give him a big hug and relinquish his side of the bed to him then.</span><o:p></o:p></p><p><span style="color:#2C363A;">My dad grew up with his father, a Chicago fireman legendary for his culinary skill at his firehouses, and his brother Jack. His mother Mary Hartigan, she of the bright red hair and brilliant smile, was the light of their lives until her passing when my Dad was six. She was preceded in death by her third son, my father’s youngest brother Michael, who passed away when my Dad was four.</span><o:p></o:p></p><p><span style="color:#2C363A;"><span> If my mom gets your ear, she’ll tell you that all she and my dad wanted was to create the big loving family neither of them had growing up. Most anyone who saw them together, though, will tell you that all my Dad really wanted was to make my Mom happy, and she wanted as many kids as possible. He loved her, it was what she wanted, and that was that. </span></span><o:p></o:p></p><p><span style="color:#2C363A;">She brought us into the world, and he did what it took to keep us in it.</span><o:p></o:p></p><p><span style="color:#2C363A;">In addition to working multiple jobs, here is an incomplete list of the things he did to keep us alive: he refused to drop us off at houses for parties if he couldn’t see the people in the windows. No matter where he was or what he was doing, he would drive to downtown Chicago or really anywhere to pick us up when our cars stopped working. With a rare bonus from work, he divided the basement into two extremely small bedrooms so my little sister and I could have separate bedrooms and ensure that both of us graduated from high school rather than the penitentiary for killing each other. He could cook a perfect steak but preferred a good hamburger, and always took his portion after the rest of the family was served.</span><o:p></o:p></p><p><span style="color:#2C363A;">One time, I needed a ride home from college. I got my two lovable friends Mark and Brendan to drive me up, bribing them with the promise of having my Dad sing “I’m A Little Teapot” for them.</span><o:p></o:p></p><p><span style="color:#2C363A;">We arrived at the house to a Sunday night feast from my mom, and at the end of the meal, my friends were ready to hear my dad sing the song. To say my Dad proceeded reluctantly is an understatement, but proceed he did, with the hand gestures and dance movements that were apparently never meant to be seen by anyone but close family members around midnight campfires, to my friend’s great delight.<span> </span>“You owe me, Jenny,” was all he said.<span> </span>And though I tried his patience in many ways throughout our lives, he never made me pay.</span><o:p></o:p></p><p><span style="color:#2C363A;">This Father’s Day, I am grateful to the Dad I got to have. And if you are a person who has ever kept anything alive, you deserve to be celebrated too. Today and everyday.</span></p><p>Here's a song I wrote about my Dad: <a class="no-pjax" href="https://youtu.be/NjBfV6kF5Sg" target="_blank" data-link-type="url">Sugar Candy</a>. I hope you enjoy it.</p><p><o:p></o:p></p><p>You'll find more stories like these at my Creativity and Collaboration blog at jennybienemann.com, and sign up for the Sunday Haiku Milieu Email at haikumilieu.com.</p><p> </p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7216727
2023-05-27T15:06:29-05:00
2023-05-27T15:06:29-05:00
The First-Ever Haiku Milieu Sunday Morning Movie!
<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/a3cb050355ae388bbad8c4fc9070130f93d1a7d4/original/img-9184.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><p><span>What do you get when you ask songwriters to write a song to a haiku? A BUNCH OF NEW SONGS, silly!</span><br><br><span>TOMORROW, Sunday, May 28 at 8:30 am, we'll watch the </span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://youtube.com/@haikumilieu" target="_blank" data-cke-saved-href="https://youtube.com/@haikumilieu"><span>First-Ever Haiku Milieu Sunday Morning Movie </span></a><span>at Friendly's on the big screen. You can join us in person, or from the comfort of your own home.</span><br><br><span>How it works is this: each artist chooses one of my haiku and images writes a song to it.</span><br><br><span>The audience has a bird's eye view of the process from inspiration to completed song. It is THRILLING to witness how one work of art gives rise to another, to contemplate how completely different works can be forged of the same initial impulse, and to witness the power of creativity to connect us with the world and each other.</span><br><br><span>Featuring video made especially for this show as well as performance videos from the Golden Dagger Haiku Milieu show, </span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://youtube.com/@haikumilieu" target="_blank" data-cke-saved-href="https://youtube.com/@haikumilieu"><span>the Sunday Haiku Milieu Movie</span></a><span> features new songs from long-standing Haiku Milieu contributors and newbies alike, many performed for the very first time in front of a live audience.</span><br><br><span>And being as it is the first time for many of these songs, do some of us forget our words? (ahem, I'm raising my hand here) and/or the order of the verses? (slight cough, downward glance, hand back in air) OF COURSE!! That's part of the fun. These are professional musicians who have been gigging for a LIFETIME and who have THE VERY SAME JITTERS we all get when doing something new! </span><br><br><span>That is part of the magic of the Haiku Milieu show: putting ourselves on the line, alongside others doing the same thing in a different way, working at the highest of levels with a goal of bringing this piece of ourselves to the audience where it may do them, and us, some good. </span><br><br><span>I hope you'll join us.</span><br><br><span>Artists include Ashley and Simpson, Phil Angotti, Caitlin Arquinnes, Naomi Ashley, Robin Bienemann, Ralph Covert, Jason, Braun, Jonas Friddle, Ron Lazzeretti, David Zerlin, Shelly Miller, Matthew Pittman, Haiku, ukulele, Duke, Blue Stevenson, Victoria, storm, Heather Styka, Cathie, Van Wert, Emily White, Jon Williams, Josh Piet, Jason Batchko, Haiku Your Milieu with Amy Lazzeretti and Marilyn Rae Beyer, and of course, yours truly. </span><br><br><span>See you at the </span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://youtube.com/@haikumilieu" target="_blank" data-cke-saved-href="https://youtube.com/@haikumilieu"><span>show</span></a><span>!</span></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7213036
2023-05-21T16:53:45-05:00
2023-05-21T16:53:46-05:00
A Good Chance You’ll have a GREAT Time!
<p><span>I have the great joy of hosting the Singer Songwriter Circle at FitzGerald's on the third Tuesday of each month. </span><br><br><span>This past month, musical glitterati Gerald Dowd and Casey McDonough were the special guests, and they were spectacular! And we had no fun at all, as you can tell by the photos. :)</span><br><br><span>The evening was made all the more special by the presence of Olivia Flanigan, who I held in my arms as a baby and never laid eyes on again until that evening! You never know what's life's going to bring you, but if you go to FitzGerald's on Tuesday nights, there's a good chance you're going to have a great time.</span><br><br><span>Speaking of great times, it’s going to be a really fun Memorial Day Weekend. I hope you can join us!</span><br><br><span>On Saturday night at Friendly Music Community in Berwyn, Illinois, I’m playing a full two sets of my own songs with an amazing band that includes John Abbey, Steve Doyle and Andon Davis, Ryan Shepherd, Ron Lazzeretti, and Jodi Walker. The incomparable Bill Brickey opens the show at 8:30 pm. </span><br><br><span>Then the next day, Sunday morning at 8:30 am, we will be streaming out the first ever "Haiku Milieu Sunday Morning Movie," a collection of songs and videos inspired by Haiku Milieu that will start your Sunday off right. If you can’t join us in person, you can join us online at Facebook and later in the day on YouTube. </span><br><br><span>Sunday Morning Movie artists are: Ashley & Simpson, Phil Angotti, Caitlin Arquines, Naomi Ashley, Marilyn Rae Beyer, Robin Bienemann, Jason Braun, Ralph Covert, Jonas Friddle, Rebecca Jasso, Amy Lazzeretti, Ron Lazzeretti, Shelley Miller, Matthew Pittman, HaikUkulele Duke, Blue Stevenson, Victoria Storm, Heather Styka, Cathie Van Wert, Emily White, Jon Williams, and David Zerlin.</span><br><span> </span><br><span>Then, Sunday night at The Acorn Theatre in Three Oaks, Michigan, Naomi Ashley plays Lucinda Williams' "Car Wheels on a Gravel Road" album from start to finish. And right after that, her band Real Pretenders will do the entire "Learning to Crawl" record. Can you even stand it?!? If you have never experienced this, you really must. I am thrilled to join these incredible human beings and musicians on harmony for a few songs.</span><br><br><span>If you click the link on the images below you’ll find out more information. We'd love to see you</span></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7208632
2023-05-13T23:42:25-05:00
2023-05-21T16:52:41-05:00
Mother's Day: All the Good We Do is Never Lost
<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/d6f931beca4d9a6a6aa6c5fc6a615d83af2d0a6c/original/img-8832.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><p><span>There she is. Mrs. McCarthy, as they called her at the High School, or as I called her in the grocery store when she wouldn't turn around after I yelled MOM! a thousand times.</span><br><br><span>If you said Mrs. McCarthy she would turn around and give you her full attention, unless it turned out that you were calling her Mrs. McCarthy because you knew she had been deliberately ignoring your poorly behaved self as you wandered the aisles begging for a treat until she had no alternative but either lose her mind or push the cart forward and pretend she didn't know you.</span><br><br><span>My mom, who wants you to know she is either sweet 16 or 105, whichever you prefer, has been on the planet long enough to learn a few things. One of them, is how to lower your center of gravity so when your children try to pick you up they can't actually do it.</span><br><br><span>Except for this one time...</span><br><br><span>We were in Alton's Drugstore in Naperville, Illinois. My little sister and I had been trying to lift her off her feet for YEARS, and through some amazing convergence of events, we successfully caught my mother just before she could lower her center of gravity and lifted her into the grocery cart. </span><br><br><span>None of the three of us could believe it. The achievement shocked us into silence. We had to lift her out of the cart, and then she just walked out of the store. My sister and I just looked at each other. My little sister doesn't even remember it, and my Mom will swear it never happened, but you and I know the truth. It did.</span><br><br><span>My saintly Mother.</span><br><br><span>We were the four McCarthy children, born of a Northside/Southside marriage, to parents who each had only one parent from the time they were young. We did what was required of every child growing up: having opinions, testing limits, lifting each other into grocery carts...and they did their part. Trying to hold back the young hellions from their own untimely demise, trying to hold back the riptides of the past, and trying to prepare their children for a future none of us could have anticipated.</span><br><br><span>This makes me think of my garden. </span><br><br><span>Over the course of the 20 years we’ve lived in this house I have invested the proverbial blood, sweat, and tears, as well as copious financial resources, into a garden that for whatever reason simply will not take. I have even had a garden service keep the earth around my fledgling plants weed free to support their growth! </span><br><br><span>When I talked this over with a dear friend, she said the focus on keeping the planting beds "clean" means the soil has received no nourishment, and that those patches of dirt, weed free as they may be, will admit no flowers. Even the vinca vine bought from a reputable establishment only hunkers down in its own little cluster, and though its branches reach towards each other from plant to plant, each year the attempt seems a little more halfhearted.</span><br><br><span>But you know what? I was looking in the wrong place.</span><br><br><span>Just this week, I happened to notice that the vinca vine I planted under my yew bushes jumped the cement sidewalk into my neighbor's garden, where. it. is. THRIVING!</span><br><br><span>This makes me think of my Mom.</span><br><br><span>Much of the good my Mom, at great personal expense, tried to do to get me to bloom in the direction she thought I should go, might look to her like it did not take. </span><br><br><span>But just like the vinca, the gifts she gave me made me blossom in the exact WAY she hoped I would, just not blossom HOW she thought I would. </span><br><br><span>This seems like an apt metaphor on Mother’s Day. As anyone who has ever brought something to life knows, all the good we do is never lost. It always turns into something.</span><br><br><span>I can only reflect gratefully on the way my Mom provided a sturdy back stop for the inevitable projections and rejections we kids had to hurl upon her and my Dad to blossom in our own ways. </span><br><br><span>I think of them when I am called to do the same with the people I love, to support them in becoming themselves in the way that suits them best, not me. And I'd like to think that anyone who does that with anyone else, deserves warm Mother's Day greetings, today and every day.</span></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7187566
2023-04-11T06:40:41-05:00
2023-04-11T06:40:41-05:00
Miracles
<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/91e1245b9f9891eeb0c485bb5c8af43f70458294/original/img-6971.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><p><span>Public service announcement on the topic of the miracle.</span><br><span> </span><br><span>We think it's going to arrive with a giant bow and gleaming red lipstick, a four-door convertible screaming into the parking lot doing a half moon and stopping just at the tips of our toes.</span><br><span> </span><br><span>In fact the genuine miracle feels so ordinary you might forget how hard you wished for it it once you've gotten it.</span><br><span> </span><br><span>The genuine miracle happens naturally, and all the time.</span><br><span> </span><br><span>We think miracles happen when we pray hard enough, or work hard enough, feverishly trying every key until we find the one that fits the ancient lock, turning it with a satisfying click and bursting through the door from one reality to the one we’ve been praying for.</span><br><span> </span><br><span>In reality, the reality is much less noisy. Much less dramatic. And without getting too romantic about it, miracles are happening all around us, all the time, each breath in and each breath out, one foot in front of the other. Garden variety, tiny miracles.</span><br><span> </span><br><span>My own ingratitude startles me sometimes. Sometimes I will be in the middle of receiving a miracle and I'll actually be dissing it in my own mind, like, “Oh sure, this is happening NOW…”</span><br><span> </span><br><span>In those moments I am literally out of my mind, out of my body, and out of my own experience. I'm not experiencing my life for the fervent desire to be experiencing some thing different, and thus totally missing the miracle that is unfolding right in front of me.</span><br><span> </span><br><span>I say this not to cajole you or change your mind about anything…but if you feel like it, look around. What just...works? What has been working for so long in the background so beautifully, but demands nothing of you, does not call for your attention, does not need you to fix it; if anything, it's been humming along fixing YOU. Feeding you, nurturing you, this whole time.</span><br><span> </span><br><span>See if you can't find one miracle today. When you find it, let it take you by the hand and take you to the next one.</span><br><span> </span><br><span>And if there's nothing that feels miraculous today, if your experience feels painful or difficult or boring or full of shame or rage or hurt, even THEN there is at least one thing around you that's working.</span><br><br><span>Try to find it.</span><br><br><span>Not to avoid the difficulty or bypass it, but to diffuse it. To render it powerless to come between you and the ordinary, everyday miracles that belong to you.</span><br><span> </span><br><span>We all have a perfect right to the miracles in our lives.</span></p><p><i><span>Sign up for the Sunday Haiku Milieu email at haikumilieu.com.</span></i></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7182632
2023-04-01T23:39:55-05:00
2023-04-01T23:46:33-05:00
Haiku Milieu at Golden Dagger
<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/d710c3a0573c7db253060e466c56f9c56337a5c1/original/jenny-jon-river.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><p><span style="color:black;">Jenny and Jon Williams singing "Follow the River" at the March 31, 2023 Haiku Milieu concert.</span><br><br><span style="color:black;"><span>Last Friday's Haiku Milieu concert at Golden Dagger in Chicago was one of those very special, alchemical nights between artist and audience. If you couldn't be there - don't worry! We'll have video to share in the next few weeks.</span></span><br><br><span style="color:black;"><span>Meanwhile, remember the song I've been collaborating on with Jon Williams? We performed it last night! Click for a </span></span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://youtu.be/Z42nJAgsxH4"><span style="color:black;"><span>snippet of video </span></span></a><span style="color:black;"><span> and read the final version below, based on this Haiku:</span></span><br><span style="color:black;"><span>Come and take my hand</span></span><br><span style="color:black;"><span>you have a place in this world</span></span><br><span style="color:black;"><span>right here next to me</span></span></p><p><br><span style="color:black;"><span>FOLLOW THE RIVER</span></span><br><span style="color:black;"><span>Jenny Bienemann and Jon Williams</span></span><br><br><span style="color:black;"><span>There’s a river singing in you</span></span><br><span style="color:black;"><span>a melody that's soft and strong</span></span><br><span style="color:black;"><span>there’s a river singing in you</span></span><br><span style="color:black;"><span>to bring you back where you belong</span></span><br><span style="color:black;"><span>so whenever you are lonely</span></span><br><span style="color:black;"><span>you don’t know what to do</span></span><br><span style="color:black;"><span>follow the river that’s in you</span></span><br><span style="color:black;"><span> </span></span><br><span style="color:black;"><span>Follow the river</span></span><br><br><span style="color:black;"><span>There is a hand reaching for you</span></span><br><span style="color:black;"><span>to lift you up when you are down</span></span><br><span style="color:black;"><span>there is a hand reaching for you</span></span><br><span style="color:black;"><span>to bring you back where you belong</span></span><br><span style="color:black;"><span>so whenever you’re defeated</span></span><br><span style="color:black;"><span>feeling like a fool</span></span><br><span style="color:black;"><span>Take the hand that’s there for you</span></span><br><br><span style="color:black;"><span>Follow the river</span></span><br><span style="color:black;"><span>Take the hand that’s there for you</span></span><br><span style="color:black;"><span> </span></span><br><span style="color:black;"><span>And when you can’t</span></span><br><span style="color:black;"><span>Just remember</span></span><br><span style="color:black;"><span>I keep a place with me for you</span></span></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7179516
2023-03-27T20:51:55-05:00
2023-03-27T20:51:55-05:00
Ralph Covert: All Creative Choices Begin with Choice and Limitation
<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/10f72a2f32455dd4e74d6ed6b03f599e7af70934/original/ralph-covert.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><p><span class="text-small">Collaboration. Community. Songwriting! Join us on March 31 for the Haiku Milieu concert at Golden Dagger in Chicago. Get your tickets </span><a class="no-pjax" href="https://goldendagger.com/event/jenny-bienemanns-haiku-milieu/" target="_blank" data-cke-saved-href="https://goldendagger.com/event/jenny-bienemanns-haiku-milieu/"><span class="text-small">here</span></a><span class="text-small">!</span><br><br><span class="text-small">One of our artists for this show is Ralph Covert. Ralph is a Grammy-nominated multi-hyphenate artist: singer. Songwriter. Producer. Playwright. Actor. Educator, and the list goes on! He will be sharing not just one, but TWO songs with us on Friday!</span><br><br><span class="text-small">I experienced his work for the first time as many of us did, on the radio, then in venues ranging from clubs to theatres to one unforgettable evening in a now long-since-closed wine bar on Wrightwood Avenue in Chicago, where he played for an epic three hours and then talked with fans for another couple of hours. He is as generous of a person as he is as an artist.</span><br><br><span class="text-small">I was thrilled when he said yes to writing for Haiku Milieu. And when he said he'd be willing to do a deep dive on his creative process for this email - ? I was over the moon. Hope you enjoy this peek into the one and only Ralph Covert's process.</span></p><p><span class="text-small">"There are several aspects of my songwriting process that lend themselves well to writing a song that incorporates a haiku. There’s the creative process itself, and there’s the analysis of the creative process.</span></p><p><span class="text-small">You can’t know a flea</span></p><p><span class="text-small">Unless you look at the dog</span></p><p><span class="text-small">And the bite they share</span><br><br><span class="text-small">There are four primary aspects of a song I look at when songwriting: Words, Music, Rhythm, and Emotional Center.</span><br><br><span class="text-small">While they are of course interrelated, thinking of these four categories allows me to construct a tool box of techniques I use while writing.</span><br><br><span class="text-small">For example, within the category of Words (lyrics) there might be considerations of where the light and heavy syllables fall (the poetic rhythm), line length, narrative structure, point of view, what rhyme schemes are employed, and the meaning (if any) of what’s being said.</span><br><br><span class="text-small">Music would include both harmony (chords), which exists vertically and within a specific duration, and melody, which is a more linear collection of notes that happens horizontally over the course of time.</span><br><br><span class="text-small">When I look at Rhythm, I consider both time signature and the pulse or groove of a song as well as harmonic rhythm and the ways that the different sections of the song flow from each other (Song structure creates the rhythm of the song as a whole).</span><br><br><span class="text-small">Finally, I use the idea of Emotional Center to describe the way a song makes the listener feel as well as both the emotions and memories the writer draws from and the state of mind they’re in while writing.</span></p><p><span class="text-small">For me, all creative acts begin with choices and limitations. In some ways these two things are the same. Every choice you make during the creative process adds corresponding limitations until the song you arrive at is the only possible solution to the creative riddle you’ve been solving.</span><br><br><span class="text-small">The five-seven-five syllable line structure dictates line length, and so shapes both the lyrics and the melody. I find writing verses in haiku form no different than any other verse.</span><br><br><span class="text-small">With every song you write, the first verse composed is easiest because it establishes the poetic rhythm for all subsequent verses. We then experience “Second Verse Syndrome,” because the pattern is now set, and the writer needs to internalize this structure before they can write more verses within this new pattern.</span><br><br><span class="text-small">The more haikus we write, the more transparent the form becomes, because we have internalized the form. </span><br><br><span class="text-small">Interestingly, because haiku doesn’t require a specific poetic rhythm, I sometimes find that I need to re-write a haiku that I’m using to get the pattern of light and heavy syllables to be consistent with other haikus that I’m using. The melody and phrasing of the lines needs a consistent poetic rhythm.</span></p><p><span class="text-small">One of the wonderful things about haikus is that their condensed form requires cleanly constructed insights or images.</span><br><br><span class="text-small">These lend themselves well to songwriting, because they often contain strong emotional centers. Often, the emotional center helps inspire melodic, harmonic, and lyrical ideas. </span><br><br><span class="text-small">The music inside</span></p><p><span class="text-small">A seed fallen from a tree</span></p><p><span class="text-small">Haiku becomes song."</span><br><br><span class="text-small">- Ralph Covert</span></p><p><span class="text-small"> Join us in person for Haiku Milieu this Friday, March 31 at 8:00 pm at Golden Dagger in Chicago!</span></p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/ad9faf4686befc33d03f880abd314b903a1331f6/original/ig-square-1.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" />
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7166595
2023-03-07T06:53:04-06:00
2023-03-07T07:00:06-06:00
Getting What You Want is Wonderful
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/a6453cfb695f3509a1b08a29f7008a18668ba003/original/kick-ash-2023.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p><p><i>Originally published in the Sunday Haiku Milieu newsletter. Sign up here: haikumilieu.com.</i></p><p><span style="color:#000000;"><span>I got what I wanted, and it was wonderful.</span></span><br><br><span style="color:#000000;"><span>A while ago now, I remember going to a shop that had been in one location forever and the owners seemed...unhappy. As a person who routinely feels her own feelings AND the feelings of everyone else in the room, it was too much for me. I loved what they had, but would find reasons to do without it.</span></span><br><br><span style="color:#000000;"><span>When they moved to a larger space, I went in to visit them, and it felt like that burden was completely gone! And it made me wonder about the simple power of getting what you want. Letting people have what they want, even when it is not what you would have wanted. Even when you think they should not want what they want. Let them have what they want, and you go get what you want. That, to me, is the essence of genuine freedom.</span></span><br><br><span style="color:#000000;"><span>Last weekend, I got what I have been wanting for a long time: time with my beloved out-of-town friends, and space to do nothing but connect with people through music.</span></span><br><br><span style="color:#000000;"><span>I love my life. I love that it’s busy, and if there’s something going on in one arena that doesn't feel good, I almost always have something cooking in another that does. But sometimes, having all these mini "masters" to serve, even when I chose them, generates a kind of fight or flight momentum in me.</span></span><br><br><span style="color:#000000;"><span>Amidst all I have to do, I can forget what I really want.</span></span><br><br><span style="color:#000000;"><span>What I really want is to connect with other people. That’s why I started writing songs, that’s why I started writing haiku. Sometimes you get a run of days where that all comes together. </span></span><br><br><span style="color:#000000;"><span>That’s what happened last weekend in Chicago, IL and in Door County, WI doing a little run of shows with Katie Dahl, Jessica Holland and Jeanne Kuhns, dear friends and fellow songwriters. People as devoted to the craft of songwriting as they are to tending the garden of the rest of their lives. It was such a pleasure to let everything else go and just be with them and the truly lovely audiences that filled each show with connection, knitting us together as a tribe spanning time, space and experience.</span></span><br><br><span style="color:#000000;"><span>And should you be lucky enough to have physical places that share live music with your community, count your lucky stars! Venue owners really are unsung heroes, and we were at three venues for the record books.</span></span><br><br><span style="color:#000000;"><span>One show was at Friendly Tap in Chicagoland, a hub of community that lives up to its name with an incredible proprietor, bartenders and baristas in Berwyn, IL. One show was in at SWY231 Gallery, a blank canvas an elegant curator, warm wood floors, and creamy white walls inviting an artists' imagination in Sturgeon Bay, WI. The final show was at Kick Ash Door County, a reimagined church chock-full of the things that make life worth living: books, books and more books, granola, tea, coffee, and extraordinary baked goods in Ellison Bay, WI.</span></span><br><br><span style="color:#000000;"><span>Though I returned home a week ago, I am still reflecting on the conversations, the communion between artist and audience, and the almost sacred spaces in which these experiences took place. </span></span><br><br><span style="color:#000000;"><span>I got what I wanted. It is STILL wonderful.</span></span><br><br><span style="color:#000000;"><span>I share this with you, dear reader, if in fact you have read this far into this reflection (thank you!) because the only reason this even happened is because I decided to LET myself have what I really wanted. </span></span><br><br><span style="color:#000000;"><span>I am so grateful I did not permit myself to use being too busy or too caught up serving the various masters I PUT IN PLACE as an excuse to not do it. It wasn’t a given that I was going to do that, even as the gigs drew closer and tickets were being sold. </span></span><br><br><span style="color:#000000;"><span>I am grateful to the audiences that came out and joined us, holding the space, giving and receiving in equal measure; to the venues that hosted us; and most of all to my fun, silly, deep songwriting friends who walked through literal and figurative storms to come together and do what we love doing most.</span></span><br><br><span style="color:#000000;"><span>I got what I wanted. It lives with me now. It IS wonderful. </span></span><br><br><span style="color:#000000;"><span>If you feel like it, drop me a line about a time you got what you wanted, and it was wonderful.</span></span></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7156487
2023-02-18T09:52:34-06:00
2023-02-18T09:54:01-06:00
My Folky Valentine - link to video!
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/f1cedea542e01656eb8d3e1a47eb32958741d045/original/folky-valentine.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p><p>The annual celebration of Love, Folk Style from The Ark in Ann Arbor, hosted by Annie and Rod Capps. <a class="no-pjax" href="https://www.youtube.com/live/F-ibsCesVp4?feature=share" target="_blank" data-link-type="url">Click the link</a> and experience the magic!</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7149653
2023-02-06T17:14:17-06:00
2023-02-18T09:46:07-06:00
Capturing Life on the Page - link to video
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/392277/0991ff4c5dc7fa9ff14350f459e8401db28d0433/original/life-on-the-page.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p><p><a class="no-pjax" href="https://youtu.be/kRn-qworVE8" target="_blank" data-link-type="url" contents="Capturing Life on the Page, episode 1!">Capturing Life on the Page, episode 1!</a></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7149652
2023-02-06T17:10:57-06:00
2023-02-06T17:11:23-06:00
"Wedding Dress, the college friends edition."
<p><span class="font_regular">"<a contents="Wedding Dress" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://youtu.be/aH9sh0gBLLA" target="_blank">Wedding Dress</a>,the college friends edition." <br>Coffee. Just the girls. Saturday morning. <br>Friends from college, together at one table, for the first time in decades. <br>Births. Deaths. The stories. The songs. Who we have become. What we know now, what we couldn't have known then. Forgiveness, of each other and ourselves. <br>Greta, who’s experience is part of the song, beside me. Laurie, on the other side, who knows the words by heart and the harmony even better, capturing the moment. <br>Tears. Laughter. Singing. <br>Laurie sent it to Greta and me late last night while I was writing a song for this Thursday’s show, the first I have written in a while, and I wanted to get it right. <br>It was a perfectly timed reminder to seek the bright, healing light of art, music and most of all friendship when faced with a moonless night. </span></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7132367
2023-01-04T06:26:00-06:00
2023-01-12T12:42:43-06:00
1/7, 6:30 online and 8:30 in person!
<p>Nothing ever ends <br>without possibility <br>and hope being born</p>
<p>An oldie but a goodie, from the first New Year after I started taking photo and haiku as a daily practice. </p>
<p>I still feel the exuberance in the air from that day, the sense of possibility and adventure, tinged with affection for the people we were before everything that has happened since then. </p>
<p>Things like pandemics, you know? </p>
<p>And also, triumphs and losses from the sublime to the ridiculous that make us who we are. </p>
<p>It's less that I miss who we were then, and more that I marvel that I could ever have not have known what I know now. </p>
<p>Come celebrate the New Year with us at Friendly Tap this Saturday night with a concert full of songs inspired by Haiku Milieu. </p>
<p>Join us online at 6:30 pm and live at 8:30 pm. </p>
<p>May the New Year bring us all love and peace and trust in the mystery in 2023 and beyond.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7116815
2022-12-04T07:29:10-06:00
2023-01-12T12:42:43-06:00
2023 Haiku Milieu Gifts - shipping on me!
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/46f4ccc9b7922dd005be7454ad5a28214cb798d3/original/img-5222.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />Lately I start this email on Saturday, and finish it up in the wee hours of Sunday morning. Right now, I wonder where you are? If you are starting to wake up? Starting to think about the day or week ahead? Savoring the wee dark hours? </p>
<p>Or maybe you are reading this when the sun is high in the sky, either Sunday (today) or the next day? Over coffee in bed, at a table with flowers, or in between errands, or maybe during hold music? Or maybe the day after that? </p>
<p>And just thinking about what you might be doing, makes me feel like I'm there with you. </p>
<p>It has always been this way, that the mere thought of another person connects us to them, but it feels particularly magical in the wee small hours of the morning, working on this email, when I feel like I get to tell you what you mean to me in the cathedral of my thoughts, where we always understand each other and the conversations always go the way we intend. </p>
<p>On some level, I think that's all the Holiday season is trying to do. To get us back to that moment of genuine appreciation and understanding. We anticipate stringing moments of connection together, one after the other, like lights on a tree. </p>
<p>We think about the people we love. We make plans to get together if they are still with us. We look past the things that didn't go right, and look for gifts and experiences that carry the energy of what they mean to us, to them. </p>
<p>If you are interested in giving the gift of Haiku Milieu to those you love, most everything you need is on sale now. The 2023 Calendar, just 4.75 x 4.75, it is itself a haiku! - and it comes with a card in a beautiful antique gold envelope. You can choose last year's card or this year's card. It's perfect for mailing to a beloved person or stuffing into a stocking. </p>
<p>And of course there are the Haiku Milieu books, audiobook, t-shirts, greeting cards, and more. </p>
<p>If you are looking for a Haiku Milieu experience, consider joining us for the Saturday, January 7 "Best of Haiku Milieu" concert that will happen at Friendly Tap, preceded by a Haiku Milieu concert screening. </p>
<p>Have dinner at Autre Monde next door, then walk over to hear some of your favorite local singer songwriters share songs inspired by Haiku Milieu backed by a formidable band. </p>
<p>My hope is the Haiku Milieu does for you what it does for me: makes you feel connected to your life and experiences, and the people you love. If it does, pass it on. </p>
<p>As my gift to you, shipping is on me! </p>
<p>Quantities truly are limited, so please take a look as soon as you can. You will find everything at haikumilieu.com.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7111178
2022-11-27T05:57:37-06:00
2022-11-27T05:57:37-06:00
Let's DO this!
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/29503d2893aa6cb05b580739b2175ce539b28fba/original/screen-shot-2022-11-19-at-1-03-27-pm.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsImxhcmdlIl1d.png" class="size_l justify_center border_none" alt="" />Sending this with the very warmest Thanksgiving greetings! <br>I hope your Season is off to a beautiful start. </p>
<p>As I write this, the rain is falling with a gentle insistence, as if to say: <br>Do the things you got talked out of doing. <br>Forgive the people who don't even know they've wronged you, including yourself. <br>Shelter what is true in you, and in others. </p>
<p>Saying these things is one thing; doing them is another. So I made the first-ever Haiku Milieu Calendar for 2023 to keep us both company in the coming year. </p>
<p>It's stocking stuffer size, just 4.75 x 4.75. It will fit in a purse or a pocket, hang on a nail, or perch on your desk. </p>
<p>My hope is the calendar will do for you what the rain is doing for me: reminding you to do the things, forgive the things, and protect the things. The "things" you say? Yes, the things. The things that I can't know for you and you can't know for me. If that sounds like a lot, just know I'll be doing too, at the same time as you. </p>
<p>Let's DO this! </p>
<p>Shipping begins on December 2. You can order the 2023 Haiku Milieu Calendar and the brand-new 2022 Holiday Card at haikumilieu.com.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7106383
2022-11-19T14:32:05-06:00
2022-11-19T14:32:05-06:00
2023 Haiku Milieu Calendar!
<p> <img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/fafa4755a9635145d1c0ec2644cf61010122d2d5/original/screen-shot-2022-11-19-at-1-30-32-pm.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>SO MUCH good news to share! </p>
<p><strong>The first-ever Haiku Milieu Calendar debuts in stocking-stuffer size for 2023! </strong></p>
<p><strong>The debut of the 2022 Haiku Milieu Holiday Card! </strong></p>
<p>And…drumroll please… </p>
<p>HAIKUMILIEU.ART will be live this Black Friday!!! With fun things for you to bring into your lives for the Holidays, or for no reason at all! </p>
<p>it began as all things do, with the enthusiasm that begets worlds. </p>
<p>And in the beginning, it was as falling in love always is. Trancendent. Everything else looked like it wasn’t trying very hard, even those things you’d poured yourself into. This new thing. This is going to be IT! This will change my LIFE!! </p>
<p>In reality, what is it that changes your life? </p>
<p>The myriad tiny little things you do every day. The things that typically elude your notice. Like the way you drive a certain routes, hello to people on the way into the office; and also the way you might grumble to yourself on the way out of the office. These are the things that make a life. </p>
<p>That kindly rearrange themselves so your new great love has some room. Truth is, they are excited for this new love as much as you are; maybe things will change around here! Shake up the monontony of this ordinary and wonderful life. </p>
<p>So it went when I had the idea to launch haikumilieu.art. </p>
<p>It started because I was tired of all the odds and ends of merchandise still sitting in my basement. I imagined them, listening to the dehumidifyer go on and off, the water heater turn on, Robin and I rushing past them with a load of laundry here, a hasty search for something there. </p>
<p>I keep wanting to make physical objects and share them; I don’t want to keep having to find room for them in my basement. </p>
<p>Hmmmmmm. I thought. </p>
<p>And haikumilieu.art was born. </p>
<p>On a weekly basis, I’ll upload the new Haiku Milieu. If you see one you absolutely love and don’t want to wait for the next book to see if it’s in there, you can go there and pick up a poster, a card, a coffee cup, or my personal favorite – MAGNETS! </p>
<p>Sounds obvious. Print on Demand! Sounds SOOOOO simple, right? </p>
<p>Except for… </p>
<p>I have made more than 10,000 haiku, taken more than 35,000 photos, and published 1,250 of them online and another 150 in the Sunday emails. Guess where they all are? All in mixed together. With everything else from all other parts of my life. </p>
<p>So first, the great sorting. It has begun, and it will be ongoing. For a long time. And I mean, maybe as long as forever because once you dig into your archive, there’s just a lot to process. Even with the best of intentions, you can get lost within 30 seconds between memories, ancient urgent things you meant to do years ago and now could do quickly, and the sheer overwhelm of having to move through it all. </p>
<p>Enough of it has occurred, however, for haikumilieu.art to be LIVE THIS FRIDAY! (Did I say that already?) </p>
<p>Second, the great reckoning of with what you have created. I am lucky enough to have had several Haiku Milieuvians who I respect and admire ask me for a calendar. We hit the threshold with the number of requests and so it moved to the first position in the cue for the 2022 Holiday Season. </p>
<p>What is it you ask? A CALENDAR! </p>
<p>And as I tend to do, of course I wanted it to be BIG. A big, saddle-stitched, high-quality paper, 4-color love affair that would inspire you on a monthly basis to find the extraordinary in the every day. </p>
<p>But then I learned about resolution. It’s one thing to share images on the web, another thing to gather them in an 8x8 book; and quite another thing to reproduce them in larger formats. </p>
<p>So now my brain, one foot in this world, trying to bring something new into it, and one foot in the past, trying to get something out of it to get it into the real world of now, almost exploded. </p>
<p>Remember, my art teacher in kindergarden made fun of another student’s art. My high school art teacher ridiculed my painting of a bird for being so much larger than the landscape. I CRIED when I thought I would have to take more art classes to graduate! And now I have to learn about photo resolution?!? </p>
<p>Who am I even? </p>
<p>My husband, you know, Robin? The one with the art degree? Stepped in and said calmly, “can you make a smaller calendar?” </p>
<p>what? </p>
<p>who even says that? To ME? </p>
<p>when have I EVER gone smaller?? </p>
<p>yet… </p>
<p>my heart stopped pounding. I could hear the tv on in the other room instead of the blood pounding in my ears. my overwhelming desire to consume the entire box of gluten-free crackers subsided. </p>
<p>OK, I thought. He’s on to something. </p>
<p>SMALLER. </p>
<p>a haiku. </p>
<p>a single espresso. </p>
<p>how rain sounds as its moving towards you. </p>
<p>how the moon looks as it’s waxing. </p>
<p>Turns out, most of my favorite things ARE smaller. If it turns our yours are too, you can pre-order both here: </p>
<p>You can pre-order your 4.75 x 4.75, 2023 Haiku Milieu Calendar here and the 2022 Holiday Card here.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/29503d2893aa6cb05b580739b2175ce539b28fba/original/screen-shot-2022-11-19-at-1-03-27-pm.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7091717
2022-10-30T10:01:55-05:00
2022-10-30T10:01:55-05:00
We Got This! Or, Me and the Allen Wrench
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/a72220e133415b18cc731e2da656885ecde38fe1/original/img-2657.jpeg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />This is me, finally getting an Allen wrench to work! <br><br>I wish you a week where you pick the right key for every lock, glide it in smoothly, open the door and walk in with a sense of accomplishment, every. single. time.<br><br>And if it doesn't go that way, maybe go get yourself a cup of something warm and delicious and have a think about what would make someone (me) smile like that about getting an Allen wrench to (finally) work, ultimately concluding that they (me) like you, tried and failed again and again, yet never gave up. <br><br>WHY did they (me) never give up? Was I buoyed by love? Friendship? OF COURSE. I didn't take that picture myself, you can see both of my hands! My friends were cheering me on.<br><br>And so now we get back to the crux of the matter, which is: should you feel alone and friendless, overmastered by an overwhelming if minor task, think of your friends (like ME!), all of whom have triumphed over a mundane task as you will surely do when you get back to it, and imagine us cheering you on. <br><br>WE GOT THIS!</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7091714
2022-10-30T09:56:24-05:00
2022-10-30T09:56:24-05:00
Like Leaves Love Falling
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/69875167c2d04fb2308d87af4d534c74b9263f61/original/typorama-8.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7091713
2022-10-30T09:52:56-05:00
2022-10-30T09:53:17-05:00
Autumn Leaves, a haiku poem
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/71d27360b6d20e6001d8b2deea1f41b8728d8618/original/typorama-7.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p> </p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7091712
2022-10-30T09:45:23-05:00
2022-10-30T09:53:17-05:00
Your Better Angels, a haiku poem
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/5dca96ce8b5bfdac79b295915e358cc8c8b4b7d1/original/typorama-6.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.png" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /></p>
<p>Your Better Angels<br>A Haiku poem by Jenny Bienemann<br><br><br>Your better angels<br>want you to know they are there<br>watching over you <br><br>Every heart must learn<br>to fly and fall and not break<br>so they send you birds<br><br>Birds will sing your heart<br>right back into your chest, home<br>like it never left<br> <br>Very suddenly<br>what could never be made right<br>dissolves into hope<br><br>That’s just what they do<br>those better angels of ours<br>we hardly notice <br><br>When you can’t believe<br>what is happening to you<br>look for the feathers <br><br>tiny little signs<br>all around you, all the time<br>for you, only you</p>
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"><tbody> <tr> <td valign="top"> <table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"> <tbody> <tr> <td valign="top"> <p>So many ways of looking at the world. And each way has its own way of working with your heart and mind. <br> <br> For this Sunday, I started with the idea of a message from our better angels. <br> <br> Especially when I write the Sunday Haiku Milieu haikus, I ask my muse to think about my readers. What do they need to hear? What can I share about what I truly think, that would bring comfort, meaning or peace to them? <br> <br> I loved the idea that our better angels were trying to get a message across, and was thrilled when the line "want you to know they are there" had seven syllables! The next question was: should I use the phrase "looking out for you" or "watching over you?" Ultimately, that was determined by the image, and I used each in different ways.<br> <br> While I can't imagine that I will never NOT love the line and motion of black ink on thirsty paper, I could not have imagined how much I would enjoy drenching the ink drawings in color, and experiencing how it changes the meaning of the image, ultimately influencing the haiku. <br> <br> You can see the progression: drawing, color, haiku. It is OK if the image and haiku are not written together, or at the same time, but they do have to WORK together. This is why I ultimately chose the simpler image. I thought it worked better with the haiku.<br> <br> When you're a songwriter, everyone asks, music or lyrics first? People have started asking me: image or haiku first? <br> <br> And all I can say to both is: YES. <br> <br> Both are first sometimes. They influence and depend on each other. But nothing is final until it is FINAL. I changed every stanza of the "Your Better Angels" poem, and played with the size of the image that whole entire time. I think I'm done now...but let's see. By the time I post this, I may have changed my mind!<br> <br> And as much as we might wish that the ideas arrived fully baked and ready to serve...that is rarely the case. You have to figure out how to stay present for long stretches of time and lean into not knowing if and how and when it will all work out.<br> <br> Spoiler alert: it always does. Eventually Even when it doesn't. :)<br> <br> Thanks for being with me on this journey! I love hearing from you. Want to get on the Sunday Haiku Milieu train? Sign up here: haikumilieu.com.</p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/bd31ba64357381fadd2cf60f53c4f35b319442f1/original/typorama.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /></p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/125eb349c1c9e5702bf3dd9337f04fbb71e43b4f/original/img-3920.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /></p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/2a490c1834c7550fcec954b9608d764ffe48a83e/original/e012b0b0-6b80-41b0-9693-473fed54b6bb.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.png" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/591546d1d4e413a0f41f3391207a114085162709/original/2769c60a-401b-4ae8-b4c3-69d96dd691e4.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.png" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /></p> </td> </tr> </tbody> </table> </td> </tr>
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<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"><tbody> <tr> <td> <table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"> <tbody> <tr> <td> </td> </tr> </tbody> </table> </td> </tr>
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Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7081292
2022-10-14T08:06:34-05:00
2022-10-14T08:36:50-05:00
"Fall"-ing in Love
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/660bcd23ab5a6454054be9078a95014347726aaa/original/89cd4554-7992-4858-9cb7-e03ad77719ce.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.png" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /></p>
<p>"FALL"-ing in love.</p>
<p>If there is a secret to triumphing over the inevitable dispossessions of age and its trusty sidekick existential despair, it has to be falling in love. And the light of Autumn? The air? The sense of possibility? It's like falling in love, this time every year (FALL-ing in love - get it?)</p>
<p>Everything deepens and enriches everything else. </p>
<p>I am what you might call a serial monogamist. I have been married for decades, I’ve had many of the same friends for longer than that, and I’ve kept at this (monkey) business of being an artist far longer than certain family members thought advisable. Ha! </p>
<p>Somehow or other this serial monogamist keeps on falling in love. </p>
<p>By now you’ve deduced I’m not so much talking about falling in love with another person as much as falling in love with, well, the world around you! With the leaves twirling in the air. With a perfect cup of coffee. With that new friend. With the way the sky looks over there. With the new song I’m writing. </p>
<p>This love -- and what grows out of it -- is deepened and enriched by every other time I’ve ever been in love, with anyThing or anyOne else. </p>
<p>Fast forward to today. I still can’t help photographing things that catch my eye, but these days I am loving making a drawing, taking a photo of it, and exploding it into shapes and color as the basis for a haiku. </p>
<p>The burst of joy I get from doing that is very like the other times I have fallen in love. And also, completely new. Sort of like a bridge between the past and the future. I almost always feel this way in the Fall.</p>
<p>I might think about those people, places and things from times past or a hoped-for future. And while they might find their way into the words of a song or a Haiku, it’s more that they keep me company, holding my hand as I traverse the new path, helping to ease the passage as the new is born from the old. </p>
<p>Everything deepens and enriches everything else. </p>
<p>It’s a great gift to be an artist. If you’re reading this I’m guessing you already know that. But did you know how grateful I am for you being part of my creative journey? It bears repeating: I don’t take any of this, or you, for granted. </p>
<p>I’d love to hear what you think about this new direction, so drop me a line if you feel like it. </p>
<p>I hope none of us ever stops falling in love with the Fall, with life, and each other.</p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/2c8a2406602abe8c0a83e143d1f5d2bd06e7d704/original/1eb7f7bd-4ff3-4d78-8563-610aed516c55.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /></p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/d21164e857fde42624159210fdd477e715d6b82b/original/208216e0-312f-41e6-87fd-76235263c20f.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/e48f143ceb4af15f14a4e03271b5cb5782d5f37f/original/cd59d5dd-3427-4924-b31d-4ab5a31c90b1.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7073298
2022-10-03T07:11:15-05:00
2022-10-03T07:18:40-05:00
What Would We Find - Heading Slowly Towards the Beginning
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/6586917c6eaf17aed6c8eb863ea7084adfbf9d0b/original/hst2b-cover-text.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>10 years ago this past weekend, "Heading Slowly Towards the Beginning" came into the world. </p>
<p>Every project is a reflection of who you are at that moment. That record would not turn out like it is, if I tried to make it today. I am glad I made it then! </p>
<p>To celebrate this anniversary, it is available to download for free on my website, jennybienemann.com, or you can find it on Spotify, Apple Music, etc. </p>
<p>I received my first Illinois Arts Council grant for this project, and it was the boost I needed to fine-tune a project articulating the change in my artistic practice from working as a solo artist with a looper to working with a full band: bass, drums, three guitars, keys, a string quartet, and more than 20 harmony singers! The differences between working like that, and working as a solo artist, were staggering. </p>
<p>When you work alone, you have the freedom to carve from a fresh block of wood the melodies, harmonies and instrumental parts so that they swirl together in a way that is both satisfying on a recording and replicable live. You are in a kayak, open to the whims of your muse and free to change direction instantaneously, bounded only by the limits of your imagination and abilities. </p>
<p>When you work with other people, you are steering a ship. Your turning radius changes. Your imagination soars, no longer bound by your own limitations, but now there are the orientations of others to consider. The whisperings of the muse can become harder to hear. </p>
<p>I recorded the ten songs of ‘Heading Slowly Towards The Beginning’ with a core band that included John Abbey, Robin Bienemann, Andon Davis, Steve Dawson, Kevin Liam O'Donnell, Quartet Parapluie, Alton Smith, and so, so many wonderful harmony singers. </p>
<p>All but two of the songs were recorded with my trusty longtime friend/collaborator Bruce Roper -- many songs played on guitars he made -- and the other two were co-produced with Steve Dawson, early in our collaborative relationship. It was mixed with my dear friend and fellow taco enthusiast Blaise Barton. Everyone of these people amplified my ability to listen to my muses. </p>
<p>Maybe two years prior, Robin and I started going to the FitzGerald's open mic and I invited folks from the open mic to sing with me on "What Would We Find." We gathered at Bruce’s magical Little School Street studio, and only needed to record the group singing a few times. Everyone was paid in chocolate chip cookies! </p>
<p>Another highlight was working with Steve at his Kernel Sound Emporium on the song "Asleep," the very first song I wrote on the looper, that would become the second to last song of the album. </p>
<p>Best of all - when I listen now, I hear the joy of those new friendships, that deep sense of companionship, that gentle delight in each other’s company, musical and otherwise, permeating each song. I am beyond grateful to have a literal “record” of who we were then. </p>
<p>What we didn't know about what would happen in the coming years! How could we have known? How wonderful that we didn’t. </p>
<p>I hope you enjoy it! </p>
<p>If I held you in my arms <br>where the river meets the sea <br>what would we find?</p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/0db0583ed0f121ae898fd110f09b1b5ed6a9530c/original/jenny-action-1.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7063372
2022-09-19T06:51:50-05:00
2022-09-19T07:59:59-05:00
Tristan's Way
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/bb13b8a251d57a6d6b6ffc3f57ef95c9c306601a/original/typorama-5.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.png" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" style="margin-right: 45px; margin-left: 45px;" /></p>
<p>Tristan’s Way <br>Jenny Bienemann </p>
<p>Tristan was a cat <br>born on a construction site <br>who just loved to work </p>
<p>Say you were crouched down <br>digging through the old junk drawer <br>he’d climb in to help </p>
<p>or doing laundry <br>he’d lie on the warm clean clothes <br>inspecting your work </p>
<p>or you’d play guitar <br>his tail keeping time until <br>you’d pet him again </p>
<p>He was a man’s cat <br>he preferred men’s company <br>but women loved him </p>
<p>He let them love him <br>and when no men were around <br>he'd turn on the charm </p>
<p>But he knew somehow <br>men needed him in a way <br>women never would </p>
<p>And what he needed <br>was to be useful, to work <br>to be of service </p>
<p>Cats don’t get to choose <br>they don’t get to kid themselves <br>about who they are </p>
<p>only the humans <br>make up an ideal and try <br>to live up to it </p>
<p>finding endless fault <br>in themselves and each other <br>for not being it </p>
<p>to know your own mind <br>make the difference you can make <br>and let the rest go? </p>
<p>That is Tristan’s Way <br>and once you start to choose it <br>it will bring you home. </p>
<p>Rest In Peace, Tristan Michael Bienemann.</p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/b9b645f80553228186e74634caada7a82f48ac1d/original/typorama-4.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7058366
2022-09-12T07:48:45-05:00
2022-09-12T07:48:46-05:00
Haiku Milieu: 5 years on
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/5b35d097abc17146b3fc99db96010c5459e4dc06/original/hm-anniversary-infographic-2022-b.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" />FIVE YEARS! September 10 marks five years of creating an image, and writing haiku. Everything else that Haiku Milieu has done or will do, grows from the simple decision to do a little something every day. </p>
<p>I remember why I started. I remember how simultaneously difficult and revivifying. I think I wanted to minimize how difficult it is to begin again, once you have let creative endeavor lapse, and thought that taking a photo and writing every day would help with that. </p>
<p>But I also had noticed that my friends who journaled a lot seemed to know their own minds (especially Carley Baer and James Hall) and could be articulate very quickly about what was important to them, and why. So I was trying to figure out how I could do my version of that. </p>
<p>Five years on, what have I learned? </p>
<p>Well, it doesn't get easier to start once you've stopped. And it doesn't get easier to wait for the inspiration you're asking for to arrive. </p>
<p>But...inspiration inarguably comes faster than it did, now that it doesn't have to have to blast its way through the compacted rock of my resistance. </p>
<p>Also: </p>
<p>- You get an idea, you follow it THEN. Saving it for later can be done, but rarely do you recapture the intensity of the initial lightning strike. Better to sketch an outline into your phone, on the back of an envelope, or in the margins of your professional writing, than to let it evaporate into a taunting half-memory. </p>
<p>- Other people are more than willing, happy even, to give me a second to write a burst of inspiration down, even if we are in the middle of an intense conversation, and I feel less apologetic about asking for it. </p>
<p>- Consistency is your friend. Greeting the page/guitar/art supplies on as close to a daily basis as possible, can be more important than how long you actually "practice" your particular act of creation. Even 10 minutes can work, if you do it with heart and not just to get it done. </p>
<p>- Consistency turns into momentum. Momentum turns into less effort on your part, and you'd be surprised at how quickly that turns into joy. </p>
<p>- Joy turns into trust and trust turns into openness, which turns into making more things, in a beautiful, ever renewing cycle. You start to lose yourself in the best possible sense, which is to say, losing track of who you think you are SUPPOSED to be, only to find yourself as you ACTUALLY are, at the very heart of a Universe who is itself continually making things and making things new, you among them. </p>
<p>And that is the best place of all to be. If you would like to join the Haiku Milieu Sunday Email club, I'd love to have you. Go to haikumilieu.com.</p>
<p>Happy Anniversary!</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7054085
2022-09-06T10:34:04-05:00
2022-09-06T17:35:33-05:00
Haiku After Dark
<p> </p>
<p><span class="font_regular"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/b7c79a2e18f6edbbcbe3771466187a4df389c1c9/original/hm-temp-tattoo-2022.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /></span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">On the Friday of Labor Day weekend, September 2022, 20 artists took the FitzGerald’s Sidebar stage by storm, bringing their new songs and spoken word pieces into the world, aided and abetted by an incredible band. </span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">Originally intended as a one-night event, it morphed into ‘Haiku Milieu at Twilight’ at Montrose Saloon in July and ‘Haiku Milieu After Dark’ at FitzGerald's. Two different shows, two bands; many different songwriters, one concept: write a sexy song from a Haiku Milieu image/haiku. </span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">Getting to watch the show from my privileged position, I learned again what I have learned and forgotten so many times: the sexiest thing on earth is someone who is very good at doing something, doing what they do. Doesn't matter who they are, what they look like or what it is they’re actually doing. There is something powerfully compelling about people being incredibly good at what they do. </span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">So, of course, Friday night was super sexy. Great artists, great people, being great at what they do, writing and sharing their original music. And the audiences that sign on for these shows? Listening like that? Also super sexy. </span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">Artists and audiences willing to share recently-created work in such a public sphere are a special breed. We are a clan. A tribe. A gang! And to prove it, now we have the (temporary) Haiku Milieu tattoo. </span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">Here are the rules of our gang: </span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">1. Do whatever you want. </span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">2. Do it whenever you want. </span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">3. Make something beautiful as often as you can: a meal. a poem. a song. a picture. a conversation. </span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">THAT'S IT! You can get your temporary tattoo from me at a show. I'll also be sending them as gifts with purchases during the holidays. </span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">Meanwhile - enjoy the gallery of photos from the Friday night. The first photo is by John Wendland, himself a Haiku Milieu artist, visiting with his new bride Jenny Heim, a contributor to the Haiku Your Milieu section of the Sunday email. The rest are by me, until I got absorbed in pre-show hijinks. Alicia Luna has great pictures from the night on Facebook, if you're interested.</span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">And for those who were not able to be there...after the Haiku Milieu at Twilight show, I wrote about the mysterious phenomenon of "feedback" from the from the mics and the PA (public address system.) </span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">At Haiku After Dark, we came to the realization that it actually IS feedback, from our creative muses! This "feedback" is properly understood as applause from the very heart of creation. We were blessed with just the right amount of it on Friday. </span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">Finally…and I can't believe it myself...the first Sunday of September is the Anniversary of the Sunday Haiku Milieu Email! Three years so far! WHAT?!? </span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">The second Sunday of September is the day I started writing a haiku to an image five years ago (September 10, 2017) so next Sunday is the true anniversary. While we’ll celebrate our anniversary throughout September with longer-form haiku poems and more. I can only say that it continues to be life-changing to be on this journey with you, my dear friends and readers. </span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">If you are not already a subscriber, simply go to jennybienemann.com or haikumilieu.com and sign up. I only share the Sunday haikus with that group. They get to read the blog first, hear new songs first, and get special discounts on books, t-shirts, cards, CDs, and more. And of course you can unsubscribe at any time. </span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">Most importantly though, my subscribers and I, we inspire each other. I am literally thinking of them as I compose the haiku, speaking directly to them in the blog, and it is for them that I won't let myself go to sleep on Saturday (Sunday morning, quite often!) until the email feels right. It really is true, the more the merrier; also the deeper, the truer, and the more connected to what brings genuine joy into the world. </span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">Thank you for being part of this. I hope you'll come see us at an upcoming show so I can thank you in person. </span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">With Naomi Ashley, Robin Bienemann, Andon Davis, Kara Kesselring, Aaron Kelly, Ron Lazzeretti, Nikki O'Neill, Al Rose, Cheryl Tomblin, Jodi Pulick Walker, Paul Wendell Obis, Amy Lazzeretti, Isaac David Lyons, Steve Doyle, Steven Hashimoto, John Abbey, Cathie Van Wert Menard.</span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/d1267c488461f8504296f6ac6fc02a2e40825546/original/img-2917.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /></span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/36c24e82987e064f82399a14091551e81f79cfaa/original/img-2908.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/ee3af7dbd63c5d3d3d59f88a0e9e1113cd3811f9/original/img-2906.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/64bbcb3e3e3c356f2afaf60b66c4b8c4c4ed9db5/original/img-2904.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/f4c4e77086710efc6b5cd6e94868457e6ef62d48/original/img-2902.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/a4acb5ac4a30aa97454f49a5cb5fa0d4c960daff/original/img-2907.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/c99157c45cccf29d6661d0a09761b7df2b9bd8b1/original/img-2890.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/6b370585bcfffc9ae24bcda05c95ad10e89a1223/original/img-2891.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/f72dbefcd52a55b1d8ce5bb9decee1ce662e90d3/original/img-2913.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/8630b065a4698f3ef4e2473e89426428e9681dba/original/img-2911.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /></span></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7047772
2022-08-28T14:58:36-05:00
2022-08-28T15:05:40-05:00
FRIDAY: Haiku After Dark
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/113aedd4701cce580e3b3f43a6505dda6e7e7075/original/image0-1.jpeg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpeg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /></p>
<p>Next Friday, 9/2, 9 pm! The long-awaited Haiku After Dark concert at FitzGerald’s is almost here! We’d love it if you can join us. </p>
<p>Back in 2019, to celebrate the release of the first Haiku Milieu book, <a contents="“Haiku Milieu, Photo and Haiku For You, Wherever You Are,”" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://haikumilieu.com/" target="_blank">“Haiku Milieu, Photo and Haiku For You, Wherever You Are,”</a> I invited 20 songwriters to write a song inspired by any image and haiku. </p>
<p>The rules were simple: there were none. Simply look at an image, read a haiku, and follow where it leads via your own creative process. </p>
<p>Fast forward three years: there are more than 220 songs inspired by Haiku Milieu, written by artists across the country, performed at eleven concerts so far. You can find these songs at the <a contents="YouTube Haiku Milieu channel.&nbsp;&nbsp;" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC5P85zwLJS9NwFvR3CKX4LA" target="_blank">YouTube Haiku Milieu channel. </a></p>
<p>At these shows, we share a guitar and a microphone. I introduce the song by reading the haiku, and with that, the artists sing the song. It keeps the show moving, and all of our ears fresh! </p>
<p>In July, we pioneered the idea of having our new songs accompanied by a rhythm section. It was SMASHING! </p>
<p>For this Friday, we will be joined by the crackerjack trio of Steve Doyle, Steve Hashimoto, and Lance Helgeson (tip of the hat to Al Rose, as these three are Al’s regular band.) The pictures you'll see are from our rehearsal. You see songwriters getting to know each other and the songs, finding the notes and the chords and also the points of connection to the music and each other that make these songs come to life. </p>
<p>If you have been able to experience the Haiku Milieu concerts in person or via video, you will know many of these artists and that is part of the joy - seeing what people you already adore come up with. You will LOVE what you hear from Robin, Jodi, Ron, Naomi, and Jeanne Kuhns from Door County among many regular contributors. </p>
<p>You are likely familiar with names like John Abbey, Andon Davis, Kara Kesselring and Chris Neville, some of the most in-demand live and session players in Chicago and well beyond. It is especially fun to see these artists, who spend so much of their lives supporting other people’s music (!) be supported by this incredible band. </p>
<p>And then there are artists who are new to the Haiku Milieu-niverse, like Caitlin Arquines, Aaron Kelly, and Nikki O’Neill. These powerful new voices are bringing something really special to this endeavor. </p>
<p>Here's who's all involved: Aaron Kelly, Al Rose, Andon Davis, Caitlin Arquines, Amy Lazzeretti, Cheryl Tomblin, Jeanne Kuhns, Jodi Walker, John Abbey, Jon Langford, Paul Wendall Obis, Kara Kesselring, Naomi Ashley, Ron Lazzeretti, Nikki O'Neill, Isaac Lyons, Robin Bienemann, and Chris Neville. </p>
<p>I could talk about this forever! But you really should join us on Friday and see for yourself. :) </p>
<p>Meanwhile, enjoy this “sneak peek” at our rehearsal - and come by on Friday!</p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/82926f583929519eb900dd8b418d73c671a541bf/original/img-2811.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/d38081eb8d0eb275dee4ea0dedc7fc1fe097b908/original/img-2791.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/4aa9083cd179f634f8b93c76fb17bf26a384551b/original/img-2801.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/10f4f89d17b1db836ab09f95f121424c24f3953e/original/img-2794.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /></p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/3361cb857533691d95208f7d16aaf92ec7036b7f/original/img-2823.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/7cc455742148c77d4b206c5989d7a40f129879c8/original/img-2813.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/54d3da6a00d62993b36ea36d468ff35acd711271/original/img-2777.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/150c09a1a76569432792af5adb40b63d334055f6/original/img-2814.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/f50f25b4a3ed360a7a77c472fb3ba43f2a125f35/original/img-2821.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/1b5f2c8686ace2a6878ec782093fc3a3340c26f4/original/img-2810.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/000155b2dc345357f124003fa53aed877f3ef285/original/img-2788.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7042613
2022-08-21T00:29:42-05:00
2022-08-28T10:53:32-05:00
The Farmer's Market
<p>We have wonderful friends who drop off their home-grown tomatoes at our house. WHAT SERVICE, right? We are BLESSED! </p>
<p>There is literally nothing more important to me in the summer than tomatoes. And peaches. And corn. </p>
<p>In addition to our intrepid gardening friends, one of the points of pride of the town we live is our Farmer's Market. </p>
<p>It is a beautiful place where it feels like everyone is in a good mood, people stop and say hello, and the fruit and vegetables are amazing. So good, in fact, the experience continues and deepens once you get your bounty home! </p>
<p>I hope you enjoy this haiku poem inspired by our Farmer's Market. </p>
<p>THE FARMER'S MARKET </p>
<p>Here is what you do: <br>go to the Farmer's Market <br>and buy tomatoes </p>
<p>then go find peaches <br>the ones that are just about <br>bursting with sweetness </p>
<p>if the sweet corn line <br>moves like good conversation <br>pick up a few ears </p>
<p>your joy? contagious. <br>people want to stop and talk <br>but just keep moving </p>
<p>evaporating <br>vanishing like morning mist <br>becoming the air </p>
<p>your precious cargo <br>unloaded from the front seat <br>makes itself at home </p>
<p>you call your mother <br>she never picks up the phone <br>but at least you tried </p>
<p>you turn off your phone. <br>there can be no distractions <br>in this holy place. </p>
<p>earthy tap water <br>a generous pour of salt <br>boiling on the stove </p>
<p>gently, gently, now <br>tip the corn in the water <br>leave the lid just so </p>
<p>choose a tomato <br>the kind with a knowing look <br>a self-confidence </p>
<p>it will have to be <br>good with being almost nude <br>barely dressed with oil </p>
<p>as for the peaches <br>there is always at least one <br>who knows a secret </p>
<p>the secret is this: <br>you can treat peaches just like <br>you treat tomatoes </p>
<p>today: in slices <br>dressed in olive oil and wine <br>with salt and pepper </p>
<p>the corn, ready now <br>takes its rightful place, steaming <br>on the waiting plate </p>
<p>the tomatoes and <br>peaches invite you to come <br>sit at the table </p>
<p>let everything go <br>this is the most important <br>moment of your life<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/441a7a5c6bac05bc025942e6aa24f85ba2903fab/original/img-0085.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7032643
2022-08-07T11:55:16-05:00
2022-08-08T07:28:55-05:00
Good Company is Good
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/49ae67e76c6fe4d4b49f9b2b4a7bbfed82bd02df/original/tristan-blog.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>Robin and I were both home sick and working remotely this week. </p>
<p>Tristan, who usually presses his lanky frame against my husband’s leg all day while he works, had chosen instead to cast himself down upon the cool hardwood floor and stretch himself to maximum extension. <br> <br>Because Tristan is getting older, he is on a variety of medications that seem to do a reasonable job of getting him to think that he is not every inch of the fifteen years he actually is, or at least, hopefully, keeping him feeling well and in high enough spirits to jump on the table and toss back the delicious gourmet cat food that Robin orders for him. <br> <br>But in the heat, with both of us home during weekdays, it became clear that Tristan needed something. A little extra something. And what did that turn out to be? Company. <br> <br>Typically, I'm the first one up, and Tristan joins me in the kitchen. I'll pour a big glass of water. One morning last week, Tristan started looking at me like, “are you going to drink that all by yourself?” <br> <br>Once I realized he was thirsty, I poured him his own glass of water, put it by his food, and walked away. Later, I was bemused that it looked like the water hadn’t been touched. This happened a few times. <br> <br>One day, the ritual was mid-repetition: I rose. Went downstairs. Got the water. Felt the heat of his feline eyes upon me. But instead of getting him his own glass, I filled mine up, pretended to drink from it, crouched down beside him, and put my glass on the floor in front of him. <br> <br>And he drank from it. <br> <br>Next day, we tried it again. This time, I set the water down on the floor and went about my business. Guess what. <br> <br>He didn’t drink it. <br> <br>Next day, I went through the pantomime, placed the glass in front of him, and stayed down with it…and again, he drank the water. </p>
<p>So "company for breakfast," as Winnie the Pooh would put it, turns out to make Tristan feel better! "Know what?" I said to Tristan, as I moved from a crouch to a full-scale, cross-legged sit down on the kitchen floor, "Me too." <br> <br>Sometimes, a little company is all we need. <br> <br>Especially after this week, I am grateful for all forms of company. Though we saw no one in person, the loving check-ins of our friends and family definitely speeded the healing process. </p>
<p>Hope you enjoy this poem based on our experiences from last week. Be well out there.</p>
<p>GOOD COMPANY <br>by Jenny Bienemann <br> <br>not the kind for whom <br>you will need to clean the house <br>before they come in <br> <br>also not the kind <br>that you will worry about <br>worrying too much <br> <br>and especially <br>not the kind that lives to help <br>not right now, at least <br> <br>only those who speak <br>the language of your silence <br>keep you company <br> <br>those who need nothing <br>who only want you to know <br>you are not alone <br> <br>who’d take off their shoes <br>and tiptoe over to you <br>squeeze your hand, then leave </p>
<p>shutting your door tight <br>switching on their porch light, just<br>so you'll know they're there </p>
<p>who then return to<br>the fullness of their own lives <br>trusting your process </p>
<p>that’s good company <br>the kind that makes you better <br>when you don't feel well</p>
<p>* _____ * _____ * _____ * _____ *</p>
<p>This is my 100th blog! Thanks for reading.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7028938
2022-08-02T08:29:22-05:00
2022-08-02T08:29:22-05:00
Haiku at Twilight and One Line Just This Long
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/e9f4449e99c8f2d0aecfac8d97467699c95915af/original/hm-at-twilight-with-nikki-oneill.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />It was EPIC! </p>
<p>The July 28, Haiku Milieu at Twilight at Montrose Saloon was one for the record books. </p>
<p>For the first time ever, the songwriters were supported by a rhythm section of some of the most in-demand players in Chicago, John Abbey and Dan Leali on bass and drums respectively. </p>
<p>John and Dan deepened the intimacy and vulnerability that characterizes Haiku Milieu shows with their sometimes gentle, sometimes insistent, always expansive accompaniment on 14 brand new songs inspired by a Haiku Milieu photo and haiku. </p>
<p>Close to the end of the night, I read from the introduction to my tiny book, RECKONING. </p>
<p>Just as I finished the final haiku of the poem, one of the amps started to feedback, as if the Gods of Creativity themselves wanted to share a song with the crowd! </p>
<p>It was a visceral reminder of the sheer power of creativity flowing through all of us, at all times. </p>
<p>It was an incredible night of sexy Haiku Milieu songwriters bringing the songwriting HEAT to Montrose Saloon. We can't wait to do it again at Haiku After Dark on Friday, September 2 at FitzGerald's. If you're in town - JOIN US! </p>
<p>Meanwhile, enjoy this poem. </p>
<p>Introduction to the tiny book, <br>RECKONING <br>by Jenny Bienemann </p>
<p>One line just this long <br>another no more than this <br>a final one here </p>
<p>one line at a time <br>sometimes thick and sometimes thin <br>sometimes a circle </p>
<p>it is not magic <br>and everyone can do it <br>let life move the pen </p>
<p>beware of the doubt <br>it will say you are no good <br>and you can’t do it </p>
<p>then your poor ego <br>still hurt from past endeavors <br>will tell you to stop </p>
<p>those who know you best <br>may say that you do not know <br>what is best for you </p>
<p>those who you love best <br>afraid of their own shadows <br>may turn from your light </p>
<p>just this much is true <br>there is a light inside you <br>that wants to come out</p>
<p>Photo originally shared by Nikki O'Neill.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7022954
2022-07-25T06:26:31-05:00
2022-07-25T06:29:29-05:00
7.28.22: Haiku Milieu at Twilight, Montrose Saloon
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/b7670f5dcd4cebf1875957b20cd10db114827b30/original/hm-at-twilight.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" />This coming Thursday, July 28 at Montrose Saloon is the first-ever Haiku Milieu at Twilight! </p>
<p>Two Haiku Milieu regulars, Andon Davis and Chris Neville came running up to me after a show, saying "Hear us out! Don't say no!" and pitched the idea of Haiku Milieu After Dark, a sort of sexy haiku songs concept. </p>
<p>Most things in life can be bought if you have the money. But the things that make your life worth living? No money, no bargain, no trades will do the trick. You literally cannot purchase things like enthusiasm with anything than your own willingness to have and hold it. </p>
<p>This is what Andon and Chris were sharing with me, wrapped in what was actually a pretty good idea. And so "Haiku Milieu After Dark" was born. </p>
<p>When we had to reschedule the show, it split into two: Haiku at Twilight, happening from 7-9 pm at Montrose Saloon, and Haiku After Dark, happening 9-11 pm at FitzGerald's, to give ourselves the best shot at accommodating all the artists who'd been writing songs for May. </p>
<p>For the first time ever, these new songs will be brought to life with a band, John Abbey and Dan Leali in July and Steve Doyle, Steve Hashimoto, and Lance Helgeson in August! </p>
<p>It seemed like it would be reasonably simple to swap one show into two. I mean, what could go wrong?!? </p>
<p>But now there were two backing bands to secure. Swaps in and out of two artist rosters. A new video team to secure for two concerts (the Haiku Milieu YouTube channel the songs inspired by Haiku Milieu.) And lest we forget - we needed to honor the public outcry for a Haiku After Dark t-shirt! You can purchase your very own at haikumilieu.com.</p>
<p>So it happened a few days ago that I was working on something that I was mad at myself for putting off. I knew I would feel better if I just got it done...but I couldn't get myself to do it. (Spoiler alert: it got done.) </p>
<p>As I was trying to get myself going on it, I wrote this poem, and it made me feel better, as any bit of creative activity usually does. I hope you enjoy it. </p>
<p>GOD SAYS <br>Jenny Bienemann </p>
<p>God says <br>"What are you doing, making yourself feel bad... <br>Look at this day!" </p>
<p>"Tell you what I'll do," says God. <br>"How about I throw in a nice breeze. <br>A little sunshine through the leaves - look at that! <br>See the shadows the leaves make <br>when I blow through them? <br>Here, I'll do it again." </p>
<p>"Now how about this," announces God, <br>"Because you're you and I'm Me, <br>I'm gonna have the sound of the expressway <br>land in your ears like rushing water <br>careening joyfully to the sea. <br>Can you hear it now? <br>I can turn it up if you want," says God. </p>
<p>"This next one, though," says God, <br>shaking His head, <br>"you have to give me your permission for this but <br>if you do, I can tune your heart <br>so the gentle rumble of airplanes overhead <br>makes you feel connected to all those who <br>have found a way to go from where they were <br>to where they want to be. <br>Kinda helps with that lonely feeling. <br>Totally up to you," says God. <br>"I'd love to... <br>but it's totally up to you." </p>
<p>I let the cardinal <br>perched in the nearby tree <br>sing the answer on my behalf <br>and just at that moment <br>I saw my work through his eyes <br>and what do you know <br>just before he flew off <br>I got started</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7004734
2022-07-05T07:12:54-05:00
2022-07-05T07:12:54-05:00
Annie Capps: How Can I Say This?
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/f04fe30578e251b8b0965b2c276736b423a2f861/original/annie.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>I am so proud of Annie Capps. </p>
<p>She is an incredible friend, gifted artist (multi-instrumentalist, songwriter, producer) and an inveterate supporter of other artists. She's about to say some very nice things about me (and to be honest it goes on a bit...(blush)) but the truth is we do have a a love affair of a kind. </p>
<p>Annie, in addition to being brilliant, has a special gift of bringing people together in a way that makes everybody feel like they've always been together, even if they have only been in each others company for a few moments before she walks in. </p>
<p>As Director of the Folk Alliance Midwest Region conference, as a solo performer, and with her husband Rod, she has a gift for bringing people together that I admire, emulate, and am thrilled to share with you. If after reading, you are so moved to support this collection of songs that are especially relevant in this world we find ourselves in, please join me and Robin in doing so. </p>
<p>You can hear the title song of this wonderful upcoming album here: https://youtu.be/qmQaXuDF1rM and support the project here: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/anniecapps/how-can-i-say-this-by-annie-capps! </p>
<p>With no further ado, Annie Capps.</p>
<p>Let me start by saying, Jenny Bienemann is one of those other-worldly spirits who lights up a room and has the power to make you feel as if you’re the most special person on the planet to her and that means a lot. She’s a beautiful human, inside and out AND an outstandingly creative multi-talented artist. I am a fan. So when she asked Rod and I to be part of her Haiku Milieu songwriting showcase, I naturally could not say no. That’s not to say I wasn’t worried about how I was going to write a song that was worthy of the standard she set. </p>
<p>Fortunately for me, this was during a pandemic and despite every awful thing that transpired because of it, I found myself welcoming the quiet and the opportunity for reflection. I belong to a couple of songwriting groups that keep me on my toes and combined with a few virtual songwriting workshops, I was flexing those deliberate writing muscles a bit more than I had been of late. It felt good. Jenny’s ‘assignment’ was to write a song inspired by one of her beautiful Haiku and it came along when I had just started writing a completely different song. I love that about songwriting. If you get out of the way, it can take you places you never expected to go. </p>
<p>Jenny shared her 3 Haiku books. 2 were big and beautifully artistic and colorfully presented. Coffee table worthy! And 1 was a tiny black and white book called “reckoning”. Anyone who knows me won’t be surprised when I say that’s the one I was drawn to. </p>
<p>From the beginning .. </p>
<p>“beware of the doubt </p>
<p>it will say you are no good </p>
<p>and you can’t do it” </p>
<p>to the last … </p>
<p>“Don’t let them get you </p>
<p>to step out of your own light </p>
<p>when they can’t find theirs” </p>
<p>And in between … </p>
<p>“Double negative </p>
<p>There’s no time your voice is not </p>
<p>Inside my head” </p>
<p>“I can’t find myself </p>
<p>in anything that’s more real </p>
<p>than this ache for you” </p>
<p>Every single 5-7-5 line spoke to me. ME. How do you pick just one? </p>
<p>“How Can I Say This”, on the surface, may come across as a break up song and I generally resist telling people what a song is about, preferring to let them find their own meaning. </p>
<p>But Jenny asked me to write about this song. I guess it IS a breakup song. I’m breaking up with all the voices in my head that are not necessarily my own. Those of my parents, a co-dependent relationship, society, and yes, my much younger self. All of the ones that creep in and tell me I’m not good enough. So when people ask me who this is “about”, it’s me. It’s always me. =) </p>
<p>Allow me a little sidebar quote from RuPaul “If you can’t love yourself, how the hell you gonna love somebody else?” </p>
<p>I try to love myself. I really do. Every flawed and ferocious edge, but there remain pieces of me that I’d give anything to destroy. The pieces that let what others think of me dictate how I feel about myself. Ultimately, the “you” in the song are those parts of me I wish I could shed. </p>
<p>And yes, it is also about the many “You”s in my life who have, purposefully or not, given me reason to doubt myself, stifle my dreams and convince me I couldn’t be who or what I wanted to be. </p>
<p>At 61, I’m able to look back on my life with some perspective and realize that I actually did a lot of those things I didn’t think I’d have the guts to do despite those voices. And though I made a LOT of foolish and painful choices along the way, I am who I am because of (or despite) those choices and what’s to be done but embrace it all. </p>
<p>I couldn’t be more grateful to Jenny for inspiring me to write this song. Just in the writing, I have grown and learned more about myself. Even more than that, it became the catalyst for this whole project that ultimately had no choice but to be named for the song “How Can I Say This?” </p>
<p> </p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/7001730
2022-06-25T18:14:13-05:00
2022-06-25T18:14:13-05:00
Kira Small: You Don't Have To Read Music To Nail It To the Wall
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/00eac516d6d0af26f08f8699d2be2e27e299611b/original/img-0241.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />Continuing our Texas theme for the final blog of June 2022, I wanted to share a piece of writing by our dear friend Kira Small. </p>
<p>We met years ago at a music conference, see each other rarely, and keep in touch via the Social Medias. When she announced, "Kerrville, I'm home!" I "loved" it on FB and hoped our paths would cross - and they did! Our time together was hilarious, heartfelt, and altogether too short. It reminded me that I have been wanting to share her writing with you for some time. </p>
<p>Kira has the chops to sing jazz and soul and has lived enough life to sing the blues. She is an in-demand session singer with such icons as Willie Nelson, Garth Brooks, and Wynonna Judd, and a featured singer with Martina McBride, Radney Foster and Lynda Carter (Wonder Woman). She has been welcomed onto the sacred stage of the Grand Ole Opry, and as a self-proclaimed "Singer Nerd," knows whereof she speaks when it comes to singing. </p>
<p>On top of that, she and her husband own and operate Sid Gold's Request Room, the only bar in Nashville that does *not* center the guitar! Oh, and did I mention she does all this WHILE fostering kittens in her home? SHE DOES. </p>
<p>Reading a blog from Kira is just like having a conversation with her. The tangents! The vernacular! And most of all, the ideas! </p>
<p>While this article is a rebuttal to the idea that singers aren't "real" musicians, my favorite part of this blog when she says "...whether or not someone reads music doesn’t determine their “real musician” status." </p>
<p>In a world with so many boxes to check and so many hoops of legitimacy to clear EVEN JUST IN MY OWN MIND as an artist, I hope you will find this, as I do, a refreshing reminder to let all that go, and just focus on "nailing it to the wall." </p>
<p>With no further ado, Kira Small: </p>
<p>"Have you ever heard someone refer to singers as “not real musicians”? ” </p>
<p>Yeah me too. Grrr. While it’s possible that particular someone was a an a*s, it’s also possible they were simply ill-informed. </p>
<p>So in the interest of diplomacy, let me ‘splain a little bit about the aspects of music mastery that make a professional singer. It ain’t just shaking a tambourine and oo-ing. </p>
<p>Tangent right out of the gate: tambourine is much easier to play badly than it is to play well, which is why “NO YOU CAN’T” is the answer to your drunk a*s in the audience when you ask if you can play mine. But let’s get back to oo-ing. </p>
<p>I could write a whole blog about that vowel alone and just about make my point. Is your oo a pure, rounded shape or more closed and country styled? Does your vowel sound match the lead vocalist’s or other background singers’? Are we talking breathy atmospheric oo’s or Millie Kirkham’s signature soprano on Blue Christmas oo’s? Straight tone or vibrato? THAT’S ONLY ONE VOWEL. Let’s continue, shall we? *puts down tambourine. </p>
<p>In addition to making my own records, I’ve been working in Nashville as a pro singer for 15 years – from live and studio work with major label artists to demos for songwriters to choral sessions with 16 of us tracking (and reading) all in one room where if one person screws up everyone has to punch in. (That’s kind of my favorite sport. I’m also kind of a dork.) This town is full of some seriously bad ass mofosingers you’ve most likely heard, but never heard of. </p>
<p>Some of those mofos read notes, some do stuff by ear with numbers, some just do stuff by ear with their own system or no system at all. They may not know if they’re singing a 4, a G or an M&M, but if they consistently nail it to the wall they’re gonna get the gig. Whether or not someone reads music doesn’t determine their “real musician” status. </p>
<p>I happen to be a reading nerd so I love when things are arranged and scored, which they still are sometimes. But most singers use numbers here, and I can nerd out on that just as easily. In this context, numbers represent scale degrees, just like (moveable do) solfege. (In key of C: C-D-E = do-re-mi = 1-2-3, etc.) </p>
<p>When I have to demo a song for a writer or learn a bunch of back-up parts for a live gig, a lot of times I’m working from a rough version that’s not in the same key I’m going to sing it in. Making a chart using notes would be a pain in the a*s. But if I know I start on the 3 it doesn’t matter what key the song ends up in – my chart will be right. Same thing for the players, which is why The Nashville Number System is what’s used on 95% of sessions here. It has nothing to do with whether or not players or singers can read music. (See end of previous paragraph.) </p>
<p>When you show up on a session and all you get is a lyric sheet with no parts written, you’ve gotta come up with them, sometimes as a group. (Yup – we have to be arrangers too.) Those are called “head chart” sessions here. (I guess cuzwe’re doing stuff off the top of our heads? I don’t know – I wasn’t around when they named sh*t.) On these we use numbers to help us navigate parts. If you want to see that happen in real time go to the Opry and watch the background singers. Carol Lee used to throw so many hand signals - numbers, oo vs. ah, which direction to resolve a chord – she looked like a baseball manager or a gang member. She’s retired now but someone else is probably doing it. It’ll bend your brain. </p>
<p>Ponder this for a sec: whether we’re reading notes or numbers, singers actually HAVE to hear stuff first – cuz we don’t have frets or keys we can place fingers on. (When I taught sight reading at Berklee I called it reverse ear training.) Some of us have to do all of that in heels, false eyelashes and spanx. While doing choreography. And smiling while your drunk a*s in the audience tries to grab the fricking tambourine. (OK I might have an issue there. Sorry. But seriously. Stop that.) </p>
<p>Then there’s the lyrical component too. We might get hired to sing something we have zero emotional connection to (or that flat out SUCKS – often referred to as “putting lipstick on a pig”, “polishing a turd”…), but if whoever hired us gets even a whiff of that we sure won’t get hired again. Flip side is singing something we have a little TOO much of an emotional connection to. </p>
<p>“Fun experiment: next time you find yourself trying not to cry, start singing something that will absolutely make you cry. Now stay in tune. Now put on some false eyelashes….” </p>
<p>Finally: yes, it’s true, we don’t have amps or drum kits we have to haul around and set up. Instead, we schlep our stash of tea, honey, ginger, lemons, throat spray, six kinds of lozenges, and enough water to drown a rhino. We don’t have to carry heavy gear. But we also don’t have the luxury of putting our instrument in a case to protect it, because we inhabit it. Context: singing with a cold is like trying to play guitar after someone poured syrup all over the fretboard. It’s gross and it sounds weird. </p>
<p>I could probably go on, but I’m borderline ranting already. Plus I just drank a drowned rhino’s share of water and really have to pee. I’ll leave you with this request: next time you see a singer at work, give them a nod of respect. And don’t you dare reach for that tambourine." - Kira Small </p>
<p>You can pick up Kira's guide to the Nashville Number System here.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6992603
2022-06-13T05:33:56-05:00
2022-06-13T05:40:43-05:00
Plus ones and The Teakettle Whistles
<p><span class="font_regular"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/4fd6ce78f2cea0cf932b3747f24be39d565bcb5f/original/kerrville2022.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /></span></p>
<p>This photo is me getting a taste of my own medicine from wonderful singer and songwriter <a contents="Kirsten Maxwell." data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://www.kirstenmaxwell.com/" target="_blank">Kirsten Maxwell.</a> </p>
<p>I had just taken entirely-too-close-up shots of the <a contents="Kerrville" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://www.kerrvillefolkfestival.org/newfolk-guidelines" target="_blank">Kerrville</a> finalists who were still around on Saturday night, and she insisted that it was my turn. Turns out, either she's great at capturing the moment, or my medicine is delicious! My money is on the former. </p>
<p>Still processing all that happened a week ago in Texas. </p>
<p>I loved being there. I attended as Robin's "plus one," and Kirsten (who had been a <a contents="New Folk finalist" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://www.kerrvillefolkfestival.org/history-of-newfolk?gclid=Cj0KCQjwwJuVBhCAARIsAOPwGATm0XTRD1Q0fqbqcx2GcU6J37NN8u2MSZAYIPK0-2XIatlkoGSrObwaAlEJEALw_wcB" target="_blank">New Folk finalist</a> previously) attended as another finalist's plus one. Kirsten was an instigator in the best sense: the one starting to sing the show tunes and the obscure art songs that blossomed into glorious harmonies from the rest of the finalists. The one starting the laughter that rippled out only to regenerate and renew itself, over and over. </p>
<p>And one of the most hilarious conversations I had the entire week was with Maggie, another plus one, a woman who has elevated the gentle art of driving from point a to point b into the highest of callings. Driving behind a truck is not for her, she says, "unless that truck is an on-ramp to the sky." </p>
<p>Throughout my years as an arts administrator, I witnessed how perplexing it can be to go from nobody knowing who you are, to having people greeting you on the street as if you're picking up in the middle of a conversation you never even participated in. </p>
<p>It was a little like that at Kerrville. If you are a New Folk Finalist, you are lavished with an uncommon variety of love and appreciation. There are 3,000 attendees, and they talk about songwriters there like other people might talk about their beloved baseball players. </p>
<p>For the most part, the recognition was welcome and the conversations were delightful (at least from what I witnessed and heard about.) But still, can anything really prepare you for being the apple of thousands of people's eye? And even more significantly, what happens when you have a taste of that kind of recognition...and then have to return to the dailiness of daily life? </p>
<p>As they say, after the ecstasy, the laundry. This is why it's good to have that plus one, the person who knows you, who represents "ordinary" life while you're having an extraordinary experience, who can help you stay grounded during the epic highs and the lows. </p>
<p>One of the little writing tricks I use myself and share in workshops is to put yourself in the place of someone having a very different experience than you. If you're a woman, write as if you're a man; if you're young, write as if you are older; or as in the case of the poem below, if you are a plus one, write from the perspective of a finalist. </p>
<p>I came upon a draft of this poem this week. I wrote it before Kerrville. I believe I woke up out of deep sleep with the phrase, "the meager blanket of her praise has worn threadbare..." </p>
<p>Having had the privilege of watching the 24 finalists rocket into outer space, then witness my own personal finalist come back into his own orbit, I edited the poem as follows. </p>
<p>THE TEAKETTLE WHISTLES </p>
<p>When through overuse <br>the blanket of her praise <br>has worn threadbare <br>I reach for it anyway <br>shivering in the icy breath <br>of my own indictments </p>
<p>Falling <br>into troubled sleep <br>anxious and worried <br>what if and why <br>And most of <br>all why not? <br>When? <br>Ever? </p>
<p>The answer comes <br>as the inexorable dawn <br>swallows me whole <br>spits me out the other side <br>of darkness <br>her breath on my shoulder <br>mouth slack in sleep <br>brow troubled <br>as if through the night <br>all my burdens <br>had become hers </p>
<p>I kiss her gently <br>I wish it would make <br>her brow unfurrow <br>to say I am sorry and thank you <br>in the words <br>only a heart can hear </p>
<p>but she turns, <br>frowning slightly <br>I pull back the covers to get out of bed <br>then pull them back up <br>to keep her warm <br>and go make coffee <br>in our kitchen </p>
<p>the birds outside the kitchen window <br>know nothing of the spirit of a person <br>how quick to enthusiasm <br>then despair, then love; <br>again and again <br>and all through the prism <br>of a body and mind <br>so rarely in accord <br>so often fighting each other <br>circling the jaws of the rusty metal trap <br>the other laid for it <br>the earth hard and compacted <br>in a deep groove, yet oddly soft <br>from the endless dance of wariness </p>
<p>No, the birds know nothing of this <br>they are at one with life <br>spirit of the poet <br>brush of the painter <br>rush of the wings of inspiration <br>And I listen to them <br>Boiling water, lost in thought </p>
<p>Coming back to myself <br>I see her beside me <br>quiet as the dawn <br>she comes to me <br>in her bathrobe as tattered <br>as I felt last night, and <br>puts her arms around me <br>as the teakettle whistles</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6971734
2022-05-16T05:56:46-05:00
2022-05-16T05:56:46-05:00
Before Anything
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/71896a802d00609697eb5ae6596bb5a6b8a7cc69/original/typorama-2.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>i </p>
<p>Before anything </p>
<p>did or did not go as planned </p>
<p>you were just yourself </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And afterwards, when </p>
<p>you got or did not get what </p>
<p>you had hoped you would </p>
<p> </p>
<p>you were still there; but </p>
<p>now with an experience </p>
<p>you think defines you </p>
<p> </p>
<p>ii </p>
<p>have enough of these </p>
<p>and you can start to lose track </p>
<p>of just who you are </p>
<p> </p>
<p>am I the result </p>
<p>of the responses I get </p>
<p>to the things I do; </p>
<p> </p>
<p>or, is who I am </p>
<p>valuable no matter what </p>
<p>the response may be? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>iii </p>
<p>if you still have to </p>
<p>prove yourself on steep ladders </p>
<p>one rung at a time </p>
<p> </p>
<p>as if someone else </p>
<p>could give you what only you </p>
<p>can give to yourself </p>
<p> </p>
<p>you might have outgrown </p>
<p>the tiny little spaces </p>
<p>you let yourself have </p>
<p> </p>
<p>iv </p>
<p>you are not alive </p>
<p>to prove your right to exist </p>
<p>but to be yourself </p>
<p> </p>
<p>whatever you do </p>
<p>whatever you think they think </p>
<p>enjoy who you are </p>
<p> </p>
<p>that's your only job</p>
<p>being the one and only</p>
<p>you that ever lived</p>
<p> </p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6966677
2022-05-09T06:25:53-05:00
2022-05-09T06:25:53-05:00
Bless All The Mothers
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/4cc4ba95b4a7f2c59a9b260a2b30cfc42f9d277f/original/bless-all-the-mothers.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.png" class="size_m justify_left border_none" alt="" /><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/c456fa24e85025aa380305a7c670e0b8bc0230c0/original/mom-mothers-day-2022.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_left border_none" alt="" /></p>
<p>There she is, my mom. Isn't she lovely? She doesn’t want me to tell you how old she is. She tells me she reads this, but I have my doubts. I bet I could get away with it. Still, out of an abundance of caution and even more love, I won't. </p>
<p>What IS important for me to tell you about this mom of mine is that her name is Loretta Anna Carla Marie Therese Lind McCarthy. She was an only child, raised during the Great Depression by her mother, my grandmother Constance (Connie) who I never met, a widow who lost her young husband, and ran her own hairdressing business. </p>
<p>Because of the business, they got through the depression. Connie was able to have a credit card, get a business loan, and buy my great-grandfather's house off Fullerton near the end of the streetcar line, where he would live with them through the end of his life. They kept chickens that hatched from colored chicks my mom got for Easter. One time my mom brought a pet rabbit home, and my grandmother's much-younger brother Roman, the "spoiled one," was too rough with it. What happened to the rabbit and what didn't happen to the uncle is a story for another time. </p>
<p>Sometimes my mom will reflect on how truly poor people were in the Great Depression. Credit cards were not available, there wasn't junk food the way there is today, and it was much more than possible that great swaths of our population went to bed hungry. </p>
<p>Back then, whole families would knock on the door asking for something to eat. My grandmother would invite them on the porch and give them a bit of whatever she could spare. </p>
<p>Connie never remarried, though my mom will admit that in her heart she hoped that her mom and my dad‘s dad, Thomas McCarthy Sr., who had also become a widower when his kids were young, would get married. Or at least find solace in each others company. </p>
<p>They both passed before I arrived on the scene. I know that they did not marry, and whether or not they enjoyed each other's company, they both most definitely adored my older sister and my brother. And by and large, my parent's life at that point, was perfect. </p>
<p>Except for one thing: my mom was determined to have more children. And once she had me, her desire for one more intensified. She was determined that I, who was four and a half years younger than my brother, would not be an "only" child as she had been. Lori McCarthy is the original person who set out to give her children something she never had: siblings. </p>
<p>My mom would tell you she was robbed of the chance to have as many kids as she wanted (she had four but would have preferred six) due to O negative blood and Rh incompatibility, which is now easily addressed. </p>
<p>In fact, during my mom's last pregnancy there were all kinds of dire predictions: the child, who was expected to be a boy, would be gravely ill and would need a blood transfusion at birth, if he was even born alive. </p>
<p>With the priest on call and my nervous father pacing outside the delivery room, my little sister upended expectations -- as she would continue to do throughout her life -- first, by being a girl; second, by being hale and hearty; and third, by being endowed with the most adorable Irish button nose. Turns out that She of the Cute Countenance had O negative blood which had created no incompatibility! </p>
<p>Despite these incontrovertible facts of science, the maiden aunts of our neighbors down the block hailed her healthy birth as a miracle, and the direct result of their prayers. Seizing the moment, the good doctor prudently suggested the family not be greedy with miracles, and my mom agreed to not try for any more children. </p>
<p>So now the family was complete: my older sister is six years older than me, my brother is four and a half years older than me, and my little sister is eighteen months younger than me. </p>
<p>The desire to give your children better than you received is beautiful; the endeavor to get what you think they need, ennobling; and the experience of knowing you did it is cathartic. </p>
<p>In my own life, I set out to give my children what I felt I never had. As a matter of fact, I don’t know anyone who didn’t try to give their kids what they wished they had received. </p>
<p>As a parent, out of shoelaces and chewing gum you cobble together a rope bridge across the yawning chasm from what you wish you had to what your children will have, or at least will have a chance to have, relieved and exhausted that you made it to the other side. </p>
<p>Yet they will inevitably, at some point, wish you had done it better. And very likely, you will too. </p>
<p>And you know what? THAT'S the miracle. </p>
<p>The wish that it could have been done better, and the belief that it CAN be done better, is what brings new worlds into existence. </p>
<p>The gap between the best we could do and the best they can do from where you got them to, is what catapults us forward. </p>
<p>So this Mother’s Day, we celebrate what so many mothers went through to change their children’s worlds for the better. </p>
<p>For the children of those mothers -- whether or not their mom did their best, didn't try at all, or did what they could -- who will grow up and then go on to make it different for their children, this Mother's Day, let's celebrate them too. Happy Mother's Day to The Mothers That Will Be. </p>
<p>And whether you are an actual mother to human children or not...we are all the mothers of our own experience. </p>
<p>And every single time you try to make something better for someone else than it was for you... </p>
<p>You are being a really exceptional parent. </p>
<p>Happy Mother's Day.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6960832
2022-04-30T16:24:29-05:00
2022-04-30T16:24:29-05:00
Good Enough is All Perfect Was Trying To Be
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/f65c5ce751dae1f58c1be6c994d7da83d48880ea/original/img-4681.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>Fun week! Fun couple of weeks, actually, with Easter and a college reunion. Even so, the most fun thing I do all week is put together this Sunday Haiku Milieu email. </p>
<p>So imagine this morning, when I realized I hadn't, gulp, posted *anything* haiku related all week, I thought...rut roh! Best get to finishing some of these half started ideas...for the email. The email! </p>
<p>But really? That's just the reason I gave myself to do what I wanted to do anyway. </p>
<p>When the day is done, most artists would tell you that. A deadline helps, but they create because it makes them feel more like themselves. </p>
<p>Some, like me, might go so far as to say they do it because it is the best way for them to feel life, God, the Universe, whatever you want to call it, move through them. </p>
<p>Even so -- and especially when there are intense demands on our time -- things that make us feel like ourselves get pushed to the back burner. We can come to feel that we only have time to do things that HAVE to get done. </p>
<p>We get tricked into thinking that doing what makes us US doesn't matter as much as mattering to others, and begin to crave the fulfillment that comes from meeting the expectations of others, rather than the whispers of our inner longings. </p>
<p>Or at least, I do. </p>
<p>I read somewhere the difference between the soul and the ego is that one loves doing and the other loves to check things off a list. </p>
<p>This became: </p>
<p>the soul loves doing <br>the ego loves to be done <br>i just want to rest </p>
<p>HA! </p>
<p>I feel like I gave myself a rest from my and everyone else's expectations this past week. </p>
<p>Now, there's a new hazard: perfectionism. In its many guises: Trying To Get It Right. Writing A Good Haiku. Taking A Really Evocative Photo. Drawing Something That Looks Like Something. </p>
<p>I hesitate to tell you how many iterations each published image/haiku goes through, and I don't even consider myself a perfectionist! </p>
<p>Friends keep reminding me, "don't let perfect be the enemy of good." In that spirit, The Week in Review is as far as I got this week: some words, some images, and only one image/haiku waking in each other's arms after a passionate, if restful, night together. </p>
<p>In the process, here's what I learned: </p>
<p>good enough is all <br>perfect was trying to be <br>the whole entire time </p>
<p>WHAT?!? I know!! </p>
<p>And all that said, there is a lot of stuff we have to do in the merry month of May. And about the only thing I can "control" is how I feel when I'm doing it. </p>
<p>So, I am starting up the 6:30 am, 20-minute, free will CREATE and BUILD meditations Sunday - Friday via Zoom. 10-minutes each, on a daily basis, to give myself a shot at experiencing myself in the driver's seat of these endeavors. </p>
<p>You are most welcome to join us. Email jenny dot jennybienemann dot com for the link.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6956743
2022-04-25T18:59:56-05:00
2022-04-25T18:59:56-05:00
Sliding Home
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/f47df484e6c28781fdbefe4fd1653bd17f633894/original/img-9213.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />You only get one group of THOSE college friends. </p>
<p>You know the ones I mean. In our case, we spent from 9 am - 1 pm together, and then depending on what shows we were working on, we were together from 7 pm - 11:00 pm. Then of course, going across the street for Irish nachos and drinks until 1 am. We were inseparable, less by choice than circumstance, and it was wonderful. And sometimes, terrible! But mostly, even at the time and most definitely in retrospect, wonderful. </p>
<p>We had a reunion at the 20-year mark. Then in 2021, we lost one of our number to Covid. Though we could not get together at the 30-year date, we were determined to gather this year. The house was rented. The airline tickets were purchased. The die was cast. </p>
<p>I, who live locally and work near the airport, volunteered to pick up the latest of our out of town arrivals. My plan was to drop them off, administer and receive the long-yearned-for hugs, then go to my own home and sleep in my own bed, a commuter, rather than a resident, at this reunion. </p>
<p>Then I walked in. </p>
<p>There were photos, dark chocolate, laughter, windows open to the night air. I, who go to sleep much earlier now than I did in those days and had worked a full day before my airport shuttle duties and its thirty orbits around Terminal 3, was exhilarated instead of exhausted. Against all reason, I was wide awake as the clock stuck midnight when my friends said..."Jenny, you could sleep on the couch..." </p>
<p>And as you know...couches and I have a special relationship. I stayed. </p>
<p>My sister and her friends had a maxim in college: it's not part of your wardrobe until you've slept in it. Well, by the next morning, the wardrobe officially welcomed the dress I'd gone to work in the day before. And as I shuffled from the couch to the kitchen for a generous pout of morning coffee, my friend Sarah said I was "sliding towards home," a loving reframe of what back in college we would have called "the walk of shame," immortalized in this photo. </p>
<p>Over the course of the weekend, we got through it all: Love. Loss. What We Didn't Know. What We Now Know. What We Thought We Knew. What We Will Never Understand. Why It Took Us So Long To Get Together From The Last Time. </p>
<p>And most of all - gratitude that somehow or other, we have forgiven ourselves and one another enough that we can be with each other as we are now, unburdened by who we were then.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6939156
2022-04-03T08:10:43-05:00
2022-04-03T09:37:58-05:00
Creating together
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/61924b3cf2a1232015166d1e6c7815d0e7abe8e5/original/93da412e-ed1f-407b-8f73-01a106b4f1f5.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" />Every year, we celebrate "FriendsMass," Christmas with my friends from college. It is a moment of sanity in what is typically an insane season. </p>
<p>Due to Covid, we missed the last two years, and finally got together this weekend. Between the now and the last time we were together, our beloved friend's kids did what kids do: got tall, got great, and got more grown up than we anticipated. Speaking for this delighted adult, I have great hope for the world with these young people in it. </p>
<p>Whenever we have the luxury of time with our friends from college or otherwise, we always seem to wind up writing something. Most of the time, they protest and must be cajoled, at least initially, to participate. Not so with this group! We try to get together over a long weekend each Summer, and the last time I called everyone back inside from the forest saying, "It's time to write haiku," the youngest member of our party said, "Hooray!" </p>
<p>So, gathering on the North side of the City, when my friend Jane shared a glorious photo of the shadow of a tree cast over her house, members of our party were ready to go. And for the first time, the Haiku Your Milieu section has a collection of poems written in the same place, at the same time, and about the same image. </p>
<p>I won't tell you who's related to who, or the ages of the haiku writers. The haiku are remarkable on their own, but taken as a group they show how people can look at the exact same thing in the exact same place and still see it completely differently. </p>
<p>I believe in creativity for its own sake. But if I didn't, I'd like to think I'd be won over by the beautiful way that writing something (or drawing, or building something, etc.) even when it is not done in collaboration with others, but individually in the company of others doing the same thing, strengthens each person's sense of self and allows them to be seen and known more fully by others. </p>
<p>Try it yourself and see. And if you try this at a gathering on your own, let me know how it goes. If you'd like to share what you've written, I'll be delighted!</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6933335
2022-03-27T14:38:19-05:00
2022-03-27T14:38:19-05:00
Midnight in the Kitchen and the power of YES
<p><em>Save the Date: Haiku Milieu After Dark show on Friday, May 27, 9 pm at FitzGerald's Sidebar.</em></p>
<p>So many rituals from when I was a little girl. <br> <br>As you know, I used to wake up in the middle of the night and go downstairs. Once I was through opening the pantry door to see how my day would go, I headed to the kitchen to see if there was any ice cream left. </p>
<p>Often, there wasn’t, but when there was, I might even find a spoon abandoned by a fellow ice cream thief, most commonly a sibling but sometimes left by the master thief himself, aka “The Mouse,” my Dad, who was as eager as his children to indulge in the frozen fruit of the udder and twice as eager to not get caught. If it turned out there was a spoon in the carton of Neapolitan, that was good news, as the silverware drawer required jiggling to open, and I didn’t like to risk making a lot of noise for fear of waking the family. <br> <br>If there was no ice cream, I would turn to the old standby of the pickle sandwich: two pieces of white bread, Miracle Whip, and Claussen dill pickles. Unlike ice cream, those three items were plentiful in my house and no one would miss them; plus there was almost always a knife in the sink that simply needed to be rinsed off. No clanging of silverware bells! <br> <br>After my midnight snack, inspired by the English folktales I devoured, I imagined myself a Brownie, one of the industrious tribes of little fairies who clean and do housework in the middle of the night. Not only would I clean up after myself, I would clean the kitchen or do other little chores that I knew would make my Mom happy. </p>
<p>And then in the morning, I would casually mention to her, “Did you notice how clean the kitchen was this morning? The Brownies must have done it!” <br> <br>“Oh yes,” she’d say, “They did a very wonderful job.” "You know," I'd say, "Brownies like it when you leave treats out for them." And guess what started to happen? A graham cracker one day, a cookie the next, a note the day after that. <br> <br>One day I got an idea. I said “Mom, I think it's the Brownie’s birthday tomorrow!” <br> <br>And when I woke up in the middle of the night, performed my pantry ritual and went into the kitchen, there was a saltine with the frosting we used to write on cakes. My Mom had written Happy Birthday to the brownie! <br> <br>A week or two later, I had the idea to try it again. I said, “Mom, I think I heard it’s the Brownie’s birthday tomorrow.” I recall only mild protestations that the Brownie just had a birthday. “Oh, it’s a different one,” I said confidently. </p>
<p>And that evening, again, there was a saltine with cake icing on it, saying “Happy Birthday.” I tried it a third time, but my Mom forgot to leave out a treat and I lost interest. <br> <br>The Haiku Milieu celebration in May 2019 that launched what would become a series of songwriting concerts began in a similar way. I asked friends to write songs to celebrate the release of the first volume of Haiku Milieu. Upon meeting that challenge, we all thought we were done. But then I had the idea to ask again. And like my mom, my friends keep saying YES. <br> <br>Only this time, for the Haiku Milieu After Dark show on Friday, May 27 at FitzGerald's Sidebar, it was my friends who had the idea. Andon Davis and Chris Neville came up to me in the back room of the Outtaspace as I was packing up, getting ready to leave after this past November's Haiku Milieu show. <br> <br>They came in eager as the breath of Spring saying, “Don’t say no, don’t say no, just hear us out!" And they proceeded to outline an idea for a concert: Haiku After Dark, or Haiku for adults or even simpler - Sexy Haiku songs. I said - YES! But time and life got in the the way of things when I tried to schedule the artists and the venue. I was just about to let it go when Chris reminded me, “Don’t let perfect be the enemy of good." </p>
<p>In that spirit, I renewed my efforts and confirmed the venue and the artists. And then, I set my inner compass for Haiku After Dark. You can see what's been coming to me to share in word and ink in the Week in Review section above. <br> <br>In the process, I am realizing that while there is some satisfaction in completing a task, the greater satisfaction comes from having an idea, dandling it between your fingers like the satin lining of a beloved childhood blanket, and then bringing it into your grown up life. That is where the joy, the growth, the real pleasure in living lies. </p>
<p>We idolize being done, or getting it done, or having it done, when really what brings us to life is having ideas, putting them in motion, and seeing them through. </p>
<p>When the day is done...that is what Haiku Milieu is all about. Finding the extraordinary or said a different way, the sexy, in the everyday. Hopefully, more often than not, we'll get a song or a haiku or a story or a photo or a picture just right. But we'll never get it done. And that's the BEST NEWS EVER.<br> <br>Speaking of which, I hope you'll join us for music and friendship SOON. This Wednesday at Outtaspace with Naomi, Thursday with Klem and Paul at Friendly Tap, and more to come.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6921418
2022-03-13T20:39:31-05:00
2022-03-14T09:52:51-05:00
The Oracle of the Pantry Door
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/0b5ecc5c8389cdd0d3bb35b76bc710f4114b0d6b/original/typorama-1.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" />When I was little, I really wanted to know how things would turn out. </p>
<p>My mom still lives in the mid-century, split-level house I grew up in. You'd walk in the front door, have the living room on the immediate right, and the kitchen straight ahead. On the left hand side, there was a short set of stairs up, and then, walking towards the kitchen, a short set of stairs down. </p>
<p>In perfect alignment with these stairs were two closets. The first one, the one closest to the front door, was for our winter coats, which could be hastily withdrawn from the closet and tossed into one of the bedrooms with the door firmly shut behind them when company came. The second closet in the hallway between the coat closet and the kitchen, directly in front of the stairs going down, was the pantry. </p>
<p>I was always up in the middle of the night. Sometimes I was rubbing the legs of my sleeper under the bedcovers to watch the sparks, sometimes I took off my sleeper entirely because it was too hot, sometimes I crept into my parent's bedroom to sleep in their much more comfortable bed, getting sent back to my own with a stern, if sleepy, "Jennifer. GET in your OWN. BED!" </p>
<p>And sometimes, I would get up for a midnight snack. I was terrified of opening the pantry door too loudly and waking everyone up. I took opening the pantry door very seriously and would go very, very slowly. </p>
<p>After opening the door to the pantry many, many times in the middle of the night, I came to understand certain things. If, for instance, the pantry door opened and closed smoothly without making any noise, it was going to be a good day. </p>
<p>But if it creaked, that meant things that day were going to get difficult. if it creaked on the way open, I would know to expect things to get rough before noon. If it creaked as I was closing the door, I'd know to expect difficulty in the second half of the day. </p>
<p>I mentioned this to my family over dinner one time. How I had known that something was going to go wrong, because the pantry door told me. </p>
<p>I remember that as I said it, the eating stopped (rare in my family), the eyebrows drew together (not uncommon), and heads began shaking (a common occurrence.) Mostly though, I remember that my Dad said, "Jenny, I'm going to oil those goddamn hinges." Ha! </p>
<p>Fast forward. Now I am an adult. My friend and her two beautiful daughters came to stay with us in Door County. It was a beautiful sunny day, and the girls and I lay down to take a nap after lunch and give their mom a little time off. It was a blissful nap. </p>
<p>When we woke up one of the girls said "I dreamed I was a famous singer," and the other girl said "I dreamed about time travel," and the first sister said "Can you go to the future and see if my dream comes true?" Kid, I thought to myself, wouldn't that be something. </p>
<p>Fast forward to today. Maybe we all have our own secret forms of divination, our own Oracle of the Pantry Door, like when you keep seeing the digits of your birthday on the clock or they keep turning up on your receipts. Maybe we never truly outgrow the desire to know how things will go. </p>
<p>But if you live long enough, you'll almost certainly have moments where you're thrilled that you got what you got and not what you thought you wanted. Moments that you thank your lucky stars that you couldn't have known how things would turn out. I know I have, more than I can count. </p>
<p>So these days, if I catch myself wondering how different things might be if I had known then what I know now, I just think... </p>
<p>if you told me then <br>things would be like they are now <br>I'd still be amazed</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6915788
2022-03-08T06:00:00-06:00
2022-03-08T06:00:01-06:00
Even Office Supplies Will Do
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/d6ce86e392bd4a23eed4c3bc011eadbe08436c10/original/img-8355-1.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />So, it was quite a week at the day job. </p>
<p>You know, the day job, the place that gives us so many things in addition the means of keeping the roof over our heads: new friends! A sense of purpose! Meaningful endeavors that connect you to the larger world! With the added advantage of unlimited access to source material for songs, haiku and artwork, and all for the one low price of...the entirety of your time, attention, and patience - not to mention physical endurance - during project season. </p>
<p>So let’s say last week was the seventh of a six week sprint of 14 hour work days. I don’t say this to elicit your sympathy, I know you know exactly what I’m talking about. I’m telling you merely so we have a starting point for this story. </p>
<p>The job was done, but we still had another week or so of 12 hour days putting the project to bed. Except now that it was over, we're running on fumes. </p>
<p>Weary after yet another video meeting, this one rallying the troops for the next big project with no pause for breath from the last one, I felt very far from the process of creation, and even farther from creating anything but more "work product." </p>
<p>I felt like I was losing myself. </p>
<p>The difference this time was, I could see the choices before me: I could either give myself a moment of creation and come back to myself, or spiral downward into despair. Making something would take more effort in the moment, but swirling into despair would take days to recover from. </p>
<p>So, I pulled up my big girl pants...and followed the advice I have shared in my "Bringing Your Songs to Life" workshops: </p>
<p>USE WHAT IS AT HAND. <br>I retrieved a piece of copy paper with printing on one side from the recycling pile. </p>
<p>I folded it in eighths, and placed it on a stack of other papers so that I had a nice, soft writing surface.</p>
<p>Then I picked up an ordinary pen from my desk. </p>
<p>MAKE SOMETHING. <br>I stood up, laid pen to page, and made nine different vignettes. </p>
<p>I photographed the page, then applied a filter to make the nuances of the lines more available to my imagination. </p>
<p>ENJOY WHAT YOU MAKE. <br>I found one image compelling. Oooh! I thought. Hello, feelings.</p>
<p>Memories, emotions, ideas began to flow and intensify. </p>
<p>LET IT BE <br>Then, I turned my attention to the things at work that had to be done.</p>
<p>Things that I now had energy to do, because I had given myself a moment to create. </p>
<p>THAT'S IT!</p>
<p>Maybe it took all of five minutes, but you know what? </p>
<p>It worked for me.</p>
<p>What works for you?</p>
<p>If you're interested, email me for upcoming workshops via jennybienemann.com.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6915775
2022-03-07T09:13:19-06:00
2022-03-07T09:13:19-06:00
Aaron Mitchell: CREATE. MAKE MISTAKES. CREATE. MAKE MAGIC
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/8754d2864c3e52105b37ef407e28568e98f47731/original/img-8341.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" />ENJOY THE <a contents="VIDEO" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://youtu.be/K-IvGhJZods" target="_blank">VIDEO</a> here: https://youtu.be/K-IvGhJZods - THEN READ AARON’S BLOG. </p>
<p>My friend Aaron Mitchell is a painter, singer, songwriter, band leader, dad, and business owner. His life's work is creating space for the creative process. He founded and runs a creative arts incubator, The Outtaspace. </p>
<p>During one of the many wonderful concerts Robin and I have attended there over the years, Aaron and I struck up a conversation about how the mistakes sometimes become the thing that “makes” the work of art, and what a gift it is to be creative at all. </p>
<p>As I write this, it is Aaron's birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY dear Aaron! Everyone else, get over to The Outtaspace and be inspired. </p>
<p>The Magic of Mistakes <br>Aaron Mitchell, Founder/Owner, The Outtaspace </p>
<p>I had a great conversation with a highly talented friend one night about creation. The best part of the conversation was that we talked about the process of creating. The ups and downs, the twists and turns and ultimately the overarching beauty of it all. </p>
<p>I mentioned I had hesitancy about a live video recorded of a musical performance I did that was to be released for a virtual show. It was a new song and I had forgotten a lyric. Luckily I was able to recoup and finish the performance. I talked about how I thought I could have re-recorded a better version and potentially produced a nice visual to go along with it. Although eventually that's what I will do I decided to let the original performance be used and felt good about it. The reason I felt good about it was because when I watched it I felt that it was very real, raw and fresh. But what I loved most about it was the moment of vulnerability that presented itself to an audience. And what was even better than that was the support I received from the audience. We shared a moment and through that moment we connected. </p>
<p>ANYONE who ever created ANYTHING knows one thing and there's no way around it—-There will be mistakes! We try our best to take all the steps to avoid those mistakes, especially in the public eye. We practice, we work through ideas and we take the leap to share. However, as humans we still can't help but make mistakes. </p>
<p>Creators also know it's close to impossible to create without grappling with growing pains, blocks, hurdles, missteps and/or mistakes somewhere along the way. Just like in life mistakes are inevitable, what's most important is the next step. Do you learn from the mistake? Do you grow? Does the mistake turn into something else? Maybe something magical? </p>
<p>The minute the brush hits the canvas, the pen hits the paper, the fingers strum the guitar or the vocal hits the mic there's always a chance something might not work out as planned. The lost lyric, the missed cue, the shaky brush stroke or even worse; the spill, the butterflies, the trip, the slip; whatever it may be. There's always potential for mistakes. But there's also room for magic. </p>
<p>Magic is the moment of mystery and the unexpected. I can vouch for mistakes I made while painting on canvas that ultimately changed the destiny of the painting and in turn led to a new idea and/or potentially better or more interesting outcome. I can vouch for the vulnerable moments that led to connection and I can vouch for the idea that nothing can be created without mistakes somewhere along the way. All creators yearn for the years of hard work to pay off, where mistakes are kept to a minimum. Admittedly I do work towards the same, however I have grown to understand, accept and acknowledge the potential of magic in mistakes. </p>
<p>CREATE. MAKE MISTAKES. CREATE. MAKE MAGIC</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6897124
2022-02-14T06:39:06-06:00
2022-02-14T06:39:06-06:00
#SidewalkRorschach: a scrollable digital totem pole
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/d39810e78ef7f3282ede5c7bd7447e216d867be9/original/img-8091.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />#SidewalkRorschach, by Robin Bienemann <br> <br>Last year, in mid-COVID lockdown, I invented a game I play with my friends on Facebook called #SidewalkRorschach. <br> <br>The game begins with me walking around my neighborhood alone taking pictures of the sidewalk. <br> <br>Together my Facebook friends and I create an electronic collage of images with loose connections that we make up as we go along. <br> <br>The final result is a scrollable digital totem pole bubbling with creative observations and pop culture references. </p>
<p>THE GAME <br>The #SidewalkRorschach game has no rules. It is limited only by the structure of Facebook news feeds. Though never discussed, stated, nor enforced, we have settled into a basic form. <br> <br>(1) I see an image suggested by an accidental form on the sidewalk (cracks, puddles, mud, ice). <br> <br>(2) I take a picture of it with my phone and post it in my Facebook news feed, noting the image I conjured, AND inviting others to respond: <br> <br>From this week: <br>“I thought I saw a skeleton dog playing a guitar out on the sidewalk. What do you see?” <br> <br>(3) My Facebook friends then add “comments” to the news feed. Text and/or images building upon my original image suggestion OR riffing on other interpretations of the photo. <br> <br>(4) I then respond to those comments with ANOTHER image, sometimes related directly, sometimes convolutedly. <br> <br>(5) The group continues building upon the discussion, responding to each other adding images and commentslike ornaments to Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree. </p>
<p>THE EVOLUTION <br>Last summer I started posting pictures on Facebook of accidental painterly designs I saw on the ground. With my contrarian nature, I found them at least as poetic as abstract paintings in an art gallery, with none of the pretention (except for my own connoisseurship). <br> <br>• Layers of white bird poop weathered into a wooden boat dock. <br>• Shadows falling across smashed mulberries on the road. <br> <br>After posting a few of these I started including a note inviting others to comment on images THEY saw within the abstract forms in my photo. It turns out that Facebook’s algorithms encourage discourse and are friendly toward my friends “talking” to each other in news feeds. The more we would exchange thoughts, the more “attention” the news feed posts would get. </p>
<p>Exhilarated by the interesting and hilarious exchanges AND motivated by my new habit of taking long walks in my neighborhood, I began posting #SidewalkRorschach photos on a regular basis. I have no precise schedule, but if I find a “good one” I try to post it almost immediately, hopefully keeping it conceptually fresh. If it sits around unposted too long it starts to seem stale like old bread. </p>
<p>The #SidewalkRorschach art/game is conceived specifically to NOT exist in a private bubble. It lives and grows in a world of social media. Inherent in that world is occasional bewilderment at relatively high or low “interest” in a particular post. An artist on social media signs an invisible contract to engage in those metrics. You can choose to enjoy them or allow them to drive you mad. <br> <br>One sweet real-world result has been my reputation as someone who is always looking around for beauty in the ugliest and most unremarkable parts of our environments. <br>Even better, acquaintances love to tell me they now walk around looking for figures in the sidewalk. Not a bad influence! <br> <br>One of many lessons I’ve learned from my brilliant haiku-ing wife Jenny, is that any artistic practice requires the practitioner to keep it up on a regular basis, without questioning too much whether it is worth the trouble. </p>
<p>I enjoy the act of walking around intentionally, alone with my head down, hunting for new sidewalk images. But far more gratifying is collaborating to create these rich collages with my friends. </p>
<p>After I post a new #SidewalkRorschach image I check my phone constantly, delighted by the new comments, and excited to craft responses worthy of their generous attentions. I love to scroll through an entire long #SidewalkRorschach news feed from months previous, to be reminded of the thoughtful, clever exchanges with my friends. <br> <br>Every #SidewalkRorschach comment has the voice and character of that contributor. Some of the regular participants have developed their own #SidewalkRorschach voice and style. Mine tends toward B&W historical photos and Loony Toons cartoons. Others lean toward hippie psychodelia or mythology. Some use apps to draw right on top of my original photo. There have been brilliant original digital paintings, and mini history and geography lessons. <br> <br>#SidewalkRorschach starts with me, walking alone, squinting at cracks on the sidewalk, but is nurtured and fed by the always-surprising spirit of collaboration.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6890705
2022-02-07T06:24:10-06:00
2022-02-07T06:24:10-06:00
Matt Scharpf: Marching
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/e1cd5dfe90b1da5da45da13f2a1ff1548be004c9/original/img-7932-1.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />Matt Scharpf's video of his song "<a contents="Marching" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://youtu.be/VWexrcyg86o" target="_blank">Marching</a>." Watch the video first, then again after you read this! </p>
<p>Matt Scharpf: I knew him first when he was a teacher at Fenwick, then encountered him as a songwriter. Empathetic, collaborative, kind. That's how I would have described him then, and now that I know him better as an artist? Now I would add deep. Soulful. </p>
<p>When I put out the call for songwriters for the November, 2021 Haiku Milieu, Matt wasn't sure he could participate because it was a big birthday for his daughter. I assured him he could send a video for the <a contents="January Haiku Milieu video concert&nbsp;" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://youtu.be/1syJL-40g5o" target="_blank">January Haiku Milieu video concert </a>(click to watch it.) </p>
<p>But then he sent me the song, "Marching!" </p>
<p>For the typical Haiku Milieu show, there's a deadline to send me a draft of the song, so when I start sharing the good word about the show, "marketing," in insider-speak, I have the right names. </p>
<p>He sent me a rough performance of the song, a "scratch," in insider-speak, and it felt like it was coming from his very soul. I could imagine him performing it in the room the night of the concert, unifying the room, lifting it up. And while that hasn't happened yet, one day it will. One day. </p>
<p>Until then, we have this video to enjoy, and his notes on the process. ENJOY! </p>
<p>Every songwriter has their process(es) so writing “Marching" for me fell into my old habits…except that the core of the tune was from Jenny’s haiku: </p>
<p>"If you are alone // In the middle of the night // Sing yourself to sleep” </p>
<p>Music: </p>
<p>On the music front, I am a fan of using open/alternate tunings and partial capos. This habit lets me repeatedly rediscover the guitar and break out of the usual open-G open-C to Am habits while incorporating some color into chords that traditional folk songs often seem to omit. </p>
<p>When Jenny asked me to write something, I had been listening to Nick Drake a bit and really liked the bigness of his guitar sound. To find that Nick Drake sound, I tuned down a full step and used a two-string capo on the 9th fret which left me with the open 5-string to manipulate while the other five strings are either an D or A. </p>
<p>The mystery and rhythm in Nick Drake's tunes were things I had been enjoying so I started strumming in triplets and finding something for the verse that I liked. The fun part of the partial capo also allows some unique “double-stop” opportunities in the higher register where it can sound full - even like two guitars sometimes. </p>
<p>So musically, the verse and the chorus were getting somewhere and the haiku found itself inside a relative minor descent that created some tension. The 5-7-5 syllable rhythm of a haiku also lends itself to a percussive lyric. So with the long vowel sounds ending each line in Jenny’s work, really, the haiku’s form and content allowed me to not only rat-uh-tat-tat the words but stretch those long vowels in the last words in fun ways over the minor chord chorus that wants to sonically resolve back into the major verse. </p>
<p>Lyric: </p>
<p>The verse melody seems to go in and out of the rhythm and the haiku lyric drove the verse into something of a wish given to someone special who was leaving. So I started imagining someone very much alone at night, looking at the stars, and remembering words that were said before his/her departure - like a soldier. </p>
<p>Most people think of soldiers as doing their duty or being scared or missing home. Being a military brat myself, I wanted to flip that idea using the image of the soldier doing what he/she loved while those back home are the ones both “free” to do what they want but also really trapped in their own fears and expectations; civilians doing their own duty and managing their own anxieties. Both characters look at the stars - the soldier being thankful but also wishful, thinking of the other while echoing the chorus’ line back to the one who originally said it to the soldier. </p>
<p>Now I let that ruminate a bit as I needed a bridge or change of gears whose lyric would sum up the song’s idea. R.E.M. is a very big influence on me so I thought of a staccato bluesy inspired by their song “Pilgrimage” that sounded a bit like "hut-two-three-four” to get that “marching” feel. Then the "left-right-left" bit represented the idea of the soldier but also of the civilian trapped in their “have-to” existence. </p>
<p>Using two animal references that represent victimhood and projecting blame, the last verse wraps up the song's idea. In the end, some choose to march toward what they want while so many others wander, only to often remain pacing inside a personal mental jail, blaming everything else while being driven toward what others want. And to either celebrate or soothe ourselves, we often sing ourselves to sleep. </p>
<p>The icing on the cake was the play on the marching words into “…I just left”, leaving to pursue what the character wants to achieve. </p>
<p>It was a great challenge that Jenny gave me and I think it resulted in a reasonably solid tune. </p>
<p>Thanks again Jenny for the inspiration! </p>
<p>Matt </p>
<p>Haiku Song - Marching by Matthew Scharpf </p>
<p>I can’t believe I’m here! </p>
<p>Scouting the mountains with this pack on my back <br>Night patrolling with my 80 pounds of gear <br>All of the stars blaze at me from the black (void) of the sky <br>I remember that you’re so far away <br>and what you whispered when I left </p>
<p>If you are alone // In the middle of the night // Sing yourself to sleep </p>
<p>What are you doing there? <br>Stuck in the city feeling trapped and afraid <br>Marching through canyons of cut stone and masquerade <br>All the same stars are calling you to dream every night <br>Reflecting off your glass and steel cage <br>Holding a bird that longs to fly so far away </p>
<p>So if you are alone…2X </p>
<p>Left Left left right left <br>Scapegoats and guinea pigs <br>blame the others for the weakness of their minds <br>I’m surprised that we remain so surprised <br>Wandering the ranges of our restless lives <br>Step by step we march around until we're driven straight into a line </p>
<p>So if you are alone…2X <br>Left Left left right left </p>
<p>Click here for "Marching." <br>Click here for the "January 2021 Haiku Milieu concert."</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6883342
2022-01-29T17:16:24-06:00
2022-01-29T17:48:25-06:00
"Let 'Em Get Away" (The Laws)
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/c68feb263deedd122299098c44fa1fa7993be11f/original/img-7860.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /></p>
<p>This unreleased song is called "Let 'Em Get Away," from back in the day. Thank you to Marshall Hjertsted for the video. </p>
<p>Life is so funny. I wanted to talk about the mid-life crisis in this blog today. How I tried to anticipate it, how I tried to believe that I could escape it by just doing the things people bemoan that they didn't do. By and large, I did those things, I still do, and yet...I have to wonder if I did it right. The midlife crisis has not left me unscathed. </p>
<p>It was taking too long to say what I just said. I was boring myself, so I scrapped it. Instead, I went in search of some kind of oldie but goodie video to make up for the lack of a Collaboration and Creativity blog. I was previewing it to make sure there were no wardrobe malfunctions or anything, and it struck me...this song is about a mid-life crisis. </p>
<p>When I wrote it, I had just released the album, "Every Soul Grows to the Light." Epic changes in work and life were afoot, the monthly concerts at FitzGerald's had just begun, and I needed new songs. I would start haikuing within a month of this performance. </p>
<p>This song was commissioned by a dear friend as part of the Indiegogo campaign for the album. I'd been thinking about him, and mulling ideas over in my mind, when I received a jury summons. Around that same time, I had occasion to be driving past the courthouse on California Avenue on the West side of Chicago. In the way they do when you're not paying attention, the stars began to align and the song began to write itself. </p>
<p>You would never know my friend's name, and that's the way he wants it. He has changed countless lives in the course of his career as an attorney, but that's not how he started out in life. </p>
<p>He had a a rough upbringing on the South side of Chicago in a family with too many kids and not enough money. He remembers a very clear intent to mortally wound his brother, but his hand was stayed by an older relative. A few years later, despite the devoted mentorship of his girlfriend's father, he ran afoul of that family as well as his own, and got into the kind of trouble that would keep someone from being gainfully employed later in life. Only because the laws were less strict than they are now was he able to pay his debt to society, excel in law school, and become a highly respected attorney. He has the heart of a lion, but the only reason I even know him is that he got away. </p>
<p>He always wondered if instead of becoming an attorney, he should have been a judge. Maybe he should have, he says. He wonders. </p>
<p>Even if your circumstances were less dire than my friend's, somehow or other, you have to keep the lights on and a roof over your head. I've often thought that the necessity of having to work is an overall net positive. Every day, if at times begrudgingly, I get down on my knees and thank God that I "had to" learn how to do something I didn't want to learn how to do, largely because of my day job. </p>
<p>The hope is that all the hours you spend at your day job enriching yourself are also in some way, shape or form making the world a better place. </p>
<p>My friend, I gathered over the years of our friendship, at times questioned whether in the end, his contributions would net to the positive for the world, not just for himself and his family. </p>
<p>And you know what? I wonder the same thing about myself. </p>
<p>As I drove past the courthouse on California Avenue, then down Lake Street past OPRF where my daughter went to school, turning left on East Avenue going past Fenwick where my son was a student, I was thinking about what it means to "get away." Those times I'd drawn a hard line, did I do right? Or how about those times I'd been lenient? Did I help or did I hurt? All the while, the song was writing itself in the back of my mind. </p>
<p>And suddenly, we're back to the midlife crisis. </p>
<p>Did I do it right? I don't know. I sure hope so. But even if I had done everything differently, I'd still probably wonder. </p>
<p>And that's the jumping off point for this song. The judge, evaluating his life, wonders if he's done good, or if he's just done well. </p>
<p>I guess what comes to me is this: whoever you are, even if you live your life to the limits of your integrity and do your very best in every arena, you're going to make mistakes. You're still going to -- make that HAVE TO -- wonder if you did it right. </p>
<p>There is no way around the midlife crisis, only through it. </p>
<p>So to my friend, to myself, and perhaps to you, rest easier. Even if you had done it differently, you'd still be wondering. </p>
<p>In case you're interested, here are the lyrics. </p>
<p>Let 'Em Get Away (The Laws) <br>by Jenny Bienemann </p>
<p>13 years old <br>standing over my brother <br>with a rake <br>had him pinned to the kitchen table <br>the table breaks <br>my father runs in <br>says "this isn't the way!" <br>my brother lied but my dad said <br>"Let him get away." </p>
<p>At 57 <br>I preside over them <br>in court <br>sometimes they come <br>before me, heavy <br>with remorse <br>when their lawyer runs in <br>and he carries the day <br>that's when the law says <br>"Let them get away." </p>
<p>Now there's the laws of God <br>and the laws of man <br>I get paid to serve one <br>when I'm on the stand <br>As to the laws of God, well <br>only He can tell <br>if we've done good <br>or if we've just <br>done well </p>
<p>18 years old <br>walking over to see <br>my girlfriend's dad <br>couldn't admit I'd done <br>what we both knew I had <br>My girlfriend runs in <br>and she pleads my case <br>he said the consequence <br>was mine to face </p>
<p>Now there's the laws of God <br>and the laws of men <br>we do things <br>we're too young to understand <br>As to the laws of God, well <br>only She can say <br>if we've done good <br>when they get <br>away</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6877153
2022-01-22T18:08:58-06:00
2022-01-22T18:08:58-06:00
Even Bono Gets Embarrassed
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/731823c541d517869411f093eb9f28c1604f7d5e/original/img-7766.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p style="text-align: right;"><span class="font_small"><em>Photo: Andrew Medichini/AP/Shutterstock</em></span></p>
<p>Bono just made me feel better. </p>
<p>In a recent article by Devon Ivie in Vulture, he said, “maybe that’s the place to be as an artist – you know, right at the edge of your level of embarrassment.” </p>
<p>Does it seem funny that someone like me who, if Instagram is to be believed, has shared 1,152 posts could feel as embarrassed as I am about to tell you I feel nearly constantly, and yet continue to post on a daily basis? </p>
<p>YES. </p>
<p>And why am I bringing this up? Shouldn’t the making of art be mysterious? Aren’t the states of inspiration supposed to be fleeting, evanescent as soap bubbles? In a callous and unfeeling world, isn’t our one sure compensation as artists that we feel ourselves to be connected to the numinous in a way that non-artists can only dream of? </p>
<p>Well…if it worked like that, you probably wouldn’t be reading this now. </p>
<p>If the heightened states of consciousness that produce anything -- from a haiku to a song to a meal -- didn’t exist within and around our normal states of consciousness, how could we create anything of use, meaning, anything that can reach into the moment we are living RIGHT NOW and connect us with EVERY moment, as it feels like the great works of art do. </p>
<p>Great art grows out of the artist’s experiences. While (I believe) I have not admired the work of any artist who wasn’t a human being, I know for sure I haven’t met a human being who has not felt the sting of embarrassment. Artist or not, embarrassment is a part of life; and for artists with life as your source material, embarrassment is your friend. </p>
<p>Some of the best things I've ever created have arisen out of a place of being deeply embarrassed that I’m still putting one note, one word, one image in front of the next and the next and the next, the way you undertake the long walk home though you have no idea where home actually is or how long it will take to get there. </p>
<p>It's embarrassing when you start and don’t know if you have something. It's embarrassing in the middle when you've just come up with a line that's so trite it makes you cringe. It's embarrassing the way you think about how other people might respond to what you’re working on, and it's embarrassing when you have to retreat to restock the inspirational pond so you can come back fresh tomorrow. </p>
<p>Maybe Bono has been living on the edge of his level of embarrassment, but I don't think he needs to be embarrassed. I think he has walked the talk and lived his life in alignment with what he believes in. Maybe that is what is embarrassing: to be so bold, so forward, so proud of what you believe in that you dedicate your life to it, that you fight to stay conscious in a world constantly trying to knock you out. </p>
<p>On the other end of embarrassment is pride. Making anything is painstaking, it can be painful, and you know you’re going to go down. But as long as you keep getting back up, you can be proud. </p>
<p>I feel proud of the community I live in, the streets I walk down, my artist friends, and what I make of what they give me. Mostly though, I’m proud I’m still making ANYTHING after tsunami upon tsunami of embarrassment. I can’t say I enjoy it when it hits, but I have to tip my hat to embarrassment. Like anger, frustration, or any other unpleasant emotion, nothing gets me from where I am to where I would prefer to be faster. </p>
<p>So, I'll be continuing to embarrass myself. </p>
<p>What does this mean for you? Well, the next time you feel like you’re right at the edge of your own level of embarrassment, stop a second. Look around. I might just be waving at you. And you know what? I bet Bono will be too. </p>
<p>If you’re interested, here’s the <a contents="article on Bono by Devon Ivie" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://www.vulture.com/2022/01/bono-embarrassed-by-u2.html?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=news_tab" style="" target="_blank">article on Bono by Devon Ivie</a> in Vulture.</p>
<p> </p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6870389
2022-01-15T20:42:22-06:00
2022-01-17T06:55:52-06:00
The Junk Drawer: batteries and tape
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/5c838df2f4053d2001c3df99b588d1f1a433506e/original/img-7659.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_none" alt="" /></p>
<p>When the apocalypse comes, Robin and I will be well provided for in two areas: batteries and tape. </p>
<p>Robin buys batteries in bulk at every opportunity, “because you just never know,” he says, “I take them with me to every gig!” And, in fact he does; I have been the beneficiary of his gig batteries more than once. </p>
<p>I, on the other hand, like to buy tape: tape to wrap presents, tape to mail books and cds, and my favorite, painter’s tape. I particularly love a pale green painter’s tape that I use to label everything from guitar and microphone cables in the basement to containers of soup in the freezer to storage bins in the garage. <br> <br>You do have to dig through the junk drawer to find it of course, and that’s time consuming, but even if we’ve determined that the tape is on its way out, or the batteries are past their expiration date, we generally put them back into that junk drawer. </p>
<p>Shortly after New Year’s, the drawer wouldn’t close and I decided to clean it out. I thought I could do it quickly and with no consequences, but almost from the start I was in tears. </p>
<p>Dense as a layer cake, and as generously frosted with batteries and tape, the junk drawer was full. A partial list: half-melted birthday candles. Safety scissors. Glitter glue. Power cords from decommissioned computers and cell phones. Undeveloped rolls of film (from our wedding?) Plastic sporks. Binder clips. And at least 10 years’ worth of dust. <br> <br>Everything had seemed so vital when I put it in the drawer. <br> <br>I started thinking, where do we stash our hopes and dreams when we need to make room for something new? Is that what these aches and pains in our bodies are? Is it part of what makes some deeply cherished relationships stop growing - ? Is that what makes it take so long to process new information, having to sift through what we’ve tucked away first? <br> <br>When it comes to the junk drawer, sometimes you want to throw it away without looking at any of it. Sometimes you want to summon all your willpower and sort it out. Or, you may just want to ignore it. I have done it all. <br> <br>Sorting and sifting through the stuff Robin and our now-adult kids and I had stashed, memories, hopes, and dreams came flooding back. <br> <br>And slowly it dawned to me: a junk drawer is a chalice. <br> <br>Our junk drawers get full because of our hopes for a better, more fulfilling life. That’s also why you’d want to empty it out, so you have space for more of what would be truly useful. <br> <br>Sitting there, cross-legged on the floor in front of the open junk drawer, it was as if a sacred space between the past and the future opened. I was choosing which physical objects to release, reintegrate, or ignore, and along with them, the hopes and dreams I had tucked in there at the same time. <br> <br>I did get misty-eyed. I had to take breaks. It would have been easier to stop. I didn’t push myself. I just kept going, and you know what, I did feel better. <br> <br>Here in the second week of January, 2022, maybe this is the year to make peace with the junk drawer. <br> <br>Maybe this year we say it’s OK that the junk drawer is what it is. <br> <br>Maybe this year, I’ll finally need those screws I so carefully placed into a Ziplock bag and forgot about until just now. I’ll pull out the junk drawer. I’ll sit there. Maybe I’ll think about what was, or marvel at what is. <br> <br>Maybe, whether I need something or not, the next time I feel aches and pains of heart, mind or body, I’m may just go open my junk drawer, and let whatever needs to come out, out.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6864156
2022-01-10T06:41:47-06:00
2023-12-31T02:41:28-06:00
Terry White: Roadblock
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/30aa6dbb0e02e664fa7d9dce92766330f698616b/original/terry-white-2022.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />I would normally write an intro about my dear friend and collaborator - but I said it all in the <a contents="video" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://youtu.be/JfYUfO-OWpY" style="" target="_blank">video</a>! Enjoy, Jenny </p>
<p><a contents="Roadblock" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://youtu.be/JfYUfO-OWpY" target="_blank">Roadblock</a> – A Haiku Milieu collaboration </p>
<p>It started with Jenny’s haiku. I get a new one every Sunday morning, accompanied by a photo that I assume inspired the poem (or maybe it’s the other way around). Not just Sundays, Jenny posts miscellaneous haikus whenever she is inspired. </p>
<p>Then there’s the invite. It is fortuitous that I am in her orbit. When I saw this particular haiku and photo I was listening to Slim Harpo and that early rock n roll/electric blues started dancing with the haiku words. The color photo turned black and white. </p>
<p>There is nothing overly sophisticated about the lyrics. I read a history of the Country Blues, the pre-electric roots. The author talked about the difficulty black writers had describing the oppression and expressing the anger they felt towards the boss man. Repercussions would be devasting. </p>
<p>So they masked their protests in songs of love gone wrong. Often referring to lovers as the devil (see Cross and Evil Woman by Blind Gary Davis, Black Rat Swing by Memphis Minnie, Dealing With the Devil by Brownie McGhee). I employed a similar device to express any grievance one might have; in a job, a relationship, figuring out your cable bill. </p>
<p>The song came quick. Words and music in twenty minutes. I wanted the performance to develop in a similar manner and asked my mates (Paul Bivans, Andon Davis, Michael Krayniakand Chris Neville) if they’d be up for booking time with Blaise Barton at Joyride Studio to learn the song on the spot, record it and film it for a live video (actually a few minor over-dubs). They relished the idea of not rehearsing (artistically andbecause we all rather disdain rehearsal). Blaise too liked the idea of miking the studio for a live performance, no headphones, let it bleed, as the Rolling Stones might say. </p>
<p>And last but far from least, the cinematographers. I asked Bob Ness, David Kindler and Mike Janowski (who unfortunately had prior a commitment) to shoot the video while we recorded. We all worked together a few years earlier on the video for Roosevelt Road by Cannonball. I gave no instruction other than I’d like to see if it would work in black and white. </p>
<p>As I have come to realize, there is no need for to give much input. Bob and Dave’s instincts were true to the haiku, the song and the immediate vibe. I am not versed in the language of a video critic but you can see that Bob treated the black and white footage in a way to give it a newsreel look. The quick cuts and edits keep up with the song’s tempo. They did not focus in on me or anyone else out of proportion. It captures the “let’s gather and do this now” method that we approached the project with. </p>
<p>We look forward to our next collaboration! </p>
<p>- Terry White</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6856660
2022-01-01T21:59:51-06:00
2022-01-01T21:59:51-06:00
The Past and the Present Play Nicely
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/42128ec3136713d8f1ee59ffc97fbb07b816b948/original/img-7273-1.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />Happy New Year! I hope the second day of 2022 is off to a wonderful start for you. </p>
<p>For me and mine this New Year’s Eve, the past and the present played nicely together. But the end of year didn't start out that way. </p>
<p>Shows were cancelling. Places were shutting down. Unknowns were swirling like the heavy cream I have not been putting in my coffee for the last 4 years, and the hard edges of missing things from long ago, like the aforementioned cream, things I thought I no longer longed for, things that were not necessarily good for me, but comforted me, loomed large and as tangible/intangible as ghosts. I could not deny that I did not want to go back, but I also could not deny that I missed it. <br> <br>I tried to haiku about how you can’t go back. How literally, your cells are different. What you thought you were hurtling yourself towards literally can not contain who you become on the way to them. The feeling of no safety, of doing what you thought would lead you to x and arriving at y, of not even recognizing yourself. Know what I mean? <br> <br>Into this breach, comes family. <br> <br>I love my family dearly, as I am guessing you love yours. Sometimes, we have a transcendent time. Other times are a trial of endurance, of blinking hard and trying to stay in the present as the swirling presence of the past is a compelling, seductive, illusion-filled temptress that leads you forward only to dash you on the rocks of hope and expectation. <br> <br>We have tried limiting the amount of time together, extending the amount of time together, and gathering at restaurants so tempers don’t flare over dishes. Some of us can no tolerate alcohol while others have upgraded their palates to truly extraordinary wines and spirits which means there is less drinking and thus fewer sparks to ignite errant tinder…but nothing eases what happens when family comes together, past meets present, and the arm wrestling commences. No one is left unscathed. All the while the ache inside your chest just grows, the love for your family somehow or other, through it all, manages to expand and intensify. </p>
<p>In 2021, after years of being “houseless,” my little sister got a home Wisconsin, where my family has been visiting almost religiously for at least 50 years. Robin and I were headed up there to celebrate. We were aching and eager in equal measure, but at intervals that were not necessarily in sync with each other, over the prospect of spending the next 72 hours with family. <br> <br>After a stop at the grocery store, we started the final 20 mile drive on back roads thick with ice, only lightly kissed by the plow after the last snow. We had to drive slowly, eyes on the road, talking and not talking. By the time we arrived…we were in the same place physically and emotionally. <br> <br>We walked in, and my sister was so happy to see us. We worked together in the kitchen getting the big New Year's Eve meal ready…and then the three of us were in the same place. <br> <br>A few hours later my mom, sister and brother-in-law walked in, weary from travel but excited to be there, with their own contributions to incorporate into the meal. They joined us in the kitchen, and pretty soon…all six of us were in the same place. <br> <br>And once we were all there together? Well, that was transcendent. <br> <br>Dinner happened about 10 pm. The food was extra delicious. My little sister had goody bags for us, with horns and hats and glasses and my favorite – local chocolates! The conversation was especially interesting, so much so that we didn’t even turn on the TV until 11:45 pm. We had fun and took a million pictures at midnight. </p>
<p>And then THAT was so fun, we decided to stay up and watch more TV. As we watched the reboot of Hawaii 5-0, a particular favorite of my Mom's, the past and the present converged. </p>
<p>We used to watch the original Hawaii 5-0 in my parent’s bedroom as kids, my Dad in his chair, my mom lying on the bed, my little sister and I each curled up under my mother’s right and left arms. Back then, there were tussles about who got to be on which side of my mom. But then as now, decades later, the best part wasn't the show or who was sitting where. The best part was being together. </p>
<p>We were together. <br> <br>So, despite how it started, this New Year’s Eve the past and the present played nicely. What a gift! That it came on the last breath of 2021 fills me with wonder about what the coming years might bring. I hope that this sense of wonder continues throughout 2022, and that ALL that you’d like to have happen, happens for you. <br> <br>Some people say it all boils down to your intentions. I am still mulling over my New Years intentions, as we head over to the 2022 Polar Bear Plunge. Maybe we’ll talk about that next week. </p>
<p>Meanwhile, how’s it going with you? Drop me a line whenever you feel like it, and let me know. I love hearing from you.</p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/7ab7679be1cf810f15fd820a8436f6deeaa39578/original/img-7318.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6845296
2021-12-18T12:49:21-06:00
2021-12-18T12:49:21-06:00
Christmas: the little girl in me wins
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/b4894b9470c8dcdaf73c755482b308e757db330c/original/baby-jenny.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_thick" alt="" />This is what it feels like to be me at this time of year. </p>
<p>It feels like absolute confidence in the goodness of the world, and that sneaking suspicion that Santa's gonna overlook everything I didn’t do right last year, and that I’m gonna go to sleep wrapped in the arms of family under bright stars in the dark sky twinkling in the crisp night air, delicious smells wafting through the house. </p>
<p>I always feel that way inside at Christmas. </p>
<p>The older I get, the more I notice the gulf between feeling that way, and letting myself feel that way. </p>
<p>For every disappointment comes the question, was I foolish to have hope? For all that does not go right, the question goes, would it have been better if I didn't try? And for all the love that is freely given that seems to be taken the wrong way or not taken at all comes the question, is my love even of value? </p>
<p>These questions the little girl inside of me never understands. </p>
<p>She keeps saying, hope. Try. Love. </p>
<p>And the big girl that I am wants to reply: nope, nope, nope. </p>
<p>Simply to protect myself, simply to make a way in the world in which we actually live -- which has so little in common with what the little girl inside me seems to think it is -- I find myself feeding the chasm instead of the connection. </p>
<p>But at this time of year, alongside of all of you, fore and aft of Christmas shows that reinforced her view of the world, I am powerless to resist the little girl in me. </p>
<p>She wins. </p>
<p>I find myself looking at the world through her eyes, and now the question is: </p>
<p>Why not? Hope. Try. Love. Why not? </p>
<p>And it is this I wish for you: this sweet succumbing to the child inside you this holiday season. This delightful surrender -- even momentarily -- into a world where magic is real, people are unfailingly kind, and miracles are part of daily life. </p>
<p>This I wish for you. </p>
<p>And if for some reason the mere existence of the holiday season widens the space between you and that little child within you, I wish for you: <br>ease, <br>and grace, <br>and peace, <br>and quietude, </p>
<p>so that in your own way and your own time, that wonderful child within you can inspire you with the question: </p>
<p>Why not? Hope. Try. Love. Why not? </p>
<p>Merry Christmas, and lots of love, Jenny</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6822830
2021-11-27T12:25:29-06:00
2021-11-27T12:26:19-06:00
ENJOY: Learning what not to do
<p>We all make mistakes, and in the end, if you pay attention, you can even enjoy the process of learning what NOT to do. </p>
<p>To wit: I was rushing. I sent the Black Friday email out with typos. <br> <br>I knew I wanted to send something to my Sunday Haiku Milievians, but I didn’t know what. And like so many things these days, I had no idea what to do. I knew the ideas would come if I got started. But wanting to get started? Not so much. <br> <br>So first I had coffee with my family. My daughter Jessica was home! She is AWESOME! If you knew her you would say I was being smart, not procrastinatory. <br> <br>Then we had to survey the leftovers situation. Or, at least I did; she was busy roasting chickpeas. Right? Again, it’s just sensible sometimes to pay attention to what’s in front of you, especially the people you don’t get to see in person much these days. <br> <br>I will leave out the part about starting (not finishing) the laundry, the bills, the exercise; and how my husband, who had a gig we had to travel for, needed us to get going sooner than anticipated. </p>
<p>Anyhow. I sat down, made an almost entirely complete email, and realized I wanted to do it differently. <br> <br>In a stare down with the clock, I was determined not to blink. I photographed. I cropped. I placed. I typed the text right. </p>
<p>Or so I thought. <br> <br>When it was time to send the email, I couldn’t figure out why it felt like I should wait. I knew I should, but I didn’t see why, so I didn’t. <br> <br>Once it was out in the world, that's when I found the typos. Don’t you hate that? When you override yourself? It's hard to accept. I thought, “I'll need to fire my assistant.” <br> <br>But wait. I AM my assistant. <br> <br>And if I fire myself, don’t I lose everyone else in the office too? The creative director, the project manager, the photographer, the content writer, the graphic designer, the Haiku Milieu concert coordinator, the part-time barista and the hourly line drawing artist? Since they are all also me, it seemed like a costly decision. <br> <br>So I reached out to said daughter wending her way home, and regaled her with my woes. <br> <br>She wrote back, “Shakespeare didn’t spell the same words the same way all the time. Why should you?” <br> <br>Whoa. Mind blown! <br> <br>Then I reached out to Jodi and Naomi, and we confirmed our definitions of family, chosen and blood, and agreed that Jessica satisfied the criteria for both. <br> <br>Then I told Robin and he said, “Welcome to the human race,” which was apt, as we’d just been talking about family (!). It was a nice reminder that we ARE all one big family of humanity on this enormous, beautiful rock hurtling around the sun. <br> <br>We're all going to make mistakes. This Black Friday, I got the gift of making one. Unlike other times, I didn't punish myself; in fact if anything, I luxuriated in the love and care of those who helped me find my way through it, and felt more connected to the world as a result. </p>
<p>Best of all, some generous (and dare I say discriminating!) people totally overlooked my typos, and are already making Haiku Milieu greeting cards part of their holiday gift giving! You have no idea the boost this gives me!! I’m thrilled to be sending the first batch out today. </p>
<p>I really, really REALLY love it when people give my work as gifts. <br> <br>If there’s someone in your life who doesn’t need another book or CD, you can always sign them up for the Sunday Haiku Milieu email FOR FREE. If you tell me who they are, I’ll be sure to give them a warm welcome and make a fuss about you, our mutual friend, and how much we love you. <br> <br>As always, if you are moved to share my work as a singer/songwriter or Haiku Milieu with friends and family, just point these wonderful people to jennybienemann.com or haikumilieu.com. <br> <br>Happy start of the Holiday Season!</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6801337
2021-11-07T18:14:29-06:00
2021-11-07T18:14:29-06:00
Greta Lind: This Is Soul Work
<p>Greta Lind. We went to college together. Her last name is my mom's maiden name. We always thought we might be related. She's an inspiring friend, amazing at everything she turns her hand to: author. actress. artist. mom. body worker. And a deep, dear friend of the soul. </p>
<p>You might have seen her as Katie Kenicott on TV's All My Children, in the movie Rudy, or heard her on Indiana Public Radio in the Audie Awards finalist audio drama, The Ernie Pyle Experiment. </p>
<p>But before all that, my kids called her as "Gweta," loved when she read to them, and would make me eggs the way her mom made them for her, when I needed them most. </p>
<p>After you read her ruminations on the creative process. you'll feel like she's an old friend of yours too. Then you'll want to get her book, Split Open for yourself, your friends, for someone you love for the Holidays, or for no reason at all. </p>
<p>Get it here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1643438255/ref=cm_sw_r_sms_api_glt_fabc_MQBA74BMFMQB4FHPTJ2M</p>
<p>With no further ado, my dear friend Greta Lind: </p>
<p>"I love the process of bringing unformed vision into form, whether with the creative muse or other artists. I find this sparks undeniable joy at the level of soul and cell. It is a visceral, alive, embodied, heart-filled movement. </p>
<p>All that is required is to show up with openness, focus, and courage. To get out of our own way. A willingness to not know. Deep trust. An emphasis on process, not product. For it is the process itself that holds inspiration and invites each moment to open to the next. </p>
<p>To experience the gift of genuine alchemy through shared creativity is one of the miracles of being alive. What we open to becomes more when we join together, creating a bold field of possibility. Paradoxically, this requires real vulnerability. Because we truly don’t know what will happen. </p>
<p>If we concern ourselves with the end result, failure, success, and ego, we limit our experience out of a desire to protect and stay safe. We may even stop ourselves cold. Because the possibility of making a mistake or producing something bad or mediocre can feel scary. Even debilitating. Beautifully, wonderfully, awfully terrifying. </p>
<p>This is soul work. </p>
<p>It is a tender and cocooned time. Not a time to talk about what we are doing. A time to protect the tiny seed of possibly with nurturing conditions. </p>
<p>The tenacity, or faith, asked of us feels both palpably human and also connected to something beyond. We’re not creating out of nothing. We don’t exist in a vacuum. Something we cannot see, and may struggle to name, begins to happen. And there’s no guarantee. There is hope. Presence. Raw and real surrender. Creative collaboration feels like the manifestation of magic in real time. Like a kind of heaven on earth. We experience something larger than ourselves by becoming fully filled vessels for this creative vision. </p>
<p>I do not claim this process as my own, even if my name is attached to the material. It is not about my ego, talent, or worth. And certainly not about comparison. When we show up for this experience, we show up for our mess. For the ugliest most hidden parts of ourselves. Because they will come out. They will talk to us and scream at us and beg us to stop and do something reasonable. </p>
<p>There is no safety in creative collaboration. If we feel the call and deny it, that hiding may seem safe, at least temporarily. Yet the invitation will increase. We can close further—or choose to risk. And this risk holds possibility beyond what we can imagine. </p>
<p>This dance brings new life into existence and makes the invisible visible. Openness allows us to create and collaborate from the heart, eventually bringing our heart-filled work to the world." <br>- Greta Lind</p>
<p>You can get Split Open here:</p>
<p> https://www.amazon.com/dp/1643438255/ref=cm_sw_r_sms_api_glt_fabc_MQBA74BMFMQB4FHPTJ2M</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6792449
2021-10-31T14:09:09-05:00
2021-10-31T14:09:09-05:00
NEW! Haiku Milieu Greeting Cards
<p>The Haiku Milieu-vians have spoken. </p>
<p>This summer. Ah, remember summer? The sun rose around 5 am and it stayed light until almost 8 pm? Yes. Think back to THEN. </p>
<p>And perhaps, there among the other wonderful memories of summer, you might remember filling out the annual Haiku Milieu survey? The one where you tell me what you'd like to see happen next? </p>
<p>You spoke, I listened. </p>
<p>As Richard Dawson used to say on Family Feud, SURVEY SAYS! </p>
<p>Haiku Milieu-vians, your resounding, #1 choice for what comes next is... </p>
<p>Greeting cards! </p>
<p>It strikes me that a greeting card is a form of presence, of being there for someone, whether in celebration or difficulty. Letting them know you care. "Holding space," as they say. </p>
<p>I thought about you, me, us. Who we know, who might be going through what. How I would want the images and words of the Haiku Milieu greeting cards to be a friend to the person who receives the card, certainly; but also to the person who gives the card. </p>
<p>With this in mind, I planned to launch a collection of 5 cards. That swelled to 8 cards. And then in the final analysis, only 7 made the final cut. </p>
<p>True story: I had my Mom look these over with me. She loves every single one but the one I opted not to include. I'd say she's biased but as an English teacher, she puts fidelity to literature on a par with fidelity to family - in fact, she "suggested," ahem, that I might want to, ahem, look at the grammar of one of the haiku...:) Which I did, by the way. Everyone needs an editor. </p>
<p>You can see all the cards, even pre-order them, at the Haiku Milieu website. They will be in-hand at the November 19 Haiku Milieu Local Honey concert at Outtaspace in Berwyn, along with books, music, and everything you need to not have to rely on USPS this holiday season. I hope you love them! </p>
<p>And, if there are haiku you'd like me to consider putting on a greeting card - let me know! </p>
<p>Thanks again for your friendship and support. It means the world to me.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6785982
2021-10-25T06:32:02-05:00
2021-10-25T06:32:02-05:00
Al Rose on Songwriting
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/427ef44d8ca9daf6acd6f72a5e51fc538605315f/original/img-3075.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />Al Rose. Singer/songwriter extraordinaire, inveterate traveler, proprietor of Kopi Cafe alongside his beautiful spouse Rhonda, and genuine disciple of his artistic muse. Friend to artists everywhere, with a keen eye for those who could use a hand, and dear, longstanding friend to Robin and me. </p>
<p>Take a listen to any of his songs, and you'll see the ingenious ways his hospitality shows up in his songwriting, which is luxuriously rich and dense with image and meaning. </p>
<p>If you like, you can get started with these. Here's the songs he wrote for Haiku Milieu: All of this is Yours and Start Where You Are. </p>
<p>Then, hear Al's songwriting reflections straight from the man himself here: Al Rose on Songwriting. </p>
<p>Al Rose on songwriting: </p>
<p>”There’s an old saying that talking about songwriting is like watching songwriters sing about talking about songwriting and that singing about songwriting is like laughing about jokes. <br> <br>Actually, that’s not true. I totally made those up. (With a tip of the hat to Haruki Murakami) </p>
<p>All songs, art, conversations, meals, landscaping and exercise need a jumping off point. An ingredient. A word. A hunger. An idea. A shadow or a spice. Some kind of muse-ignited inspiration or trickery to make a spark that gets fanned into a burning bush. <br> <br>Jenny Bienemann is a merchant of inspiration. A striker of flint. A rocker of boats. When you get an email from Jenny inviting you to empty her satchel of haiku that come in individual pouches of three lines and seventeen syllables onto your already cluttered kitchen table to sort through, the first thing you don’t think is… “Cool, soon I’ll have an easily written new song!” </p>
<p>No. What you say is… “Now, I have to locate my old burlap satchel of truth, rocks, melody and oily thoughts and carry it up the dark narrow winding steps of what Leonard Cohen used to call the Tower Of Song. </p>
<p>A while ago someone asked me where my songs “come from”. <br> <br>This was my answer then and it’s my answer now: <br> <br>Sometimes, but never always, it comes in a burst from behind and you have to be ready for it and recognize it with a pen in your hand. <br> <br>How many songs have I missed because I was distracted or lazy or too stupid to notice a sharp line drive hit right at me? Like a decent shortstop or an excellent second baseman, you can’t afford to let many get by or you will be benched and you DO NOT WANT THE MUSE TO SIT YOU DOWN ON THE BENCH. <br> <br>Sometimes the song comes fully formed before you even have one line written. Sometimes a rhythm or melody or word(s) infect you in a relentless manner for weeks or months or years and you can’t for the life of you figure out what it means and where it goes until you STOP THINKING about it and, only then, it makes sense what it means and where it goes. </p>
<p>I like it best when I’ve broken through and hit the part where the song is taking shape. I’m still not sure where it’s going but something interesting or fun is forming in the clay. Then it’s like a puzzle in multi-dimensions and dynamics and I take out my box of tools and experience and try my best to construct a ditty worthy of multiple sings. <br> <br>I am grateful to Jenny for her generous benevolent trickery, because it has sparked me into writing two songs that otherwise would not have existed. And she’s done the same for dozens of other writers. That’s a big deal!”</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6778482
2021-10-17T02:56:41-05:00
2021-10-18T06:46:33-05:00
Epiphanies
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/25e63bbc8c8f8b7489bee362beb6efe6e4613d8c/original/img-5386.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />This has been a big week. I have a day job that affords me the ability to take creative risks. I concluded my service with an organization that was important to me this past Friday. <br> <br>I have been making music for a long time. Four years ago, I started taking a photo and writing a haiku. I thought it was just to keep myself creating when things in work and life got busy. <br> <br>It became something more. <br> <br>The more I did it, the more I realized how much I loved having a way to think about what I was actually thinking about. <br> <br>Pretty soon, I was inviting other people to write songs based on a photo and haiku. (You can hear these songs on the Haiku Milieu YouTube channel.) <br> <br>I thought Haiku Milieu was about creativity and collaboration with each other and the world around us. <br> <br>Now, I think it’s about epiphanies. </p>
<p>Epiphanies have these things in common: </p>
<p>- they come from out of the blue; <br>- they are fleeting, bringing a keen sense of aliveness; <br>- you know what you did not know prior to that moment, and you can’t go back to living life the ordinary way; <br>- there’s a sense of being given a gift you did nothing to get. </p>
<p>Epiphanies bring us powerfully into the present moment, yet often only in retrospect do we understand that everything we’d done up to that point was preparing us for the epiphany. <br> <br>You might be expecting me to say “what came before doesn’t matter – only the epiphany matters.” <br> <br>But that would be the same as saying WE don’t matter, only what we produce matters. </p>
<p>The truth is, we matter. Everything we do, and the way we do it, matters. <br> <br>If you’re lucky enough to have any kind of job, whether you call it your day job or your creative work; whether you’re doing something you enjoy, don’t enjoy or are merely good at…you know you make a difference. You know you matter. </p>
<p>Because whatever it is that you make happen, wouldn’t happen without you. </p>
<p>Things are changing, in a world on fire. The good news is, where there’s fire, there’s sparks. </p>
<p>Epiphanies are sparks: fleeting, unplannable, little gifts that either dissolve into thin air, or go on to start another fire. <br> <br>The role of the epiphany is to renew our knowing, and make it impossible to live the ordinary life in the ordinary way. <br> <br>As I move from one job to the next, my epiphany is simply this: you, me, all of us, we matter. How we spend our time, is how we spend our lives. And it matters.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6772349
2021-10-11T08:51:08-05:00
2021-10-11T08:57:14-05:00
Steve Dawson: Last Flight Out album release
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/f7380ed83f206b1ad4d2d7c3f22b50c6194a320d/original/steve-dawson-2021-b.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />This week, the collaboration blog transforms into the Creativity & Collaboration blog. And who better as a contributor? None other than Steve Dawson, with whom I am privileged to sing this Friday, October 15, as part of the band for the release of his album LAST FLIGHT OUT. </p>
<p>Tickets are here: https://www.oldtownschool.org/concerts/2021/05-08-2020-funeral-bonsai-wedding/</p>
<p>As a gentle reader of my work, you are no doubt aware of Steve's influence on me as a writer, producer, teacher and all-around inspiring artist, not to mention dear and long-standing friend. </p>
<p>After 18 months of anticipation, the band he has assembled under the heading Funeral Bonsai Wedding, including John Abbey, Jason Adasiewicz, Gerald Dowd, Diane Christiansen, Alton Smith, and Quartet Parapluie, is poised to celebrate the release of LAST FLIGHT OUT.</p>
<p>I really hope you can join us at The Old Town School of Folk Music to experience the particular kind of magic Steve weaves into his music, his collaborations with musicians, and with the audience.</p>
<p>There is really nothing like it. You will be glad you have lived long enough to witness it.</p>
<p>A wonderful article on him has come out in Lonesome Highway. Give yourself a moment. Reflect on a life in music and art with one of Chicago‘s truly great artists, and let it give you a few thoughts about your own life while you're at it. </p>
<p>Meanwhile, the day after Steve's album release, Saturday, October 16 at 1 pm, I’ll be giving a workshop called Little Epiphanies, about the joy of discovery in the creative process. </p>
<p>Join us for that too, if you like. You can learn more about it here: https://www.oldtownschool.org/classes/detail/?courseid=7031</p>
<p>The Lonesome Highway interview starts like this:</p>
<p>"Steve Dawson has been an integral part of the Chicago music scene for many years, culminating in an Esteemed Artist Award, in 2020. The city of Chicago wanted to recognize his body of work and to support his creative muse. </p>
<p>Whether working as an engineer/producer from his home studio or pioneering new music with his various projects; solo work / Dolly Varden / Funeral Bonsai Wedding; Steve Dawson has always been an innovator, searching for new artistic expression in music.</p>
<p>His Dolly Varden band and albums have always received wide critical acclaim and with his new solo album, AT THE BOTTOM OF A CANYON IN THE BRANCHES OF A TREE, he arrives at a very interesting phase in his musical development. It is certainly one of the albums of the year and, like many truly inspiring works, it incorporates great individuality and rich expression. </p>
<p>We were delighted to catch up with Steve recently and take a look back at his fascinating career, while learning much about what constitutes a successful life in music in these changing times..."</p>
<p>Finish reading it at https://www.lonesomehighway.com/interviewsold/2021/10/2/steve-dawson-interview.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6750554
2021-09-18T10:43:20-05:00
2021-09-18T10:43:20-05:00
Holding On
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/5dcb34174129c8bf9b6603d459650e00beec55e7/original/img-4839.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>From September 18, 2017, the second week of Haiku Milieu: </p>
<p>"Here, let me show you," <br>she said. "There's always a way," <br>Then she just did it.</p>
<p>This photo and haiku is from four years ago. The start of the second week of what would become Haiku Milieu. </p>
<p>How the time flies. </p>
<p>I seem to not be able to let go unless something is pried out of my hands. </p>
<p>Maybe it just takes me longer than most people to understand how different what is actually happening is, from what I wish was actually happening. </p>
<p>Perhaps that is an occupational hazard of being an optimist. If that's what I am. It is a fundamentally pessimistic thing to do, to hold on for too long. </p>
<p>But it doesn't feel like that when you're doing it. It feels like...hope. Courage. Strength. Determination. Deciding your own fate, rather than being at another's mercy. </p>
<p>And it might be that. </p>
<p>Or, it might be trying to inform God that He's blowing it, not paying attention, and you'd like to share a few pointers on how the whole enterprise could be done sooooo much better. </p>
<p>Which is the height of arrogance. </p>
<p>So am I saying that holding on is arrogant? Maybe it is sometimes...at least when I do it. But then there are those other times... </p>
<p>Like, when you just need to hang on long enough to get across the surging river, know what I mean? Not drown, when the other shore is in sight. </p>
<p>When I am having a tough time, I think about the people who wind up on a roof in natural disasters. </p>
<p>Maybe they held on too long, out of hope or out of arrogance, but they didn't give up. They got to the roof. When I get in a tough spot, I tell myself, "Just get to the roof, where the helicopter can find you." </p>
<p>That's the moment in my life out of which Haiku Milieu grew. It was a period of intense change that in many ways felt like a death, but through whatever combination of hope and luck and grace, I got to the roof. </p>
<p>Taking photos and writing every day helped me to not worry so much about when (or if!) the helicopter would actually arrive. </p>
<p>Four years on -- more like a lifetime later -- I'm still at it. If you're reading this, so are you. Thanks for taking this journey with me. </p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6750558
2021-09-18T10:41:59-05:00
2021-09-18T10:41:59-05:00
Some things you live through
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/59cb9f7ac430cca925074a11cf4e8fdc48102389/original/2db20b01-9a90-4ca9-98a8-d7b1432db7f1.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />Happy 4th Anniversary of Haiku Milieu.</p>
<p>Wait - you're saying, didn't we have an anniversary last week? </p>
<p>Yes! Last week was the 2nd Anniversary of the Haiku Milieu Sunday Email. </p>
<p>THIS week, we celebrate the 4th Anniversary of the first photo and haiku, posted on September 10, 2017, the actual start of what would become Haiku Milieu. </p>
<p>And today, as I write this, we are commemorating an anniversary of a very different kind: the 20th anniversary of 9/11. </p>
<p>I have been devouring the reminiscences of friends and strangers, and reaching out to those who made a difference to me on that day, reflecting on how best honor the lives that were lost, and what we as a collective have undergone since that day. </p>
<p>For now, as I continue to ponder, this is what comes to me: </p>
<p>Some things you live through <br>there's no getting over them <br>only moving on </p>
<p>Let me know what comes to you.</p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/0f8a58f53d914208ca5ec9decfb7d4abfefe8b9a/original/typorama-4.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6735984
2021-09-04T13:55:30-05:00
2021-09-06T18:24:07-05:00
2nd Anniversary of the Haiku Milieu Email: The Cat Calls for You
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/e3fcbfcc016fa91c9ac33eb06cff4d70821f7053/original/2nd-anniversary.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />Happy 2nd Anniversary! </p>
<p>I started posting a haiku and image on September 10, 2017, and the Sunday Haiku Milieu email launched on September 1, 2019. Special thanks to Cathie Van Wert Menard, who's helped with the design of this email from its inception.</p>
<p>If you are not already, you can experience email magic every Sunday by signing up at haikumilieu.com.</p>
<p>Each year at this time, I like to take a moment, remember where I was, who I was, what I was doing, and what I thought was going to happen next. </p>
<p>I don't think things have turned out as any of us thought they would, in the last year or so. </p>
<p>Maybe at times like this more than ever, it's good to remember to surrender, to recognize that among all your best laid plans, life is going to have its way. The upside? If you pay attention, you're going to learn things. </p>
<p>What Haiku Milieu continues to teach me is that if you want to be a participant rather than an innocent bystander in your own life, you better pick up the brush, or the pen, or the musical instrument, and stop resisting the flow of life moving through you. </p>
<p>CREATE. SHARE. REPEAT. </p>
<p>And of all that's different now, in my personal and professional lives, in our world, and in the lives of my friends, I find that the one thing that was most important to me, IS actually happening as I thought it would. </p>
<p>We're having fun keeping each other company on our walk through this life. </p>
<p>As if that were not enough, Haiku Milieu is now more than a thousand readers strong, the Haiku Milieu Universe has expanded to present the music, art and reflections of hundreds of artists, and we continue to dream up new things to do and share with you to lift up and celebrate the extraordinary in the every day. </p>
<p>THANK YOU. This continues to be one of the most extraordinary experiences of my life. </p>
<p>What comes next? </p>
<p>Well, we're figuring that out as we speak. </p>
<p>The Haiku Milieu survey closed Friday, September 3 at midnight. We're going to take the next week, go through the responses, and circle back with you on the 2021 Haiku Milieu holiday offerings. </p>
<p>Sneak peek: I was surprised and delighted by the groundswell of support for notecards of haiku that were accompanied by ink drawings! INTRIGUING. Stay tuned. </p>
<p>You may remember, each Sunday in September, our Anniversary month, we'll feature a long-form haiku poem that was written over the last year. </p>
<p>Inspired by our survey responses, this week we feature an ink drawing from February 23, 2021, "The Cat Calls for You:" </p>
<p>It was the end of the workday, and I had not yet "haikued" as I have come to call it. The light had long since fled, and along with it the workday, though I was not yet finished with my work. </p>
<p>I often sit right on the edge of my chair, feet flat on the ground, to make it easier to sit up straight and not hunch over the computer. The cat will sometimes find his way between my back and the back of the chair. It's warm (for him) and comforting (for me). </p>
<p>On that particular day, he had gone from between my back and the chair, to my lap, to a nearby couch, all the while making it plain that he was not pleased with my hands on the computer keyboard, rather than the soft fur behind his ears. </p>
<p>Tristan is...irresistible. Abandon all hope of productivity, ye who live with Tristan (or any cat.) </p>
<p>"Robin," I called, getting up from the computer, "your cat's coming on to me..." </p>
<p>And this long-form Haiku was born:</p>
<p>The cat calls for you <br>with his most plaintive meow <br>and you feel special </p>
<p>just one step closer <br>and you will be there all night <br>sleeping on the couch </p>
<p>though it is your couch <br>he does all the inviting <br>languid and obscene </p>
<p>you should know better <br>It's just that he asked for you, <br>specifically </p>
<p>You tell your husband <br>"your cat's coming on to me," <br>He just laughs and laughs </p>
<p>Truth is, we both know <br>he'd sleep all night on the couch <br>if the cat asked him </p>
<p>but tonight, it's you <br>the cat, flipping on his back, <br>knows you won't say no </p>
<p>When you wake, he's gone <br>you knew he would be, yet hope <br>he asks you again</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6729607
2021-08-29T00:00:00-05:00
2021-08-29T12:29:35-05:00
2021 Survey: The 2-Year Anniversary of the Sunday Haiku Milieu Email
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/eaf258b7ae14fa6d8ed451ac4f3d930bf6f77fed/original/2021-survey.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />Happy Anniversary! </p>
<p>Next Sunday, September 5 marks the second anniversary of the Sunday Haiku Milieu email. Two years!! </p>
<p>We will kick off the celebration in style over at the Sunday Haiku Milieu email. If you are not already a member, you can join us anytime over at jennybienemann.com and haikumilieu.com. We'd love to have you join us.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, in anticipation of the year to come, Haiku Milieu-vians like YOU get to help decide what gets created next in the Haiku Milieu Universe. </p>
<p>Would you do me a favor, and fill out a <a contents="short, sweet survey" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/GF7JHZH" style="">short, sweet survey</a> by this Friday, September 3? </p>
<p>You don't even have to tell me who you are, unless you care to share your email address for a special thank you gift. </p>
<p>Just click <a contents="here" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/GF7JHZH" style="" target="_blank">here</a> to be taken to the survey for Sunday Haiku Milieu readers-at-large.</p>
<p>Thank you SO MUCH in advance! This survey will close on Friday, September 3, and I will announce what comes next on Sunday, September 5.</p>
<p>Know that I truly am guided by your thoughts on what you like about Haiku Milieu and the Haiku Milieu Universe, and am paying close attention to what you think we should do next. If you have insight to share that is not captured by the survey, you can always reach me at jennybienemann.com and haikumilieu.com.</p>
<p>THANK YOU - excited to hear from you! Cheers to all that comes next.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6723629
2021-08-21T22:30:06-05:00
2021-08-21T22:30:06-05:00
Kaitlin Wiza: Getting it Right
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/597cbaa184991038bafceb547f8b56de6bdd516c/original/img-4229.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>Know how you just know? </p>
<p>I know. </p>
<p>Yet, I don't know HOW I know, just THAT I know. </p>
<p>And as it turns out, the only time I am truly interested in knowing "how" I know is when I feel like I'm not knowing something I want to know. </p>
<p>You know? (I know you do.) </p>
<p>I met Kaitlin Wiza years ago in Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin, as part of an incredibly vibrant group of creatives out to change the world. I was writing a song with someone who was close with her, and while she and I never wrote anything together, we just knew. You know? We KNEW. We were kindred spirits. Meant to be friends. </p>
<p>Fast forward a decade or so. I knew she was teaching, I knew she was an excellent writer, and Facebook let us keep in touch so we were at least minimally aware of the major events in each other's lives, or at least, the ones we cared to share on social media. </p>
<p>If you're reading this, you very likely know I'm a singer, songwriter, and poet. I take a photo and set it to haiku most every day as part of this Haiku Milieu series (and more recently, the #IAmTristanHearMeRoar series, which reaches into life's darker crevasses via the expressions on my cat Tristan's face.) </p>
<p>So of course I love to make things by myself. But I also really, really love making things with other people. </p>
<p>Kaitlin had the most incredible response to one of my photo and haiku. As I read it, I just KNEW. I was not at all interested in how I knew, only that I knew. </p>
<p>I asked if she wanted to make something together. </p>
<p>Thrillingly, she said yes, sent me audio of her speaking the words she'd written, and this Collaboration Blog was born. </p>
<p>NOW. </p>
<p>Care to experience the force-multiplier impact of collaboration? <br>Read what Kaitlin wrote. Then, watch the video. </p>
<p>If you feel like it, tell me what you experienced. <br>BONUS POINTS if you express it in haiku. :) </p>
<p>Ready? HERE WE GO: </p>
<p>The photo and haiku: </p>
<p><span class="font_small"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/39090c2c55792586f88daa702a64bb54743312ad/original/6a1c95b9-dad8-4093-820b-df54a4f26b2c.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></span></p>
<p>Kaitlin's response: </p>
<p>"🙏Yes, owning (big action verb here) our own garbage, admitting fault, and not reacting emotionally from old, worn out thoughts is nothing but cathartic. </p>
<p>We cannot always be in the “right”, and intentions are not action- hence, not “right”. Magical thinking is theory until put into practice and met with grit. </p>
<p>Actively listening to the critiques of others allows us to break the cycle of habitual, programmed behavior that keeps us stuck. There may be a greater life lesson to learn; a lesson which is re-learned through every difficult experience we encounter. </p>
<p>I believed I had conquered this notion three years ago, but surprising illness has a way of teaching our already learned lessons on deeper levels. </p>
<p>We are called to re-integrate and do so often." </p>
<p>Click <a contents="here" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://youtu.be/1f1fk0bF2rs" style="" target="_blank">here</a> for the video.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6723627
2021-08-21T22:17:40-05:00
2021-08-21T22:17:40-05:00
Andon Davis: Why I Do, What I do
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/b10ac0f3a2342ee51fed0f9899c3ac331d0e7d20/original/img-3930.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />Andon Davis. He is one of the most notorious guitar slingers on the planet, and among the least likely to call attention to himself. </p>
<p>Every studio album I’ve ever made has Andon on it. if I get offered a really big show, I check Andon’s schedule to make sure he can be there before I accept it. </p>
<p>One time, the door on our China cabinet literally fell off its hinges just before he came over for a rehearsal. He knew exactly what to do, and that’s just what he did: he put it back together. Better than it was! Why? Because he’s Andon. Even inanimate objects know that he just…makes things better. </p>
<p>Speaking of making things better, he SPOKE his collaboration blog. </p>
<p>While I know you love reading people’s thoughts on creativity and collaboration …and I do too…let’s expand our horizons together this week. </p>
<p>Click the link, and you will be able to read AND listen to how he talks approaching other people’s songs: https://youtu.be/63GhTTKTTKk</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6705023
2021-08-02T18:25:43-05:00
2021-08-02T18:25:43-05:00
Sugar Candy
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/5910bcc1dc2ab21924b6ce63e38fd87769f5a582/original/typorama.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" />‘Sugar Candy’ is a song about grappling with aging parents. I wrote it, played it, and sang it, and Tom Ryan recorded it live at Fitzgerald’s in Berwyn, Illinois during my father's last summer. </p>
<p>The video is from July 2021, this summer, on the eve of my dad's birthday, in Door County, Wisconsin. </p>
<p>You can see the video here: https://youtu.be/NjBfV6kF5Sg.</p>
<p>With the smoke in the air from the catastrophic fires out West painting the sky at sunset, and as we navigate the openings and closings of the world with recent surges with the Delta variant, it seems more than ever that we ARE the waves, fleeting yet eternal. </p>
<p>And that it is more important than ever to take care of each other. </p>
<p>I hope you enjoy the song.</p>
<p>Then, I hope you come hear Sugar Candy live with the Jenny & Friends band that includes Paul Bivans, Andon Davis, Klem Hayes, Robin Bienemann, Ron Lazzeretti and Naomi Ashley this Saturday, August 7, 4 pm for the 4th Anniversary of Jenny and Friends at FitzGerald's.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6698311
2021-07-26T08:15:44-05:00
2021-07-26T08:15:44-05:00
Ilsabe O’Connell-Schlingensiepen Curley: Have fun and be grateful
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/57af0728271440521f82295713bb6cfa4dcb2c27/original/image-6483441.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />Ilsabe's reviews say it all: "Great lyrics, distinctively sung," "a voice that's comfortable being both playful and plaintive," and my favorite: "Wherever her muse leads her will be a place worth visiting." </p>
<p>Ilsabe O’Connell-Schlingensiepen Curley, in addition to being a solo singer/songwriter, one half of the duo Earnest and Troubled, and a skilled healthcare worker, is fluent in German. Is there nothing she can't do?!? </p>
<p>I think you will love hearing her thoughts on collaboration. This is her and her husband James Curley's second Haiku Milieu song, featured at the July 15, 2021 Haiku Milieu show at Uncommon Ground. You can see their first video here. </p>
<p>From Ilsabe: </p>
<p>"It's hard to choose among the many delicious haikus in Jenny's Haiku Milieu, so when occasional song collaborator and 24/7 helpmate James presented me with a pared down selection of five to choose from, I was sufficiently satisfied. </p>
<p>Tell me your story / begin at the beginning / and leave nothing out. </p>
<p>At first this haiku suggested to me two people sitting across from each other at a table, each wanting to get to know the other better. Each knows that it's hardly possible to 'leave nothing out' or even to 'begin at the (very) beginning' of one's story, but they nonetheless gaze adoringly and a tad coquettishly into each other's eyes as if to say, "I know this could take a very long time, but who cares! For this one, I've got ALL DAY." </p>
<p>After a while, as James and I keep tossing ideas back and forth at each other (he in a particularly coquettish way), it occurs to me that two people sitting across the table from each other, while they might hope to one day fall in love and bask in each other's stories, might on THIS day, rather, be trying to figure out if the relationship is worth further investment or a waste of time after two and a half dates -- a certain mistrust and weariness, then, driving the request to "leave nothing out." No surprises. . .again. Please! </p>
<p>Soon, however, a third possibility presents itself. What if the two characters sitting across from each other are related through crime? One is an interrogator, the other a suspect. The interrogator sarcastically encourages the suspect to "leave nothing out," but each of them knows there's a lot of important detail that will remain missing. Both seek closure, if not always the truth. </p>
<p>The chorus, "It's not appropriate, you should know better..." refers to the characters' own internal monologues. They reprimand themselves, "Will my story win out over the other story? Will my story be believed, even if I'm being totally honest (which I totally am)? Will I tell it correctly or will it fail from lack of sophistication or finesse? Will my feelings of inadequacy overtake me or will I finally start using my head?! </p>
<p>After a while the interrogator and the suspect in OUR story/song/haiku seem to break from their assigned roles and recognize each other's vulnerabilities. They come to understand that WE're part of the same sometimes argumentative, sometimes inappropriate chorus, and that we could each, as we sit across from each other at the table, also bring a whole lot more understanding and compassion to it. Though the verses play it cool with their call-and-response, ask-and-answer repartee, the songwriters realize that deadlines approach, that the story/song/haiku is always far more complex than it originally appears, that we could keep telling this story ALL DAY. </p>
<p>In the final chorus, we recognize that we shouldn't overthink the story/song/haiku, but have fun with it and be grateful that we are part of this incredible project, sitting at this incredibly abundant table among this incredible gathering of hearts. </p>
<p>So that's my story, from the beginning, and trying at least to leave nothing out. Thanks for asking, Jenny!" <br>- Ilsabe Curley</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6691060
2021-07-17T17:19:54-05:00
2021-07-17T17:19:54-05:00
Unforgettable: Haiku Milieu at Uncommon Ground Lakeview
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/0175563d1eaf45c6978d5d742f552eeda5066bfb/original/7-15-21-jenny-at-uncommon-ground-3.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" />July 15, 2021. The 8th Haiku Milieu concert at Uncommon Ground Lakeview, and the first one live and in person since the start of the pandemic. </p>
<p>It was all we were hoping for and more: an incredible spectacle of friendship and music and inspiration and craft cocktails and coffee and old friends and new friends and brick walls that had seen it all, coming back to life. <br> <br>It was an unforgettable evening. The room was packed to the gills. There were songs inspired by haiku, haiku inspired by songs, laughter and inevitably, tears. Now that Uncommon Ground Lakeview is back to presenting live music, you’ll want to get in on it and experience the singular magic Michael and Helen Cameron foster there, as soon as you can. </p>
<p>And while it was a transformative night, the morning had not started particularly well. <br> <br>I woke up crabby for absolutely no reason, and even though I know that is often the case on days in which my life is about to change for the better, I forgot. </p>
<p>Wading through my basic morning routine felt like walking through mud, with the mud already caked inside your boots, each foot making that sucking sound as you lift it to take the next step. <br> <br>I am grateful to whatever spirits of mercy and compassion were helping me muddle through Thursday morning, as somehow I had the ability to notice the voice in my head that was saying: “This is important.” </p>
<p>I did my best to stay with the voice, only barely fending off the myriad distractions throwing themselves at me on my way to sitting down and writing. </p>
<p>"It is important // that we matter to ourselves // or nothing happens." </p>
<p>That flow continued, forming itself into the long-form haiku poem below, which I shared at the start of the concert on Thursday. </p>
<p>I hope you enjoy the poem. As I said to the audience that night, the cadence of Haiku, the 5 syllables one line, 7 the next, and 5 in the final line, is one of its sublime pleasures. If you feel like it, count the syllables out with your fingers as you read the poem. It's FUN. <br> <br>Also, I hope you know the difference you make in the world. <br> <br>If that is hard to imagine, being one person and making a difference to the world, just think about the difference you make to ME. <br> <br>It makes a difference to me that you read this. That we are on this journey together. I feel privileged to share Haiku Milieu, music, and these Sunday emails with you. </p>
<p>For giving my work a home with you, and for so much more, thank you. I hope you matter to yourself as much as you matter to me. </p>
<p>IT IS IMPORTANT <br>Jenny Bienemann </p>
<p>it is important <br>that we matter to ourselves <br>or nothing happens </p>
<p> without you there is <br> absolutely no prism <br> for light to shine through </p>
<p> without me there is <br> no one to be inspired <br> to be moved by you </p>
<p> without us there is <br> only turning outwards for <br> proof that we exist </p>
<p> an eternal search <br> not meant to illuminate <br> but to obfuscate </p>
<p> we come together <br> to honor the life in us <br> that brings songs to life </p>
<p> enjoying how much <br> we matter to each other <br> but first, to ourselves</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6683295
2021-07-12T08:44:24-05:00
2021-07-12T12:21:18-05:00
Heather Styka: "Have you been working on anything new?"
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/74257d0295d1454bc6eb4e868db5583389d51a19/original/img-2980.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><br>Heather Styka: singer, songwriter, poet. She sings smart, disarming songs with vintage vocals. </p>
<p>I met Heather when she was just graduating college, shortly before she was the first place winner in the Big Top Chautauqua Songwriting Competition, then second place in the Great Lakes Songwriting Contest. A two-time New Folk Finalist at the Kerrville Folk Festival, she continues to earn accolades...and most recently, an advanced degree! </p>
<p>She wins admirers by rendering the beauty and hardship in life into song, somehow making us all feel like we're in it together. It's inspiring.</p>
<p>Already a seasoned touring singer/songwriter by the time many of us decide to pick up (or re-pick up) our guitars, music has taken her across the US and well beyond. Our paths have continued to cross these many years. It is always a welcome respite to catch up with her on life and songwriting.</p>
<p>Heather is part of the July 15, 8 pm Haiku Milieu concert at Uncommon Ground Lakeview, their first Live Music show back after the pandemic, celebrating their 30th Anniversary. Seating is limited, <a contents="so get your tickets now" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://www.simpletix.com/e/haiku-milieu-uncommon-ground-30th-annivers-tickets-73739" target="_blank">so get your tickets now</a>. </p>
<p>Below, you'll find her thoughts on collaboration. Then learn more at her website, <a contents="here" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://heather.styka.com/" target="_blank">here</a>. </p>
<p>For now, Heather's thoughts on collaboration:</p>
<p>"When I think about how I even got into music in the first place, welcomed into Chicagoland's folk and singer-songwriter scene, it was always about a community of mutual inspiration—connecting with artists and cheering each other on.</p>
<p>I wrote songs every week because I wanted something new to share at every Monday open mic, and every week I was inspired by the folks who brought their songs to the table.</p>
<p>Through touring, through conferences and events and festivals, my music community has grown so much larger than I ever expected, and I participate in some online song groups with members from across the country. We'll work with song prompts, submitting a song a month, or even a song a week, to help keep each other accountable. It keeps me connected to faraway friends and helps inspire me to keep writing when I don't feel like I have much to say.</p>
<p>But my small in-person Chicago song group has been there for me as both writers' group and support group, a pillar of certainty and love in an uncertain and shifting music business landscape. </p>
<p>More and more, I feel called to connect and reconnect with the artistic companions I've known for years. There's a fellow poet from my undergraduate writing classes to whom I still text every draft of every song, and he sends back every poem collection he writes. More often than not, we feed off each other's ideas in an infinite loop of inspiration. I</p>
<p>'m still in contact and collaboration with some of the same people I met in my early twenties while playing open mics and running the sound board at Uncommon Ground, which was powerful for me, having moved to Maine and back. </p>
<p>When I first began playing in the Chicago scene, wide-eyed at open mics, I remember thinking, "This is it! This is how the Impressionists must have felt in 1870s Paris!" Or any other cluster of artists and musicians and philosophers caught in the center of something magnetic and magnificent and momentary. I thought, "These people are going to go places." And many did. With a thread of connections that begins at Uncommon Ground in Chicago and the Two Way Street in Downers Grove, branching out to a national scene of touring musicians, I still feel that feeling of awe from those first open mics and gigs. </p>
<p>Most of my songs begin as something I need, whether it's something I need to express or something I need to hear. Unheard, they remain notes, voice memos, slips of paper. In my mind, they don't graduate into being "real songs" until they have listeners.</p>
<p>Sometimes this comes in the form of an audience at a show, but it's those writerly peers—the open mic-ers and song circlers—who get first dibs, who help me see my words and melodies in new ways. My favorite phrase to hear or to speak among friends: "Have you been working on anything new?""</p>
<p>- Heather Styka</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6673800
2021-07-05T09:06:13-05:00
2022-03-16T11:01:02-05:00
Sue Fink: Sated Simply by the Description
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/36642266b7e398dbd89e6cd4dd677fd4510d6704/original/img-2840.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><span class="font_small"><em>Sue Fink is part of the July 15, 8 pm Haiku Milieu concert at Uncommon Ground Lakeview, their first Live Music show back after the pandemic, celebrating their 30th Anniversary. Seating is limited, <a contents="so get your tickets now" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://checkout.square.site/buy/WKWOHQIPN2CUC6RKVABZH2JM." style="" target="_blank">so get your tickets now</a>.</em></span></p>
<p>Sue Fink is part of the July 15, 8 pm Haiku Milieu concert at Uncommon Ground Lakeview, their first Live Music show back after the pandemic, celebrating their 30th Anniversary. Seating is limited, so get your tickets now. </p>
<p>SOME PEOPLE. </p>
<p>Have you ever been in the audience for a singer/songwriter in Chicago? If you have, you've probably run into Sue Fink there. She's the one laughing, leaning over to a friend and whispering, "This one. This is my favorite song!" for just about. every. single. song! </p>
<p>And then there are her own captivating performances. </p>
<p>She is an award winning songwriter, a member of two super groups, CatBird with Jane Godfrey, and Song Sisters with Amy Dixon-Kolar and Patti Shaffner, as well as a celebrated performer in her own right. </p>
<p>She is a legendary community builder, often inviting friends to share the bill at her shows, and also through the Virtual Dream Cafe that she started during the pandemic, a twice-monthly, online concert series that became the model for how a number of venues ran their own online concerts. </p>
<p>SOME PEOPLE, like Sue Fink, are just the real deal. </p>
<p>I barely remember not knowing her. I am pretty sure we met at Uncommon Ground, where she invited me to sing with her early on. I would guess I got to know her through Nancy Walker, one of my singing partners back in the day, but all I really know is, we are dear friends who have known each other forever. </p>
<p>Sue Fink is part of the July 15, 8 pm Haiku Milieu concert at Uncommon Ground Lakeview, their first Live Music show back after the pandemic, celebrating their 30th Anniversary. Seating is limited. Get your tickets here, now. </p>
<p>Please enjoy this Collaboration Blog from Sue Fink. - Jenny Bienemann</p>
<p>"After a lovely meal, have you ever had your waitperson describe the desserts so delectably that you were sated simply by the description? </p>
<p>Have you ever had a description (or the actual dessert) inspire you to recall previous desserts and experiences, and maybe bake something yourself afterwards? </p>
<p>So it is with good writing. When I read some of Jenny's haikus, I think, "Yes, she nailed it! That's exactly what I would've said (if I'd known how to say it)!" </p>
<p>Sometimes, I simply stare into space as I take in not only the words, but the thoughts and images those words invoke; sometimes those thoughts and images inspire a memory or image of my own, which I may then attempt to write. </p>
<p>It's not that each of us doesn't already have our own thoughts and images; but pondering others' art expands our consciousness, gets us out of our own heads, reconnects us to the universe at large, helps us recall forgotten memories and dreams, and inspires us to create and share. </p>
<p>Because I find Jenny's haikus emotionally and artistically inspiring, I own both of her Haiku Milieu books, which I can then flip through at will. I also read the haikus she posts daily on Facebook, and in her Sunday morning newsletter. Some resonate immediately; some simmer on the back burner. So, I keep my own private list of my favorite Jenny haikus for easy access. </p>
<p>Some of Jenny's haikus seem so complete that anything I could come up with would seem superfluous. For me, the haikus that really ignite my creative impulses involve images of nature personified. In this case, I noticed two of Jenny's haikus from my personal list: </p>
<p>Nestling her head/ in the crook of sunset's arms/ Day closes her eyes </p>
<p>And: </p>
<p>The moon dips her oars/ In the ocean of night sky/ Slicing through the dark </p>
<p>I started to see these two haikus as part of the same story that was forming in my mind. I wondered if I could use both haikus in the same song. Why not? </p>
<p>For those unfamiliar with my songs: I tend to rhyme my lines, mostly exact rhymes (invoke, smoke, bloke) and some "slant" rhyme (frown, chin, trim, etc.) </p>
<p>But what I was wondering now: Could I use both of Jenny's haikus in the same song, AND, could I write the entire song in haiku? </p>
<p>That would mean three lines instead of the traditional four-line verse, and no rhyming! Breaking my own rules! Could I, should I?? </p>
<p>Just in case I couldn't, I picked two other haikus and wrote songs around them. Neither attempt pleased me. Yes, they rhymed, but they didn't say anything new, they seemed old and tired. </p>
<p>Whereas, my new haiku song: the melody was calling to me, and I could see the story unfolding before my eyes, like a visual movie in my mind. Different than my norm, out of my comfort zone! Ack! Yes, this would be the one! </p>
<p>I'm still getting to know this song, musically, but it makes me happy. Each haiku-verse is a new image unfolding. I'm sure I never would've come up with this song on my own, without Jenny's haikus as the starter ingredients for my imagination. This song feels like a true collaboration of spirits. </p>
<p>Final thought: Art inspires art. It invokes different responses in everyone. </p>
<p>Writers are encouraged to read, songwriters to listen, for this very reason. Ideas and images float through the air, waiting to be grabbed and shared via human inspiration. </p>
<p>But: isn't it lovely that Jenny invites us to create, and share, our own works that her art inspires? It's like being given special permission, and it opens my horizons even further. "Revolutions" is my third Jenny-inspired song, and I'm guessing that if I'm open, there will be many more! </p>
<p>Revolutions </p>
<p>Nestling her head </p>
<p>In the crook of Sunset's arm </p>
<p>Day closes her eyes </p>
<p>She visits a place </p>
<p>She's been to many times, but </p>
<p>Only in her dreams </p>
<p>The moon dips her oars </p>
<p>In the ocean of night sky </p>
<p>Slicing through the dark </p>
<p>Slicing through thick clouds </p>
<p>Which part like waves, as the sea </p>
<p>Laps upon the shore </p>
<p>[La la la la...] </p>
<p>Star shoots through the night </p>
<p>Unzipping it like plant leaves </p>
<p>Split, liminal seam </p>
<p>Split reveals the Sun </p>
<p>Rising from shimmering sea </p>
<p>Day opens her eyes </p>
<p>Slips on a new dress </p>
<p>Similar to the others, but </p>
<p>Never quite the same </p>
<p>Day begins her dance </p>
<p>Another revolution </p>
<p>Between light and dark </p>
<p>Between moon and sun </p>
<p>Between dream and dream </p>
<p>And dream and dream..."</p>
<p>- Sue Fink</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6672325
2021-06-27T19:37:50-05:00
2021-06-27T19:37:50-05:00
7/15/21, 8 pm Haiku Milieu returns to live performance at Uncommon Ground in Chicago
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/c5c491e9516735606599bd1bc6a94880d6927dfc/original/treehouse-june-2021-edition-web.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />Do you know what I love? Old friends. Having them. Being them to other people. Being with the old friends of my old friends, even if we never met before. </p>
<p>There is a special kind of magic in old friends, and if you told me when I started playing music that I would find Michael and Helen Cameron, celebrated owners and operators of Uncommon Ground, among my oldest and dearest musical friends, I would have fainted with joy. </p>
<p>Uncommon Ground has been very important to me. I met many of my closest friends at there. The final line to my song "Downpour" came to me there, onstage, as I was performing it. And when Michael and Helen opened the music room at Uncommon Ground on Devon, my trusty looper and I were the first act to ever play on that stage. </p>
<p>So you can imagine how thrilled I was to be invited to have the next Haiku Milieu show be at Uncommon Ground on Clark Street on July 15 at 8:00 pm, their first live show after the pandemic, celebrating their 30th Anniversary. It's a genuine homecoming. </p>
<p>As always, I invited a group of friends and collaborators to write and share songs inspired by one of my haiku and images. </p>
<p>This group of artists is special. </p>
<p>You'll recognize many of them as dear, longstanding friends of Uncommon Ground, like Al Day, Al Rose, Heather Styka, and Earnest and Troubled, many of them first-time Haiku Milieu contributors. And you'll find others who have played there more recently and are no strangers to Haiku Milieu, like Naomi Ashley, Cheryl Tomblin, and Jodi Walker. </p>
<p>By the end of this Haiku Milieu concert, you're going to feel like you've spent the night in the company of old friends. </p>
<p>The doors will open at 7:30 pm for the 8:00 pm show. We strongly suggest reservations, as the room tends to fill up quickly, and you can get them here. </p>
<p>We hope to see you there!</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6650849
2021-06-05T23:32:40-05:00
2021-06-08T13:47:22-05:00
"A Stranger to Talk To"
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/6a3ec60bcfb50e640302bf4bc6b89e31f950d81d/original/typorama-3.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>Each Sunday, I send the Sunday Haiku Milieu email. The first Sunday of each month is New Song Sunday, and I include a new song. Here is this month’s song, “Stranger.” </p>
<p>TWO VERSIONS </p>
<p>There are two versions: the Sunday Haiku Milieu version, in which the song is literally hot off the presses, and this version, which looks similar but has significant differences in production and performance. </p>
<p>If you would like to hear songs within hours of their being written, and watch the creative process unfold, joining the email club at haikumilieu.com is easy and you can unsubscribe any time. </p>
<p>HAIKU MILIEU INSPIRATION </p>
<p>almost all the time <br>there is nothing really wrong <br>with the way things are </p>
<p>and </p>
<p>however it looks <br>whatever it feels like now <br>you will be ok</p>
<p>LYRICS </p>
<p>Here are the actual lyrics: </p>
<p>I wish I had <br>a stranger to talk to <br>I’d tell them what <br>I wish wasn’t true </p>
<p>I wish someone <br>who didn’t know me <br>could show me how <br>this could go </p>
<p>Cause no one <br>you know <br>can tell you <br>what you don’t want to hear </p>
<p>But you <br>can hear <br>a stranger <br>whisper in your ear </p>
<p>I wish I had <br>a stranger to talk to <br>someone I <br>could really hear say </p>
<p>However it looks <br>whatever this feels like <br>nothing is really wrong </p>
<p>PROCESS</p>
<p>I like to write something every day, and usually it turns out to be a short, sweet 16 lines and a list of things to do, alongside the kernel of ideas for that day's haiku (which are almost always written on that day.) </p>
<p>I started writing this, my IPhone tells me, on Thursday, May 20 at 7:53 am. I just checked my work calendar for any clues as to what I might have been thinking. Nothing unusual. The idea started, and then it kept going. </p>
<p>You may have noticed the first Friday Jenny & Friends live stream is on a break. I hurt my shoulder somehow, and it is making it difficult for me to play guitar. It only took taking the month of May off to decide that I'd had enough of that! I told Robin he better get ready, because while my shoulder gets better, he and I are going to WRITE. </p>
<p>So then we began the pitch sessions. We talk about the ideas we had, or tried and tossed out, and new ones that seem to be bubbling up. And this was one I pitched to him: A Stranger to Talk To. </p>
<p>I read him the lines, which in their earliest incarnation, rhymed. There were a lot of them! And at the end, he said, "Sounds like that song is already written." </p>
<p>Well, I thought. Maybe it is. </p>
<p>So after I confirmed one of my ace-in-the-hole Titans of the Studio was available on short notice to mix it on Saturday (a mere 3 days ago, if you are reading this Tuesday when I posted it), I gave myself some parameters for the song. </p>
<p>it had to be written, recorded, and sent for mixing by noon on Saturday <br>- it had to be something I could sing, and play with my shoulder the way it is </p>
<p>Plus...I wanted it to surprise me. I really love when I learn something I didn't know I was thinking in a song. </p>
<p>Given these parameters, I thought...yeah, maybe we start with the Stranger song. </p>
<p>By 7:00 am Saturday morning, I was in my little studio room, my leg propped up on something I can't remember now, my right arm gingerly leaning over the guitar to separate my shoulder from my body as little as possible. </p>
<p>Anything adventurous that required me to use my body to brace the guitar while I played, like bar chords, etc, were out. It was going to have to be extremely low impact, like a few fingers of the left hand on the strings, and gentle movements of the right hand strumming or plucking the strings. </p>
<p>I started, then I said, shoot - this sounds like me. I want to do something different! Surprise myself! </p>
<p>Still, I played the riff into my phone, and halfheartedly sang a few lyrics, so I had a trail of breadcrumbs to follow should I decide I wanted to take that path. And then I started a different song. </p>
<p>After awhile, I wandered upstairs for water. When I went back downstairs, it was as if the Stranger song was waiting for me, saying, “Did you get over yourself yet? Let’s get to work!” I sat down, again, gingerly in my chair, and got right to work. </p>
<p>This time, instead of singing to the riff on my phone, I sang and played at the same time. The words arranged themselves around the guitar. It's like the song was a train that was laying the track at the same time as it was traveling over it, my heart beating faster and faster as we got closer and closer to noon, when the song was due. </p>
<p>Do you ever notice how, somehow or other, if you decide to do it, it somehow gets done? I wrote the song, recorded the guitars and vocals, and got them over to my mixing friend in about 5 and a half hours. </p>
<p>The real magic happens here. It's not just that the person who mixes your song has the know-how and ability to turn your raw tracks into what you hear in your head (and heart), it's that you trust them, and they trust you. I am very lucky to have a number of people in my life who take what I give them and mix it into gold, including Blaise Barton, Klem Hayes, and Jon Smith. </p>
<p>For this song, Jon made himself available to mix remotely on short notice. </p>
<p>Quick side note: mirrors are important. It is how a dancer knows if their form is correct. Many painters look at their painting in a mirror to see if it is working. Each of us give ourselves at least a quick glance in the mirror before leaving the house. </p>
<p>A musician’s mirror is a beautifully mixed song. </p>
<p>When the first round of mixes came back to me -- within 2 hours, I might add -- I learned that the song needed to be edited. There is literally no other way I could have come to learn so quickly that the song needed the third verse, one entire voice, and its final line removed, without Jon showing me, mirroring back to me, the song as I had given it to him. </p>
<p>And about that final line. Originally, the last verse of the song went like this: </p>
<p>However it looks <br>whatever this feels like <br>nothing is really wrong <br>you'll be OK </p>
<p>But I couldn't get myself to sing that last line right. The "you'll be OK." </p>
<p>But we were short on time. "Let's do what we can here," I thought. I tried singing it many different ways, and finally sent it to my mixer with 3 different harmony parts. Right? Harmony usually makes things work, right? </p>
<p>Except for when it doesn't. </p>
<p>When he sent the song back to me, not only did the voices sound as uncomfortable as I'd felt when I was singing them...tying things up in a bow at the end like that, kind of ruined the song for me. </p>
<p>So I asked him to get rid of that last line. Which he did. And now the song was ready for the Sunday ‘Milieu. </p>
<p>With 24 hours reflection, Jon and I worked together virtually to tweak the song a bit more (both versions are on the Haiku Milieu YouTube channel.) The form settled down during the first mix, and now in the second mix, there are differences in the lyrics, the performance, and the arrangement. </p>
<p>It may not stay in this state forever -- who knows, I may add a verse, an instrument, or take one away -- but this is how it is, right now, a few short days after coming to life. </p>
<p>I hope you enjoy it. Thanks as always for reading to the end. If you feel like it, let me know your thoughts about the song, as well your own artistic process.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6643812
2021-05-29T19:32:07-05:00
2021-05-29T19:32:07-05:00
Ashley & Simpson: be true to yourself and each other to be free
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/d81ffb6615bfc3e701f144ff8056ed52fc1f402e/original/img-2362.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />Ashley & Simpson are Jennifer Ashley and Joel Simpson. Jennifer is a classically trained pianist, and also plays guitar and banjo; Joel plays guitar, mandolin, dobro, banjo and bass. </p>
<p>Ashley & Simpson are folk scene favorites. They bring traditional and original songs to life with incredible musicianship and beautiful harmonies. They operate the independent label Randomosity Records, are hard at work on their third album, and you’ll often see them volunteering at Folk events in the region. </p>
<p>As if that wasn't enough, in 2020, they stepped forward to serve as Directors of Two Way Street Coffeehouse in Downers Grove, Illinois, where they have been maintaining a full schedule of live streamed concerts and other events. </p>
<p>If you’re thinking, “oh, they’re married, so that’s how they get it all done,” think again! They are not married…to each other, that is. Joel and Jennifer live in neighboring Western suburbs, each with their own respective spouses, and three children apiece. </p>
<p>So, how do they do it all, you ask? We are scratching our heads on that one too. </p>
<p>The April, 2021 Haiku Milieu show was all about Duos. Robin and I developed a list of our favorite duos, and Ashley and Simpson were at the top of that list. </p>
<p>But now, knowing what you know about the good work they are doing in the world, you’ll understand why when we asked, we knew we had to be prepared for any answer. </p>
<p>Guess what? </p>
<p>Not only did they say not say no, they were the first to turn in a draft of their song, and the first to turn in their completed video. You can see it here. </p>
<p>And when I asked them to take a moment to reflect on their process for this blog and gave them a deadline…Jennifer got it back to me with days to spare! </p>
<p>She says an awful lot of nice things about me here [blush] for which I am grateful – and even more grateful to be part of their musical community. </p>
<p>Enjoy this blog. </p>
<p>“There’s this thing about Jenny’s haikus. A few succinct words, with a result so profound, so relevant, so real, and often so timely that I wonder if Jenny is a fly on the wall in my head. How does she know? Like, for real. <br> <br>We are such fans of Jenny. Let’s just peruse them, we said. It’ll be easy, we said. <br> <br>We were overwhelmed, to say the least, by the sheer volume of wisdom. How do we choose? So, we printed out ten or so that we both agreed spoke to us and arranged them on the table. <br> <br>But wait. I should back up and set the stage. <br> <br>Joel and I have been working on a collection of original songs for our next album, "Hello, Mrs. Sun.” <br> <br>It was started well before the pandemic, yet somehow even those early songs knew just what was coming. <br> <br>This has been a time for difficult, immense changes and emotions. Intense personal reflection, coming to an understanding of one’s own truth, and the hope, freedom and strength that ultimately comes from this struggle. <br> <br>But the bottom line is--you’ve got to be true to yourself and each other to really be free. <br> <br>It’s such a simple, yet infuriatingly hard lesson, isn’t it? A lot of the songs we have been writing for this album reflect the infinite facets of how truth reveals itself and what comes next. <br> <br>So, in hindsight, it is no wonder that the haikus with themes of truth came popping to the surface, begging to be recognized, as if raising their hands, calling “Me! Me!” <br> <br>Four of them magically arranged themselves on the coffee table in front of us, and “Tell Me Your Secrets” was born. The melody was already forming in Joel’s head, and demanded its place as an anthem of truth. <br> <br>We love it, and are really just forever grateful to Jenny for the limitless inspiration that she provides to us all. <br> <br>Jennifer Ashley, for Ashley & Simpson</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6629805
2021-05-17T09:51:29-05:00
2021-05-17T17:42:47-05:00
RelationSHIP
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/add7c7efc0935137ba96b6a37bba00882319f478/original/image0-2.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>RelationSHIP </p>
<p>not everything <br>has to go on forever <br>to be a success <br> <br>a relationship <br>after all is said and done <br>is merely a ship <br> <br>sailing the high seas <br>one wave after another <br>of more aliveness <br> <br>though you set the course <br>that's about all you can do <br>once the ship has sailed <br> <br>we all do our best <br>to try and anticipate <br>wind, rain, saltiness </p>
<p>either the ship can <br>or the ship can’t handle it <br>that’s what you find out <br> <br>it’s ok to not <br>get where you wanted to go <br>aboard that good ship <br> <br>or to discover <br>you got to where you wanted <br>and want something else <br> <br>you might also find <br>where you really want to go <br>that ship can’t take you <br> <br>a relationship <br>that's run its course did not fail <br>it just ran aground </p>
<p>voices in your head <br>like seagulls fighting for scraps <br>scream “stay on dry land” <br> <br>the voice that matters <br>your inner compass whispers <br>"let's set sail again."</p>
<p>This week, I was going to tell you about how the Sunday Haiku Milieu emails came to be (join up at haikumilieu.com.) </p>
<p>How I had the idea to do a daily email, but couldn’t get myself to do it. </p>
<p>How I shared that with my friend Bruce, who said he hated daily emails, and that I should do it just once a week (check out the new Sons of the Never Wrong website and album: sonsoftheneverwrong.com.)</p>
<p>How I got my friend Cathie to design it, what an amazing designer she is, and how she keeps saying yes when I want to add sections to it. (more of her work at www.doubletakedesign.com.)</p>
<p>How the Sunday email launched at Marc Smith’s poetry slam, where my friend Naomi is a beloved regular, and how my husband Robin and my friend Jodi are currently tied for writing the most songs inspired by a Haiku Milieu. (Listen to Naomi's new single on Spotify, stay tuned for Robin's new album, and three cheers for Jodi and Jim.)</p>
<p>How much I love the back and forth with readers on Sunday, which for me, is how I take communion these days. </p>
<p>How much it means to me that you are here. </p>
<p>And how much I hope this goes on forever.</p>
<p>I sat down to write all that, and the poem you read above came out instead.</p>
<p>When people ask, why should I bother with an artistic practice? So many other people are already doing what I think I'd like to do. And they are so good. Why should I bother?</p>
<p>I say simply this: to get your own attention. Learn what you really think about things. And maybe even surprise yourself. Like I did, just now.</p>
<p>If you came to learn what you really think about something because of a piece of art you made or are working on, drop me a line. I'd love to hear about it.</p>
<p><br>© Jenny Bienemann</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6626321
2021-05-10T08:42:06-05:00
2021-05-10T08:42:06-05:00
Jonas Friddle and Anna Jacobson: The Moon This Morning
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/625efd5a8878bd41d1dc7a864297f3effc4cde0d/original/img-2031.jpg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>Jonas Friddle: the man, the myth, the legend. You can find more about him here: https://jonasfriddle.com.</p>
<p>As his website will tell you, Jonas Friddle is a singer, songwriter and Old-Time banjo player whose songs have received The John Lennon Songwriting Award, First Place in the Great American Song Contest and a nomination for Album of the Year in the Independent Music Awards.</p>
<p>What you can only learn by seeing him play live, especially with Anna Jacobson, is that gentleness is a force to be reckoned with. </p>
<p>The April, 2021 Haiku Milieu concert featured duos, and the musical acts who wrote songs and made videos will be featured in Robin's and my Twos-Day Night Special at Hey Nonny, the fourth Tuesday of every month. More information is here: https://www.heynonny.com.</p>
<p>With this song, it's like Jonas lifted the haiku into the sunlight, saw what it could be, built a warm, inviting house around it, then invited us over to watch the moon rise together from his front porch.</p>
<p>Elevating the song to sweet and slightly wistful heights, is Anna's voice, itself a magical instrument, and her fiddle. </p>
<p>Take a peek at the video here: https://youtu.be/2EWeW2Mk5ts.</p>
<p>Enjoy their reflections on the process below.</p>
<p>JONAS</p>
<p>Thanks to Jenny for bringing me into the Haiku Milieu world. Coincidently, I spent a considerable amount of time in college translating haiku poems as part of my Japanese language studies. It had been a while since I had sat with a haiku and being part of this project was a great way to come back to it. </p>
<p>To choose which of Jenny’s lovely haiku I would use to write a song, I took a chord progression I’ve had sitting around for a while and played through it on repeat while reading through her book. A metal detector of sorts. After a few mornings it landed on this haiku. </p>
<p>the moon this morning // two tin cans and a long string // between you and me </p>
<p>The combination of the words, the picture and the chord progression sparked a memory of a time I spent all night outside just waiting for the morning. </p>
<p>I had been in Australia for only a week and was renting a room out of a converted motel. The doors still had the automatic locks from their motel days and by stepping out onto the balcony without my keys I managed to lock myself out. </p>
<p>I had nowhere to go and nobody to call and realized I would likely spend the night outside until I could get some help the next morning. I wandered around the town all night. It was decorated for Christmas which was strange because it was so hot. I visited the beach and I slept a little on a park bench under a tree full of cockatoos. </p>
<p>With that memory and Jenny’s words the melody and lyrics for “Two Tin Cans and a Fishing Line” came pretty easy. Which is a nice surprise for a song. I took what I’d come up with and send it over to Anna. Anna always takes every piece of music and add some thing to make it better. I’ll pass it over to her now… </p>
<p>ANNA: </p>
<p>Jonas sent over his tune, and I immediately loved the light, swaying nature of it. </p>
<p>Jonas is pretty easygoing about how I should sing along with his music, usually giving no more instruction than “sing/play at these points” or sometimes even giving me the liberty to decide where the harmonizing should happen. </p>
<p>My process is simple. I play the tune from my phone everywhere I go: in the car, while chasing my kids down the sidewalk, while doing dishes. I hum along until I have a good harmony going for the whole tune, and decide later where I shouldn’t be singing. </p>
<p>In this case, the simple fact of “I can’t memorize lyrics fast enough” relegated my singing to the chorus. Jonas’s music lent itself, as usual, to nice, tight, parallel harmonies. I will admit that I didn’t even see the haiku until after we recorded, but it all made perfect sense when I did.</p>
<p>On Tuesday, September 28, see Jonas Friddle and Anna Jacobson with Jenny and Robin Bienemann at the Twos-Day Night Special at Hey Nonny.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6625482
2021-05-08T21:06:29-05:00
2021-05-08T21:10:00-05:00
You'll know when it's happening, but not what it means.
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/3327387d3120852e50db1b82d09419ea8920396c/original/5-9-21.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>A year ago, this weekend, my Dad made his transition from this life, to the next. </p>
<p>Though we did not know it, my husband Robin's Mom was preparing to make her transition too. She left this earth one week to the day of my Dad's passing. </p>
<p>There are many things in life you just have to live through. </p>
<p>Mother's Day is meant to be a beautiful celebration of life, love and nurturing, and happily, for many, it is. I am so grateful for the many beautiful Mother's Day celebrations I've experienced. </p>
<p>But now, I understand better why Mother's Day has become something some of us just have to live through. </p>
<p>Whether you find yourself missing someone who is no longer here literally or figuratively; whether you sit at the headstone of a well-documented life or at the little unmarked grave of what could have been; whether you can talk about it or not breathe a word of it; and whether or not this has anything to do with mothers or mothering: you are not alone. </p>
<p>This is for you. For us. </p>
<p>--- * --- * --- * --- * --- * ---</p>
<p>No one tells you this: <br>you'll know when it's happening <br>but not what it means </p>
<p>though it may look like <br>just one thing changed, it will feel <br>like nothing's the same </p>
<p>some things we can't know <br>we have to feel our way through <br>live all the way through </p>
<p>and especially <br>when we want to live them least <br>we will learn the most </p>
<p>like what to do when <br>you can't seem to catch your breath <br>from all the crying </p>
<p>or that it's ok <br>to not feel bad when you don't <br>though you think you should </p>
<p>then there's what it is <br>to not be over it, when <br>some think you should be</p>
<p>you learn, finally <br>nothing ever changes change <br>it is who we are </p>
<p>each of us will change <br>everyone else will change too <br>that's just what we do </p>
<p>earthly clothes will fall <br>we may drench the earth with tears <br>but still, the sun shines </p>
<p>make peace with knowing <br>all we are ever promised <br>is right here, right now </p>
<p>© Jenny Bienemann</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6620024
2021-05-03T07:50:08-05:00
2021-05-03T08:02:11-05:00
Jenny's ABCs
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/be1bae3427ed5598b3d407ec7694eca6510a2aa3/original/typorama.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" />"No" is not my favorite word. I don't love it when a big old "no" comes at me, especially when it is coming FROM me. </p>
<p>We live in a world of contrast. "Yes" is as meaningful as it is, as joyful as it is, only after you have had an experience (or several) of "No." </p>
<p>Every adult you have ever met was a recalcitrant child once, who did not want to do what was being asked of them, even when they wanted what would come of it. </p>
<p>Think: children so tired they fall asleep with their heads on the dinner table but refuse to go to bed. Children who want to go outside and play but can't get themselves to tidy up their rooms first. Children who want to watch TV but can't get themselves to eat their vegetables to earn that privilege. </p>
<p>Sidebar: I hated green beans. Once my mom made me sit at the dinner table, plate of green beans in front of me. I could not leave the table, the skies growing darker by the minute, my brother and sisters outside whooping it up playing Ghost in the Graveyard, until I finished those green beans. </p>
<p>"Offer it up to the Lord," my mom said, leaving the kitchen. So I closed my eyes, and that's what I did. I offered it up to the Lord, then waited. And waited. And WAITED. </p>
<p>When my Mom came back to the kitchen, I was crying. "Why are you crying?" she said. "The Lord didn't take them!" I wailed. </p>
<p>I don't remember what happened after that. One or both of us relented and I have a feeling it was probably me. And now, as a matter of fact, I quite like green beans, so all's well that ends well. </p>
<p>Back to the matter at hand. Sometimes, even grownups say no to themselves, even when it is something they know they want to do. </p>
<p>But being a grownup does have its perks: you can learn to trick yourself into getting something done. </p>
<p>Notice I said trick, and not treat. The "trick" here (sorry, couldn't resist) is to have the treat be in what you get yourself to do. Trick yourself into doing what you want to do, and the reward will be...doing what you wanted to do in the first place. </p>
<p>TRICKY, right?!? And effective, if you want to build a habit. </p>
<p>It was pointed out to me a long time ago, that you will answer any question you put to yourself. So only ask yourself questions you actually want answers to. Like, instead of asking, "why do I always do this wrong?" ask "what parts of this am I doing right?" Both lead you down a rabbit hole, but the latter actually gives you something you can build on. </p>
<p>So in case you are like me, here's a little something you can try when you find yourself saying "No!" to yourself when a part of you wishes you would say "Yes." (I first shared this at Lamb's Retreat for Songwriters a few years ago.) </p>
<p>Close your eyes, pick a letter of the alphabet, and say to yourself: <br>"How do I..." and then say the action after the letter. </p>
<p>So, say I'm stuck, I want to write this song, but it's not coming easily. I feel like if I give up on it, I may not go back to it and thus lose the passion for it. </p>
<p>I close my eyes, pick a letter -- K as of this writing -- and then I say to myself: "How do I knead the ideas in my mind while I do other things?" And I do what comes to me to do next. </p>
<p>In my experience, this works for everything from professional writing to songwriting. If you try it this week, let me know how it goes. </p>
<p>Jenny's ABCs go like this: </p>
<p>A: Allow every experience you’ve ever had to be on the table <br>B: Blindfold the part of you that thinks it already knows <br>C: Change the inspiration channel <br>D: Decide that you are writing <br>E: Enjoy the enigma that is you as a writer, writing <br>F: Follow through on ideas even when inconvenient <br>G: Gravitate towards what inspires you <br>H: Harness momentum, your own and others <br>I: Incinerate your loyalties to what you think is “good” <br>J: Juxtapose unrelated incidents <br>K: Knead the ideas in your mind while you’re doing other things <br>L: Listen for whispers of inspiration <br>M: Mine daily occurrences for universal lessons <br>N: Notice seemingly unrelated experiences that relate somehow <br>0: Own that the idea came to you and you have something to say <br>P: Pretend it is already written and see how it sounds <br>Q: Quote someone who has said what you’re trying to say then say it differently <br>R: Recharge when you’re getting stressed, tired, or overwhelmed <br>S: Suspend the desire to judge yourself based on how good you think the song is <br>T: Try to see how few words you can use to get an idea across <br>U: Use kindness in your tone when you speak of your writing to yourself or others <br>V: Visit childhood, yours or others <br>W: Wake and write down the dreams of the night before <br>X: Xenos is the traveler or stranger <br>Y: Yield to happiness and becoming even when you don’t feel like it <br>Z: Zoom in on what the situation would feel like</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6613286
2021-04-25T09:07:08-05:00
2021-04-25T09:07:08-05:00
The Genesis of Haiku Milieu: Duos
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/a64160098ad901bbad0975e2a49d05a5ac005a74/original/img-1626.jpg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />I am a singer songwriter. I never considered myself a visual artist. I cried when I thought I had to pass an art class to graduate, as you learned last week. Yet I had this romantic notion. <br> <br>I would take a photo of water flung in the air. </p>
<p>I would allow my immediate response to the photo to create a haiku. </p>
<p>In as close to the moment of creation as possible, I would invite everyone I knew to experience that thrilling moment with me. <br> <br>As long as I can remember, if there was any amount of beverage left in my glass, I would go outside, throw the liquid up into the sky, and watch it fall. <br> <br>I loved doing that: watching with the light shine through water, hearing the rushing water fall, seeing the beautiful designs the water makes on the ground. <br> <br>On September 10, 2017, I had been enjoying the idea that I would do that, someday, for a long time. And it hit me: I needed to do the idea, or I would lose it. It would be over. The way a crush ends. The way a bubble bursts. </p>
<p>I couldn't have that. <br> <br>Looked at my phone, it was at 20% charge. I needed to get started. <br> <br>I took my water bottle into the alley, threw it up against the sky like I always do, and took photos. The results were…spectacularly unspectacular. </p>
<p>So I ran in the house, got a glass of water. This time, it would WORK! I had learned where to stand, what direction to face, and the arm motions to use. <br> <br>I took photos expecting the thrill I had always found to there, but there was nothing inspiring: no sparkle in the water drops; no compelling designs on the ground where the water fell; plus I was getting soaked. <br> <br>I dashed back into the house, grabbed a flower vase, calculated the angle of the sun and realized it was in the front of the house, not in the alley where I had been. I stood in the street, waiting for the cars to pass. I threw the water in the air… <br> <br>…and guess what…I got something. Now we’re getting somewhere. </p>
<p>And now, with my phone on 10% charge, we had to GET THERE. It was time for the next part of my mission: gazing at the photo and writing a haiku. <br> <br>A haiku is 3 lines of 5 syllables, 7 syllables, 5 syllables. I came up with this: <br> <br>Flinging the water <br>Singing, the sun shines through it <br>I just learned to fly </p>
<p>Fast forward to today, April 25, 2021. </p>
<p>Now there’s two volumes of Haiku Milieu with photos and haiku, a tiny book with 120 haiku and my own drawings (what?!), an audiobook, a soundtrack, a Collaboration Blog, the Sunday Haiku Milieu email, and four different kinds of t-shirts. </p>
<p>Guess what else. There's a concert series, and the Haiku Milieu YouTube channel with, as of last Friday, April 23, 140 songs written by a bunch of incredible songwriters, inspired by Haiku Milieu. </p>
<p>Like I said at the top, I'm a songwriter. I started this whole haiku thing to keep fresh, to keep writing every day, in between songs. </p>
<p>When I released the first book, I thought, "Wouldn't it be great to invite some of my favorite artists to write a song based on one of the photos and haiku? I'll write one too." </p>
<p>It was FUN. It got written up in the Chicago Tribune. David Sameshima captured the magic on video...and that game tape looked very close to as good as it felt (which is not always the case.) Most of all though, it was fun. So, we kept doing it. </p>
<p>In 2019, there were Haiku Milieu concerts in April, July and November. </p>
<p>We were on track to do that in 2020, when the world shut down. I already had 20 or so artists writing songs for the April show. We just decided to go for it, and settled on the Facebook Premiere option. </p>
<p>The rest is history. You can see all the shows at the Haiku Milieu YouTube Channel, organized by playlists here. </p>
<p>Basically, how it works is this: I invite the artists to be part of the show. I say, any image/haiku is fair game, with preference for the ones in the books. Any genre of music is great, just try to make it between 3-5 minutes. I make it clear that I don't think of myself as a co-writer, my work is just a jumping off point for their own incredible creative process. </p>
<p>I give them deadlines for a draft of the song, then for the final song, then for the final video. This keeps us all honest, and if someone is getting stuck or needs a collaborator, I can help connect artists with what they need. </p>
<p>Hopefully, we all get across the finish line together, but sometimes people have to drop out. No big deal. If we've done it right, you'll feel the tremendous trust, respect and love between us, coming into the world through our songs. </p>
<p>When it comes to curating the actual show, and coming up with a show order, I mostly let Divine synchronicity determine the flow of the show. </p>
<p>What does that mean, you ask? </p>
<p>Well, look closely: you'll see that the show basically runs in alphabetical order! </p>
<p>Now, I might move a song or two as needed, or decide that we'll go in reverse alpha order, but for the most part, I have been utterly delighted with how well going in alpha order works. </p>
<p>The Haiku Milieu Virtu-Concert: Duos was the first time Robin and I co-hosted. The ink is barely dry on the show, so I haven't had time to reflect on much of anything except this: </p>
<p>I'm trying to forget I knew <br>how much easier it is with two </p>
<p>I know, I know, it's not a haiku...yet. Maybe someday. </p>
<p>I will just say this. I, who have a blog aptly titled The Collaboration Blog...forgot! It is so much easier, working together. If you're lucky enough to have a good collaborator in any arena, you know what I mean. </p>
<p>Meanwhile, take a look at the <a contents="4.23.21 Haiku Milieu: Duos!" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC5P85zwLJS9NwFvR3CKX4LA" target="_blank">4.23.21 Haiku Milieu: Duos!</a> on YouTube, and if you are so moved, subscribe to the channel. Share your love for the artists via the TipJar on my website. On behalf of Robin, myself, and all of the artists, thank you. </p>
<p>In the coming weeks, I'll be asking the Duos artists to reflect on their creative process and experience in The Collaboration Blog. Stay tuned!</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6608067
2021-04-19T09:02:38-05:00
2021-04-19T12:46:33-05:00
A song is a bridge
<p><a contents="" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://youtu.be/2XH21GJvvYk" style="" target="_blank"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/88c97af33d1df2c007c234f217d7ec6d0f016dae/original/image0.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></a></p>
<p>It is one of the profound joys of my life to write alongside fellow songwriters, to bring songs to life solo or in collaboration, and to share them with the world. </p>
<p>This Friday, April 23 at 7:30 pm via Facebook and then 9:30 pm via YouTube, we are streaming the <a contents="Haiku Milieu Virtu-Concert: Duos" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://youtu.be/2XH21GJvvYk" target="_blank">Haiku Milieu Virtu-Concert: Duos</a> edition <a contents="here" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://www.facebook.com/JennyBHaikuMilieu" target="_blank">here</a>, then <a contents="here" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC5P85zwLJS9NwFvR3CKX4LA" style="" target="_blank">here</a>. </p>
<p>These people, these songs, these videos -- and perhaps best of all, these people -- are INCREDIBLE. </p>
<p>Here's who is participating: Ashley and Simpson, Jim Bizer and Jan Krist, Annie and Rod Capps, Steve Dawson and Diane Christiansen, Rachel Drew and John Syzmanski, Jonas Friddle and Anna Jacobson, Ingrid Graudins, Klem Hayes, Anne Heaton, Ernie Hendrickson and Pete Muschong, Deb Lader and Evan Silver, Ron Lazzeretti and Dave Walker, Anna Sacks and Marcus Trana, Jodi Walker and Kay Williams.</p>
<p>I am one of those people who feel the audience is the final collaborator. I know not everyone feels this way. For instance, Nora Roberts. Read what she has to say on the matter <a contents="here" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://fallintothestory.com/" target="_blank">here</a>. </p>
<p>Myself, I feel like I don't always know what I am doing, while I am doing it. So I like to collect what I make in one place, the better to see them for myself, and with an audience. </p>
<p>This is why I make albums, why I started gathering each previous week's haiku <a contents="here" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://haikumilieu.com/photo-haiku">here</a>. Maybe it is also why, as soon as one Haiku Milieu concert ends, I'm thinking about the next one!</p>
<p>And honestly, right now, I just feel an urgency to create. It makes me feel better.</p>
<p>It looks like we are getting to the other side of the pandemic. As Robin and I take what look like the final steps across the bridge from our lives before the pandemic to our current life, we are fortunate to be missing only four of the gentle souls we walked into it with. </p>
<p>While these losses still sting (will they never not?) we are conscious that many others have been much more profoundly affected: by C-19, the epidemic of gun violence, or by the simple fact that the color of their skin makes their earthly walk trickier than ours. </p>
<p>Things are different now. Whether on behalf of those who are no longer with us, those experiencing hardship, or the need in own souls, we need bridges from what was, to what is. </p>
<p>For me, that bridge is creating. (You too?)</p>
<p>And more and more, that means collaborating. For me, anyway.</p>
<p>When I was putting together this Friday's Haiku Milieu show, I knew I wanted to feature musical duos, to create a "bridge" between this virtu-show, and Robin's and my live <a contents="Twos-Day Night Specia" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://www.heynonny.com/shows/twosday-night-special/">Twos-Day Night Specia</a>l, a residency on the last Tuesday of the month at Hey Nonny starting on May 25. So that, and the fact that creating anything makes me feel better, is all I knew.</p>
<p>Creating anything, in and of itself, is healing.</p>
<p>And then if we are brave enough, if we are willing to share what we make...there is the potential for something even more beautiful to happen, when something we create speaks to someone else. Now all of a sudden, there's a bridge. Safe passage across our greatest divides. A span across the yawning gaps between us, or within us. </p>
<p>That song you were writing? That poem? That memo at work? You didn't know you made a bridge, until you were done. </p>
<p>The fifteen duos you'll see in Friday's Haiku Milieu concert have created fifteen magnificent bridges, in song and video, to get you from where you are to what comes next. </p>
<p>And this is where I say again: for me, for my art, the audience is the final collaborator. </p>
<p>Your presence MATTERS. </p>
<p>Anyone who experiences a work of art through the prism of their own thoughts, feelings, and experiences, helps the artist see what they made, and brings it more fully into the world.</p>
<p>We love to have you with us, and we hope you'll join us live or on replay, if you're up for being part of this amazing cycle of creativity. </p>
<p>Fingers crossed. And THANKS, for being here and reading all the way through.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6600235
2021-04-10T11:14:55-05:00
2021-04-10T20:27:36-05:00
The Joy of Doing Something You Don't Do
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/49938cf48b69ba515aa29af5aeed731159ec92db/original/fb-event.jpg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>Did you notice? I took a little side trip this week. I decided to write haiku based on what I drew, rather than what I spied with my little eye in my surroundings. <br> <br>This was kind of a big deal for me. <br> <br>In Kindergarten, my art teacher made the whole class laugh at Jimmy Dolan’s drawing. THE. WHOLE. CLASS. In Kindergarten! <br> <br>In Jr. High, my art teacher was the most profoundly unhappy person I had up to that point ever met. He terrified me even before he excoriated me, again in front of the whole class, for not drawing the bird to the scale of the rest of the objects in my painting. I went to bed crying, worried I would not be able to graduate. </p>
<p>Thus, I never considered myself a visual artist. That I do now, is largely due to the genuine enthusiasm of the person I live with. <br> <br>If I absolutely needed to, if there was no other way to express what I was thinking, I would draw something. He always would say something like, “Wow! That’s so good!” <br> <br>(If you’ve ever been complimented by Robin Bienemann, you know not to second-guess it because he only says what he means. And also you feel like you won the lottery.) <br> <br>So I believed him, and actually, that enthusiasm helped me recover from what I had experienced in the past, to even contemplate what might be possible in the future. But aside from the rush of endorphins, I generally set his comments aside and did other things with my life. <br> <br>That changed when I needed images to go with the haiku in my tiny book <u>Reckoning</u> (info at haikumilieu.com). The artist I had wanted to do it was not available, and I had to draw the images myself. </p>
<p>It has been about 6 months since I walked out into the yard, picked up a stick, dipped it in ink, and made pictures. It calls to me when I need to do it. I don’t yet know if needs to become a more consistent thing that I do. <br> <br>All I know is I enjoy it, I have set it up so it is easy to do when it is time to do it, and it makes me feel like a kid again. It’s FUN. <br> <br>If you told me in my school years that I would find drawing delightful later in life, I would have fallen in a dead faint on the pink shag rug of my older sister’s bedroom. <br> <br>If you told me in 2019 when we started these shows that by 2021, Haiku Milieu concerts were going to be a “thing” with their own YouTube channel,125 songs so far and more on the way, I might not have fainted…but I would have had to sit down. <br> <br>Friday, April 23 is the Haiku Milieu Virtu-Concert: Duos! Robin is hosting this one with me, as we are, among other notable things, a musical duo. <br> <br>We asked people to do things they don’t necessarily do: collaborate to bring a piece to life. Write the song together? Ok. Don’t write the song together? Also ok. But bring the piece to life together somehow? They had to do that, by hook or by crook.</p>
<p>When you see these pieces, we think you will experience what I experienced in writing to my own drawings rather than photographs: the incredible freshness of grappling with the “new.” Not all of us, even in duos, collaborate regularly; few of us have made videos; and hardly any of this group writes to any prompt other than the whisperings of their own muse. <br> <br>And you know what? The joy of doing something you don’t do all the time, of stretching your wings, and letting the best you can do be good enough, is infectious. <br> <br>Will the Haiku Milieu Virtu-Concert artists go on to collaborate more? To make more videos? To write from inspiration based on anything other than their own artistic urgings? That remains to be seen. <br> <br>What we know for sure is, they did it really beautifully for this show. </p>
<p>Whether you are an artist or an audience member, if you join us for the Haiku Milieu Virtu-Concert: Duos edition, you are playing an absolutely imperative role in the cycle of creativity. </p>
<p>You are encouraging and inspiring the creation of new things with your enthusiasm, just like Robin did with me and drawing. </p>
<p>Let's do this together. <br> <br>We stream via Facebook on Friday, April 23 at 7:30 pm. Join us.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6580387
2021-03-20T22:14:01-05:00
2021-03-20T22:14:01-05:00
Love is the antidote to hate.
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/2e88c529594a7df20ef6ac05464ef24f23d70977/original/be9e6120-925b-4f0a-bad4-233248af23b2.jpg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />So much loss lately. </p>
<p>Robin and I have lost 2 friends to Covid, one who was a year younger than I am, and in robust health. We just went through St. Patrick’s Day, our first without my Dad, and for my family, that’s almost like going through Christmas without him all over again. </p>
<p>The larger world has once again astonished us by yet another elected official – one who we chose, pay a salary, and grant authority to serve ALL of us – seeming to downplay the actions of a mass murderer as the result of “…a really bad day.” </p>
<p>That the empathy extended from one white man to another was greater than what seemed to be extended to those who lost their lives -- six of the eight of whom were Asian women -- matters. </p>
<p>Our world is rife with profound racial and gender disparities and the power imbalances they create. More of us are coming to see this, and are actively working to change it, than ever before. But it needs to be <em>all</em> of us. And though we can heal our biases, the wounds created by our biases leave permanent, gaping holes in the circles of friends and family who have lost beloved members like we witnessed this week. </p>
<p>This brings us back to our neighborhood. Dear friends of ours lost a dear friend of theirs, a longstanding musical inspiration. He had moved away, been gone from the community for a long time, yet he remained part of the circle, a part that is now missing. While I had only met him once or twice, I devoured the photos that were posted, the words that were said about him, and the community around him. As I looked through the photos, all I could think was…this. </p>
<p>This. This is why you nurture an artistic discipline in yourself and foster it in others. This is why, slowly but surely, you figure out how to share what you make. These faces. This palpable joy. People doing, being and giving of who they truly are, and being received, at the deepest levels. THIS is how you make a world where you can handle the pain of living, and the losses that must come without having to take others down with you. </p>
<p>Some say, music. Ha. Art. C’mon! It’s selfish. Attention seeking, pure and simple. There is so much suffering in the world. How dare I be happy? How dare I seek the comfort of a circle of friends who challenge themselves and grow together? How dare I enjoy the life I am privileged to have? </p>
<p>YES. Consider those questions. </p>
<p>And then consider this: do happy people pick up guns? </p>
<p>At the root of it, isn’t attention merely connection? Do people who experience the joy of giving and receiving attention on a regular basis and form genuine connections as a result seek to destroy other people, or to build them up? </p>
<p>Are those who nurture gratitude no matter the circumstance the ones who try to find their way to feeling better by hurting others, or are they the ones who help others feel better? </p>
<p>Our happiness, connection, and gratitude for our own lives is the wellspring of joy. </p>
<p>Joy is the embodiment of love. </p>
<p>Love is the antidote to hate. </p>
<p>Let me humbly ask this of you, who have found the space in your heart for me and my thoughts today. </p>
<p>Look within your own. Find a way to bring what is in there, out into the world. </p>
<p>Whether what you create feels happy, connected, or gratitude-filling, you will experience those states in the course of creating it. And you will be bringing the antidote to hate into the world. LOVE. This is the essence of collaboration. </p>
<p>If you feel like it, let me know what you did. </p>
<p>Thanks for getting all the way through this. I don’t take for granted that you read all the way through. It means a lot. </p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6573080
2021-03-13T19:46:23-06:00
2021-03-13T19:46:23-06:00
Jim Bizer, Annie Capps: April 23: Haiku Milieu Duos Virtu-Concert
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/07a485f8ee6a5374653cdcb44cb92fc2b9ea07f0/original/bizer-capps-blog.jpg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />Life is not the same. Yet, slowly, surely, like the flowers of spring, live music is returning. </p>
<p>We tread cautiously, holding the urge to return to life alongside the knowing that it can never be the same. In a few months, Robin and I dip our toes back in. We return to the “Two-s Day Night Special” at Hey Nonny that we launched just before the pandemic hit. </p>
<p>Each month, alongside a fellow duo, we’ll share songs, poetry, and just generally try have a great time with the audience. Robin may even have a new album to share with you by then. </p>
<p>Gearing up for this, on April 23, we are hosting the Haiku Milieu Virtu-Concert: Duos Edition, sharing a sneak peek of the artists who will join us onstage at Hey Nonny on the last Tuesday of every month. </p>
<p>Collaboration is a special thing. Together, you harness the creative momentum within the greater whole to bring something to life. Yet, even in a collaboration, you’ll find yourself in the trenches, alone with the task you’ve set before you. </p>
<p>Here’s how two of our colleagues met the endeavor. </p>
<p><a contents="Jim Bizer" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://jimbizer.com" style="">Jim Bizer</a> is a Michigan singer, songwriter, musician and producer who is participating in this show with his musical partner, Jan Krist, said this about the song he brings to this show: </p>
<p>“I used pieces of various haikus of yours in the verses, so we can call this our first co-write. Sorry to mangle them; I wanted the song to rhyme and fit a structure, so I had to alter them to greater or lesser degrees. </p>
<p>“Speaking of structure, I got a little ambitious with form: each verse is six lines and the syllabic count is 5 7 5 5 7 5 (familiar?) The bridge abandons that pattern, so sue me. The song begins in 5/4 time, changes to 7/4 in the bridge and returns to 5/4 for the final verse, for another obsessive compulsive connection to haiku form. It’s a short song; I let the final chord ring just long enough to nudge it past the 2:00 mark. I wondered whether I should add another verse, but I’ve gotten to like it small. See what you think.” </p>
<p>Another Michigan artist, Annie Capps, one half of the duo <a contents="Annie and Rod Capps" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://annieandrodcapps.com">Annie and Rod Capps</a>, shared this about her piece: </p>
<p>“I shared it with my Song Salon last night and we had a nice discussion about my intent versus what people heard and I really like when a song can be meaningful to others as it suits them not as I necessarily intend. John Gorka once said "it's not my job to tell people what the song is about" and he also said, paraphrasing, ‘Once it's out there it's not mine anymore.’’” </p>
<p>Check our their music when you have a moment. I think you’ll love it – I know I do. </p>
<p>Save the date for April 23, and join us for a soul-stirring evening of music. Let's face what it means to move forward together into a world that is forever changed with music and collaboration.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6560795
2021-03-01T08:19:10-06:00
2021-03-01T08:19:10-06:00
Writing and (w)ripening
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/94d23ac0854b4804eefe6204e267e2c7dcee158d/original/you-w-ripening.jpeg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />Someone asked, how do you make time for this to become part of your life? How do you even find time to write? That’s a good question, I thought. </p>
<p>Let's start with when. When does this happen exactly? </p>
<p>Well let’s see. I touch in with writing after morning meditation. </p>
<p>Then, before I start work at my lovable, ever-present sidekick day job, I date two pages in my notebook, and number the right side 1-16. On the left side, I "park" all the things I need to do that day. Then I go back and write 16 lines, and usually get surprised by what comes out. </p>
<p>And then here and there, throughout the day, I look for a picture that moves me. Then I write the haiku I will post sometime around 6 pm that evening. </p>
<p>But it wasn’t always like that. </p>
<p>In fact, I still wake up in terror, remembering the series of days where I realized that while it was the biggest part of who I thought I was, I was only actually a singer/songwriter in my mind. Though I can (almost) smile at the memory now, it was a very painful realization. </p>
<p>In large part, that’s how I got to the <a contents="Folk Alliance Midwest Region" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://www.farmfolk.org/">Folk Alliance Midwest Region</a> annual gatherings. It's how I started taking Steve Dawson's class at <a contents="The Old Town School of Folk Music" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://www.oldtownschool.org/" target="_blank">The Old Town School of Folk Music</a>. It's how got to <a contents="Lamb's Retreat for Songwriters" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://springfed.org/store/lambs-retreats-for-songwriters/" style="">Lamb's Retreat for Songwriters</a> a couple of times. And it is certainly how I got to <a contents="FitzGeralds" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://www.fitzgeraldsnightclub.com/" style="">FitzGeralds</a> and <a contents="The Friendly Tap" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://www.friendlymusic.community/">The Friendly Tap</a>, where I met those who have now become some of the dearest people in the world to me, and in who’s company I became who I thought I was. Someone who writes. </p>
<p>And now? Well, now, I understand that as long as we're alive, there have to be times that we are something in our own minds, that we are still figuring out how to be in the world. </p>
<p>Back to the whole theme of incipient spring, and the catharsis we seem to need to go through by either denying ourselves something, or doing something we think we should be doing, in preparation for it. We seem to need a tangible way of throwing off the heavy snow of winter, to welcome the verdance of spring. </p>
<p>Or at least, I do. Why is it so? We loved Winter when it was on the way. We loved it while it was here…for awhile. </p>
<p>Did it just catch up with us? The long nights? The cold-enforced close quarters? Or did we just finally have to confront who we are in our minds, alongside of who we are in the world? </p>
<p>Either way. Spring is coming. It’s thrilling. The journey I would like to take in preparation for it, is to bring more of who I think I am into the day-to-day of who I actually am.</p>
<p>On the off chance that you would like to join me on this journey, I share this my newest collaboration with you.</p>
<p>Once again, I threw my fates to the wind on UpWork, and have found a wonderful new design collaborator. Rhiannon White, who lives in Canada, took this drawing on narrow-ruled notebook paper, with writing from the other side bleeding through, and colorized it into this. </p>
<p>It is part of a series I have been developing, “you, (w)ripening.” I have shared it with fellow artists and people who don't think of themselves as creative types one on one, in workshops, and weeks-long classes. </p>
<p>You just start with one thing. Do it for a week. Make it small, so easy you can forget you've done it by the time you remember you have to do it. Then add a little something: a poem, a drawing, a letter. Try to do it at the same time every day, and prepare to be surprised when you find inspiration waiting there for you at your appointed meeting time. Of course there will be resistance. Believe it or not, it dissolves kinda unbelievably easily by you just doing one small thing over time.</p>
<p>Try it for yourself. If you feel like it, I would love to hear how it goes for you. </p>
<p>The world is cautiously opening back up. When that happens, if all goes as planned, they have invited me to come and teach a class along these lines at the Old Town School of Folk Music. I’ll keep you posted on that. </p>
<p>Meanwhile, it seems appropriate to share this here, with those who, like me, may be feeling the stirrings of Spring and want to be more of who they are in their minds out, in the actual world. This is how everything changed for me.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6555322
2021-02-22T08:28:35-06:00
2021-02-22T15:34:51-06:00
Jenny Bienemann: It sure looks easier than it is.
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/ac2fe82943b901575e7a4fa0aa4ff4162cf05d61/original/bienemann-gig-2021.jpeg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>It sure looks easier than it is.</p>
<p>Teaching, that is.</p>
<p>I say this with the certitude only someone who has taught a mere four classes over two days, can say. And, I was co-teaching! Robin Bienemann and I did it together.</p>
<p>You may remember I sometimes teach in-person songwriting classes and workshops at The Old Town School of Folk Music. In addition to that, every so often Robin or I will get an invitation to teach a songwriting class for the next generation, meaning, students in an actual high school or college classroom. Last week was one of those weeks.</p>
<p>It would be our first time teaching on Zoom. Each 50-minute session of our class would be for a different group of 20-30 HS students. We would teach two classes on Thursday, and two classes on Friday.</p>
<p>Songwriting is a sacred thing, yet also absolutely ordinary once you get the hang of it. We wanted to do it right by all of it: the kids, the teacher who brought us in, and songwriting itself.</p>
<p>We quickly encountered a number of figurative and literal “boxes." Only 50 minutes?? for SONGWRITING? And how do you reach into the hearts and minds of 30 kids via Zoom?!? Rut roh! It sure looked easier than it was turning out to be.</p>
<p>It was relatively mild in January through the middle part of February, so we could walk. Walks are great for getting the ideas together. If you are familiar with the area, we could walk from our part of South Oak Park over to the Buzz Café, see our musician friend Jake who works there in mornings, and admire the almond croissants in the refrigerated case.</p>
<p>We’d walk. And talk. And compare and contrast. And talk some more. And almost misunderstand each other. Then definitely misunderstand each other. And then misinterpret each other. Collaborating is not always wine and roses, you know? Even if it is more often than not, you gotta get through the times when it’s not. You probably know that already.</p>
<p>We did too. That’s why, somehow we kept coming back to center, talking some more, and, not talking. Wonderful stuff dwells in the silences, and you want to scoop that up too. After not talking, coming back together is like drinking a long, cool, satisfying glass of water.</p>
<p>We came up with a plan. Loosely, it was about generating ideas, deciding on a direction that might well change in the process of the song coming to life, and then bringing the song to life. I really wanted there to be one word of three letters that could serve as a shorthand for the process.</p>
<p>Robin brought forward the perfect word: GIG.</p>
<p>Gather ideas, identify, and grow the song. We wrote a script and worked it through a couple of times, but there were enough variables that we didn’t have the handout pulled together until the Tuesday night before the Thursday of the first class. And of course, our regular graphic designer was not available.</p>
<p>So I turned to UpWork. I drew the handout and collaborated with two people I had never even met before, one in Canada and one in Romania, to colorize it. Because we needed it by 5:00 pm CST that day, I hired both of them, hoping at least one of them would deliver something more usable than what I had drawn with my black Pilot G-2 pen on shiny printer paper.</p>
<p>We went with the one at the top for our class. The other one is at the bottom.</p>
<p>As a postscript: as much as you can tell anything from Zoom, the classes went great. What we know for sure, is that the kids asked great questions. They were gracious and at least appeared to be interested and mildly entertained by two mid-size, white American make and model singer-songwriters and what they had to say about songwriting.</p>
<p>That can only happen because some incredibly patient and dedicated teachers have been on Zoom with them for the better part of a year, helping kids get to a place actually learn something new in a meaningful way, remotely.</p>
<p>Our hats are off to you, educators! You sure make it look easier than it is.</p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/25d8a46183595fd66b8cd1c62f1dfdec179f3bb7/original/andreea-romania-gig-1.jpg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6548861
2021-02-14T18:00:00-06:00
2021-02-22T07:55:56-06:00
Jenny Bienemann: ‘TIS THE SEASON TO GIVE – give something up, that is
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/562428ece2141c298d2cb2f1b842b7e360092c5d/original/typorama.png" class="size_orig justify_center border_none" alt="" /></p>
<p>Jenny Bienemann: ‘TIS THE SEASON TO GIVE – give something up, that is</p>
<p>I have given up so many things, so many ways, so many times. </p>
<p>You learn a lot when you let go. That’s why it is important that we as a society dedicate times, like Lent, when we all let go, together. </p>
<p>But the whiplash can be hard to handle. Whatever you let go was probably there because, even if it was painful, it was comforting. And most days, who couldn't use a little more comfort. </p>
<p>I grew up Catholic. I loved Lent, a season where something good is just around the corner. Spring is coming! Then Summer! Let's just get through this, and then life will be GREAT! It gave a momentum to taking a break from things I wasn’t supposed to be doing so much of anyway. Not eating dessert for Lent? SURE! Not swearing for Lent? NO PROBLEM! </p>
<p>Or how about this twist on the old Lenten classic: adding something. </p>
<p>One year, when my kids were little, we made peanut butter sandwiches and chocolate chip cookies for the homeless who came to the rectory of our church before school, each weekday of Lent. Only at the end of Lent did the kindly priest let us know that he and his staff had enjoyed our offerings, themselves.</p>
<p>I think I was in love with the idea that there could be simple, straightforward steps to follow that would inexorably lead to being “good.” Finally, irrevocably, I would be good. Good, forever. </p>
<p>So imagine what it felt like to realize (over and over again) if you wanted to be “good,” you had to keep doing those things, or not doing those things…forever. Forgoing dessert forever? Eschewing swear words? Not possible, and not productive. In that order. We need passion in our lives!</p>
<p>But now, if you go ahead and do those things, being true to the moment rather than true to your pre-conceived notions of "good," what happens?</p>
<p>Whiplash. You’re good, then not good. Good, then not so good. </p>
<p>I chased that desire to be "good" deep into the middle of my life. Tried really hard. As a daughter, sister, wife, mom, employee, friend. As an artist. With my appearance. You name it. The ever-elusive validation of finally, irrevocably, being good. And the whiplash of being good for a little while, then…not so good, is the legacy of that effort.</p>
<p>Am I past all that? Are you? Are we ever? How could we be?</p>
<p>Instead of trying to be good, now, I am trying to get good. Good at being. Just...being.</p>
<p>As part of this, I do two meditations most mornings. I come back to these little sanctuaries within all day long. </p>
<p>Sunday through Friday at 6:30 am, is CREATE, a guided meditation I made up based on a lifetime of finding what helps me be.</p>
<p>Friday and Sunday at 7:00 am, is BUILD, a guided meditation that I made up based on a lifetime of experimentation, to help me build something. </p>
<p>These are on Zoom, with the camera off. You just sit (or lie down), be, and breathe alongside me and others who are moving in a similar direction in their own unique ways, at the same time. It feels like we are collaboratively building a practice that supports us in "being," rather than just being good.</p>
<p>Take a peek at jennybienemann.com. See what you think. We'd love to have you. Send me an email for more information. </p>
<p>I close with this haiku: </p>
<p style="text-align: center;">"good" is good enough</p>
<p style="text-align: center;">it is better to "be," and</p>
<p style="text-align: center;">being both is best</p>
<p>Jenny Bienemann</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6536194
2021-02-01T08:37:06-06:00
2021-02-01T09:17:11-06:00
Jenny Bienemann: Listen to your little voice.
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/59e79451fc388952484ef81bfd90e75f5dec7557/original/img-1792.jpg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>Before you read this, take a look at these videos: <a contents="Welcome in the Light" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLujRH6vCZKP0ecVgPAoETjR6hLqEjyOYa" target="_blank">Welcome in the Light</a> and <a contents="Your Own Cup" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://youtu.be/n6Da0vvWg5M" style="" target="_blank">Your Own Cup</a>.</p>
<p>I get excited.</p>
<p>A wonderful new venue in Arlington Heights, Hey Nonny, has invited Robin and me to take over the last Tuesday of the month. We are affectionately calling it the Twos-Day Night special. We'll play alongside a fellow musical duo at these shows.</p>
<p>To celebrate, I am doing a Haiku Milieu Duos virtu-concert on April 23. More on that later...what you need to know now? I was excited!</p>
<p>You know that adage, if you want to get something done, give it to a busy person? That kinda holds true for me. The more I do, the more I seem to get done. </p>
<p>So Friday morning, before work, I was simultaneously reaching out to a wonderful musical duo and preserving mission-critical documents for the computer's impending updates. Along with the excitement, I felt virtue, and...unease.</p>
<p>I have lived long enough to stop and check in with my little voices. I was definitely...uneasy. But, I was due at my "office" (upstairs) and I had things I wanted to get done. I focused on the excitement and returned to my task.</p>
<p>Only after pressing send on the email to the wonderful musical duo (who also happen to be very trustworthy people) did I realize...I sent them all the passwords we had ever amassed. You read that right. All. the. passwords. from FOREVER.</p>
<p>So over the weekend, as I went down the rabbit hole of changing all those passwords (which we should all do annually) I had plenty of time to reflect on listening to my little voice. And to renew my vows to ALWAYS LISTEN. Even when it is inconvenient (which it usually is), even when I don't want to (which I usually don't) and when I can't see immediate results (almost always.)</p>
<p>Given all of this, why does anyone listen? </p>
<p>Because when it's not trying to prevent you from bringing what you don't want into the world, it is trying to help you bring what you do want to bring into the world.</p>
<p>Case in point. Saturday night, 1/16. </p>
<p>I just finished writing and uploading the Sunday Haiku Milieu email (please do join if you're not already part of it, jennybienemann.com). I love this group so much. I think part of the reason why it seems to work for others as well as for me is that I make a practice of asking my little voice for that group specifically. I listen, I think of them as individuals, of us as a collective, of what is happening in the world, and listen for what sparks something in me that will, hopefully, light them up as well.</p>
<p>So late Saturday night, 1/16. My little voice said, "Why not write a song to that haiku right now, while the feeling is fresh?" This was an echo back to the words of my friend, singer/songwriter Justin Farren urging me to do something along these lines. "OK," I said. "I'll do it."</p>
<p>And I did! </p>
<p>I wrote it, I rehearsed it enough to record it, I made a wee video for it, and uploaded it to the email. At 2 am I fell into bed, exhausted and tingling.</p>
<p>Know what happened? The sound on that video wasn't loud enough. Some people had to crank their speakers, some people's speakers couldn't even be cranked loud enough to hear it. So they missed the whole point!</p>
<p>And I was like, "Little voice - ! Why get me all excited and have this not work??? THIS is why nobody listens to you!"</p>
<p>My poor little voice. </p>
<p>Back in the saddle with the Haiku Milieu Sunday email, a week later. My little voice had an idea. Did it punish me by withholding it? No. It merely said, "You know, you could see if Jon Smith would mix this for you."</p>
<p>And I didn't cut off my nose to spite my face. I listened to it. And I called Jon Smith, who as always, was delighted to collaborate on "Your Own Cup." He made the very air between the notes sparkle.</p>
<p>The next week, Jon was out of town. My little voice said, "You could see if Klem Hayes would help you with this." And Klem took the guitar and voice, rooted them and made them reach for they sky like branches of a tree on "Welcome in the Light."</p>
<p>What's the moral of the story here? </p>
<p>While it may be inconvenient, you may not want to do it, and you may not see immediate results, listen to your little voice. It might keep you from sharing something you don't want to share with the world. </p>
<p>It may also help you bring something into the world that you really do care about.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6528936
2021-01-23T23:28:32-06:00
2021-01-23T23:35:48-06:00
Jon Langford: Seventeen sensuous syllables
<p> </p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/b47b7f174df6fa237d81e7c1cf2e770e7ba005d3/original/img-0023.jpg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />Want to do something fun? Watch Jon Langford's Haiku Milieu song, <a contents="Tears like Stars Must Fall" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://youtu.be/MObgcP0jEX8">Tears like Stars Must Fall</a>. </p>
<p>Jon Langford. He's the real deal. I'm going to guess you know that already. Visual artist, musician, poet, writer. The Mekons. The Waco Brothers. Four Lost Souls. The Three Johns. Pine Valley Cosmonauts. He's just...great. I have never seen him not give 110% on stages large and small, whether playing chestnuts from his prodigious musical canon or playing a song specially written for an occasion that he may never play again. He is interested in the world around him, and if he finds out you're an artist, he will want to know where you're from, what you've been doing, and how you've been doing it. He's a genuine rockstar, yet he will listen. to every. word. you say. </p>
<p>I had been asking him to do the Haiku Milieu show and was thrilled when the stars aligned for him to be part of it. He turned in a song within a week of saying yes -- a WEEK! -- while others, myself included, were still deciding what they would contribute to the show. </p>
<p>Then one Friday night, on a whim, I invited him to guest write this blog. I wrote him at 6:36 pm. By 1:20 am Saturday morning, he sent this back to me, to my delight. And yours too, I hope.</p>
<p>With no further ado, the singular Jon Langford.</p>
<p>"Someone's tapping on my forehead, lightly at first then more insistently like there is an urgent need to gain entry to my cranium. Inside it's very dark. A brain the size and texture of a walnut is floating aimlessly in dank pool of last year's rubbing alcohol. The tapping continues relentlessly and causes turbulence and agitation in this noxious body of liquid. The tiny shriveled organ rocks back and forth, collides with the flat white wall of bone that confines it and sinks to the bottom. </p>
<p>When Jenny Bienemann invited me to record a song based on a haiku she'd written and make a video of myself performing it my curiosity was piqued (or peaked) barely at all. It was 2020 and my rambling days seemed done, any creative spark long extinguished by the rolling repetition of trying to get out of bed in the morning and face another day. Yes, just like Cat Stevens said, morning has broken me as it tests the limits of my feeble decision making process one more time again. My nodes whimper and malfunction in the face of personal hygiene options, supplement choices, clothing selections, toilet opportunities and undefined activities that might divert my attention from the droning voices of republicans that rise and fall on the bitter wind of infection and history that blows down the O'Hare flightpath and pins me to my mattress with the sheer weight of its micro plastics, base metals and devil pollen. </p>
<p>Somewhere, at some time, I must have checked my email, opened a link, browsed some files and remained upright long enough to find Jenny's perfectly formed and engaging haiku. A freakish chain of events by today's standards, a happy accident that left me properly poked in the peepers and feeling real good as I chased its seventeen sensuous syllables around my cakehole with a heavily accented Welsh tongue. I like the modal verb "must". </p>
<p>I thought about the slightly depressing yet universal truths expressed in Jenny's words. It seemed to me that they could be made to apply in hundreds of varying situations and scenarios so I set about making a list of the first ones that popped into my head. I wandered into the basement, spent hours trying to plug things in, programmed a clunky reggae beat into my drum machine and sang something very spontaneously into an ancient 8-track digital recorder. I sent it to Jenny and it was approved. I think she was a bit shocked I managed to get any together at all. To make the video I borrowed my sons weird spattered coat and fucked around on my knees for an eternity in front of a green screen miming ineptly into my phone like I was on Top of the Pops in 1973. </p>
<p>Now the tapping has stopped and is replaced by lovely tinkling music. Beneath the glorious ambience of flickering golden fireflies fire-flying in formation there is the sweet smell of elderflowers and toasted cheese wafting doggedly around a shiny pink brain restored to at least half its original size. I love the smell of toasted cheese in the morning! Collaboration is my life blood and we must constantly seek out new ways to do it..." Jon Langford<br>http://www.facebook.com/jonboylangford </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6521721
2021-01-16T17:54:51-06:00
2021-04-21T12:12:15-05:00
Kate FitzGerald: The Bread and the Circus
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/4a5e6dae735d178f59441a6d8065e6ed27f64a9d/original/kate-photo.jpg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_" />Before you read this, enjoy Kate's <a contents="video" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://youtu.be/GWobOaf-v1s">"We Get to the End"</a> video for the Haiku Milieu Series.</p>
<p>Kate FitzGerald. 'Tis Herself. She can be nothing other than herself. This is a quality I admire and wish to emulate. But somehow, whatever the situation is, I conform to it, like water. If, as Wendall Berry says, "the impeded river is the one that sings," Kate is the stone in the center of the stream: sparkling, catching the light, making the water sing around it.</p>
<p>And truthfully, everyone does sing around her. That's how I got to know her.</p>
<p>I am not sure she trusted me initially. Bringing my formidable Irish willfulness to the task of finding the good in things is not, traditionally, what we Irish do. And what Irish person doesn't drink, allergy or no?!?</p>
<p>But over the course of a decade and many, many late nights at FitzGerald's, I did what water does: I wore down that stone. Now Kate and I are fast friends. And, in a funny way....collaborators.</p>
<p>You'll read her protestations to the contrary, but I think Kate is the very best kind of collaborator, and actually, friend. She is loyal, among the first to lend a hand, and unstinting on the lift. Her insight and commentary (see "Billville" and the napkins in her pocket after a night at the club) composted things other people might not even notice into a rich fertilizer for FitzGerald's artistic soil. </p>
<p>Artists, collaborations, friendships, new ideas...these and more bloom at FitzGerald's, then and now. If you enjoy being around the energy of inspiration moving into form, you will never not owe a debt of thanks to Kate (ok and Bill too) for the enduring FitzGerald's ethos.</p>
<p>Now, enjoy her words. And go back to that video as many times as you want, after that.</p>
<p>"I am a terrible collaborator. </p>
<p>Just to be sure, I looked it up. </p>
<p>"A person who works jointly on an activity or a project, especially in a creative endeavor." </p>
<p>It's the word "creative" that seals the deal. Collaboration isn't completely off the table, like I'm some Simon and Garfunkel song. I'm a good coworker, a good jump-in helper, a good teammate, but these are all activities with tangible goals: get the drinks out, lift the heavy thing, win the game. When it comes to sharing "creative endeavors" when I have a solid idea of what I want (and unfortunately I almost always do), listening to other people tell me what THEY think – well, it is as the wind through the winter trees, i.e., I don't listen. </p>
<p>I don't know that I was always like this. It was brought home to me with in boldface caps in my 20's when I was a copywriter for a small ad agency. That was where I learned to curb my violent reactions, calm my teeming brain, keep my mouth firmly shut and either go ahead with my own ideas or abandon them completely. If you have ever been a copywriter in a small ad agency with thrifty but imaginative clients, I need say no more. </p>
<p>When Jenny first asked me to get involved in the haiku virtual show, I politely declined. I like to write and I like photography; I do all sorts of things but I never show them to anyone except for some short bursts on social media. I don't know if I'm expecting posthumous fame or I'm just afraid of rejection but for me the fun is in the writing – I'm one of those freaks who enjoys editing; any two-sentence Facebook post of mine you see has been edited at least five times - or the moment when the shutter clicks and you know you've got something. And of course my Irish blood curdles at the thought of face-to-face praise. </p>
<p>But you know how she is, and so in the end I agreed. Since, luckily for the audience, I don't play an instrument, she had let me just read out the first essay up on the stage of the Friendliest Of Taps, dipping my toe in collaboration via the haiku and a talented group of artists. Perhaps needing another counterpoint to the positive atmosphere the performances created, she invited me again to choose a haiku from her book for the virtual edition. Flattered, I sat down and wrote a few paragraphs about making the transition when the club sold. I didn't check with anyone, I just wrote the thing and sent it to her, thinking it would just be a simple audio reading. Hey, Sedaris does it. </p>
<p>But here, because folks would be looking at a small screen, it was decreed that the writing must be accompanied by video and music, lest the watcher get bored with nothing to look at and go off to the kitchen never to return. Challenge accepted! I mentally storyboarded the whole thing – shots of the club in action, a burning building, funeral flags flying from cars, the last 30 seconds of Citizen Kane. I had it all figured out. But of course I don't know how to do any of those things and didn't have the time to learn since Jenny had prudently waited until I sent her the bread to bring up the circus. </p>
<p>So what do you do when you don't know how to do anything else? You do a slide show, and it worked fine, which of course is one of my least favorite words. Sensing that this was not going down well with me (she had to help me make the slide show; I think at one point I threatened to decamp to the river) she also had the very good idea to pair me up with my longtime Tuesday night pal Ron Lazzeretti. As a writer and director, Ron is a grizzled veteran of the auteur type, and so cleverly avoided the endless back and forth that would surely come with writing original music and instead sent over the instrumental of a tune he knew I liked and that blended well with the theme of my piece. I put the three together and thought desperately about what else I could do, but of course the writer's ultimate muse and greatest inspiration is a deadline, and so that time came and the "project" was emailed. </p>
<p>Did I collaborate? I don't think so, but I enjoyed the writing and I liked putting it out in the world. I like the process, it's fun, and fortunately for me I am not too interested in how it goes over; I just want to keep chasing that lightning (Twain). that decisive moment (Cartier Bresson) and if that only happens once in a blue moon, that's OK too. As old Hippocrates once said over a barley wine, Ars longa, vita brevis. [Editor's note: "Art is long, life is short."] I'll drink to that." - Kate FitzGerald </p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6517370
2021-01-09T21:53:40-06:00
2021-04-21T12:11:41-05:00
Gerald Dowd: Collaboration is Scary
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/eb0f813267e905f6895abc36302f56ad140eeea7/original/img-2215.jpg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>Gerald Dowd. I had seen him on stage. I had been on stage with him. But I had never really “seen” him, until a Christmas show hosted by Rachel Drew at Sylvie’s. </p>
<p>He took the stage. “Oh good,” I thought, as the crowd cheered him on. “This will be fun.” He is a thrilling drummer, and he played a song accompanying himself on percussion, which lit up the room. Of course it did! </p>
<p>Then, he moved on to his second song. He’s laughing, smiling in the intro. Turns out though, it’s a genuine serious singer-songwriter song. “Ok,” I think. “Let’s see what we have here.” The song goes on. It’s offbeat, funny, astute. Actually, it’s a great song, and it’s moving. </p>
<p>But mostly…it’s him. I finally see HIM, the artist. </p>
<p>And it got me. Out of nowhere, I started tearing up. In the darkness of Sylvie’s, perched on one of their stools with its perennially forward pitch, sniffling into my bitters and soda and about to go on myself, I tearfully asked Robin to go to the bar to get more cocktail napkins to hide the evidence. </p>
<p>I went up to him later, like “What the wha???” and he was like, “Oh that old song? I only play it when I don’t care WHAT I sound like.” </p>
<p>Because that’s HIM. Hysterical. Also deep, and moving. But you might have to look beyond his musical bad*ssery to see that, because most of his time, he’s making everyone else look good and sound great. </p>
<p>Have you seen him with Robbie Fulks? How about Sons of the Never Wrong? Dowd and Drew? Or maybe with me and my band Jenny & Friends? Or how about at his signature event, Day of the Dowd, which raises money for incredible causes? </p>
<p>Well, if you have or if you haven’t, you gotta get to know HIM on his terms. Let’s start with his two songs written for Haiku Milieu. He’s going to talk about them in the blog below: <a contents="Surrender" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://youtu.be/YHFHmJVLRn0">Surrender</a> and <a contents="In the End" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://youtu.be/MQVw5RlrwvA" target="_blank">In the End</a>.</p>
<p>Then you’ll be ready to binge the <a contents="Dowd Family Players" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/221327775864761" target="_blank">Dowd Family Players</a> series. </p>
<p>I am delighted to share the writing of Gerald Dowd, who, it seems, can do nothing poorly. Be forewarned, he says a lot of nice things about me in this blog, for which he has been paid handsomely. Just kidding. He paid me for the privilege of writing this blog. With no further ado…your friend and mine, Gerald.</p>
<p>"Collaboration is scary. </p>
<p>There’s a lot of pressure there, man! Certainly not everyone feels it, of course. Or some feel it and the feelings it stirs up more deeply than others: the pressure of not wanting to disappoint your collaborator; not wanting to disappoint yourself; not wanting to disappoint your parents who probably always secretly wondered if there “might be a safer, more stable profession than music for him, maybe?” </p>
<p>Twice now, Jenny Bienemann (or “Beans-man”, in the parlance of my 11-year-old) has made the wildly irresponsible marketing decision of asking me to be involved in what I have come to refer as one of her “Haiku Ceremony” (so dubbed because, let’s face it: we all of us — regardless of creed, color, nationality, Red Sox-Yankees fan allegiance — worship at the altar of St. Biebs.) My lofty title for the proceedings may give it more complexity than is demanded. It’s a pretty simple concept on its face, really: Jenny has all these haiku, you pick one of them, and then you write a song inspired by it. </p>
<p>But hold on, soldier! It ain’t that easy! First of all, have you ever tried to write a haiku that works on every level? Lyrically, visually, emotionally, AND mathematically? I can’t do it. (And we all know what Jenny would say to that: “Have you tried? Because I bet you could.” Infuriatingly positive!) Now extrapolate her skill over multiple tomes, each jam-packed with entries all of which light a spark in one way or another. How does one choose?? </p>
<p>Want to write a touching song? She has a haiku for that. </p>
<p>Want to write an hilarious song? She has a haiku for that, although her husband Robin has written the most hilarious song in the history of man about haiku, so don’t waste your time trying to out-funny him. </p>
<p>Want to write an angry, deteriorating-relationship song? She has a haiku for </p>
<p>SONGWRITING IS WEIRD, ISN’T IT?? Personally speaking, it can sometimes be very easy, with things flowing in a shockingly organic manner. More often than not, it’s akin to a marriage: takes forever, requires occasional therapy and a membership to the Rye Whiskey Of The Month Club, all the while keeping you coming back for more.</p>
<p>So when Jenny asked me to be involved in her first Ceremony, which meant having a song written by a deadline, it terrified me. “Which experience will it be for me THIS time?” I cried. “The fun way, or the first way?” (Turns out it was a little of both, so this part of the story is fairly unremarkable; that part of a movie where you’re fairly certain you won’t miss anything by running to the bathroom.) It also went a wholly different way than I had originally predicted: I took a perfectly lovely and seemingly innocent haiku...and crrrrrucified it. The final product was angry and pointed, loud and distorted. And, to my amazement, more or less worked. And it’s really fun to play a song like that, especially since it’s not normally what I “do”. But the haiku, for whatever reason, shoved me in that direction. And now, I had a new 2-1/2 minute aggro-rocker in my slowly- swelling songbag. Thanks, haiku! </p>
<p>Cut to summer 2020, when Jenny once again asked me to create something for a new but now virtual Ceremony. (This time, a song AND accompanying video.) I quickly accepted, because A) it’s her, duhhhhh, B) it’s a fun challenge and I’d gotten a song out of it before, and C) at the time, I had, um...y’know, not much going on work-wise, shall we say? Not long after, though, I received word that my mother had been diagnosed with lung cancer. As the days passed, I started to realize that Jenny’s due dates were right around the time of my mom’s surgery. My wife and I had arranged for me to be able to drive home to the Boston area for a couple of days to at least be there in spirit, and at a VERY distanced dinner the night before surgery — mom and I separated by 20 feet and a raised porch. </p>
<p>I slowly grew concerned that I wouldn’t be able to even physically finish the song in time, let alone find the inspiration to write the damn thing. Saddened by the notion of letting Jenny down (*<span style="color:#c0392b;">ed. note: please refer back to the section on disappointment in the first paragraph which you read, like, 45 minutes ago</span>), it took me a while to finally gather the courage to reach out, telling her that I might have to recuse myself from the proceedings due to “lack of a Quality On-Time Product Guarantee TM.” When I finally did send the email, her response? Pure Jenny: “GD. Please. Family first always. Driving is great for songwriting.” She then told me to skip the first draft date and just get a song in by the final due date, if possible. If this was pressure, it was the least pressuring pressure I’d ever experienced. In fact, there is only one job in the world at which Jenny might underwhelm: mob enforcer. </p>
<p>It’s safe to say that most songwriters know how important a long drive can be to the writing process. Hell, *I* knew that! Most of my songs are written at least partly in my car. In the confusion and concern over my mom, I guess I just forgot what lay ahead for me in a typical drive out East. So I did what Dr. B prescribed: sat in a car for 30 hours, thinking, tapping, humming, singing snippets into my phone, all while recklessly filming the passing highways as I drove. All the things that infuriate my wife and kids, I was given license (pun fully intended and proudly embraced) to do as much and as loudly as possible! I then began the process of putting it all together in my nauseatingly quaint, Harvard Square, meticulously-researched-for- COVID-safety B&B. And what do you know? I was able to submit something of which I wasn’t horribly ashamed by the deadline. And once again, it was something slightly out of my typical oeuvre. And all it took was the nudge of one sentence: driving is great for songwriting. </p>
<p>As I sat down to write about collaboration in regards to Haiku Milieu, my first thought was, “Should I even be here??” After all, I hadn’t really collaborated on either of my two songs for Jenny, at least not in the old-fashioned way — one or more people throwing ideas back and forth, either face-to-face or digitally. Of course, that’s ludicrous. If not for Jenny’s haiku, these 2 songs are likely never written. Or if they are — if songs are indeed gifted to a writer from the spirit world, as some crackpots believe — at the very least, they’d be wildly different in lyric and tone. No, sometimes a collaboration can be as simple as someone saying, “Here, take this thing I did and see what it makes YOU do.” And then, you do. </p>
<p>So, in conclusion: it’s been an absolute delight collaborating with this incredible artist! That said, I’m not going to turn this into a love-in for Jenny, because lord knows we’ve all done that way too many times now, and frankly, I think it’s starting to go to her head. Have you seen her most recent long-form haiku, in which she shamelessly compares herself to both Golda Meier AND Hulk Hogan?? Embarrassing. Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised in the least to find out that she started this whole blog-contributor idea because she knows people will invariably have to compliment her! I mean, if there’s one thing we all know about Jenny, it’s that she’s a reckless glory-seeker and a shrewd manipulator of people’s emotions. In fact, could this be the longest long game in history? Has she spent her entire life acting nice, talented, funny and generous to a fault, taking extremely close-up and occasionally unflattering pictures of me I mean us as she goes, and all for, in the words of the great philosopher George Costanza, “the glorification of (her) own massive ego”??? </p>
<p>Of course, trying to prove that would be like gathering together a group of hack lawyers to prove election fraud. “A Collaboration Of Dunces,” if you will: it just ain’t true. What is truth is that once she asks you to be involved and you accept, the collaboration has already begun. And I’m willing to bet that Jenny knows collaboration is scary to some, but that a pressure of that kind can be good, and often yield a positive result. I don’t want to use the coal-to-diamond metaphor, because it’s just soooo late ‘90s. There’s gotta be a better one than... <br>... <br>Actually...nope. No, there isn’t. Damn it, it’s the perfect metaphor, whether I like it or not. Maybe sometimes, the obvious thing is sitting right in front of you, waiting on a long car ride for you to notice. And maybe — just maybe — being asked by Jenny to write this piece helped remind me of that. <br>Wait a minute... </p>
<p>BIENEMANN, YOU GLORIOUS BASTARD, YOU’VE DONE IT AGAIN!" - Gerald Dowd</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6510802
2020-12-31T09:00:22-06:00
2021-04-21T12:11:35-05:00
Chris Neville: He Who Bringeth The Party
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/207f9491e307e6a60d9d5e8b8152cfdbd5efee54/original/c-nev.jpg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>If you see Chris Neville on stage, you know you’re in good hands. You're at a party.</p>
<p>The music is going to be smokin’. You will be transported. And you will laugh! </p>
<p>The kind of laughing you did when life was just beginning, you were among good friends, becoming one with the music and each other: your hopes and dreams breathing in your ears, moving deeper and deeper into your imagination, transforming themselves and you. Life right there for you to scoop up and fashion into something grand! Or…to take home with you, tuck into bed, and cuddle up with. You can't make a wrong move. Whatever you do next, you do what you feel to do, and it feels good. Know why?</p>
<p>Because the music just reminded you that you have a perfect right to BE. </p>
<p>Such is the power and influence of Chris Neville as a musician, bandleader, and human being. He is in too many bands to count, including The Zimmermen (me too) and of course, Tributosaurus. </p>
<p>I first came across him as songwriter, not sideman. I have never forgotten that evening at SPACE in Evanston, a concert organized by Ingrid Graudins with Naomi Ashley, Steve Dawson, Robbie Fulks, and Chris. The well from which he draws up his original songs is deep, cool and refreshing. I am thrilled each time he says yes to being part of a Haiku Milieu concert. </p>
<p>In the heart of the pandemic, he started presenting weekly shows. Now, I do a monthly show and it feels like plenty. Somehow or other, he found time and headspace to work out the tech (and good humor) around broadcasting weekly!</p>
<p>He also does something near to my heart: he invites his friends to join him. So not only do we get to see Chris perform, we get to experience his friendships, musical and otherwise, with lot of other bad*ss musicians and overall wonderful people. </p>
<p>On New Year’s Eve, in a pandemic when we can't gather with family and friends, let's pretend we can and relive C-Nev's Christmas Spectacular. Watch it here: https://youtu.be/RrNYbapIhy8.</p>
<p>"When Jenny asked me to write this post about how C-Nev’s COVID Christmas Spectacular™ came together, I was a little unsure of what I could say about it beyond the technical process, but as always, she draws out things I didn’t know were in there….so here goes: </p>
<p>I grew up in a family that celebrated the hell out of Christmas. Lots of large parties, gatherings with friends every night leading up and following, trips to see lights, and all the trimmings (pun intended). This has continued into my adulthood, with the added benefit of LOTS of musical performances - both performative and experiential. It has become an integral part of the Christmas spirit for me - a chance to spend some time with the musicians I play and create with, the music fans that share in the love of live shows, and celebrate - I love it. I don’t think I have had a holiday season without multiple gigs in the last 30 years - maybe longer.</p>
<p>This year obviously was like no other, and hopefully will be the last of its’ kind, but it meant that in addition to losing the family interactions that we all take for granted, the chance to perform and interact with the music community - my dearest friends - was erased entirely. This is a loss that I know all musicians felt deeply, and I resolved to do something to capture at least a small taste of it. </p>
<p>Since the pandemic hit, I have been doing a weekly live stream, and I have spent a lot of time learning and evolving the tech and the format to try and make it more of a “show” and less of a “guy on the couch with an instrument”. Sound, video and production quality of the stream have become something of a white whale for me, and I try to learn and introduce incremental improvements every time I go live. This requires daily studying on my part, and learning new skills - but it can be done.</p>
<p>I quickly realized that the most important ingredient of the experience was missing - other musicians. Collaboration is the heart of it. I mean, I like to play solo, and on occasion I can even be competent at it, but really what I was craving was interaction with my peers. It is not currently possible technically to play in real time with another musician over the internet (on video), but at the very least I could start bringing on guests virtually, having a chat and then letting them play some songs - after all, any musician can tell you that the time spent backstage goofing around with the other players is often the best part of the gig. So every week, I get to spend a little time with one of my friends and colleagues shooting the shit, and listening to them play a few songs - awesome! I have even started doing some 2-person ‘In Studio’ performances, which are wonderful, if a little more difficult to pull off with everyone staying safe. </p>
<p>Anyway, I digress…anyone who has ever worked with me can tell you I tend towards the large production. I love a BIG show. The weeks of work that lead up to it, the last minute stress and fretting the details, the incredible release of producing something that makes people say WOW. I have had some pretty good success with that too over the years, and have filled some pretty large theaters in the process. But again - COVID. Shit.</p>
<p>Well, nothing was going to hold me back from at least trying to do something of magnitude to celebrate the season. I had done a “TV Theme Show” a few months back, and had a lot of amazing people contribute a short video of them doing a theme - and it was a blast. Using this idea as a template, I sent out an email to all of the folks who had been guests on the stream, and a few others asking if they could submit a Christmas or Holiday themed song video for this, right around Thanksgiving. I thought I would get 10-12 videos, play a bunch in between to fill it out, and make a night of it. I was humbled and touched at the reaction - I received 22(!) different Christmas and Holiday songs from both solo and small group musicians who wanted to be a part of it - and they are ALL amazing. I know that sounds like hyperbole, but it is NOT. I got simple beautiful solos and duets, huge multimedia productions, and everything in between - all performed by people who clearly cared about what they were sending. It felt like every Christmas movie montage rolled into one.</p>
<p>So, I set out to stitch this all together into a coherent “Spectacular”. (Side note: I love to call these things “Extravaganzas” or “Spectaculars” as a nod to the big celebrity-laden TV specials off my youth, but also because it puts pressure on me to live up to it.) I crafted my own songs for the show - now a challenge, because they had to be STRONG - and put together a show-flow. Then I edited up all the videos for length, added titling where necessary, and equalized volumes. Final Cut Pro is my weapon of choice for these tasks. Then I got my green screen backgrounds and overlays happening, and designed all the scenes in the actual streaming software (Ecamm Live) so I could trigger things in real time, and get out of any jams that might, and usually do happen. (Sure enough, I had a rare audio issue right at the start, but was able to fix it quickly.) The video aspect adds a whole new dimension to these performances, and I have developed a healthy respect for TV producers this year. It’s a lot to manage, but it is also immensely satisfying when it works. I rehearsed my kids for their number, and it started to feel like this might come together on the afternoon of the show.</p>
<p>And it did - it was really something. But the magic of it went well beyond the musical performances - it was a full chat room on both Facebook and YouTube, and most of the performers were there - it really did feel like a party! Each performance garnered praise and interaction, and real time commentary - like a show. I added my own segments in between, and I was truly touched and emotional by the end of it all - I wanted to continue the hang, just like we would in person. And while we could not, it did me, and I hope others, a lot of good to feel that way again. It keeps me hopeful for the future. </p>
<p>I am still receiving notes and messages about how great the show was - a lot of people watched it with their families for Christmas, and I hope will still do so for a while. Enough tips have come in that I can send a little something to all the performers, though not nearly what they deserve, and my love for our music community has grew 3 sizes that day. It demonstrates again the resourcefulness, intelligence, and generosity of these musicians. I would say talent as well, but I think that diminishes the work - talent only gets you half way there.</p>
<p>As we continue through this pandemic, and are still holed up for a while longer, I am thankful for the opportunity to learn some new things. I know all of us in the music community will continue to use this time to explore and grow in ways we never considered before. And when we can all be together again - soon now - these new skills will only enhance what we do, and help us to reach new audiences, and to better communicate with them and each other. I am already working on the next big online show, even as the outlines of new live concerts start to take shape in the not-too-distant future - and I am looking forward to them all." - Chris Neville</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6506239
2020-12-23T10:26:05-06:00
2020-12-31T08:14:16-06:00
Ron Lazzeretti: The Heart of a True Collaborator
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/b4c7e008535288859f9a0aebd56882b6c3f53908/original/ron-blog.jpg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />You remember the story of how Robin and I started going to FitzGeralds, right? How he lured me there and I went reluctantly, with the promise of meeting this one wonderful musical couple? </p>
<p>One thing led to another, and between the people in front of the mic, the people behind the bar, and the people running the place, the rest is history. It remains one of our main musical communities, a spiritual home of sorts.</p>
<p>Within the first few times of going to FitzGeralds, this one night a guy got up and played a song that knocked my socks off. I obviously have never forgotten that moment, and never have to be too far away from that song, thanks to the magic of the interwebs. You can hear “Long For this World” by Ron Lazzeretti on <a contents="Spotify" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://open.spotify.com/album/1aeNON3L545gM22YZd5Fa9" target="_blank">Spotify</a>, and read the lyrics <a contents="here" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://ronlazzerettimusic.com/lyrics06.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</p>
<p>After he played, I said “What just happened?” turning to the person next to me. “Who’s THAT?” If memory serves, the person I turned to was Scott Momenty, the former FitzGerald’s Open Mic Empressario, who we’d known as drop-ins on Tuesday night through the years. “Ron Lazzeretti,” he said, simultaneously conveying “duh! welcome to the party!” and admiration for the song we’d just heard.</p>
<p>Within the last few days of 2020 we have witnessed an historic conjunction of planets. Less visible, but no less powerful, was the conjunction of stars we happened to witness within the first three months of going to FitzGerald’s regularly: Naomi Ashley and Ron Lazzeretti joined forces to create a Christmas Special. </p>
<p>It would be fun, they thought. </p>
<p>How could they have known it would be an instant classic? How quickly it would become one of the most eagerly anticipated events of the holiday season? How much it would mean, to so, so many people?</p>
<p>Now in its 11th year, audiences and artists alike arrange their holiday schedules around Naomi and Ron’s Christmas Special. The second year, Robin opened the show. I have been lucky enough to be one of the Christmas Sisters with Naomi and Jodi for about that long. As an artist, you don’t book anything in December until you know when that show is. And that my friends, is saying something.</p>
<p>Last year, it expanded into two nights. This year? Well…you know what happened by now.</p>
<p>Knowing we all likely have a little more time on our hands this holiday season than usual, I thought we all might want to relieve the 2020 Naomi and Ron's Christmas Special. I know I do; so I invited Ron to share his thoughts about putting the show together for 2020.</p>
<p>With no further ado, Ron Lazzeretti:</p>
<p>“Back in March 2020, soon after the pandemic became what it became, a friend of a friend was telling me that he’d seen our show, Naomi and Ron’s Christmas Special, for the first time back in December. It was the tenth annual, and he was telling me how this was his first time, how much he enjoyed it and how eager he was to now make it a holiday tradition.</p>
<p>It was nice to hear, of course.</p>
<p>Then he said something else. “I don’t think you’re gonna be doing that show this year.”</p>
<p>The thought had yet to occur to me. And it was so far off, that it didn’t seem worth worrying about. But, of course, he was right. Time went by, things got worse instead of better. And it became increasingly clear that we would not be doing that show. At least not the way we had done it before.</p>
<p>Clearly, the fallout from the virus has manifested itself in far more cruel and tragic ways than the threat it posed to our little show. But the toll taken by the even the littlest things has a way of mounting. Our inability to gather together, the threat that even the most seemingly benign interactions can have a deadly result. These things hang over everything we do.</p>
<p>So, December approached. And the closer it got, the more it felt like we should just give it a rest for the year. There just didn’t seem to be any way to do it justice.</p>
<p>The show is a collaboration in so many ways and on so many levels. It’s a merging of an ever-changing collection of artists and personalities, different types of music and comedy. And at the center of it all is an ongoing collaboration that I’m so grateful for between my singer songwriter friend, Naomi Ashley and me.</p>
<p>Our melding of the minds dates back over 20 years now. And honestly, I couldn’t tell you how it even got started. I just know that I liked her music and she liked mine, and when we sang together, something happened that we couldn’t achieve on our own.</p>
<p>So we started doing it more often. And playing shows where we’d split the bill, sing individual sets, and then mix it up with a set’s worth of duets. We even sang on each other’s albums.</p>
<p>So a Christmas Show just seemed like a natural. We’d play some songs together, play some songs apart. And we’d bring on guests with a variety of talents. A woman who played the saw (a haunting Silent Night), a puppeteer, a magician who was frightened by his own magic powers.</p>
<p>Actually, the first time we did it, it wasn’t terribly hardcore Christmas. It was more like a variety show with Christmas leanings. We were proud of ourselves after that first show- Until another favorite ongoing collaborator of ours weighed in. Kate Fitzgerald, who’s club hosted us for that first show and every show after, and who’s opinion we took to heart, said to us “You call that a Christmas Show. Where the hell were all the Christmas songs?” From then on, we were all Christmas, all the time. And the show was better for it because something else started to happen.</p>
<p>Christmas is very ritualistic. It’s a time of year when we lean on traditions. We trust in them to get us in the proper spirit. And after a few years, you could feel that for some folks, we were becoming one of those things. And that cemented our mission- to find the right balance between things people could count on- recurring comedy characters, running jokes, opening and closing tunes, one featuring a kids’ choir and the other featuring a full-throated rock and role finale with a guest performer and our great house band, the Downsized Elves– and some surprises every year to keep things fresh… to keep the tradition vital.</p>
<p>The result over time is that our little show has become something of an extravaganza. There’s a touch of vaudeville. A touch of burlesque. A heaping helping of Sixties TV variety show.</p>
<p>As I like to say, Naomi and Ron’s Christmas Special isn’t a show. It’s a SPECIAL! And it comes with the wonderful influence of our amazing band. The evolving chemistry between Naomi and me. The contributions of all our guests, especially those who’ve carved out a regular role for themselves. And the expectations of our audience who, in their own way, let us know what moves them, what tickles them, what they need from the show to be transported where they want to go.</p>
<p>Collaboration isn’t just essential to the enterprise. It’s what it’s all about.</p>
<p>Donnie Biggins who books all the acts at Fitzgeralds texted us.</p>
<p>He said, “I know that a lot goes into one of those shows, and there’s no way to do it the way you normally would. But I think to do nothing would be wrong.” A few people had encouraged us to find a way to do it, but the note from Donnie stuck with us. “To do nothing would be wrong.”</p>
<p>Again, we know full well that there are more important things. But this was our thing. This is the part that we play. So we decided to give it a try, but it would have to be virtually.</p>
<p>In the past, people had recommended that we record the shows so they could live on and be watched by people everywhere. But I always held that this was a show for the people who attended. This was a true example of “You had to be there.” Because the one thing that I never felt we could approximate was the warmth of the room.</p>
<p>I’d never been involved with anything else where the audience played such a huge part. And now, they wouldn’t even be there. We started thinking of guests who might appear, aiming for that mix of audience favorites and some new people who could bring something new to the operation. They would offer up whatever they chose to do and simply send it our way to be incorporated into the show. Like so many collaborations, it was at some point an act of faith.</p>
<p>We talked about how we would approach playing our music for the show. We planned on playing on the small stage of Fitzgerald's Patio where Will Duncan, the new proprietor, had presented socially distanced outdoor shows through the Fall.</p>
<p>And just as it all seemed to start coming together, the pandemic surged again, making it hard to safely congregate to shape and rehearse the show. And we had to rethink things again.</p>
<p>Honestly, what we really had to do was to open our hearts and minds to a new collaborator that could open up the show in profound ways. The only drawback being: that new collaborator was an asshole.</p>
<p>Technology.</p>
<p>It made it possible for us to do so much without having to be in the same room. But it also threatened to highjack the show. It became overwhelming at some point. Days on end were spent trying to wrap our heads around zoom recordings, dropbox transfers and musical apps. It was facilitating our ability to get wonderful things done. But it was draining and frustrating and it seemed to be keeping us from the part we love and the part we thought mattered.</p>
<p>At some point, the clock ran out on some of our more ambitious efforts. Particularly disappointing was our pulling of the plug on an attempt to get a kids choir singing with us to open the show. I’ve never had to fire a group of ten-year-olds before. I don’t ever want to have to do it again.</p>
<p>But something had to go. We were almost out of time. Then our guests’ pieces came in. One by one, they each brought their distinctive takes on Christmas. And somewhat miraculously, a show started to take shape. Naomi and I recorded a series of tailored bits for intros and outros into each segment.</p>
<p>For our part, Naomi and I put together a series of simple duets which I love but which were absent the thing that we love best about doing the show- playing with our band, The Downsized Elves.</p>
<p>So we got the band together and with the help of bandmate Michael Krayniak, we did a big production to close out the show.</p>
<p>A couple of dear friends and longtime collaborators (Brian Clark and Steve Morrison) did a wonderful job pulling all the disparate elements together, making it all feel part of the same piece.</p>
<p>And even though we all seemed to be operating in isolation, somehow we came together and created something that none of us could have created on our own.</p>
<p>At some point, one of our guests, the great Ike Reilly asked me how the show was turning out. I said to him, “It’s great big shaggy dog, incredibly lovable, but he sheds a little and he occasionally pees on the living room rug.” That’s my kind of dog!</p>
<p>One last thing-</p>
<p>When we were just getting started on the show, I was at my weekly 3-man socially distanced bonfire with two old friends. I started talking about the show and how exciting and daunting it was. When I stopped, my dear friend and former business partner, Ed Amaya, said, “I want to do that.”</p>
<p>I wasn’t sure what he meant at first. “We need this,” he said. “I want to be a part of it.”</p>
<p>I reminded him that he was a margarita and a half in. Maybe he should wait until morning to volunteer his services.</p>
<p>“I’m in,” he said.</p>
<p>That’s the heart of a true collaborator.” - Ron Lazzeretti</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6488402
2020-11-30T09:00:01-06:00
2020-12-31T08:14:01-06:00
Dag Juhlin: The next one, that's the one.
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/08a6aa49d6ad867256f5fc0f6386af259d48c19a/original/dag-blog.jpg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>Dag Juhlin: the man, the myth, the legend. I snuck out of my house to see him play at the West End in The Slugs. When my mom found out, she grounded me for weeks. I snuck out the next night anyway. My mom finally understood that this music thing was real for me. Such is the power of the music of Dag Juhlin.</p>
<p>In any configuration, The Sunshine Boys, Expo '76, Poi Dog Pondering, The Slugs, or guesting with The Zimmermen, Tributosaurus and the like, his is an unmistakable presence, one of momentum, sheer joy, and a willingness to play with an elbow grease that is matched only by his legendary wit. </p>
<p>He is also a writer of magnitude. Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did.</p>
<p>"Songwriting is the most consistently engaging, challenging, rewarding and maddening creative mystery I've ever encountered. Chord cycles and lyrical couplets keep me awake, pouncing on me at 4am, mocking me, laughing at my threadbare and frazzled state. A divided man, twisting in the night -- his songs seeking to solve a problem on one side of his brain; and the other side of his brain harassing by his inability to do so. It makes for some long nights, people. </p>
<p>Commissions and deadlines have proven to be my greatest motivators as a songwriter these past few years, but that's not meant to sound aloof or clinical: I like writing with a purpose, putting some puzzle together, figuring things out as I go along, being able to hand the finished product to whomever and have them declare, Yes! You've done it! My group Sunshine Boys had been an all-consuming experience for me, and we were in the throes of a tremendous outpouring of energy that sort of got derailed by slamming into the same wall we all did when COVID hit. But since forming in 2016, we put out a pair of 12-song albums that I consider the peak of a lifetime of creative efforts. The world will get hip to them at some point, or they won't, but I'm proud of every note, every sound on those albums. </p>
<p>The thing that drove me, the thing that inspired me was simple: it was my bandmates, Jackie Schimmel and Freda Love Smith. I had this inkling that if we joined forces, our individual styles, as well as our individual and collective influences would gel into something unique and powerful. And it did, from the first downbeat of our first practice. Holy fuck, did it. When I heard that sound in my head, realized at last: the unkempt gritty jangling major sevenths of my guitar meshing with Jackie's song-serving, inventive, savvy and melodic bass lines and the natural hypnotic swing and musicality of Freda's drumming -- seriously, the subtly swaggering bad-assery of both of them, JESUS! -- I felt that I had found my purpose as a writer. I left our practices and gigs thinking, We are the best fucking band on the planet: and that's an important thing for a band to feel. Also, rather an insane concept for three veteran rockers in their 50s with proper (well not me, I was in radio at the time) day jobs, oh, and children. But that's how I felt. </p>
<p>And from that point, every day, I'd pick up a guitar and start banging away. The iPhone voice memo recorder became the great documenter of instant ideas, whether they were fully formed on the spot or half-assed pieces of nothing. Things became songs, some other pieces were picked apart to feed other songs, much was discarded, nine tenths of it I have no recollection of recording or why I thought it was worthwhile, and very few times did I make a note of the chord changes or hybrid shapes. But there are hours of snippets. </p>
<p>But it was that zone of songwriting, or collecting of parts, of constant writing -- Song Monster Mode, I came to call it -- which proved to be the place I wanted to live. I'm always trying to move forward, and one of the things that helped me move forward, I don't know how many years ago, was being asked to do a gig with Tributosaurus. There's been a feeling I've learned to embrace as an artist -- aw, hell, as a PERSON -- and that's: This scares the shit out of me; I guess I'd better do it. My friend Joel Murray relates it to the improv world, where the motto is: Follow the fear. </p>
<p>And so, performing with Tributo was a way of trying to raise my game, to call my own bluff, to see if I had the stuff I thought I was made of, to see if I could deliver for those guys, AND get invited to the post Martyrs late night breakfast hang at Golden Apple, which I am happy to say I did, on more than one occasion. I have been, and continue to be, humbled and awestruck by their power, individually and collectively. And blessed by their friendship. </p>
<p>I've always been sort of left alone in my songwriting. I presented the songs to Freda and Jackie, and they made excellent edits and had spot-on arrangement ideas. The Slugs, from long ago, also took my songs and helped mold them into shape. But I'd never really sat in a room with another musician and really rolled up the sleeves and pounded something into shape. Spitting harebrained theories into the air, searching for the lost chord, etc. And Chris was really inspiring -- not to mention as fun as possible -- to work with. We'd had a writing session a couple of years ago, but without some sort of deadline or impatient haiku ringleader waiting at the end of the line, we, as musicians tend to do, dawdled and sort of made plans to make a call to try and arrange a time to discuss maybe getting together (etc.) and whatever thing we had started just fizzled out into the margins of life. </p>
<p>So we seized this opportunity to write together and we found that our joint dismay with the world (i.e. the president) wrapped neatly around some of your angrier (I confess, they gave us a certain buzz) haikus, and we let our imaginations have the run of the place. We envisioned a musical (!) with our lead character, the jig finally up and the well-armed authorities finally closing in on him, hurling himself out of a penthouse window from one of his gilded-shit-towers rather than face the music, and the whole song cycle taking place as he falls to the earth; at last a moment of self-awareness, of clarity, from this pickled, fetid, rampaging horror of a man. And it was generous and charming for us to bestow a moment of self-awareness on him. This bean bag. This fucking insult to humanity. This con job. It was a fun thing to attempt in first person! </p>
<p>I love Chris and I love working with him, because he takes my timid little chords, my cute little Steely Dan aspirations and he turns them into actual music. And then I come in with some lyrical angle that he hadn't considered, and we are both "Yes, and..."-ing up a storm and whittling away and hacking and thinking and joking and drinking beer and getting equally pissed at our subject matter... and then it's midnight on a weekday and we're frazzled but by gum we've got a song. Or at least the skeleton of one. </p>
<p>And then we reconvene, and we tighten things up, we both agree on what we liked and didn't like, and then there's a song. Phew. Rest. Pat on the back. Crack the beer. But then... the Song Monster is hungry and needs another song. It's off to the next one, to get right all the things you didn't get right with that song. The next one, that's the one." - Dag Juhlin</p>
<p> </p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6477605
2020-11-23T11:20:33-06:00
2020-12-31T08:14:31-06:00
Will Duncan: The Legendary FitzGerald's
<p>FitzGerald’s is much more than a legendary venue that, under the leadership of Bill FitzGerald and the watchful eye of Kate FitzGerald, was the first to present artists like Clifton Chenier, Marcia Ball, Pat McLaughlin. It’s fans are legion, it’s concerts the stuff of legends, it’s wood walls and floors are equal parts roadhouse and roadside chapel. It is a sanctuary. </p>
<p>Everyone has their FitzGerald’s story. An encounter seared into the heart and mind. A moment you refer back to time and time again, that reminds you of who you are, what you’re doing here on planet earth, and who you might become, falling in love with possibility in that raw moment of being alive.</p>
<p>Below, you’ll hear from Will Duncan. Maybe you knew who he was before he bought FitzGeralds, from his work with Thalia Hall and other places, through his wife or kids, or just because you ran into him, a fellow fan, at one of your favorite shows. He’s one of us.</p>
<p>FitzGerald’s went from being run by the FitzGerald’s family, to Will Duncan, literally hours before the C-19 pandemic changed life as we know it. Where other businesses retreated, under his leadership, FitzGerald’s advanced. Some presenters made a strategic business decision to only feature artists with big draws. FitzGerald’s doubled down on presenting our hometown heros. Where others could not envision doing business in any way other than it had been done, FitzGerald’s flipped its successful, longstanding model on its head, moved to presenting outdoors, serving up gourmet roadhouse food and seasonal beverages equally suited for those who imbibe and those who do not.</p>
<p>Watching Will and his team that includes his wife Jessica King, a fellow visionary, talent buyer Donnie Biggins, PR maven Grace Jackson, and a crackerjack team of bartenders has been astonishing. </p>
<p>With no further ado, Will Duncan.</p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/2bf6fbe715a85c2e2e2b4322a39afcb0e893dc62/original/fitz-logo.jpg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>"Do you recall Covid-19? I know it’s been 27 years since that pandemic poisoned the globe but I remember it like it was the day before yesterday. It was awful… and amazing. You may not wanna hear what a 67 year old club owner has to say about some dumb disease you don’t remember, but you picked up this magazine kid so read on why don’t you!? </p>
<p>When I was a young (old?) new dad at the overripe age of 40, I pushed all my chips in and bought a club. The joint was pretty damn lived-in but DANG, you should have seen this place kid: in all it’s dusty corners and weathered walls, it was authentic beauty. FITZGERALDS had real character, an ethos y’know? And all around that magical property was this ring of people, a community of musicians, music lovers, artists, weirdos, shitheads, and geniuses. I found that first-sight kinda love. But like all types of love, mine here would be tested. </p>
<p>I know you don’t remember the year 2020, but let me assure you that as of the third month of that crooked assed year, it was not a good time to be in the venue business. Still, I was the happiest I’d ever been and I wasn’t gonna let some quarantine-lockdown-stay-at-home order get between me and a good time, no sir. When I found out that the people of Chicagoland were gonna become sardines in their own cans, I figured I better figure out adaptation, and fast. So I turned to Donnie & Grace and said, let’s fuggin’ do this. And then I turned to my wife and said, how should we fuggin’ do this!? Have you met my wife? She’s real pretty and smart. What you really need to know though, is that we got right to it. </p>
<p>eCommerce was a little newish back then so we had to figure that out, got some funny t-shirts on sale and online gift cards too. Remember that ring of people around the property I was talking about? Well dammit if they didn’t all hold hands and build us up. They bought our stuff and cheered us on. It felt like we meant to them what they meant to us. What’s better than that!? And that was just the beginning. </p>
<p>Remember that smart wife I was talking about? Just a few days into this quarantine crap, she turned to me and said “what if you did like an ice cream truck kinda thing but with live music?” After a moment of quiet calculation, I said...well I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I couldn’t believe how cool the idea was and I felt I had the energy to pull it off. And I knew that Donnie and Grace, bless ‘em, were ready to make their mark as well. So we did that. And did it again. And kept doing it all damn summer, even after we got our patio open (the scientists said you could hang out together as long as you were outside) we kept doing it. </p>
<p>And we had 200 shows in like 4 months, a bunch of these pick up truck concerts, some nice cocktails, and we made a whole mess of good memories. We wore masks all the damn time. And we couldn’t get close to each other. But we still had fun; there was live music everywhere. Oh, have I mentioned the staff!? </p>
<p>Kid, we had the type of staff you dream about: good and caring people who love music and community and wanted to see the place thrive. I like to think they listened when I told ‘em: alls we gotta do is these three things and we’ll be ok: </p>
<p>- over-deliver on quality. Everything we do has gotta be damn good, no shortcuts, no bullshit. </p>
<p>- provide legendary hospitality: make our people feel welcome, </p>
<p>- go the extra mile, surprise ‘em. Artists, customers, each other, everyone deserves great hospitality. </p>
<p>- practice good finance. We gotta make money, and that’s ok. It feels a little funny when you say that kinda thing about art and community, but without an underlying financial stability we can’t have any of it. We just gotta keep these damn doors open so we can all keep coming here and feeling fulfilled. </p>
<p>I think we mostly did that stuff and I think it mostly worked, and I KNOW we had such a wonderful summer on that patio. And that was weird, cause the world was real jacked up. But in our little mini world on FITZGERALDS patio, all seemed pretty alright. Of course, it couldn’t last forever… </p>
<p>Winter came, in more ways than one. The damnedemic raged and the temperatures dropped and we retreated back to our sardine cans. At least it was the holiday buying season and we got all kinds of new merch and gift cards (again), and some really unique super exclusive experiences for sale. And once again, the ring of people all held hands around us and kept us afloat thru the cold season. And dammit kid: we made it. We fuggin’ made it. </p>
<p>It’s been nothing but 27 years of pure success and joy ever since. If you haven’t ever considered buying a small music venue in the middle of a global pandemic, I’d recommend it. It’s right when you’re doomed to fail that you learn: with the help of your community, some genuine creativity and grit, you’ll be bursting at the seams with pride and joy. Just don’t forget to say thanks to all those people that helped, without which none of this story would be true." - Will Duncan</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6462760
2020-10-24T21:59:58-05:00
2020-10-24T21:59:58-05:00
Rising, illuminated
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/aba8b0cf7a5571933a3e3a4cb423147d57527609/original/jodi-jenny-naomi.jpg" class="size_orig justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>When you get together with friends, and start talking, the line blurs between collaboration and life, doesn't it? If you've got the right friends, and if you're reading this blog I am quite sure that you do, chances are excellent that your whole life is a work of art.</p>
<p>This coming Wednesday, 10/28/20, one of my besties, Naomi Ashley, is hosting me and another of my besties, Jodi Pulick Walker, for a good old fashioned song-around at her monthly show, live streamed straight from her front porch. I hope you can join us! If you'd like the details, simply send me a note via email or messenger.</p>
<p>Or, simply go to the Naomi Ashley Band page on Facebook on Wednesday, 10/28 at 7 pm.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, this is an almost verbatim replay of a recent conversation...in haiku form, of course!</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I WILL REMEMBER</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The point of it is</p>
<p>hold on, what was it again?</p>
<p>oh yes the point was</p>
<p> </p>
<p>wait - did you just see</p>
<p>rising, illuminated</p>
<p>that one speck of dust</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I can't see it now</p>
<p>like i lost my train of thought</p>
<p>it was there and gone</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And more beautiful</p>
<p>for having been there and gone</p>
<p>from my line of sight</p>
<p> </p>
<p>like what I wanted </p>
<p>to say to you has fled me</p>
<p>I am dispossessed</p>
<p> </p>
<p>of words I wished to</p>
<p>pour into your ears, vanished</p>
<p>but am I bereft?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>No! All is not lost</p>
<p>accumulating, the dust </p>
<p>waits for the sunshine</p>
<p> </p>
<p>like what I'd have said</p>
<p>will rise in my memory</p>
<p>and I'll tell you then</p>
<p> </p>
<p>except if the light...</p>
<p>or that homemade apple pie...</p>
<p>or we start singing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>- Jenny Bienemann</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6453795
2020-10-12T07:58:33-05:00
2020-10-12T08:16:31-05:00
The next right step
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/04104569c15aeb15449ed7fc544d8da55451f7bc/original/img-0848.jpg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_" />All collaboration begins with a willingness to hear and know what you want to create. Willingness is the soil that allows an idea to germinate in your consciousness. </p>
<p>Maybe the idea got there through conscious cultivation, maybe through benign neglect, or like a weed, was blown there by the wind. Eventually, the seed grows to a point that it gets your attention. </p>
<p>You admire its leaves. Its flowers. You find it's fruit is delicious, think you might be able to do something with it. Or you just think it is lovely. Somehow or other, you allow yourself to see that you want it to grow. </p>
<p>From there, you turn to the experts. Books. Classes. Examples. Advice.</p>
<p>Now, perhaps, this idea is growing. You begin to cherish it. You enjoy all the parts of creating it, and if you don’t enjoy them, you at least derive a kind of satisfaction that is different from any other. You are long past willingness and allowing: you want it. </p>
<p>Everyone who has ever had an idea that wanted it to grow learns, there is no growth without collaboration. If you want your idea to reach beyond yourself, and into or beyond your sphere of influence, you are going to need to collaboration. </p>
<p>Here are some incredibly valid questions that invariably come up at this moment of recognition: Will I have to compromise my idea? What sacrifices will I have to make to involve others? Will I lose control of my beautiful idea? </p>
<p>And you know what? You do have to answer these questions. Just, maybe, not right now. </p>
<p>Right now, if you have an idea that you’ve managed to steward through the wilds of your own willingness, into the forest of allowing, and know that you want to cultivate an entire garden from it, it is very, very possible that the only question you need to ask is: what is the one, next, right step I need to take? </p>
<p>And then take it. </p>
<p>Once you take that step, there will be another. And another. And pretty soon, the answers to the incredibly valid questions above may just answer themselves. Or, you may not be as intimidated by sitting down and exploring the answers. </p>
<p>This is the work I’m doing now. Moving from unawareness, to awareness, and sharing my journey and processes with whoever would like to join me.</p>
<p>You’ll be hearing more about projects like the 11.20.20 Haiku Milieu virtual concert, potential new book(s) (!!) and more in the coming weeks. </p>
<p>For now, if you’d like to join me and get a sense of how I have worked it out for myself to progress in collaboration and creative endeavor, you’re invited to participate in two, free meditations: The CREATE Mediation, Sunday through Friday, and The BUILD Mediation, Sunday & Friday. </p>
<p>Simply email me, or PM me, for the Zoom link.</p>
<p>Until then, may we all find deep satisfaction in all that you are bringing to life.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6449339
2020-10-05T08:56:50-05:00
2020-12-31T08:15:50-06:00
Sam Frazier: It's a Beautiful Thing
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/d26c5dc7bd5ac76a0416c9d2386cd59acf36bf1f/original/img-0806.jpg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>I am lucky enough to be in a couple of songwriter groups, one based in Chicago and one with people from all over the US. The internet-based group is called The Tunesmiths, and I just spent September collaborating with two Tunesmith artists, Jordi Baizan and Sam Frazier on "Beside Me." Give it a listen!</p>
<p>Here’s how this song and arrangement came to be: </p>
<p>In January, 2020, the prompt was “caught up in.” It became this haiku: "the wind and the sky // surrender to each other // but don’t lose themselves." </p>
<p>Once I shared the song version of it with the group, Jordi Baizan wrote: “Jenny I love this song, and want to be a backup singer in the band for a live performance!” </p>
<p>Sam Frazier wrote, “Jordi can sing backup. I'd just like to play some tight little back up guitar part that you can barely hear but contributes to this groovy song.” </p>
<p>Fast forward to September. Patiently but insistently, two new books of photo and haiku seem to want me to bring them to life for your and my “shop small business” shenanigans for the 2020 holiday gift giving season. While it looks promising, the stars are still aligning for one or both books. We should know by mid-October. </p>
<p><strong>That said, no matter what, the 3rd Haiku Milieu Concert of the 2020 Season happens on Friday, November 20, book in hand or no. </strong></p>
<p>In August, asked Sam and Jordi if they would be up for collaborating on this song. They both said YES! I am thrilled with how the song turned out, and I can honestly say, if not for their enthusiasm, this song arrangement would not exist. I LOVE it - did I mention that?? </p>
<p>So of course I want to share more about both of these guys with you. We begin with Sam. </p>
<p>Sam is from Greensboro, NC. I admired both his songwriting and his super steady hand on the guitar. He plays with a kind of timing that, no matter what kind of song (he writes in many styles) he seems to gather all the pieces of you into one place, getting your heart and your breathing to move in rhythm with each other. Neat trick. </p>
<p>He also has a wonderful, self-deprecating sense of humor. From the song Genius: “I went to sleep guilty, I woke up mean, I was a genius in between”. You can see it here: https://youtu.be/VYRYl44DwlU.</p>
<p>That sense of humor is only equalled by an almost Tennessee Williams-ian depth of empathy. From the song Core: “She don’t cry the way he cries // with a tear and a lie in the corner of his eye // when they’re side by side they’re harder to ignore // but she’ll grieve all the way down to her core.” You can see it here: https://youtu.be/yFfPaj_TYwE.</p>
<p>Though I have been very pleased to be getting to know Sam, and to witness the evolution of the way he brings songs to life, I DID NOT KNOW about his outrageousness on the electric guitar. Holy moly! </p>
<p>More at Samfrazier.com. I will let Sam take it from here. </p>
<p>"I met Jenny through a Facebook songwriter group called the Tunesmiths. Her songs were cool and she always had her own thing going, which is why I was honored when she asked me to participate in this long-distance recording adventure. </p>
<p>And she made it clear that I was to do what I wanted to do, which was a welcome challenge for me. And fairly open and brave on Jenny’s part. You never know what you’re gonna get in that situation. So, kudos to Jenny for taking the chance! </p>
<p>The world of importing/recording/exporting tracks is a new world for me. A lot of my friends do it all the time, but I’ve been behind the curve in that particular aspect of music. In the interest of addressing that issue, I purchased new recording software. I was just getting familiar with it when this project came up. </p>
<p>I listened to the rough tracks a few times, then plugged in and started playing along, just jamming at first until a part started to coalesce. </p>
<p>As a songwriter, myself, I’m always cognizant of structure and I want to do what I can as a guitar player to delineate and enhance the different sections. That’s the goal, anyway. </p>
<p>I ended up with two electric rhythm guitar parts that kind of joined the conversation with Jenny’s acoustic guitars without interrupting too much. </p>
<p>There was a verse with no lead vocals about 2/3s into the song which, to a guitar player, is an exhortation to solo. Just to be sure, I checked with Jenny, and she said (I paraphrase), “go for it!” So I did. I grabbed a different guitar, and went for it, until I had something I liked that took the song somewhere good. And I hoped Jenny would like at least some of it. You really never know. </p>
<p>Then Jenny reminded me that I was welcome to sing some background vocals. Jordi Baizan (another member of the Tunesmiths) had already sung a beautiful part below Jenny, so I just added a high part to the “beside me”s. Which I, of course, forgot to send with the guitar tracks. Better late than never! </p>
<p>Plus, as requested, I sent in an iphone video of me playing along with the song, and I’m trusting that I won’t look too foolish in the final cut. </p>
<p>I love what Jenny and Klem did with my contributions. Jenny’s in Illinois, Jordi’s in Texas and I’m in North Carolina. I’ve never met Klem and I don’t know where he is. It’s amazing. And a beautiful thing." - Sam Frazier</p>
3:39
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6444414
2020-09-28T09:57:11-05:00
2020-10-10T21:57:50-05:00
The BUILD Meditation: 10/2, 7 am, Live via Zoom
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/a2484fecced7742446f24618b852990eb5a24467/original/build.jpg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsImxhcmdlIl1d.jpg" class="size_xl justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>March 2020. It was a tumultuous time. We were running on adrenaline.</p>
<p>When you’re presented with a cresting wave, you either get out of its way, or face it. </p>
<p>There is no way to get out of the way of a global pandemic. You can only rise like the challenges themselves, and ride their wave(s) to the shore. We could come out of this, we told ourselves. Better. Stronger. Together. </p>
<p>6 months later. The trough of the C-19 waves are deeper than we thought. Maybe different than we originally imagined, but still deadly. Deeper, wilder, and more eternal-seeming, than we originally thought. </p>
<p>Into the breach, to keep myself creating, and foster a virtual creative community in the absence of my beloved physical creative communities, I began sharing The CREATE Meditation, a combination of gentle, effective meditation practices that I’d picked up over a lifetime, Sunday through Friday at 6:30 am via Zoom. </p>
<p>Over the last six months, 25 or so people have dropped in to what has evolved into a 30-minute meditation. Three of us have done it consistently, missing less than a handful of sessions due to technical difficulties, illness, or travel, and while I will not mention their names due to privacy, they are an integral part of how I have been able to face this unimaginable time.</p>
<p>If you were to ask me: what changed as the result of meditating 6 days a week, in the virtual company of others? I would say: nothing. And everything! </p>
<p>When you meditate consistently, your whole entire being changes. Moves up a level. The range of what you would have previously considered a miracle becomes commonplace, ordinary enough that you might miss it, which is why sometimes it feels like nothing changes...until you pause to consider...</p>
<p>You're not getting as upset about what used to upset you. You are freer to not choose something that does not bring you long-term happiness, when you are in the company of other people happily choosing it. And you have a heightened awareness of in-coming ideas, with a greater ability to act on them. </p>
<p>In meditation, truly, the proof is in the life you live, and is most potently found in your own quiet moments of reflection, rather than in anything external. </p>
<p>Yet, it can be hard to justify these precious early morning moments spent seemingly doing nothing. So to address the healthy skeptic that lives in me, and that I suspect lives in you too, consider this: in the six months I have been doing The CREATE Meditation in community with others, I put in motion a chain of events that created two books for the holiday Season, three video concerts of brand new songs inspired by Haiku Milieu, five streaming Jenny & Friends shows, six new songs, twenty-four collaboration blogs (like this!) and countless haiku. </p>
<p>This is the farthest thing from a humble brag. My hands are trembling as I type this and my heart is pounding. Can it be? YES, it is. And, it felt ORDINARY. </p>
<p>Almost as soon as the idea for the CREATE meditation began, I felt something else coming. My notebooks are full of words that it could have been. But the first word that ever came to me, “Build,” has become the foundation of this next meditation. </p>
<p>The point of The BUILD Meditation is this: being with the unique blueprint of what you’re creating, aligning with inspiration, and energizing the next steps so you can follow them easily. </p>
<p>THAT’S IT. </p>
<p>Starting Friday, October 2, I am offering The BUILD Meditation at 7:00 am on Friday and Sunday mornings at 7:00 am, the two days of the week that I am most aware of what I both want and need to “build.” </p>
<p>I would love to have you with us, for both or either CREATE and BUILD. Particularly as our ability to gather in person is still so limited, there is something precious and irreplaceable about opening ourselves to a greater flow of inspiration and creativity as a group, within the comfort of our own “sanctuaries,” be they in our homes or out in nature, during our meditation. </p>
<p>A big thank you to everyone who's participated in The CREATE Meditation, which continues Sunday-Friday at 6:30 am via Zoom (message me for the link.) </p>
<p>And eternal gratitude to our daily CREATE participants, who’s expanding creativity is a source of wonder. Send them a good thought if you have a spare. They are testing out The BUILD Meditation with me until we go live this Friday, 10/2 at 7:00 am. </p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6438384
2020-09-19T20:40:13-05:00
2020-10-10T21:59:49-05:00
"You gonna have to," said the little voice.
<p>"I'm just going to ask him again."</p>
<p>"Jenny!!!"</p>
<p>My husband Robin Bienemann hardly ever uses exclamation points in his speaking voice. </p>
<p>But there he was, and there they were, telling me to not ask this artist who had turned me down on collaborating on a potential tiny book project two times already, a third time.</p>
<p>I mean, I'd asked him twice, but so? Maybe something was different now. Maybe I hadn't made myself clear the first...or second...time. Basically, I was going to ask this guy a third time because, you know. (Have you met me?) I just was.</p>
<p>But I heard that tone in Robin's voice, and I let it go. </p>
<p>Whew. OK. Now what?</p>
<p>Because...I had a bigger problem now. IF I was going to make a tiny book full of more, shall we say, pointed haiku, and IF I was going to release it alongside Haiku Milieu, Volume 2 for the Holiday Season...who was going to create the art for it???</p>
<p>"You are." said my graphic designer.</p>
<p>"You are, Mom," said my daughter.</p>
<p>"You gonna have to," said the little voice inside me, when I did not ask my 1st choice artist to do it for the third time.</p>
<p>So I went away and thought about it. I had made a few drawings, when I was just starting to think about the project.</p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/9bcffa259e6ade915f589f3ef38d88d7b086b697/original/flower-1.jpeg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsInNtYWxsIl1d.jpeg" class="size_s justify_left border_" /></p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/2f2bd0a306e3322e02dcc53a708ffc38f6ccb8e3/original/image1.jpeg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsInNtYWxsIl1d.jpeg" class="size_s justify_left border_" /></p>
<p>Let's see.</p>
<p>Hmmmm.</p>
<p>Do these images go with haiku like this:</p>
<p>"you have turned my love // into a deadly weapon // you use against me"</p>
<p>or</p>
<p>"when life hits us hard // well-meaning friends can make // the unbearable worse"</p>
<p>or</p>
<p>"each dream you repress // becomes a grudge you can hold // against those you love"</p>
<p>Hmmmm.</p>
<p>See why I was willing to ask someone else to do it 3 times?</p>
<p>But what if?</p>
<p>WHAT IF?</p>
<p>That is the magic question. </p>
<p>What is the answer?</p>
<p>I don't know yet.</p>
<p>Come back next week.</p>
<p>I may have something to share by then.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6431957
2020-09-12T08:26:45-05:00
2020-09-14T07:31:26-05:00
What if?
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/a144ade5c314818d9eacf1e6f19190de218bb867/original/9-23-20-blog.jpg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsImxhcmdlIl1d.jpg" class="size_xl justify_center border_" />What if?</p>
<p>Sometimes I'm not ready to do something. Or I need to do something, and I can't get started.</p>
<p>What if, I ask myself.</p>
<p>What if we were going to do Haiku Milieu volume 2, say, by the 2020 Holiday Season? What would it feel like? What would it look like? Who could help me bring it to life?</p>
<p>My first answer usually is, "I have no idea." And then I think about making a sandwich. I might even get as far as the kitchen. But that question has begun to work on me.</p>
<p>And before you know it, I am thinking, "Well, somehow I would have to choose the images. Then I would have to make them work together in a book. How could I do that? Then I would have to actually put them all together..."</p>
<p>I have left the knife in the peanut butter, the bread in the toaster, the banana out of the refrigerator...and I am losing track of what I said I was going to do next...</p>
<p>And all because I asked myself the question: what if?</p>
<p>This is what happens BEFORE you invite someone to collaborate, to work alongside you to bring something to life. You have an inkling. If you are like me, you might turn away from it at first. But if it is a compelling enough, open-ended enough question like "what if," you almost can't help but answer yourself. </p>
<p>And also if you are like me, once you get comfortable enough talking to yourself, it feels very natural to start talking to other people about your idea. When they start talking back, you listen, until you have a beautiful blueprint in your mind and you can start digging the foundation for your idea in the real world.</p>
<p>So I guess we could say, I have started the "talking" phase of creating a new book, Haiku Milieu, Volume 2.</p>
<p>To talk to myself about it, I went through the haiku/photos I posted since October 2018, and I printed them out. As I announced that September is the first anniversary of the Sunday Haiku Milieu Email -- an email that delivers a never-before-seen photo and haiku each and every Sunday at 6:00 am -- I asked my readers and friends to share their favorites.</p>
<p>With their thoughts, and my thoughts, just for fun, I laid the photo and haiku out. </p>
<p>I spread them out on the floor in four rooms of my house, like an art installation (hmmmm - idea for another time?!?) and I moved among them, hoping that the collection as a whole would be more than the sum of its parts, that each haiku and photo would work on its own, that each chapter would work together, and all would contribute to a greater whole.</p>
<p>I felt like it did...but I was pretty close to it at that point...</p>
<p>So I roused Robin away from his own artistic pursuits, to come and walk through the "gallery" with me, strewn across our bedroom floors and the living room. I had closed the door to the bedrooms, because our cat Tristan was extremely interested in the proceedings, and at that moment, I was not looking for feline feedback (hey! another thought, for another time!) I just wanted to see how my ideas about the images worked together.</p>
<p>It was FUN to open those doors together. Even I was surprised by what I hadn't noticed when putting the possibilities together. And Robin had insights and ideas I hadn't even thought of.</p>
<p>I knew this "art installation" would not survive more than the next few hours (see above: Tristan.) So I texted my besties Jodi and Naomi to see if they had any ability to swing by and walk through the "gallery" with me. Naomi was able to swing by, and once again, she had fascinating impressions and ideas I not even considered.</p>
<p>This is the pre-collaboration, "thinking" phase of Haiku Milieu, Volume 2. Hmmm. I just had another thought. Write you back next week!</p>
<p>Meanwhile, share your thoughts with me in the comments, if you're of a mind to do so. </p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6426220
2020-09-06T00:23:12-05:00
2020-10-10T21:58:28-05:00
All collaboration is, is: giving and receiving.
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/16108c2dbdd96df9c1a2e80960cf97353969ba8a/original/img-0280.jpg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>The thing people most want to do in this life, is give. They want to give of themselves, and have it be received. </p>
<p>All collaboration is, is: giving and receiving. Giving and receiving. Giving and receiving, over and over again. If we have done it right, no one loses themselves, only their self-consciousness; no one "disappears," they simply become an integral part of something bigger. </p>
<p>This subject of this week’s collaboration blog is the video, “Falling.” You can find it https://youtu.be/I1zMOkCn2NY. </p>
<p>One of the songwriting groups I am part of is called The Tunesmiths. We write a song to a prompt every month. In March, 2020 the prompt was “baby.” </p>
<p>Within the first two weeks of March 2020, the world acknowledged that it was in a pandemic. We were separated from our normal ways of doing things: how we worked. How we gathered. And one of the things that became clear to me, was that sometimes, I did not know where I stopped and where other people began. It became the song "Falling," and I turned in a version of the song just before Midnight on the last day of March. </p>
<p>Fast forward to May. I decided Jenny & Friends should make videos. That means we needed to produce a fully-realized song for each video. If you have been reading this blog, you know that Klem Hayes is our extraordinary producer, and is the force of nature on the bass. </p>
<p>I liked “Falling” enough to have it be one of the first three songs we tackled. The first two videos came out in June and July, on the schedule I had envisioned, but it took us a few months to get back to “Falling.” </p>
<p>While the group never played it live, I had been playing it on my live streams in the form it appeared in the July 2020 Haiku Milieu concert https://youtu.be/r9j7efapxKo. </p>
<p>During that time, I started feeling that the last verse did not fit with the rest of the song. I asked my friend Steve Dawson to listen, and give me his opinion. He agreed, and Klem went in and chopped off the final verse and chorus of the song for me. </p>
<p>From there, it took a little time to get back to the song. When we did, things were not lining up perfectly, and Klem sent a note. “Something isn’t working right. Listen to this, and see if this is a direction we can go in.” </p>
<p>Well, wow. Basically, Klem had rearranged my guitar and Paul’s drums, added hand percussion, and lined my voice up with it. </p>
<p>I was like, ALL RIGHT! Now THIS is something I would never have come up with on my own! I said, go for it. And he did. </p>
<p>Klem sent me the first mix when we were up in Door County, and what do you know? It started to rain. I started gathering the video: the ducks. The rain falling on the pond. The rain on the windshield, on the driver’s side window. </p>
<p>Then Robin Bienemann and I went out into the rain for a few takes of me singing, the ground steaming up around us as the cold rain hit the hot earth. We were shivering by the time we got back into the car, but somehow Robin kept his hands steady and you couldn’t see my teeth chattering. </p>
<p>Oh, and if you had not already guessed, Robin is the cinematographer of Jenny. If you like those shots of me singing, you like his sensibility, and his handiwork. </p>
<p>But I digress. </p>
<p>Klem and I knew we were close on the song, but not quite there. We turned to Andon Davis, who came up with a definitive guitar part, complete with a descending line that epitomizes the song title, “Falling.” Klem and I kept turning guitar up in the mix until it sits right where you hear it now. Done and done! </p>
<p>Now, the song and the footage went to Bianca Bee. My original idea was to orbit around the idea of vertical stripes, sort of like the rain falling down a window. I was also having visions of the Jenny & Friends band having fun with the handclaps and bubbles. </p>
<p>With basically no more direction than that and a lot of raw footage to wade through, Bianca brought every finely-honed tool in her toolbox out to play, and worked her magic until the video is as you see it here. You can follow Bianca's Facebook and Instagram accounts, where she gives more detail on her own process. </p>
<p>Let's see, by my count, this little 4-minute video took the collaboration of, what, 12 people to bring to life? </p>
<p>12 people giving and receiving, giving and receiving. </p>
<p>And now you, who got to the end of the blog and maybe have even clicked the links, have given your attention to this endeavor. That makes you an integral part of our collaboration. </p>
<p>What a way to live.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6413438
2020-08-30T00:13:26-05:00
2020-08-31T07:22:03-05:00
Friendship, love, and collaboration
<p> </p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/b1abad1df12c0f9282ed4de12f2f3735ceb82fff/original/adk-photo.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>Amy Dixon-Kolar wrote a beautiful song for the July 16, 2020 Haiku Milieu show. You can find it <a contents="here" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://youtu.be/BiQDmB3_E2M" target="_blank">here</a>. </p>
<p>As a singer songwriter, Amy has traveled the country, playing coffeehouses, clubs, schools, college campuses, festivals and house concerts. Her inspiration for songwriting comes from her work as a performer, teacher, social activist, ASL interpreter and mother. The songs she writes and performs as a solo artist, or as part of the SongSisters with Sue Fink and Patti Shaffner, reflect her rich and varied experiences.</p>
<p>I met Amy for the first time several years ago at a Folk Alliance Midwest Region conference, as she mesmerized the audience at her Official Showcase. From that day forward, I became a fan of Amy as a person and an artist, and all that, it seems to me, her life and her music stand for: Artistic integrity. Access. Inclusion. Social justice.</p>
<p>She was one of the artists in the very first Haiku Milieu concert. I was thrilled that she accepted the invitation to bring another song inspired by haiku to life for the most recent concert, which you can see <a contents="here" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://youtu.be/Mivp_a0mLOw" target="_blank">here</a>. Please enjoy her thoughts on the process, below.</p>
<p>"Trust and Collaboration </p>
<p>A little history – when I was in my early twenties I worked a few seasons at a camp/outdoor wilderness program for people with disabilities. Those few years profoundly changed my life and inform choices I make to this day. That experience and what it taught me could fill a book, but what relates to Jenny’s wonderful haiku, and became the basis of my song, was their ‘Teams Course’, and specifically, the Trust Fall. As you stand on a sawn-off, upright pole, the goal is to trust your team enough to fall back in their arms without fear of being dropped or injured, depending on those below to make a solid catch. A frightening fall - trust and collaboration. </p>
<p>Forward to last year when a dear friend of mine was diagnosed with cancer. Those of us who are close to her were devastated and wanted nothing more than to be there, hold her close, and give support. Our plans were ruined when hurricane Dorian hit Florida. We were left having to support and give our love from a distance. In my journaling about the frustration and sadness among our community of friends, I came up with a chorus to an unfinished song - the idea of letting her, with all her worries, inhibitions and fears, be cradled in our arms of love, trusting us to catch her. Friendship, love, and collaboration. </p>
<p>Covid-19 brought about another round of fear and worries, not just for our friend, but for the whole country, the whole world. Sadness and depression hit those close to me and it was difficult to watch people I love suffer. Jenny’s haiku came at the right time – “off, not for always, down but not for forever, just for this moment.” These are hopeful words in the midst of sadness – we can feel the heaviness of this time, but we’ll emerge from the darkness. The chorus I’d written previously, Jenny’s words – a perfect combination. Timing, profound words, and collaboration. </p>
<p>I started sketching out words, verses, ideas, and brought them to my husband, Bob - an English teacher, writer, and deeply thoughtful human being. Long conversations about the meaning of words, the impact of a line, reducing the song to its essence, rewriting, revisions. With his help, encouragement and active participation, the lyrics and melody came together. Love, intelligence, and collaboration. </p>
<p>Jenny asked for a video, not my forte. For that I turned to my daughter, Marta – recent high school graduate, fabulous photographer and budding videographer. Who better to ask than this talented young woman, living at home, whose life had been drastically changed by the pandemic? I hired her to produce her first music video, knowing what she could do. Talent, family, and collaboration. </p>
<p>We decided to take our newly developed social distancing skills and went to John Abbey’s Kingsized Sound Lab to record the song live, with Marta filming the process. John did an excellent job of producing the song. But I’ve always trusted him with my music and he’s always been right there with me. Marta and I talked about what type of images might work together with the live footage, and she ran with it. Expertise, process, and collaboration. </p>
<p>Thank you Jenny for inviting me to write this song and for sharing our video on “7.16: Haiku Milieu: Begin with the End in Mind. I’m honored that you trusted me to reimagine your haiku in my own way. The resulting song is about love, hope, trust and community. Always a winning collaboration." - Amy Dixon-Kolar</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6413436
2020-08-22T21:19:28-05:00
2020-12-31T08:17:07-06:00
Rebecca Jasso and Sue Fink: You feel heard and seen in the deepest way.
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/3e79f76c8f6b52a32244454fea2476d73d1c8f5e/original/gpb-still.jpg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>Sue Fink and Rebecca Jasso brought “Suddenly Hope” to life, together. You can see it here: <a contents="Suddenly Hope" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://youtu.be/8AjpRaAqu28" target="_blank">Suddenly Hope</a>.</p>
<p>You can see the Haiku Milieu show that it is part of here: <a contents="7.16.20 Haiku Milieu Directors Cut" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://youtu.be/Mivp_a0mLOw" target="_blank">7.16.20 Haiku Milieu Director's Cut</a>. </p>
<p>Sue Fink and I known each other for years and years. I have had the honor of singing on a number of her songs in the studio, we have shared the stage many times, and I have watched her offer project after project– albums, musical partnerships, and shows – built around her original, utterly charming, carefully crafted songs. We are friends. I am her fan. </p>
<p>When I hatched the idea to host concerts where artists play songs inspired by a Haiku Milieu photo and haiku in 2018, the first person I thought of was Sue Fink. “I would love to hear what she comes up with,” I thought. </p>
<p>Full of exuberance for the idea, and a tiny bit of terror at the notion that what I was asking might just be too much, I asked her. Before I finished the sentence, she said, “Jenny, YES! What a great idea!” And the rest is history.</p>
<p>For these shows, I ask people to consider collaborating with others. When Sue wondered aloud to me who she might work with, I mentioned Rebecca. </p>
<p>Rebecca is a wonderful singer songwriter. Her finger style guitar work is entrancing, and she has also contributed songs to Haiku Milieu shows. She is also a producer, who puts together the Lost Species show as part of the Remembrance of Lost Species Day. Lesser known, but true fact: she is a wonderful visual artist. What can I say? We are friends. I am her fan. </p>
<p>And most of all, I am a fan of what they created, together. Enjoy their thoughts below. </p>
<p>Sue: </p>
<p>"Suddenly Hope" is my second song inspired by Jenny's haikus. Jenny amazes me with her evocative, poignant, 17-syllable musings, and how she manages to find simple, real-life objects that perfectly illustrate her words. Her images and thoughts free my mind to ponder the world's complexities, and inspire words and melodies of my own. </p>
<p>Every Sunday, I receive a new Jenny-haiku in my inbox. I was struck immediately by this one: </p>
<p>A key in the lock/ A creaking of old hinges/ and suddenly, hope </p>
<p>The creative seed was now planted; my next step is to contemplate, freely, until an idea presents itself. Once I realized that an old woman had moved into my heart (after a particularly stressful year), I knew I had my song! </p>
<p>This process all happened during the pandemic; soon we realized that this time, Jenny's Haiku Milieu show would not be happening live, in a venue. Jenny requested videos, and collaboration if possible. I'd already written my song... but could I collaborate with someone else's vision, regarding the video? </p>
<p>I asked Jenny for ideas, and she suggested our mutual friend Rebecca Jasso, who is not only a talented singer/songwriter, but also an artist. Of course! Rebecca and I had worked together before, so I already trusted her artistic skills and instincts. She and I had were scheduled to meet for a socially-distanced walk along the river; I decided to present my request then. </p>
<p>Rebecca: </p>
<p>As we sat on the picnic blanket, Sue handed me some typed-out lyrics. She found a pitch and began singing her song to me. "There is an old woman, resides in my heart." I don't know if I'd ever before collaborated in such a way, creating visual art to go with a song, but sitting there and listening to Sue singing, it was easy to come up with ideas. "Suddenly Hope" had so much concrete imagery in its words that I immediately had an idea. </p>
<p>Sue: </p>
<p>When Rebecca asked if I had particular art in mind, I said, "I've already said what I wanted to through my lyrics, and I don't want to quash any ideas you might come up with; I think we're on the same page, so go with your instincts!" </p>
<p>Rebecca: </p>
<p>Her waltz-y rhythm and her lilting melody produced in me a sort of rocking feeling. The idea of this alter-ego living inside her heart, as if her heart were a little house with rooms and windows and creaking doors, brought to mind the image of a sort of attic tucked away with worn wallpaper on the walls. Then I saw the wallpaper moving, or rather the "camera" panning, across an endless wall covered in this same, repeating-patterned wallpaper. I don't know why, but in my head it felt like just the thing -- that we'd see these images she's describing, moving across the screen from right to left. Having been given carte blanche, I decided to go for it. </p>
<p>I was excited but had no idea how to pull this off. I use video editing software, and am a little more than basically familiar with it. But I had never used it for graphics, nor had I ever done a project putting illustration to video. I just figured there had to be a way. </p>
<p>Once I got over the first hurdle, more ideas developed from there. I love cardboard and decided to make the images look like they were cut out of cardboard. I would do one whole scene (verse) before I would move to the next. </p>
<p>As I went along, I was having so much fun, and I realized this was turning into something way more than I intended. I thought, could this be a REAL "Music Video" for Sue's song? </p>
<p>Sue: </p>
<p>Rebecca sent me a snippet of what she was working on, and I was excited to see how my words were coming to life through her art! She supplied minute, quirky details, all forming the story. I realized that my rough audio wouldn't be up to par for the images Rebecca was creating. Time to up my game! </p>
<p>When I record professionally, I do it with Bruce Roper, who managed to squeeze me in when I explained time was of the essence. He suggested I add our mutual talented friends Bob Long on piano and John Abbey on bass. "I'd love to," I said, "but I don't have much time before I need to get this to Rebecca, so she can finalize the video." (Nothing like a deadline, folks, to make things happen!) </p>
<p>With two very quick calls, Bruce arranged for Bob to come in the next day, and John to send his bass part to us. This all happened seamlessly, in a socially-distanced kind of way, without me even being there. I trusted that Bob and John would understand what was needed, and they created the perfect parts for my song! One last quick masked meeting with Bruce for mixing, and my song was now a SONG. Then I sent the sound file to Rebecca so she could make her video a VIDEO! </p>
<p>Rebecca: </p>
<p>As I worked, I built on the ideas and had constant inspiration from Sue's lyrics and just lovely song. Looking back, I think I approached the artwork the same way I approach songwriting. I just start with the seed of an idea and watch it grow, moving this here and that there, and finding the process to inspire the buildup and final resolution. </p>
<p>The chorus was tricky because, well, it's the chorus! It's the biggest part of the song and I thought it should develop a bit, visually, not simply repeating the same exact images each go around. With a little brainstorming and bouncing ideas off of my husband, I came up with the little twist of the old lady at the door in the 3rd chorus. It felt like this one little change was all I needed to visually drive the chorus home. </p>
<p>Sue: </p>
<p>(BTW, like Rebecca, I love a chorus that grows in meaning each time you hear it, and that's exactly what her artwork presented!) </p>
<p>When Rebecca presented me with her final video, I watched with delight as the wallpaper scrolled on, the little old woman, the quirkily labeled moving boxes... and in the bridge, where lyrics mention "shadows of birds," she'd used an illustration of my long-time (and long-gone) bird, Greenpeace Birdie, which she'd created in 2018 for my CD Release show... a surprise to me then, and even more so now! It was an unexpected gift for my heart. I loved this, and all the fine details that Rebecca created. </p>
<p>Jenny, how DO you say so much in only 17 syllables? Before this becomes a novella, I'll conclude: Collaboration done right is a loving process, where you feel heard and seen in the deepest way. Trust is imperative. Jenny trusted her friends to take her own work and use it in any way that inspired; I trusted Bruce, Bob, and John to understand and enhance my song musically; and Rebecca and I trusted that we'd be inspired by each other's art, and by doing so, we took our art to a higher level than we'd even anticipated. If this is what collaboration is: I want more!</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6410388
2020-08-15T23:29:03-05:00
2020-12-31T08:17:41-06:00
SOMEONE: The ghosts of your own hurt feelings can be hard to shake.
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/c864fa740a120cd346054558ce5045e688e07dc9/original/someone-story-board.jpg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>It is genuinely difficult to find the words that convey your gratitude for your collaborator’s work, and yet express that something else is needed. The ghosts of your own hurt feelings, the ways you may have hurt others by telling the truth, or by not telling the truth until it was too late, can be hard to shake.</p>
<p>That's why I started this collaboration blog. To offer a window into the process of collaboration. Often, its simple, easy and fun. Sometimes, you get nervous.</p>
<p>August marks the third anniversary of Acoustic Fridays with Jenny Bienemann & Friends at FitzGerald’s. Until we can be live and bring the music to you in person on the First Friday of each month, the Jenny & Friends band (Andon, Klem, Paul Bivans, Robin, Jodi, Naomi and Ron) are using the only means at our disposal to stay connected to the music and each other: we collaborate on music videos.</p>
<p>This month's song is "Someone," and the video is here: https://youtu.be/SmMSuuFek6U. Klem is our audio producer, and Bianca Bee is our videomaker.</p>
<p>The audio was proceeding beautifully, but there was just one problem: I had no idea what to do for the video. I had used all the video that I had casually amassed over a lifetime, on the previous videos. So not only did I have no ideas, I had no fallback.</p>
<p>As often happens, when preoccupied with other matters,a the scenario presented itself. I looked at the bathroom tile on my upstairs bathroom floor and thought, “hey…”</p>
<p>I sent Bianca the drawing at the top of this blog, as the storyboard.</p>
<p>Bianca received it and said, “Whoa! This reminds me of stained glass!”</p>
<p>I said, “Go for it!”</p>
<p>She said, “What if it scrolls all the way through?”</p>
<p>“Go for it!” I said.</p>
<p>Then she said, “Can we put the credits right behind you at the end of the song?”</p>
<p>“GO FOR IT!” I said.</p>
<p>Sounds good right? Easy peasy? Well, things got interesting during the bridge of the song.</p>
<p>The lyrics to the bridge go, “Holding on // staying true // is breaking you.”</p>
<p>In the first few drafts, the scrolling continued with the faces and the hands and the playing like the rest of the video. I asked Bianca to try different things, with increasing trepidation. There were so many videos playing at the same time, none were a standard size, and the whole thing had to scroll. It was a great deal of work to create what she had already created there.</p>
<p>I was nervous about asking for the first change, let alone the second, and I really had to screw my courage to the sticking place, as Shakespeare would say, to ask for the third revision.</p>
<p>That is because…well…it’s hard to ask for what you want.</p>
<p>However: the only thing harder than asking for what you want, is living a life where every time you look at the video, you know you settled for “good enough,” instead of taking the risk to ask for, and get, what you really want.</p>
<p>The truth is, was I was never going to be happy with good enough.</p>
<p>Fortunately, neither was Bianca.</p>
<p>I ultimately sent her an entirely new video for the bridge. It is of just my right hand, plucking a beautiful black-eyed Susan from a thriving plant, and carelessly dropping it on the ground, in slow motion, during the bridge. It is the only place in the song where there is only one image.</p>
<p>Bianca worked her magic on it, refracting it, making it resemble the rest of the video, while achieving what we both hoped for with the single image during the most important part of the song.</p>
<p>When it was done, it was more than I could have asked for, and better still, it felt like it had always been that way. That is truly one of my most favorite feelings in the world, and the mark of a true, and wonderful, collaboration.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6400554
2020-08-03T08:26:02-05:00
2020-08-03T08:26:02-05:00
And then it happened.
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/9fab102a08526c925024f78b42c28d9139c643c1/original/james-curley.jpg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>James Curley and I have been friends for a long time. I daresay, we have both been Irish that whole entire time. We have certainly both been writing songs that whole time. Very quickly, it became clear that we had little choice in the matter of becoming friends. </p>
<p>James is as devoted to the art and craft of songwriting, as he is to Irish hospitality. Robin and I think fondly and often of the times we sat James' table, and experienced his unique genius in the kitchen.</p>
<p>Through James, I have gotten to know his beautiful wife Ilsabe, a wonderful songwriter and singer. Their band is called Earnest and Troubled, and you will hear both James and Ilsabe's artistry on the song they brought to life together, "Streets Below," for the "Haiku Milieu: Begin with the End in Mind," here: https://youtu.be/Iacj0rca1XY.</p>
<p>Enjoy this reflection from James:</p>
<p>"I consider myself a lazy songwriter in the sense that I usually wait for something to inspire me and start the process I’ve grown accustomed to over the 40+ years I’ve been writing. I’ve been urged countless times to ‘just write’ regardless of inspiration and to keep notebooks, etc. I don’t. I’ve never been interested in quantity of song output and have grown accustomed to the unpredictable and unscheduled arrival of the Muse. I like the surprise, I guess. It’s like hearing the doorbell ring and when you open the door, there’s a lifelong friend standing there with a pizza and a six pack of beer saying, “It’s been too long, old friend.” And in general, I like the songs I’ve written this way. I like pizza and beer, too. </p>
<p>This is not to say I’m lazy overall as it relates to music. I play regularly to hone my guitar skills. I spend days - sometimes weeks – playing in alternate tunings. I work on fretboard efficiencies to reduce ‘finger squeak’ and look for alternate chord voicings. I arrange cover versions of songs I love by other artists. I craft fingerstyle versions of well-known songs so I can understand the relationships of the notes to the chords to the fretboard to the tuning. I sing other artist’s songs in various keys to tease out some expression I haven’t met yet and to see if it takes me ‘inside’ the head and heart of the songwriter. But writing my own songs? Well, we’ll just see if something ‘shows up’ along the way. </p>
<p>So, it was challenging for me to accept Jenny’s invitation to choose a haiku/photo from her burgeoning collection, and then write a song inspired by it. Ok, sounds like fun, right? I can probably ‘noodle’ my way to something sooner or later. Wait… there’s a …deadline? </p>
<p>I associate deadlines with day jobs. I’ve rarely met the Muse at my day job. There are exceptions to that. Since my job has involved a lot of driving over the years, the Muse occasionally rides shotgun on a long car trip and I’ve often arrived at my destination with the first draft of a new song sung into a voice recorder (now an app) and the delicious feeling I played ‘hooky’ from work and wrote a song when I could have been phoning customers or co-workers or whatever. And of course, I pushed back against another dreaded ‘deadline’ at work. ‘Deadline’ is a curious word when you think about it. Pretty morbid. But I digress. </p>
<p>So, what to do? I had to choose a haiku somehow. Then I had to hope it inspires something in the song arena. Then I had to draft the song, refine it, finish it, record a video of it in some fashion and feel good enough about the song and video to send to Jenny – by the deadline! Still, a promise is a promise. So off I went. </p>
<p>Suffice to say that scrolling through the haiku images on Jenny’s Instagram feed was inspiring all on its own, and I had a lot of meaningful moments with many of them, but no song inspiration. Meanwhile, the demonstrations in the streets had flared up behind the BLM movement, and I couldn’t help but be reminded of the summer race-related riots in 1968 – 72 in the neighborhood where I grew up in South Philadelphia. I was drawn back to them in my memory in a visceral way – all the tension, hatred, violence, action and reaction of those events. I was 11 years old in 1968, emerging from childhood into adolescence in a turbulent environment not unlike the present moment here in America. </p>
<p>And then it happened. I scrolled onto the haiku image that ignited the various fuses all at once. The memory fuse. The lyrical fuse contained in the haiku. And the musical fuse. </p>
<p>Musically, I had been ‘noodling’ with the idea of writing a song that never ‘resolves’ to the fifth interval in the chord progression, as most Folk and Country/Americana songs do. I wanted to make use of only the first, second, flatted third, and fourth intervals to create ‘tension’ without resolution. That’s not an original idea in popular music, but it was unusual in my songwriting patterns over the years. I had also been ‘noodling’ with dropping measures in verses to create ‘urgency’ in a song, like there was someplace to get to that just wouldn’t wait. Also not original but a ‘stretch’ for me. I had already written a musical pattern and rough melody with these ideas but hadn’t really thought about lyrics for it. The pattern ‘felt’ like something I wanted to do but didn’t have a lyric idea that fit the emotional tone of the progression. </p>
<p>This was the image and haiku that lit the fuses. </p>
<p>Boom! All at once it hit me. I remembered summer mornings in my neighborhood as a kid. We had a six-story factory at the end of the block I lived on, and the sun wouldn’t peek above the building until mid-morning. I recalled very clearly a morning where I sat on my front steps watching the shadow of the building recede and waiting for one of my friends to come out. The moon was still in the sky and I could clearly see it while waiting for the sun to finally show up over the building. </p>
<p>Here are some photographs of the street where I grew up. In the first, you can see the kind of front steps we had. In the second, the building is in the upper right quadrant, the first and second story factory windows showing at the end of the block across the tiny concrete backyard expanse of the ten row houses between ours and the end of the block. </p>
<p>My friends and I did the tin can with a string thing. What kid in my generation didn’t? Phones were connected by wires. Wires were a kind of string. If you pulled the string tight, the sound in one can vibrated along the string to the other can pressed against the kid’s ear. Magic! So that’s how phones worked, sort of. Amazing! </p>
<p>We also used to play ‘detective’ and ‘cops and robbers’ – pretending we were chasing murderers or solving crimes and locking people up! These were good memories of innocence clashing in my head with the memories of the riots… a neighborhood friend a few years younger getting killed - shot at point blank range; most kids I knew, including me, throwing rocks and bottles at the ‘other’ kids and getting the same in return. The vandalism, destruction, and chaos that turned the idyllic street of my childhood into a battleground strewn with broken glass and stained with blood. The busloads of riot police who occupied our neighborhood 24/7 for the whole summer. For several summers. </p>
<p>The lyric wrote itself in a very rough way all at once. Boom. Just like that a lyric. Boom. Just like that it fit perfectly into the ‘noodled’ riff I had written for musical tension. I had the eerie feeling that Jenny’s request to me was prescient in some way…like this song had been waiting to be written all along. Like I had already written the music while waiting for the moment to arrive. Like I had not chronicled this particular episode of my journey from innocence to experience yet despite a lifetime of awareness devoted to it. Like the Muse didn’t ring the doorbell – she jumped out of a closet yelling she’d been there the whole time! </p>
<p>And then… collaboration! </p>
<p>I am so lucky. I’m married to my musical partner. Didn’t see that one coming after being widowed, but the universe had other plans for me. I heard Ilsabe play once about a decade before I met her, and I still remembered the song and her delivery of it. Then I heard the CD she had released around that time and was struck by the clarity and resonance of the songs on that record. She’s a gifted lyricist with a keen eye for detail, clarity of thought and expression, and meaning. After playing the song for her, she took the lyric and rewrote much of it, so it made sense to her as a person who had not shared the experiences that I was channeling. She made it “universal” so it would speak to anyone anywhere. </p>
<p>She’s also a gifted singer with an instinctive feel for vocal harmony – something that has always eluded me. She makes me want to be a better singer, and to learn to hear the harmony as a ‘whole’ in addition to the distinct notes. </p>
<p>And when we had the lyric edited, she edited it once again and found more places to polish it. Three verses; the first two evoking the childhood memories that triggered the song. The last verse ‘flips’ from childhood to the adult world of riots and violence and real danger. The chorus following the first two verses are innocent, the final chorus resonates in tone with the final verse. All of it taking place on the same street, under the same sun and moon. </p>
<p>Not done yet! Ilsabe points out there needs to be transition from the first part of the song to the second. There’s an emotional passage to navigate for the listener, and jumping from an innocence themed chorus to an adult themed verse seemed clumsy. </p>
<p>We considered writing a bridge but felt like there were already enough words. Well, to be honest, Ilsabe thought there were enough words. I NEVER think there are enough words, and that can get a songwriter in trouble and send the listener away. There’s beauty in collaboration and co-writing if only for that reason. </p>
<p>So, we decided we needed a musical bridge. It dawned on me that now might be a time to introduce the fifth interval missing in the rest of the song. I felt right away that a minor key bridge would retain the tension in the song and introduce a ‘dark’ element already suggested by the flatted third that opens each verse, thus setting up the darkness of the song’s closing lyrics. </p>
<p>Boom! Done. A completed song that ‘felt’ right to both of us. The video was just us playing and singing it and that was enough. We only did three takes and used the last take. </p>
<p>Ilsabe and I have collaborated on other songs since first meeting and developing a relationship that blossomed into marriage and full life partnership. But never like this – under a deadline, with a specific inspirational trigger. Inspiring! </p>
<p>I’ve never been much of a collaborator and this was eye-opening for me. It’s not ‘better’ than solo writing which can be very satisfying. But it IS different, and invigorating, and very, very rewarding. </p>
<p>I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention collaborating with Jenny. Her request to engage the creative process was and is an eye-opener for me. I feel like the old dog who learned a new trick. Hopefully there are more new tricks to come. Jenny Bienemann is not just a songwriter, performer, musician, artist. She’s an ‘impresario’ – from Latin for one who undertakes ‘adventurous and daring’ enterprises. Thanks for daring me and for the adventure!" - James Curley</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6394348
2020-07-27T08:24:36-05:00
2020-12-31T08:16:11-06:00
John Carpender: So that's both my kids helping me out.
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/defa933570fa0b16332b8bb9fb6bcc8a5f7eac0d/original/john-carp.jpg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>I don’t know why a band that interprets and covers Bob Dylan songs has turned out to be a hotbed of personal and professional creativity. I love being in the band The Zimmermen so much. </p>
<p>First and foremost, because it’s FUN. That is the first reason, and it flies in the face of everything in society that says what you love must be serious. </p>
<p>But part of the reason that band is so fun, is that the members of the band are serious about it. They approach the songs of Bob Dylan like the living, breathing sacraments they are. They come to them with all of themselves, as you must with a sacrament, and they imbue them with an irreverent reverence that only the truly alive can bestow on songs that are themselves, truly alive. </p>
<p>John Carpender is, in many ways, the engine of the band. He studies the songs. He asks questions. Later, alone, he rehearses. At the show, he watches the musicians, particularly Lenny Pincus, our leader, like a hawk. Seriously. Like a HAWK. I am so proud of his work on drums on songs for “Every Soul Grows to the Light,” and have been glad to have him as part of the Jenny & Friends band from time to time. Special bonus: in addition to being a great musician, he, his wife Liz, and his kids Henry and Halliday are great company. </p>
<p>He told me a few years ago he was ready to put a little more of his prodigious muscle into songwriting and creativity. I invited him to take a spot at one of my monthly musical residencies, “Acoustic Fridays with Jenny & Friends.” This gave me a totally different view of him as an artist. Generous, thoughtful, and actually quite capable with a guitar in his hands, self-effacing as he might be about it. </p>
<p>So when it came time to put together the “7.16: Haiku Milieu: Begin with the End in Mind” show, I thought of him. I knew he would come to the table with a good song. </p>
<p>His song says out loud what my haiku was hinting. Let’s just say, it and the video exceeded my wildest expectations. You can view it here: https://youtu.be/YFiJLm1p2Zs. </p>
<p>And now, enjoy these words from John Carpender: </p>
<p>“I was fortunate that the chance to write a song based on one of Jenny’s haiku came to me when it did. I’m primarily a drummer and had been pretty much idle due to the pandemic that swept the globe. It was a relief to have a musical project to work on. </p>
<p>But Jenny’s haiku, like Jenny herself, are mostly positive and optimistic, reaching to identify beauty and connectivity. They are full of light. </p>
<p>However I was, and have been, in a rather dark place personally. I simply didn’t have a pretty, uplifting song in me at that moment. The haiku I chose reads: you devour me/ sure that you set the trap but/ I’m inside you now. </p>
<p>These are the first words of the song I ultimately created. Yes, dark. But I’d been sunken deep in a mire of both world events and personal challenges that I was primed to address musically. I don’t want to define the meaning of the song too much, but I will say it is not primarily about the pandemic. It’s really about the many things we, as individuals and as a society, ignore and which ultimately threaten to “devour” us because of our own denial. </p>
<p>With regard to collaboration, I turned to three young artists who were right here in my home. First, my son Henry, ensconced in my basement after returning from the end of his education at the Eastman School of Music, offered me the opportunity to focus on the musical aspect of the project by taking over the technical part. </p>
<p>He has vastly better understanding of quality home recording than I do and that was essential in starting with drums. For me, that’s a must. I have to start with what I do best, to have a solid foundation. So after the structure of the song was established on acoustic guitar, I began with recording drums. </p>
<p>Then first guitar, then second guitar, then bass. Then the rough recording was due- Jenny wanted to know where I was in the process. And so I sang my own version of the sinister little song I created and sent it along with apologies for feeling certain it diverged from the aesthetic of what I imagined other artists contributing. Frankly, I felt like going with a dark sinister rock song risked throwing a big grenade into the proceedings. </p>
<p>But, not surprisingly, Jenny gave me her full endorsement and encouraged me follow it. (are any of you who know her at all surprised?) </p>
<p>I then decided the song might be a bit less ominous if I asked my daughter Halliday to sing it in her sweet voice. She is a lovely singer, but perhaps more used to singing in school choir than singing lead on an old guy’s rock song. But I thought perhaps her voice would lighten the mood. </p>
<p>I thought that for about 30 seconds. </p>
<p>I quickly realized that the sweetness and unembellished purity of her delivery would actually make the song even creepier. And that turned out to be the perfect choice. So Henry engineered a vocal session for his sister, and like the budding producer he is, guided her along through several takes and created a composite of those based on his own assessment of what sounded best. I think I was mowing the lawn. After vocals were done I added the synth that comes in late and adds another layer of creepy retro-weirdness to it all. So that’s both my kids helping me out. </p>
<p>Then I asked Henry, who graduated from music school with a degree in trombone performance, for which we awaited his diploma in the mail, to add a final touch. Perhaps, his education having been cut short, he had his own issues to express. I left him pretty wide latitude. I knew that I just wanted trombone to come in at the end, after the vocal ended. I’d imagined a multi-tracked “section” part. </p>
<p>Instead, Henry created total mayhem. Rather than solidifying the song as it closes, the crazed and seemingly random multiple trombone parts that erupt at the end of the song serve to make it come apart, shattering the song structure altogether, veering outside the lines and extending beyond the end of all the other instrumental tracks. It was perfect. </p>
<p>I added one sampled bowed cymbal screech lifted from the internet, which happens between the first two verses, and the song part was done. </p>
<p>As for the video…. Hmmm….”begin with the end in mind”… Well, here’s what actually happened. </p>
<p>I’m not much of a visual artist. My first idea was that perhaps Halliday could sing or synch the vocal in a static 1-shot video with me pretending to play guitar in the background, probably out of focus BECAUSE THAT’S ART. But then the better path came upon us. </p>
<p>Her boyfriend Alec Peterson, also a student at DePaul. was visiting. He’s a film student. PERFECT! And so the collaborative paradigm of “make the kids do it” was again deployed. I basically told Halliday “hey you and Alec should make a video of the song.” I mean, if you have a house full of talented creative and totally bored kids just hanging around during a global pandemic, why not give them something to do, right? The video is entirely their creation. All I said was “Halliday can be in it, or not. She can be lipsynching, or not. And don’t make it funny. It’s a creepy, dark song, so follow that.” That’s pretty much it. I believe they used a camera Alec had that was good for shooting at night, as well as using an iPhone. Alec edited the video back home in Texas. </p>
<p>I saw it for the first time the day before it was due. I had no fear that it would be anything but great, and I was right. Okay, I’m biased by the fact that it’s basically a video of my daughter… </p>
<p>I was very gratified by the reaction of those watching during the online viewing party. I had feared freaking out the many exceptional artists, most of whom followed a more acoustic path. I’m also very thankful to Jenny for the opportunity to both express something I clearly needed to express and to do so in collaboration with fearless and creative young people that I love so much.” – John Carpender </p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6387829
2020-07-20T08:00:29-05:00
2020-12-31T08:16:28-06:00
Steve Dawson: The creative process, and the ups and downs of a life in the arts.
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/33a33e44755cea00e6828465be1cc08447289f98/original/jb-sd-oh-sunshine.jpg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve Dawson. Singer. Songwriter. Performer. He will break your heart and mend it at the exact same time. </p>
<p>We worked on this song together for the 7.16 Haiku Milieu: Begin with the End in Mind, and you can add it to your collection <a contents="here" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://stevedawson.bandcamp.com/track/oh-sunshine">here</a>. All proceeds benefit My Block, My Hood, My City, an organization with a mission of “taking care of people, no matter what.” Learn more <a contents="here" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://www.formyblock.org/">here</a>. </p>
<p>Sometimes you think you do something, but you are really only doing it in your mind. I had a realization about 11 years ago, that while I wrote songs and performed them, I thought of myself as a songwriter way more than I actually wrote and performed songs. </p>
<p>Ouch. </p>
<p>Let me spare you the details of my dark night of the soul. Fast forward to where I signed up for 2 classes at the Old Town School of Folk Music. One, music theory; the other, Irish Songs and Singing. When I arrived at Old Town, they said my music theory class was at the other building. They asked if I would like to sign up for anything else. </p>
<p>Flashback: </p>
<p>My husband Robin had known, loved, and performed on the same bills as Steve and Diane for years. My friends Deb, Sue and Bruce knew and loved Steve and Diane for forever. </p>
<p>I did not know him but he had just come out with a CD and this group spoke of little else. Ingrid Graudins was holding a series of shows at SPACE, and one night Steve was part of a lineup that included Naomi Ashley, Chris Neville, Robbie Fulks, Steve and Ingrid herself. We went. </p>
<p>I remember very clearly the last song he played that night, “On the Edge of the Twilight Sky.” He had written it as a teenage in Idaho. As he played it, I began to have the extraordinary sensation that I was dancing, though I was very firmly seated in my chair. </p>
<p>So when they said, “Is there another class you’d like to take?” I said, “Does Steve Dawson’s class have any room?” And they said, “Yes, there is one seat in his 101 class.” “I’ll take it,” I said. </p>
<p>And thus I pushed the reset button on my songwriting life. </p>
<p>Flashforward to today: </p>
<p>Steve is an extraordinary teacher. It is like he holds open the door between your feelings of inadequacy and your ability to create. He never makes it about himself, he just does it, and you do it, because you can now actually concentrate on writing a song! </p>
<p>After experiencing him in the classroom, he became one of my go-to collaborators in the studio, a source of thoughtful advice that could be trusted as much from the place it came from in him, as in its artistic and technical merit. </p>
<p>It is only slight hyperbole to say that I have met thousands of artists through Steve. I met many, many of the artists I invited to participate in the Haiku Milieu shows through him, and I will not list them all only because I am sure to leave someone out. </p>
<p>That, in the last few years, that Robin and I began to meet with Steve, Diane, Louis Bardales and Steve Hughes to share songs and other works in progress on a monthly basis, has been one of the great joys of my life. </p>
<p>Enjoy this note on our collaboration from Steve Dawson: </p>
<p>“I think I first met Jenny around 2009 when she showed up in one of my songwriting classes at the Old Town School of Folk Music. It is a testament to her humbleness that she took a class in something that she was already very, very good at. </p>
<p>She was beginning work on her album, "Heading Slowly Towards the Beginning," and a short time later we did some work on it together in my home studio, particularly on the song, "Asleep," where she let me experiment with sounds and textures over her beautiful melody and lyric. </p>
<p>It was fun, open and experiential. I think that's how collaborations work best - when everyone involved sees the work as a journey with the attitude of "let's see what happens if we try this..." </p>
<p>Along the way we've also become friends and often talk about creativity, the creative process and the ups and downs of a life in the arts. </p>
<p>A few years ago I stopped writing songs. I had no interest in it and the ideas were just not flowing. Jenny and I talked about putting together a small group of songwriting friends that would meet once a month to share new songs. I've learned that a deadline is a very powerful tool in getting work done! </p>
<p>So we started the group and I began to write songs for our meetings and it has been a deeply moving source of inspiration and fellowship. (Side note: Diane hadn't written a song since 2006 and since being in the group she as at least an EP's worth of new material.) I've written more than enough songs to fill a double LP and I've been recording them one by one as they appear. </p>
<p>Before the pandemic we'd get together, have a meal, talk about our lives and then sit in a circle and sing songs to each other. Heavenly! More recently we've met on Zoom. In a recent meeting Jenny shared a fragment of a song saying she thought it wasn't finished but that she liked it. She sang, "Oh, Sunshine." My response was, "I think that's the song. I think that song is finished." Others agreed. </p>
<p>So Jenny presented me with the idea of making a fully realized track out of her guitar and vocal recording. I loaded her acoustic guitar and vocal tracks into pro tools and, without thinking too much, chopped it up and extended some parts and made a repetitive chant out of the phrase "good times come again." I added drums, bass, electric guitar, piano, midi strings and a harmony vocal, again not over thinking it but trying to go with the first thought. </p>
<p>I knew Jenny would trust me to try things and I knew she knew I loved the song - so I wasn't worried about her reaction so much as trying to honor the song's intention and feeling. When I did play it for her she liked it - so I was happy about that - because as I listened back to it I was pretty happy with it myself. </p>
<p>Jenny is really a one of a kind and I am so very glad that I can call her a friend and a collaborator. Knowing her has enriched my life and my creative practice. [Editor’s note: blush.] Thanks, Jenny!!” – Steve Dawson</p>
<p> </p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6383706
2020-07-13T07:56:25-05:00
2020-08-19T07:11:19-05:00
It takes a village.
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/9cc3514b3945994fff7f4eaf4ec1e625122a072f/original/7-16-20-hm.jpg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>You can get lost in a work of art. Utterly, totally, devotedly lost. </p>
<p>If healing is merely the willingness to change, then art that places you back in the center of your life, rather than in the periphery of everyone else's, is the ultimate healing.</p>
<p>When you see something that creates that "click" inside you, you remember who you are. You fall in love with your ideas again. You begin to let go of everything that's not it. The perpetual roar of the demands of daily living go on mute. You may not know what comes next, but you know you are part of it, it wants you, and you want it. You have come back to the center of what makes you, you. </p>
<p>That's what it feels like when I look at the art for the 7.16: Haiku Milieu: Begin with the End in Mind.</p>
<p>Sue Demel created the Celtic knot image. She conceived it, and drew it. Sue is one of my dearest friend on the planet. She spent a lot of time on it. She shared it with me. I loved it, but I did not know what to do with it. The whole enterprise of Haiku Milieu was so new, my ideas of the "look" were evolving, and I was flying by the seat of my pants. She said, "I love you. Do what's right for you and the project."</p>
<p>Cathie Van Wert Menard took the logo, and gave me several versions: some in bright, jewel tones; some muted; some with sparkles, some with enhanced lines. At the time, we were thinking that Haiku Milieu would be a daily email. Again, I did not quite know what to do. She said, "OK, I've got all the versions in this file, let me know when you want to pick this back up."</p>
<p>Fast forward to today. The idea of a daily email grew into a once-a-week, Sunday Haiku Milieu Club. We used a text-based Haiku Milieu logo, which lets the images and the words have the focus. The text-based logo became the logo for the book, audiobook, soundtrack, t-shirts, etc. It was going well.</p>
<p>But when it was time to create the images for this Thursday's show, I woke up with the image of the logo Sue made. I went back to it.</p>
<p>'WHOA." I sat and looked at the pure unadulterated logo Sue made, maybe literally, for an hour. Not gonna lie. I could not take my eyes off it. I was transfixed, changed.</p>
<p>Then I went through all the variations Cathie created, again, transfixed. Simply amazed at the different feelings she evoked with color and subtle design shifts. And now I strongly felt that wonderful feeling, ancient and new at the same time. I was getting an idea.</p>
<p>So I reached out to Jennifer Ferguson, the graphic designer of Haiku Milieu and all of my other identity materials of late. I sent her the black and white logo Sue created. </p>
<p>Jennifer has an incredible design sense, and somehow manages to take my ideas and bring them to life even better than I could have imagined. She had an extra challenge this time. As these shows invite more and more collaboration, the numbers of artists participating grows. She had more names than ever before to work with, and just look what she did. I think I gasped the first time I saw it. </p>
<p>And thus the image for our show was born. It took a village.</p>
<p>Now, this story has a wonderful ending. But that doesn't mean the journey didn't have moments with each of us wondering if we were on the same page, if we had heard each other right, if we were going to have to start all over again. You know, the things that happen in EVERY collaboration. </p>
<p>The thing is, we trusted each other. We trusted the project. And we trusted ourselves. Maybe every collaboration does not turn out as magnificently as this one. Maybe they are not meant to. But you almost can't fail to experience the ultimate healing if you follow that "click," and keep going forward in the direction of what brings you back to the center of what makes you, you. - Jenny Bienemann</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6377251
2020-07-06T07:38:32-05:00
2020-12-31T08:18:42-06:00
Robin Bienemann and Dave Walker: Just being in the moment.
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/ba0bbe6f3b4febd68f65ff7dfe3f59a3998d3a7e/original/dave-and-robin.jpg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>At the 7.16.20 “Haiku Milieu: Begin with the End in Mind” premiering at the Jenny Bienemann Music page on Facebook, you will hear a song written by Robin Bienemann and Dave Walker. </p>
<p>David Singleton Walker, aka “Dave Walker,” is one of my favorite human beings on the planet. He is funny, he is smart, he is kind, and if he had lived during the days of the Wild Wild West he would have been the fastest gun in the West, if guns were guitars. </p>
<p>By which I mean to say, he is a genuine God of the Guitar. Listen to this: https://youtu.be/QmO2tC1qceM </p>
<p>We’ve been playing that song and others alongside he and Jodi Pulick Walker for the better part of a decade in our band, The Significant Others, at Friendly Tap on the second Saturday of each month. A set list for one of these gigs is usually equal parts Jodi, Jenny, and Robin. Dave writes songs, but prefers to focus on guitar. </p>
<p>Dave is our Shaman. He is the glue that binds us three disparate songwriters together, as bandleader, and also as chief solo-taker. I have seen him change the trajectory of emotions in the room from despair to exaltation in a single guitar solo. </p>
<p>I was thrilled when he agreed to be Robin’s collaborator for our show, and truly pleased to share with you his thoughts on collaboration, below. </p>
<p>“As humans our ability to stay in the moment is so often difficult, with worries about the past and future, and deadlines that are upcoming and melancholy feelings about things that we wish we could change about the past. But to really be present is a gift and can really bring a calming feeling to the soul. </p>
<p>As Robin and I started to pull the music together on this song, I think we were thinking of the sound of clocks and chimes, as well as chords that brought that same feeling of peace and presence that the haiku is implying within the text. </p>
<p>Robin and I tossed around all sorts of harmonic ideas. The first section being mostly using modal harmony centered around the key of B. </p>
<p>But for the alternating sections that come after we let go of the rules of the key, and just let our ears to the work. Finding chord progressions based on how the melody seemed to be developing and setting our minds free. Just being in the moment, without past knowledge getting in the way of creation. </p>
<p>In the end, this music combined with the brilliance of Robin's lyrics and arranging certainly has that effect on me, and hopefully will for you as the listener as well.” – Dave Walker </p>
<p>Robin's reply from the comments section on Facebook:</p>
<p>"The song got to a point. So fun to indulge in the world of rich guitar chords with someone who gets as excited as I get over a thirteenth or flatted ninth, not just as chordal color, but part of the melody.</p>
<p>That Monday night we let the form emerge until it was solid, but by no means polished. We had Jenny turn on the video on while we were still “discovering” the song.</p>
<p>I kind of laughed & got choked up after Dave’s solo, overwhelmed by the freshness of it, and thinking of our long history together.</p>
<p>And THAT is what got captured on the video. Not just a decent version, but a moment in our lives." Robin Bienemann</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6369684
2020-06-29T07:43:51-05:00
2020-06-29T07:43:51-05:00
Sometimes, you don't even know you're collaborating.
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/a78b53d7700eab55d9eb3570f23b9d82dd7f215d/original/6-29-20-blog.jpg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_" /></p>
<p><strong>On July 16 at 7:30 pm on the Jenny Bienemann Music page on Facebook, join us for the next Haiku Milieu show, “Begin with the End in Mind.” </strong></p>
<p>Brand new songs, some your favorite songwriters, and all of us writing our songs, knowing we had to figure out how to put them to video. You should come. Who knows...you may just become part of the collaboration!</p>
<p>Because sometimes, you don't even know you're collaborating.</p>
<p>Flash back to last year, around this time. We were celebrating the release of my book, Haiku Milieu, in May, 2019 at FitzGerald’s. To help celebrate, 15 truly astonishing songwriters wrote a song to a photo and haiku in the book. </p>
<p>In these shows, while the performers take the stage, I introduce them and read the haiku, then they perform the song they wrote to it. That’s it. There's very little talking, so that the haiku and the song lifting off from it, have the best possible chance to be internalized by the audience. </p>
<p>While I figured it should work, I could not have know how well it would work. The songs, somehow, grew together into a genuine storybook of music and image, running the the gamut of style and tone. </p>
<p>To name merely a few: Gerald Dowd brought out his electric guitar. Sue Fink played an omnichord. Deb Lader played a bouzouki. Dave Walker and Joe Fournier improvised with guitar and baritone sax. I played with a full band. The songs could not be more varied, unique, and, well…astonishing. Each in their own way. </p>
<p>These songs have become friends to me, whether I listen to them lying down with my eyes closed, cleaning the house, or in the background while I am at one of my makeshift desks, like the one you see pictured here. </p>
<p>Long and short, what I thought was a one-night concert became so much more than a one-night celebration. It became a collaboration. A love note to and from our community, and a testament to the depth and breadth of songwriting talent in our "milieu." </p>
<p>Of course, I might be biased about all this. </p>
<p>But what if I’m not? </p>
<p>Go ahead, experience it for yourself at this link for the Haiku Milieu YouTube playlist for May, 2019: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLujRH6vCZKP1WP9Ywfq1CFthMOE1RmS4a.</p>
<p>It features songs by Robin Bienemann, Naomi Ashley, Cayne Collier, Steve Dawson, Joe Dempsey, Gerald Dowd, Rachel Drew, Sue Fink, Joe Fournier and David Walker, Jeanne Kuhns, Ron Lazzeretti, Deborah Maris Lader, Last Acre, MMCM, Bruce Roper, Jodi Walker, and Terry White and more.</p>
<p>David Sameshima captured these songs. Mike Janowski edited, then mastered, and uploaded the videos. They all sound so nice and even! </p>
<p>I hope this playlist can be a friend to you, as it is to me.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6362058
2020-06-22T08:03:37-05:00
2020-06-22T08:03:37-05:00
There was just one teensy, tiny word...
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/85ba18d11b2fa3376a0b6eb0afcb3cf05518435a/original/words-storyboard.jpg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsImxhcmdlIl1d.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>By the time you read this, we will cautiously be going places, sitting outside, smiling at each other from at least 6 feet apart. But still. The quarantine, the bubble around us, is real, even if invisible. I don’t think we will be hugging each other any time soon. </p>
<p>I know many musicians have felt hobbled by the inability to play live. The connection with an audience is like a phantom limb. There’s nothing you can do about it, but you can’t quite seem to stretch out and rest. </p>
<p>Some of us, like Tom Ryan, have made a way for us to gather virtually around recordings at FitzGerald’s and other places. At the end of this blog is the song “Words,” recorded by Tom Ryan at FitzGerald’s in April 2018 with Naomi, Jodi, Cathie Van Wert Menard and me. </p>
<p>Still others, like Gerald Dowd and Chris Neville, created new regularly scheduled shows; while Naomi, Jodi and I just moved our regular shows to streaming platforms. And it has been GREAT…just so, so different…yet, it was enough. I mean, if enough is ever enough. </p>
<p>It finally hit me in May that we are not likely to be able to do the Jenny & Friends show live, potentially until 2021. Maybe I had been living in my own bubble, but that's when it hit me. When I woke up, and realized I had to find a way for my musical collaborators and I to stay connected, I had the idea to make a video. </p>
<p>Well, I had the idea to make 3 songs into videos. “No biggie,” I thought. It will be a snap. And so launches every ship I have ever sailed.</p>
<p>We shared “I Miss You” last month, and in July, we’ll share “Words.” </p>
<p>When you make a studio record, you listen over and over to a song to make sure all the elements are right. </p>
<p>When you are recording a song because you know it will become a video, you have to listen…more. You have to come up the visual representation of the song, and create a storyboard to guide the shots you take. </p>
<p>I settled on the storyboard for “Words,” as you’ll see in the image at the top of the blog. As I was building it and getting the shots, there was one, teensy, tiny word. </p>
<p>It jumped out at me every time I heard it. It was the difference between me bracing myself each time I heard the song in the future, and forgetting that I even wrote the song, which is what happens after a project is complete and all the elements meld together. </p>
<p>It was just one teensy, tiny word, yet it was wrecking things for me.</p>
<p>It would mean going back into a song that had taken weeks to mix, potentially tampering with its now perfectly-balanced levels, and potentially having to re-do the whole thing. For these reasons and more, I was nervous to even ask. </p>
<p>Yet, I wrote to Klem Hayes, who is building the songs for the videos in his studio, at 9:33 pm on Wednesday, the night before I was to send it all off to our editor: </p>
<p>“Favor. Feel free to say no. On the bridge when I say “hello,” could you double my voice there, either by cutting and pasting or adding the original vocal at a lower volume level? It sounds tentative. I try to tell myself Neil Young would let it stand, but…” </p>
<p>Klem writes back, 11:03 pm </p>
<p>“I’ll see what I can do. I didn’t notice anything tentative about that word until I just looked for it. I hear what you’re saying but it’s pretty “inside baseball” to me…no promises but I’ll give it a shot.” </p>
<p>11:16 pm he sends me a snippet. </p>
<p>At 6:23 am the next morning, I listened to what he had done, and wrote: </p>
<p>“Klem. I feel inestimably better...THANK YOU!” </p>
<p>And that right there, is what collaboration is all about. </p>
<p>Getting over yourself enough to ask for what you need, and trusting that if your collaborator can give it to you, they will. And being ok with how it turns out, either way. </p>
<p>And while I may have just summed it up in a sentence, as anyone who has tried it knows, it is much easier said than done. :)</p>
<p>Yes, there are risks to collaboration. Yet, as in my case here, if you pick the right collaborators, the are risks far, far, far overshadowed by the rewards. </p>
<p>I hope you enjoy “Words,” and will join us for the premiere of the video version on Friday, July 3 at 8:00 pm.</p>
4:35
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6352677
2020-06-15T07:30:51-05:00
2020-06-15T09:40:46-05:00
What is it about the bathroom?
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/672c748f6da6f89dd531a7b258fb5dbc6d5e18a9/original/solid-cover.jpg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>Part One: SOLID. </p>
<p>In case you want to watch the video first, here's the link to SOLID, https://youtu.be/-ZAVzeEo3vA, written by me, Jamey Clark and Andrea Wittgens, with animation by Joe Fournier. </p>
<p>It was about that time of night. It had been a full day, the moon was on the rise, and the bed was looking good. So why, when I peeked into my room, did something tell me I shouldn't call it a day just yet? </p>
<p>“What should we do?” I said to my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I may have been brushing my teeth, just to get it out of the way. Or maybe reminding myself to brush my teeth. But really, I was thinking about why I knew I couldn’t just go to bed. Well, I could. But if I did, I knew I would be missing something good. So what was it? </p>
<p>And there in the bathroom, it started coming back to me. Slowly at first, then in a torrent. I remembered all the songs I had written in the bathroom. When I was little. And as an adult. Most recently, “Words,” at Lamb’s Retreat for Songwriters, was written in the bathroom, as my "roomie" Robin Bienemann was writing in our hotel room. And at Steel Bridge Song Fest, a collaborative songwriting event we participated in for the better part of a decade, too many songs to count started in the bathroom. </p>
<p>So what is it about the bathroom? The acoustics? The privacy? The unguardedness? The soap, the shampoo, everything that takes the grit off you? The potions that help heal and soothe where the grit was? Whatever it is, everybody knows there is something about the bathroom. </p>
<p>And there it was. I was struck with an idea. It probably helped that Robin was walking up the stairs at that very moment. </p>
<p>“Hey!” I said. “How about helping me make a tribute video for An Online Celebration of Steel Bridge Songfest?” “oh NO,” he said with his eyes, his foot falling heavily on the top stop, looking down, the way he does when he knows, he knows, we are about to leave the safe harbors of almost going to sleep to do something I have decided will be REALLY. FUN. </p>
<p>The truth is though, Robin is fun. So when I told him my idea, he went back down those same stairs (albeit with a lighter step) and went to a fair amount of trouble to get the right guitar for the bit. You’ll see. </p>
<p>And then, we took many, many, many, many, many, many extemporaneous takes before we got to what you’re about to see. </p>
<p>Like most creative endeavors, it would be hard to give you a sense of how much time, effort and energy goes into making the thing that you’ll experience for just a moment. </p>
<p>If we do it right, you feel like you're part of the the fun we had in making it. Because in truth, we were thinking about sharing it with you, while we were making it. And also, just having fun, late at night. </p>
<p>In an upcoming collaboration blog, we’ll hear from the other incredible artists that brought SOLID to life. For now, enjoy SOLID: https://youtu.be/-ZAVzeEo3vA</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6347296
2020-06-09T07:56:02-05:00
2020-12-31T08:19:21-06:00
Bianca Bee: What would you be, if you didn't even try?
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/1429e1e51c479f2a6da3407c0d1b91d3c26d2bfa/original/bianca-bee.jpg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>The message came in at 10:30 pm on Wednesday night. I had just posted a video to Facebook promising a special surprise on Friday. And now, my video editor hit a road block that would make completion of the video impossible for Friday’s Jenny & Friends. </p>
<p>I sat for a moment. “I could let this go,” I thought. But, I thought, as Lyle Lovett says in his song, “Here I Am,” what would you be if you didn’t even try? </p>
<p>So I reached out to my guys, video editors familiar to readers of this blog, Mike Janowski and Bob Ness. Not surprisingly, their video dance cards were full. I went to sleep, wondering. </p>
<p>The next morning I told Robin what had happened. Searchingly. The tone of my voice, not my words, asking the question, “Do I need to get this done for Friday?” Of course the first thing he said was, “Everyone will understand.” </p>
<p>YES. I thought. Of course they will understand. May was a MONTH. </p>
<p>But still…I felt like I asked a lot of the Jenny & Friends band to get this done. And I had. Though they would never hold the extraneous circumstances against me, I would feel better if I exhausted my options. Because, you know, what would you be, if you didn’t even try? </p>
<p>So I turned to Upwork.com. I discovered it in the early days of Haiku Milieu, but never wound up hiring anyone largely because people like Sue Demel and Cathie Van Wert Menard were so generous with their skills and insight. I already had a profile, and it was easy to post the job for a “Quick Turnaround Video.” </p>
<p>I got many, many replies right away. Bianca’s message is among the shortest, sweetest, most professional. She is the only woman who applies. She lives in Belgium. Her portfolio is well done. “Yes,” she said, “I can do this for you in 24 hours.” Again, I thought, what would you be if you didn’t even try? So I hired her. 20 minutes, start to finish, posting the job, and hiring. Done. </p>
<p>What I could not have imagined, flinging myself into the arms of the Universe as I did, was that I would find a genuine artist, a deep and true kindred spirit, and a professional who performed far beyond the letter of the law to ensure that the spirit of the song “Miss You” could become even more than I originally envisioned. </p>
<p>My friends, meet Bianca Bee of Bianca Bee Films. Bianca, welcome to the family. Please enjoy her blog post, as well as her work on the "Miss You" video here, https://youtu.be/4CqhMTmvGT4. </p>
<p>“Video editing is a solitary activity and it takes nothing less than 100% of my attention. There might be people talking in the other room or the upstairs neighbour might try a new dance routine but when I sit down to edit, the little corner of my room from where I work, becomes a world of endless possibilities. </p>
<p>I take on each project with a lot of enthusiasm, beginning the journey with an ideal in mind that I need to achieve. When a video arrives at the editing station, it has already traveled a very long way, and there’s just one more stop before being complete. There is a lot of responsibility attached to editing, to do justice to all the effort, care and ideas that are already imprinted in the footage. A lifetime of videos, movies, images stored somewhere in the depths of my memory serve as a blueprint for a new video, like sparks of inspiration. </p>
<p>I like to compare the editing process to a marathon. The legs know what they have to do to run but you still have to think about where you are going. And a winning marathon was the “Miss You” music video I made with Jenny. </p>
<p>One of the biggest challenges with a music video is making sure the audio is in sync with the video and this was no regular music video, there was no room for mistake here, especially since there are all the band members on screen at the same time, and they all need to be in sync. In Jenny’s, Robin’s and Jodi’s original videos, I could hear the song being played in the background, so it made the task a little easier, however, the one I was most nervous about was Paul’s. Percussion is not the focal point, but had I inserted the video a second later, percussion would be the only thing the viewer would hear in the song. </p>
<p>For the rest of the video, the raw footage Jenny sent me, seemed to naturally find its place in the jigsaw helping the message in the song flow nicely with the visuals. It is so obvious to see that this video’s journey originates from a place of kindness and optimism. All I did was give it a push forward to meet those who needed to see it. </p>
<p>To be able to collaborate so smoothly, even with an ocean and a 6-hour difference between us, is proof that a successful collaboration knows no boundaries. She has managed to give me the perfect amount of direction in her storyboard and freedom of creativity to add my ideas into the mix, so that her ideal could meet mine. In the process, I discovered a fantastic musician, a source of artistic inspiration and a very kind human being. The music and the message of the song filled my little corner with a warmth, that made editing feel a lot less solitary and more like I am now part of something wonderful. </p>
<p>May the Universe only bring you flawless collaborations like the making of this video was!” – Bianca Bee</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6337879
2020-06-01T08:12:19-05:00
2020-12-31T08:19:48-06:00
Paper Kraine: "It’s like yoga. If it hurts, you’re probably doing it wrong."
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/9e39bb4e38fd631a38714749f43e9f449d05dcf7/original/paper-kraine.jpg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>“Collaboration: it’s like yoga. If it hurts, you’re probably doing it wrong,” Cameron Jefts of Paper Kraine. </p>
<p>Paper Kraine is an NYC-based space for artists who do not fit into the development structures of established theatrical institutions. With a deep commitment to artistic discovery, their fellow collaborators, and joy, they ask themselves when considering a potential collaboration, “Is this piece brought to us in the spirit of adventurous discovery?” </p>
<p>I heard about them through a friend of a friend. When they sent out a call for pieces, I pitched an idea for music and haiku. They invited me to be part of their online show in early May, and as we got ready, their enthusiasm caught me off guard. Me…I KNOW! </p>
<p>I was moved by the quality of the artistic work, struck by the variety of disciplines, and impressed with their commitment to trust, risk and destigmatizing failure.</p>
<p>In this Collaboration blog, Paper Kraine’s four producers, Brittany Crowell, Cameron Jefts, Lizzy Lincoln, and Paul Purvine share their thoughts on their beloved company, the collaborative process, and another topic that is dear to my heart, charitable giving. Seek them out! More information: https://www.paperkraine.com/</p>
<p><strong>"What is Paper Kraine? </strong></p>
<p>CAMERON: Paper Kraine is a forum for artists to develop and present new work, and to engage with a community of curious, excited artists and audience members. </p>
<p>LIZZY: Paper Kraine is a show that encourages risk, failure, and learning the seventy ways we can’t make a lightbulb. The joy in that is that often, in learning how NOT to make a lightbulb, we learn how to make a time machine instead. </p>
<p>BRITTANY: The team at Paper Kraine has done a wonderful job of carefully creating a structure that leaves space for failure and relies heavily on audience support and participation. From our mission, to our submission form, to the structure of the shows, we keep everything incredibly open and collaborative. </p>
<p><strong>How does the Paper Kraine team (a four-producer entity) collaborate? What are any challenges or hurdles that you have overcome? </strong></p>
<p>BRITTANY: Paper Kraine is all about trying new things and destigmatizing failure. This extends also into process. It has been amazing being part of a supportive and accepting team that focuses on celebrating differences and learning. </p>
<p>LIZZY: Each member of the team has their own unique superpowers, and the team’s ability to collectively listen to and embrace those unique contributions has been key to making this a sustainable producing collaboration. </p>
<p>BRITTANY: As the newest member of the producing team, I was excited to join a community that exhibited so much generosity in curation and presentation. Our taste in art varies, but I think it’s that difference that makes us such a dynamic team and has greatly opened my artistic sensibilities to new possibilities. </p>
<p>CAMERON: I think collaboration is like yoga: if it hurts, you’re probably doing it wrong. Of course, it takes a lot of practice to collaborate in this way with someone, just like it takes a lot of practice to fly in a challenging yoga pose. </p>
<p>LIZZY: In this weird Rona Moment, I’ve felt so supported not only as an art-maker, but as a human being by this team. I can come into a meeting, be totally real about bandwidth, and about how things are going, and the team never fails to make room to figure out how we can make things happen while honoring where we all actually are as humans. </p>
<p>CAMERON: The key to development is listening. Listen to your collaborators with an open heart, make adjustments as needed, and you’ll find a way to create together. Something that I love about the Paper Kraine team is that everything always seems to come back to a real commitment to joy, which I think reflects back in the artists and audiences that comprise our community. </p>
<p><strong>What is the importance of failure and a space that authentically embraces failure? </strong></p>
<p>PAUL: As artists, we rehearse, practice, and fine tune our skills and learn from our mistakes along the way to a finished piece of art. We can’t learn from those mistakes if we don’t make them. </p>
<p>LIZZY: Some spaces in NYC seem to thrive on failure, not as a part of dramaturgical practice, but in a way that defines in and out groups. In curating a space for indie and early-career artists to fail authentically and in a way that is supportive, means that we can start disentangling our egos from our “success” or artistic reception. Art is deeply personal: it comes from a deep place within a human being, but that doesn’t mean that its failure is your failure! </p>
<p>BRITTANY: I think it’s a beautiful gift that the hosts are open to and embrace their own moments of failure, and it is actually a very intentional and generous offering to the performers, giving them room to feel open to taking the risks that we encourage them to take and that lead to the exciting art they want to present. </p>
<p>PAUL: I’m a firm believer that the best art comes from taking big risks. The bigger the risk, the more likely you’ll fail at some point. By embracing this, it removes some of the stigma. Failure is an important step in the process of creating. Sometimes you just have to run into walls. </p>
<p><strong>What kind of art and/or artists are you looking for at the Paper Kraine? </strong></p>
<p>BRITTANY: Paper Kraine has created an incubatory space for artists who may not fit quite as easily into the structures or limitations of more established theatrical institutions. We want to meet the needs of the artist and support communities that may not have the resources to seek other incubatory opportunities. </p>
<p>CAMERON: I have a particular fondness for things that might be overlooked by other channels because they don’t quite fit into traditional genres or forms, or because they blend those forms in new and unique ways. </p>
<p>BRITTANY: We encourage artists to make the art that they want, rather than asking them to fit into any standard mold or meet certain pre-requisites or expectations. </p>
<p>LIZZY: In an early Kraine meeting, someone on the team asked, “Is this piece brought to us in the spirit of adventurous discovery?” and that really stuck with me. If the piece wants to explore, discover, and really throw some spaghetti at the wall, then absolutely we want to host that piece. </p>
<p>BRITTANY: You dream it, we will work to find a way to present it for you. </p>
<p><strong>Can you talk a little bit about your charitable giving? </strong></p>
<p>LIZZY: Charitable giving became a part of the show right after the 2016 election when, I think for a lot of artists, the producing team of the show had a real, “Oh man, what are we even doing making art right now?” moment. We produced a show in support of the ACLU, and afterwards a couple of our artists expressed that the donation aspect helped them orient their own artistic practice in that moment: they donated their time and talent, and in that way, even though they could not give financially themselves, they were helping. </p>
<p>PAUL: We have championed and raised money for over 17 charities and non-profits since then, including: Planned Parenthood, The Trevor Project, Violence Intervention Program, All Hands Volunteers, RAINN, TLDEF, March for Our Lives, UNRWA, The Ali Forney Center, Volunteer Lawyers for the Arts, Sylvia Rivera Law Project, The Climate Mobilization, Spread the Vote (pending)], Natural Resource Defense Council, ACLU, RAICES Texas, and recently, our brick-and-mortar home at Frigid NYC. </p>
<p>LIZZY: Charitable giving has grown to be a part of our curation process, but it started as a way to figure out what indie art could mean, and what the community around it can accomplish, in a charged moment. </p>
<p>Lizzy/Cameron - How do you see your role as HOST in the show? </p>
<p>LIZZY: Hosting feels like helping show the bones in the skeleton of each piece. We ask questions the artist wants the audience to bear in mind, share a little about the development, and remind everyone attending that their feedback, support, and joyful engagement with the piece actually IS vital to its development. </p>
<p>CAMERON: I also think hosting is about cultivating a vibe. Lizzy and I try to keep things fun and affirming, to encourage the audience to feel vital and included, and to celebrate the fact that our artists are usually presenting something new, which—whether they see it this way or not—is brave and exciting. Together, this all creates an atmosphere of community, spontaneity, and possibility. </p>
<p>LIZZY: Even if you’re not the artist on stage, you have a job to do as part of the artistic community: be present, and let’s learn together. </p>
<p>How has the loss of a live performance venue affected the work that you present? How has it affected your artists and your show? </p>
<p>PAUL: The lack of immediate feedback is jarring. Having an audience has always been part of the development process. With an audience in the Kraine theater you can tell if a joke lands, or when a moment has truly touched someone, or if a song brings people out of their seats to dance, or even feel the uncomfortable silences hang in the air when a performance misses the intended mark. With our focus on new works in the infancy of their development, that kind of information is vital. </p>
<p>LIZZY: I’ve been so inspired by how our artist community and online audience has challenged themselves to see the constraints of online broadcast as their own creative gift, rather than an impediment: they reach out, comment, and get in touch with performers to give feedback and to celebrate the continued development process. That support in this moment is indispensable. </p>
<p>You supported Frigid in your show last Wednesday, can you tell us more about who the folks at Frigid NYC are and how we can continue to support them? </p>
<p>LIZZY: I will talk your ear off about how much I love FRIGID. Erez and the team are authentic, passionate supporters of the NYC independent arts scene and have been since 1996. </p>
<p>The Kraine, run by FRIGID NYC, is an incredible hub of creation for the larger NYC indie scene, and there’s a lot of uncertainty in the air for small venues like that which support early-career artists and which are, in my opinion, the real lifeblood of the theater scene. If we want to keep learning, gathering, and supporting art as a community endeavor, we have to have to support these venues. </p>
<p>For direct financial support: they’re on Patreon with a bunch of incredible perks for monthly donors at all levels! Go to FRIGIDNYC.com/donate to donate directly, or to get rain checks for tickets when we can all be back in person! </p>
<p>If you can’t support financially right now, consider signal boosting them. Check out their social media channels, their website, and get to know the amazing programming they have hosted for decades, and support by tuning in to see the programming lineups they have on now. </p>
<p>More than anything: get engaged and get active! Write your elected reps about rent relief on commercial and cultural spaces. These venues will continue to face uncertainty as health and safety measures reduce their capacities, and they do not have the reserves to make it unless sensible social and fiscal support for the arts is passed into legislation. </p>
<p><strong>Any upcoming shows or presentations we should know about!? </strong></p>
<p>We have a sister show FEAST: A Performance Series </p>
<p>Mondays @ 7 EDT on facebook </p>
<p>And there’s full online programing from FRIGID (Kraine Theater) </p>
<p>www.frigid.nyc</p>
<p>More information at https://www.paperkraine.com/" - Brittany Crowell, Cameron Jefts, Lizzy Lincoln, and Paul Purvine</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6329406
2020-05-25T09:33:34-05:00
2021-04-21T12:09:29-05:00
Rachel Drew: A feeling wells up
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/657ae46a2b9a94eb8946a388ed5405e9bbd98210/original/rachel-drew-final.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" />Somewhere in the middle of a story well told, you begin to feel seen. Like someone has heard the secrets you locked away deep in the dark. You are seen. Known. </p>
<p>I love the act of bringing things to life. I love the idea that something I had a hand in creating could have the potential to make others feel they way I have felt. Seen. Known. </p>
<p>But why wait to feel that way until the song is finished? Couldn’t we feel that way throughout the process, if we work alongside each other to create it? Let’s see, I thought. Maybe we can learn something about that in 2020, the Year of Collaboration. And thus this blog, and the Virtu-Haiku Milieu concert, were born.</p>
<p>Rachel Drew wrote a beautiful song for the 4/24 Virtu-Haiku Milieu: https://youtu.be/mbhPt4BnEYE. </p>
<p>I met Rachel over the course of years through fellow artists and mutual friends, first around The Old Town School of Folk Music. She was hard to miss: her voice, her presence, her sense of humor. </p>
<p>Fast forward to today. She has many projects worthy of your attention: The Rachel Drew Band, Dowd and Drew, and The Imperial Sound, just to name a few. She subbed in with Naomi and me at a Zimmerman show that happened this time last year, when I took this photo of her at FitzGerald's. </p>
<p>Her adventurousness is legendary. She collaborates with the best of the best in live performance. There’s no genre she hasn’t mastered, no venue she’s left unexplored, and best of all…no boundaries around the topics she’s tapped for songwriting. In just one example, she tossed off a song a few years ago about losing her cell phone that was brilliant. Brilliant, and TOSSED OFF. Though she barely remembers it, it lives in my imagination. </p>
<p>I have loved hearing her talk about her songwriting process, and hope you enjoy her thoughts on collaboration. She says some very nice things about me at the top, which you can skip past. Or not. Either way, I am blushing. :) </p>
<p>With no further ado, Rachel Drew:</p>
<p>“I think no one can deny that Jenny Bienemann is a very special human. I've overheard more than one person casually comparing Jenny to various divine creatures, and it's never a surprise or too much. I think we all wonder if Jenny is actually magical. I know I wonder. Whatever the case, she truly makes the world a better place with her creativity, generosity, depth and dedication as an artist. She's as graceful and powerful in her community building and friendship. [Editor: blush.] </p>
<p>When Jenny wrote in January revealing the nature of the next Haiku Milieu show, asking whether I would want to be part of it, I honestly was not sure how to approach writing in collaboration. I'd written songs to the poetry of dead poets, or had my lyrics set to melodies by other songwriters, but I'd never written WITH someone. </p>
<p>For me, writing is a very solitary thing. Melodies and music spring into my head or a feeling wells up in such a way that it's clear that a song is coming, or occasionally, a phrase drops or hits in such a way that I am compelled to write it down, and this leads to more--and then I'll seek the quietest and most alone place I can, to work out as much as I can before the feeling ends, or until the song is done. But always alone. </p>
<p>Jenny asked whether I'd be interested specifically in writing a song with Jodi Pulick Walker. I love Jodi, love her voice and music, and really loved the idea of it, the spirit of it, but I honestly worried whether I'm a person that would be able to write with anyone, particularly someone with whom I'd not worked much. How would we know how to work together? Eventually I realized that trying was the point. Expanding what I do and how I do it could only be good. But I still didn't know if I could. </p>
<p>Jodi and I planned to get together. I had a lot of gigs (which feels so eerie to type at this point, two months into quarantine...I look at gigs from a year ago and wonder how any of that was possible), then got very sick at the end of January, and very busy in February. Finally, at the very end of February, on the very last day of this leap year, we got together. </p>
<p>The truth is, I had not been writing much as of late. I have never been one to sit down and write when I'm not inspired to start. I used to just bump into songs hanging in the air. That's how it felt, anyway. They'd come faster than I could write them down. I'd be doing something, get up, and walk smack-dab into a cloud where a song lived. Then I'd scoop the song out of the air into my hands. But I've been too busy, and I haven't been hearing my own thoughts as loudly. So beyond writing with Jodi or collaborating with anyone, and beyond writing for this show, a part of me was really wondering how I would ever get back to writing in a regular way. </p>
<p>That last day of February, I drove over to Jodi's house a bit nervous, gripping my guitar and Haiku Milieu book. Jodi is wonderful. She beams life and hope and goodness. She's a hands-on healer. I'm going to quote from Jodi's bio now. "Jodi is a speech-language pathologist and certified orofacial myologist with 25 years of experience working with children and adults. She is certified yoga instructor." So on a daily basis, Jodi helps folks that are experiencing issues with communication. I hadn't considered that Jodi's day job as a healer would be a factor in the ease of working with her, but I think it was. </p>
<p>There we were in Jodi's therapy room surrounded by therapeutic kid art. It all felt really safe. It was clear that no matter what happened, it would all be ok. She may have even said that. We decided to compare which of Jenny's haikus we were thinking about picking for inspiration. Jodi suggested a few. I suggested one, but I really wasn't attached to doing that one. We then decided to free-write to a couple of her picks and my one, one by one. Separately but side by side. Jodi set a timer for the three sessions. After each free-write session, we traded notebooks and read what the other one wrote, using highlighters to mark what stood out to us. I should add that I forgot to bring paper or pen, which perhaps says a lot about my actual unreadiness. Jodi offered many pens and gave me one of her daughter's old school notebooks, half-filled with social studies notes, which also felt incredibly safe...like there was no way to mess up the notebook. </p>
<p>As we sat and wrote, I was trying to not think critically about what I wrote. I was only trying to just keep the pen moving. I could hear Jodi's pen moving, our breathing, and somehow words began pouring out. As we traded notebooks to read the other's writing, I did worry each time that what I wrote was drivel, but it wasn't like that. We each wrote thoughts that could easily turn into lyrics, with phrases that stood out. What surprised me was how words do pour out in a musical way, even without a distinct musical inspiration. Could I do this every day? I've always thought music was the easy part, the thing that starts it all, and that lyrics are hard for me. This session helped me to let go of some of that. </p>
<p>Of course Jodi and I would still need to whittle down to one haiku as inspiration, put ideas together, and set it to music. We decided to meet again soon. By the time we were ready to get together again, quarantine was beginning in earnest. We talked about finishing via zoom, but things got more hectic as we adjusted to quarantine (doing our jobs remotely and home-schooling our kids, finding tp, etc), and then I got sick. We wound up finishing our songs separately, but to the same haiku. </p>
<p>I truly don't remember which of us picked this one, but it doesn't matter. It spoke to us both. What we began together became two separate songs, and I am so grateful for the journey. I've been writing much more easily in quarantine, hearing songs faster than I can write them, and the exercise of writing with Jodi was so helpful in getting going. It was exactly what I needed, exactly when I needed it. </p>
<p>Here's the haiku: </p>
<p>Some doors need to close </p>
<p>No matter how much you wish </p>
<p>They could stay open </p>
<p>It is hard to let go of what we have and where we are. I write this on Mother's Day. I have two sons and recall that both times I was pregnant, the experience was so intense and all-encompassing, it was hard to imagine not being pregnant. Intellectually, I knew it would end. But I felt that my very being was pregnant, and that I would somehow always be in that state. </p>
<p>But these things do end. When I am not pregnant, it's very hard to imagine that I ever was. Everything is like that. It's hard to imagine my kids not being around ALL THE TIME right now, though I know that someday, and not long from now, they'll both be off on their own. Sometimes we don't want things to end, and even when we do want a situation to end, when it is intensely present, it's hard to imagine how it can end. </p>
<p>Friends, this situation we're in right now would have been impossible to imagine last year. Right now, it's so hard to imagine "normal times." We are IN IT right now. But someday, and hopefully soon (but not unreasonably soon), this current situation will be hard to imagine, too. Good or bad, it all ends. Sending so much love to you and yours.” – Rachel Drew</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6304088
2020-05-04T07:51:08-05:00
2020-12-31T08:21:21-06:00
Jodi Pulick Walker: Living collaboratively in the broadest, most beautiful strokes
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/80622221bc14db78cabea8d6186c168420f67695/original/img-2301.jpg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" />Jodi Pulick Walker is a force of nature. Mother. Speech therapist. Yoga instructor. Pioneer in the field of Nature Play for children. She and her family literally give shelter: they adopted a family from Africa. One of our mutual friends recovered from surgery at her house. Another became her “roommate” during the process of a personal revolution. </p>
<p>She and one of her musical partners, Dave Walker, spotted my husband Robin at the FitzGerald’s Open Mic. He dropped in, enjoyed it very much, but didn’t go back for a year. “Come on,” he kept saying. “You'll have fun. And you have to meet this great young couple.” </p>
<p>Well, I thought, “no, I don’t.” </p>
<p>I had just had my heart broken by a beloved young couple who moved away, and my children were in the process of coming and going during their college years. Sidebar: when your kids come home from being away, it feels wonderful and natural. When they leave, even though you know they are going, it feels like an exit wound. So I managed to prolong what would come feel like the inevitable, for a whole year. </p>
<p>NEVER BEFORE TOLD.</p>
<p>Know what got me to that FitzGerald’s Open Mic? A BET. I was recording with Bruce Roper at Little School Street Studios. I had shared the stage with a wonderful musician, Hans York. He and his friend were in Chicago for a few days, and were looking for something to do. </p>
<p>Bruce is one of my best friends, I often describe him as my best friend who is a man and also not Robin. Know what I mean? It's a good gig. This is a lifetime position, with very few responsibilities. The number one thing you have to do is, pick up the phone. </p>
<p>So I called Bruce at midnight after the gig, and he picked up, “Juniper?” he said. “Come on over tomorrow night.” We agreed to meet in the stuido with Hans and his friends to work on a few songs I had in process. </p>
<p>Hans is a phenomenal player, and did a wonderful job on the songs. Caught up in that fleeting moment as I was, I got what I could but it wasn’t all I needed. As we discussed what to do, Bruce said I would never find a guitar player in Chicago who could do what Hans did, and now he was gone, and I couldn’t bring him back in. </p>
<p>So, have you met me? Did you know that the magic word is “No?” and “Never?” I just really could not even…and then I remembered…THAT YOUNG COUPLE. </p>
<p>This is what got me to FitzGerald’s. Lurking. Comfortable in the shade Robin’s long shadow. I really was not sure I was going to stay… </p>
<p>And then this FORCE OF NATURE comes along, and telling me how much she loves my husband, quoting lines from his songs, and telling me about WHO HE IS, and how every Tuesday she waits and waits and waits for him and just wishes he would come back… </p>
<p>Long and short, resistance was futile. I let those songs go the way of all the wonderful things you start but never finish, that turn out to be what got you where you need to be. Thank you Hans York. Thank you Bruce Roper. Thank you Bill and Kate FitzGerald for your Open Mic, and Will Duncan for keeping the place going. Thank you, lucky stars, that Jodi Walker is now one of my dearest friends and collaborators. </p>
<p>Now let me get out of the way, so you can enjoy her writing. </p>
<p>“This is the year of collaboration and who better to send out the edict than the inimitable Jenny Bienemann. I have learned so much about living collaboratively since I moved to Chicago in 2009 and my friendship and musical relationship with Jenny Bienemann illustrates that with the broadest, most beautiful strokes. I just love that Jenny Bienemann in all her glory. [editor: blush.] </p>
<p>I have now written three haiku songs: my first two took the haiku and directly placed it in the song, building the structure around the haiku. </p>
<p>My first song came from her haiku: “I wish you could see you as I do, sparkling, like the creek sees the sky.” As I reflected on the divergent relationship between how we see ourselves and how others see us, I thought about the different directions that could take. </p>
<p>The music flowed from there: three different ways that our view of self could veer off from how others perceive us, and what that felt like in the physical world. </p>
<p>For my second shot at haiku collaboration, I chose one from what I like to call Jenny's laughing Buddha haiku group: “I shall turn to dust under a laughing child's shoe, mesmerized by the clouds.” I imagined all the pathways that a life could take towards death - all the near-misses and could-have-beens as we careen towards the ultimate reality, and how finding someone to truly love can ease us into that reality peacefully, with laughter, knowing that the love we found was worth the road we took to find it, and through to the Great Beyond. </p>
<p>When Jenny sent around her latest idea for haiku collaboration, it happened to be a few days after I had shared the stage with Peter Joly and Rachel Drew for a gig at Uncommon Ground. Rachel had been kind enough to lend her voice to one of my songs and I immediately thought of her as a writing partner, if only for the chance to sing with her again. </p>
<p>We met for a single writing session before Covid 19 hit and our ability to continue collaborating was cut off by our mutual pressures of motherhood, career and illness, but during that session we brainstormed enough for not one haiku song but 3. </p>
<p>I pulled out some writing prompts and strategies that I had learned from two of the greats: stream of consciousness timed writing, which I learned from Sue Demel back in her Old Town days, and using mindfulness and presence to write about what is accessible to the senses in a moment of time, which I learned from one of my Jenny classes. </p>
<p>Rachel and I then exchanged our solo writing and began to write, based on the writing of the other. With that initial burst of creativity, I took our individual songs and weaved them together to form the song "Steeped in Darkness." </p>
<p>Although I was unable to perform it with Rachel, I did have an opportunity to collaborate with my quarantine string section, my daughters Jane and Tessie, who accompanied me with improvised parts on violin and cello respectively. </p>
<p>I am always first in line for anything Jenny cooks up. Jenny's motto resonates so soundly with me, especially at this moment in time: "And Why NOT?"” - Jodi Pulick Walker. </p>
<p>Go here for Jodi's "Steeped in Darkness" song and video: https://youtu.be/hPYXArSuqjM</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6295713
2020-04-27T08:43:17-05:00
2020-12-31T08:23:11-06:00
Pat Brennan and Chris Neville: 5 - 7 - 5
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/23ab68a0f1f42f1657fc0e5d4e6d4802301ffc4d/original/img-7669.jpg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Pat Brennan. Chris Neville. The men, the myths, the legends. </p>
<p>This is the first time in the history of the Collaboration Blog that two people have collaborated to bring the blog itself to life.</p>
<p>It is fitting that it is two Titans of the Musical World, Pat Brennan and Chris Neville. </p>
<p>After watching them from afar for forever, I got to know them though our work in the band The Zimmermen. It is one of the great joys of my life to sing and play with them. And honestly, the only thing more profound than their musical artistry, is their hilarity onstage and off. </p>
<p>If you get a chance to see them perform live on stage – RUN, don’t walk! </p>
<p>And if you get to hang out with them after the show, tell them I told you to buy them a drink. That fits with the nickname they gave me.</p>
<p>Now, may I suggest you turn to your quarantine mate, decide who plays whom, and read the following aloud, Reader's Theatre style?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“CHRIS NEVILLE: </p>
<p>Rather than focusing on a specific poem, we thought it would be interesting to explore the haiku meter - 5 syllables, followed by 7, and then 5 again. </p>
<p>So I put together two ideas, one slower based on 5/4-7/4-5/4, and a second quicker one based on 5/8-7/8-5/8. </p>
<p>The slower idea was kind of a languid, electric piano thing, and not fully fleshed out, but the second piece seemed more interesting. </p>
<p>I built a pretty angular Corea-like line that was first played in the upper register with bass notes, then the left hand begins to mirror the upper line, and then the right hand switches to a melody line that is a slower paced rhythm figure that plays against the fast line in the bass. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>PAT BRENNAN: </p>
<p>He sent them to me. I loved the faster one. </p>
<p>I first approached the drums. I programmed a Mahavishnu Orchestra type thing in 5/4, 7/4, and 5/4. It felt crazy. </p>
<p>So, instead, I programmed a straight 4/4 beat that added a beat to every 4th measure, thus creating one long measure of 17/4 (5+7+5). It turned CNev's measure of 7/4 upside down rhythmically, but I used the crazy drum beat the last time through to rectify my commercial instincts. </p>
<p>I used an Asian bell type thing to mirror CNev's left hand and replaced it with a plucked bass when the drums enter. I also added that hazy opener with the synth scootchies and the woman's voice to appeal to Linda Evans. </p>
<p>The middle part is CNev's piano with Pat's OVOX'ed (a virtual voice processor) voice singing "Five, Seven, Five". </p>
<p>The final section is CNev's piano with three different treatments floating in and out. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>CHRIS NEVILLE: </p>
<p>Pat wanted to rename it: "Robin's beard is gray // I'm nice but I need to say // Robin's beard is gray" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>PAT BRENNAN: </p>
<p>CNev talked him out of it, thusly: "An interesting // Idea sometimes is best // Left unfulfilled, Pat." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Overall we are very happy with what sounds like the rush of thought that goes into the composition of any haiku. At least for us....” </p>
<p>- Pat Brennan and Chris Neville</p>
1:16
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6287752
2020-04-20T07:54:16-05:00
2020-10-22T03:37:35-05:00
Baby, why you wash the dishes?
<p>This week's guest blogger is musician, songwriter, friend, and voracious reader, Terry White. </p>
<p>I got to know Terry backwards. We were mixing the same studio, Joyride, with our mutual friend Blaise Barton. "You don't know Terry?" he would say. "Nicest guy in the world. His album is on the wall outside." I would look at that album cover, for "Our Separate Ways," and think, "I gotta meet that guy."</p>
<p>Turns out we did know Terry, we just didn't know it.</p>
<p>Terry is like the Mayor of Roosevelt Road, or as it is known, The Veltway. FitzGerald's, Friendly Tap, Wire, The Outtaspace? Everyone knows him, just ask. If you need someone or something, he will help you get it. One time, I needed a guitar for a gig, and I didn't even ask him for it, but he got it to me. When Terry's guitar got to that gig, but he didn't, I wrote a song called "Where is Terry White?"</p>
<p>Admittedly, that song had as much to do with his wife, the amazing Colleen, as him. Colleen raises the game of everything she's involved in. She's got the ideas that bring things to the next level, and she herself is a wonderful writer. Maybe I'm partial: she is a librarian. Robin is too. So, they know how to do stuff. The exact people you want on your team.</p>
<p>As Terry will tell you below, I was thrilled when his collaborator turned out to be Colleen. And I hope you will tune in Friday night for The Virtu-Haiku Milieu: Collaboration show on Facebook. </p>
<p>For a sneak peek, check out their video here: jennybienemann.com.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, enjoy this post from Terry:</p>
<p>"When Jenny asks if I'd like to contribute to one of her projects, I am honored and of course accept the invitation. </p>
<p>I had written a song based on one of her haikus last year, and she asked if I'd like to contribute to another round. This time the song should be in collaboration with anyone of my choosing, and it should include a video. Perfect timing! The entire world is collaborating to diminish the effects of this virus. I asked my wife, Colleen, and she naturally said no, as she hates the spotlight. It took a bit of cajoling. But once she picked the haiku, and I told her, I envisioned her in a scarf, with sunglasses, wearing her dishwashing gloves, she became a willing partner. </p>
<p>Colleen and I have been collaborating on life for almost 30 years. One thing we collaborate on is meals, which can lead to dirty dishes. As we shelter in place, unable to dine out, we are creating more dirty dishes than ever.</p>
<p>Typically, we dirty the dishes together, and Colleen takes over from there. I do enjoy getting the dishes dirty, and I'm not totally opposed to what comes next—the washing, the drying, the putting away. In fact, I'm happy to collaborate on it! But Colleen has a high standard of what constitutes clean, and demands that the cleaning take place immediately following the dirtying. I'm more in the camp of allowing dirty dishes to sit, while we relax, preferably with a cocktail. She's often cleaning the dishes while we're still in the process of dirtying the dishes. This can be a bone of contention in our meal collaboration. </p>
<p>But that's what collaborating is all about. Bringing one's strengths to the effort, and accepting the weaknesses of your husband. </p>
<p>So Colleen picked this subtly romantic haiku, and let me turn it into a blues number of domestic conflict. I selected blues as the genre, because Jenny has a crack band (Robin Bienemann, Andon Davis, Klem Hayes and Paul Bivans) that play with her at FitzGerald's monthly. She has occasionally invited me to join the band for the blues segment of the set. It is thoroughly enjoyable for me, as I don't have much responsibility (Colleen knows my penchant for that), and I get to play some lead guitar. Not to mention, have a few half-price drinks."</p>
<p>- written by Terry White, with editorial support from Colleen White.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6280832
2020-04-13T08:14:58-05:00
2020-04-13T08:14:59-05:00
Maybe it would do the same for you.
<p>I find myself at a loss for the words to adequately express how much it enriches me, my artistic practice, and my work I as a singer, songwriter, poet and photographer, to consider how much I don’t know, and to work collaboratively with those who do. </p>
<p>First off, it is scary to bring something new to life. Fear rides in on the back of all that hope, all that exuberance. Any one of these forces will knock you right off your horse, but all three? Let’s just say, anything that makes it out of our imaginations onto the page, or the canvas, or into a conversation, is a miracle. </p>
<p>Now let’s say you have an idea, it’s working, you enjoy the process and the result, and people are responding. The fear steps in. Let’s just keep things going as they are, it says. </p>
<p>But you know there is more. There is a whole world of people who, literally, see things differently than you. </p>
<p>Maybe you know this firsthand, through friends undergoing changes in vision. Maybe you watch your parents navigate a new and terrifying world as their vision deteriorates. Or maybe you are grappling with your own changes in vision. I had all three. Suddenly, it hits: how do people with low vision experience the visual arts? </p>
<p>I wanted to be part of answering that question. </p>
<p>I turned to my friend, visual artist and musician <a contents="Deborah Maris Lader" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://www.chicagoprintmakers.com/print-making-director-chicago/">Deborah Maris Lader,</a> for an introduction to the good people at Chicago Lighthouse. She connected me with <a contents="Julie Stark" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://chicagolighthouse.org/leadership/julie-stark/" target="_blank">Julie Stark</a>, Board member for the Chicago Lighthouse and President of JS Consulting, Inc. </p>
<p>Julie’s insight proved integral to the drafting of the audiobook. I was thrilled when she agreed to be a co-editor. She served as a counselor throughout the process of bringing the Haiku Milieu audiobook to life. </p>
<p>Julie said: people who have low or no vision may not know color. They may never have seen a horizon. They will, however, intimately understand shapes, sounds, smells, tastes. You will find the words you need within your own senses. </p>
<p>BOOM. What? A whole new world of expressive language, an entirely new vocabulary, laid itself out before me. </p>
<p>And the writing was just one part: there is the music that goes with it, the spoken delivery of the haiku, and the descriptions. Each had to learn how to hold hands with the other, while navigating – you guessed it -- hope, exuberance, and fear. </p>
<p>There is more to that story, but I want to get out of the way and let you enjoy guest blogger Julie Stark’s post.</p>
<p>Then, if you have time, take a listen to the first chapter of Haiku Milieu, attached. More on my website, <a contents="jennybienemann.com" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://jennybienemann.com">jennybienemann.com</a> </p>
<p>As you do whatever you do next, just know that thinking about people who experience the world differently than I do has made me a deeper, truer, more authentic artist. Maybe it would do the same for you. </p>
<p>Haiku Milieu Re-seen </p>
<p>Who could have imagined these days of Corona virus? I am adjusting to the reality of shelter in place - and the daily inside / outside risk assessments we are all making from our 4 wall spaces (that is, if we are lucky enough to have one). </p>
<p>On these post work afternoons, I find myself getting reacquainted with things I love, but do less and less at this time in my life… puttering, puzzles, cards, yoga, and the almost NEVER: leafing through our many coffee table books. </p>
<p>But here I sit, with the most recent addition to my collection… Haiku Milieu. It is signed with heart by my friend and author, singer-songwriter-photographer and haiku artist Jenny Bienemann. And I am smiling at the memory of her launch party at Fitzgerald’s, where we sang, drank and marveled at the beauty of the arts. </p>
<p>It’s 41 degrees outside right now, but the sun is out in a clear sky. And through my windows’ east-west-south exposure, there is still plenty of light left at this 5 o’clock hour. But the truth is, there’s basically no amount of light that can give me the access I want to this beautiful book. </p>
<p>When you are a low vision person as I am, and your eyes don’t perform at the level of marvel your heart requires, leafing through any written ANYTHING is a unique sort of endeavor indeed. In the case of Haiku Milieu, I am able to make out the intriguing images Jenny shares. And on some pages, thanks to the large, sans serif type, I can even make out the poetry, with its word economy and philosophical punch. </p>
<p>As for the other pages, it’s to adaptive technology and handheld magnifiers I turn to enjoy the rest. And of the 10 million blind and visually impaired people in the United States, I am clearly one of the lucky ones to be able to access this work of wonder at all. For the most part, the visual arts and many table top books are minimally accessible to those with low or no vision. That is, UNLESS you have an author like Jenny, who thinks to reach out with an email like this: </p>
<p>From Jenny, to our mutual friend Deb Maris Lader: </p>
<p><em>"As I work on the haiku book, I [am] attentive to how I might record the book to make it enjoyable for all listeners, including those with low vision. Not having low vision myself, I would like to get advice from people on the front line. I am wondering if you can put me in touch with someone who can fill me in on the things I should be thinking about as I plan and record the audio book. If yes, I will be grateful!" </em></p>
<p>With Deb’s connection to the Chicago Lighthouse, where I sit on the Board, Jenny and I become connected, and thus begins our unique collaboration. </p>
<p>I am looking back over the many emails Jenny and I exchanged from September 2018 until the book release concert in May of 2019. And what strikes me right away is the presence overall of what any good discovery must have: genuine curiosity. </p>
<p>It’s hard to believe, but it is a very rare thing to be asked: “How can I help you feel the beauty I see through my lens, my paintbrush, or my pen?” The honest answer is that it’s different for every low vision or blind person, depending upon what points of reference we already have. What is a shade of blue? A full moon? A creek? Or a shadow? </p>
<p>Our 6 month process to answer these questions and many others is heartfelt and fascinating. </p>
<p>It is Autumn. </p>
<p>I am looking at the digital manuscript…the haiku poems themselves and their companion images. The chapters are Love, Loss, Longing and Life. There is no shortage of deep feeling here about who we are, how we link our hearts to each other, and how we challenge our assumed constraints. I am already thinking about how challenging it might be to describe some of the images. 2 silhouettes on a sunny pavement, a potted plant reflected on a glass table, and my personal favorite: a dollop of cream, heart shaped in a cup of latte coffee. It’s not just that some of these things may have never been seen, but it’s the light and shading in Jenny’s stunning photography. I fear the audio descriptions may come up short. But then again, the world has little idea how beautiful the intentionality of the attempt itself feels. Access of any measure is better than no access at all. </p>
<p> And then it is Winter. </p>
<p>I am receiving Jenny’s audio descriptions. Each MP3 aims to give context and depth to the image on each page. We exchange ideas on how to anchor each section. How do I know if I can’t see, the difference between the poem and the description of the photo unless you mark the distinction somehow? How do you make the description details as textural…as touch / taste oriented as possible? </p>
<p>Creating context where no context may exist…no small task. </p>
<p>But back and forth we go, until all 120 poems have audio descriptions. </p>
<p>It is Spring. </p>
<p>With the grass and early flower buds comes a new layer of creativity from Jenny. Who could have imagined the next series of audio clips? I click on the description files and now, they are bookended by original music / percussion compositions. They are laid into the background as little magical lifts to the words. I hear bells, chimes, and sounds which please entirely, though I can’t pinpoint the source instruments. It has all come together: the art, the poetry, the descriptions, the music. And the voice of this thoughtful artist, bringing to us, as she says, “the extraordinary in the everyday”. </p>
<p>By the time May comes around, it is no surprise that as part of her release event, most of the concert proceeds go to none other than the Chicago Lighthouse. </p>
<p>By June, the Haiku Milieu audiobook is sitting on my iPhone Audible account. </p>
<p>And I am grateful. For the experience of bringing, in some small way, this literary gem to those who see differently, and for a unique engagement with this artist, whose big talent is only made more immense by her huge heart. - Julie Stark</p>
15:59
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6272518
2020-04-06T07:24:01-05:00
2020-12-31T08:23:37-06:00
Misha Fiksel: Just to be clear, I was going on a hunch.
<p>This week's guest blogger is Mikhail Fiksel, https://mikhailfiksel.com/.</p>
<p>FIRST OF ALL. When you hear something that makes you stop in your tracks? That makes you pause for a moment, when that is exactly NOT what you are supposed to be doing? That's what we're all trying to do with our art and our music. FREEZE TIME. Bring us all together, into the eternal NOW.</p>
<p>This is what happened when I heard, and witnessed, Mikhail (Misha) Fiksel lead his band of live musicians to play deep, deep groves at an event that was important to my professional life at the time. He just...stopped me. With the music. In a way that nothing should have been able to, at that moment. With the way he was with his musicians, and the way the musicians were with him. They were all present, intently listening, responding to the deepest need of the moment with their keenly-honed skills. </p>
<p>I had no idea who he was. I did not at the time know he was an award winning designer, composer, musician, and dj. I had no idea and none of it mattered. I just wanted to work with him. </p>
<p>And as he'll tell you, I tried to engage him a few times. When he finally agreed to produce the remixes of my songs for the Haiku Milieu Soundtrack, I was thrilled.</p>
<p>I remember our first phone call. He had a lot of questions. What was the big idea the sound was in service to? What should it sound like? How should the listeners feel? How did I think they would be listening? Basically, all the questions I ask myself before starting a project, he was asking me. He was present, he was listening, and he was responding to the deepest need of the project, just as I had seen him do while working with his band those many years ago.</p>
<p>I got off the phone and said to my husband Robin, "I think I have been waiting my whole life to have that conversation." I've attached one of the songs he mentions, "Spinning (remix)" to this post, and you can find the entire Haiku Milieu Soundtrack at my website, jennybienemann.com.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, here's what he had to say about our collaboration:</p>
<p>"It occurs to me that all this started quite a while ago. It also occurs to me that it’s all about... theater galas. Let me try to explain. </p>
<p>Way back in 2014 (I just checked the receipts :) I guess she spotted me performing with my band at Madhatter’s Ball, a gala by Lookingglass Theater. </p>
<p>She reached out, inviting me to collaborate on a live performance - incorporating me on the beats, etc...Unfortunately that gig didn’t happen for me, probably because I was actually in the process of moving to NY. </p>
<p>Fast forward to 2018, and I’m back in Chicago (at least on a part time basis). And this time it is I who proposes collaborating for a live event. I was in pre-production for 2nd Story’s Soiree (yet another gala - I told ya!) and we wanted to incorporate a song into one of the stories, and Jenny’s voice and vibe seemed to be a perfect fit. </p>
<p>Just to be clear, I was going on a hunch - by that point, we just had a couple phone conversations. But I was pretty confident in my suspicions that she would be a good collaborator. </p>
<p>And I was not wrong - her generosity and dedication made it such a great rehearsal process and the stories and the songs ended up exactly what they needed to be - beautiful, moving and inviting. Right on brand for 2nd Story. And then Jenny also brought her awesome band and showed off her performance chops - she sang and performed all night and was the secret sauce for the whole event. </p>
<p>So I was sold. And we began collaborating on the Haiku project. </p>
<p>That process proved to be a nice gentle ride - like cruising on Lake Shore Drive with the top down on a sunny Sunday evening. Jenny emerged from the studio with a handful of simple yet delightful recordings of her solo guitar work and some vocalizations. I was immediately drawn to how spacious they were - there was a lot of breathing room, so much space, so much patience - plenty to play with. </p>
<p>And Jenny wasn’t asking for anything SPECIFIC - for whatever reason - she was trusting me to do my thing…. And so the music (and some of the images that eventually became the book) were speaking for themselves. </p>
<p>If I remember correctly, with each of those remixes, the process was to take the raw guitar track, chop up a few strums/sections and for starters to throw some sort of semi-extreme effect - a long delay or verb, or to run it through a resonator, or slow it down by half or reverse it, etc - and see what that would inspire. </p>
<p>Because we weren’t aiming at the dancefloor - I wasn’t feeling the pressure to provide beats (although a few did sneak in) and instead I would focus on the pads and layers created by the effected guitar elements. I would stack them and let it get away from me for a bit - and then start editing and making choices. </p>
<p>There was one interesting development. All that processing and layering would very quickly lead to a rather synth/electronic sound. But I was very interested in holding on to the organic flavor of Jenny’s music - so that led to me using field recordings (mostly nature sounds). Somehow that helped ground things and often would inform my next steps - for example, the rhythm of the crickets I added in One Last Chance were the inspiration for the looping shaker textures that is throughout the track. In responding to the title of Spinning Away, I decided to listen to the crackling of the needle on a vinyl record - that informed the clicking textures that set the tempo for the remix. And so forth and so on. </p>
<p>So at some point, I started sharing drafts with Jenny. One of the most pleasant surprises was that she was asking me to make the tracks longer. That is a RARE note - most of the time I find myself needing to edit, to sharpen, to look for efficiency. Inversely, Jenny was asking me to take my time and to let things breathe (much like her original recordings). </p>
<p>This direction was very helpful - I got to slow down the whole ebb and flow of the tracks. Unlike so much of electronic music, there were no drops or peaks…. Quite the opposite - ideas/layers were developing gradually and cresting and crossfading into each other. I think that the tracks really opened up at that point - some of the synth elements dissipated, and those that stayed felt like they belonged and informed the songs… And the tracks became meditative and truly in support of the visuals without drawing unnecessary attention to themselves. </p>
<p>Finally I started delivering the masters. I’m sure things were arriving at the 11th hour. I’m sorry about that :) And then a bit after that, the book and CD finally arrived. </p>
<p>And it is then that I got to understand and witness her vision for the final product. All the elements were in sync with each other, and definitely serving the book experience. I’m sure that was the plan all along. </p>
<p>But for me it was magic - without giving me too much direction, Jenny lead me through this process all the way to the finish line. And I’m quite grateful for that." Misha Fiksel</p>
5:25
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6266219
2020-03-30T09:12:17-05:00
2020-12-31T08:24:09-06:00
Mike Janowski: Do you know anyone?
<p> </p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/392277/9d706512c481e9835580a186673ef8d305f0e8d4/original/3-30-20-blog.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>“That was fun,” said Terry White at Friendly Tap after our November 15, 2019 Haiku Milieu show. “When are you going to do this whole Haiku Milieu concert thing again?” “Oh God, Terry, “ I said. “Maybe never. I would need a really good reason.” </p>
<p>And then for no reason at all, I said, “Do you know anyone who does video work who could help me get a bunch of the Haiku Milieu songs David Sameshima recorded up on YouTube?” He looked at me a second, and said, “You know what, I think I might.” </p>
<p>Fast forward to December, and I met Mike Janowski. We didn’t get down to work that month, because that is my birthday month (we celebrate someone else’s birthday too that month…right? Who again?) so it gets busy. </p>
<p>Turns out Mike and I have a lot in common. We share common friends; a common employer, former for him, current for me; a love of getting the details right, and rehearsing. </p>
<p>He agreed to edit the 40-some videos of singers who had written songs for Haiku Milieu, so we could launch the YouTube channel on April 24 with the Haiku Milieu: Collaboration edition concert. Meanwhile. I had some ideas of how the videos would go: haiku/photo first, then the words of the haiku, then the name of the performer, then the song, then the credits. </p>
<p>From the very start, Mike was a great collaborator, straightforward and kind, with a keen artistic horse sense. He said the multiple fonts, the one on the photo and the different one we were using for everything else, was distracting. It kicked you out of the video, he said, before the song even started. And, his own feeling was that the haiku did not need to be in print right after the photo. </p>
<p>Hmmm. Really? </p>
<p>As a quick double-check, I threw this out to a few people who never let me down taste-wise: Robin Bienemann, my daughter Jessica G. Smith, and my friend Ron Lazzeretti. They all agreed with Mike. Let the record reflect I chose the path outlined by my betters. Now the videos open cleanly, with the haiku, the artist name, the video, followed by the credits, and the photo/haiku at the very end. </p>
<p>So Mike did the number one thing any collaborator must do: come to the table with your artistry and your horse sense. You could almost stop there. </p>
<p>But the fact is, putting videos together is intense. I built the title cards for each artists’ name, for the haiku they chose, and the credits; I found the photo/haiku for each, and put together a spreadsheet of the artist name and the haiku they chose. Then I felt like I ran a marathon and deserved a medal. </p>
<p>His part was exponentially more. </p>
<p>Mike watched all the videos, edited the heads and tails multiple times, and optimized the sound. You would never know there was ever a choppy beginning, ending, or mistake, or that someone dropped a word, because of him. Then he uploaded them all and sent them to me, TWICE. He sent me 2 full drafts – TWO FULL DRAFTS of 40+ videos — TWICE. Herculean. </p>
<p>And there you have the number two thing any collaborator must do: do the thing you do, to the absolute limit. </p>
<p>Everything else, from a collaboration perspective, is gravy. And Mike’s gravy happens to be especially delicious. </p>
<p>I pitched him an idea. Since we were not going to be able to gather in person on April 24, what if we turned the show into a Virtu-Haiku Milieu, and premiered the new songs via video, live on Zoom? </p>
<p>Not only did he say YES to figuring out how to build the videos between April 10 and April 24, he organized a test run with three friends, Bob Ness, David T. Kindler and me, this past Sunday afternoon. </p>
<p>I didn’t even ask him to do this – he just wanted to get out in front of it and figure out how to make it work! </p>
<p>So, dear reader, I feel like I am getting a lesson in collaboration even as we speak, due to this project, and my new friend, Mike Janowski. </p>
<p>I hope you can join us on Friday, April 24 at 8:00 pm for the Virtu-Haiku Milieu: Collaboration. In the coming days, we’ll share further details.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6258920
2020-03-23T07:58:45-05:00
2020-12-31T08:24:34-06:00
Jodi, Cheryl, Andi: There was literally nothing better to do.
<p>There was literally nothing better to do. </p>
<p>We were in NYC. Our beloved friend Jodi Walker had a beautiful brand new CD. She and Dave Walker booked 3 nights of gigs, and invited Cheryl Tomblin, Andi Donhue, and Robin and me to join them for these shows. </p>
<p>It is an act of bravery to connect two worlds. In theory, your friends would all love each other, get each other, and be able to participate in a lifetime’s worth of inside jokes. In reality, it doesn’t always work like that. Going home means reconciling that you left, who you have become, and in who’s company you have become it. It can be tricky. </p>
<p>But when it works, it WORKS. Jodi’s friends loved the show. The bar owner loved the show, and kept asking when we could come back. Their friends loved us, and we loved their friends! Hooray. </p>
<p>At the end of this thrilling weekend, the very last night was not able to go forward as planned. The singer/songwriters among us were not going to be able to be part of the show after all, and there was, quite literally, nothing better for us to do. </p>
<p>I remember the moment when we decided to try it. Writing together. Jodi, Cheryl, Andi and I. All four of us were getting tired..but once the notebook and pens were on the table, we came alive. </p>
<p>The sounds of the crowd disappeared, and speaking for myself, my heart started beating faster. We passed the notebook between us for several pages, each of us writing a line then passing it on, not looking at what the person just ahead of us was writing, so we could come to it fresh. Then, devouring their line, we strove for our own next line to be worthy of what came before. </p>
<p>This probably continued for only 20 minutes or so, yet it is one of my fondest memories of that weekend. Here are the first four lines: </p>
<p>“You can say it isn’t real, or say it isn’t true </p>
<p>But the burn is real as real as a halogen, and it burns for you </p>
<p>Finding my way home by the light of the moon </p>
<p>And I know you’ll be there waiting, wait love, I’ll be back there soon.” </p>
<p>The Haiku Milieu: Collaboration concert takes place on April 24. More than 20 artists are bringing something new to life, and we will share them in an online gathering. Keep an eye on jennybienemann.com for details. Hope you can join us.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6251084
2020-03-16T12:42:34-05:00
2020-12-31T08:24:59-06:00
Carley Baer: Yes, people can be cruel. But they’re far more often kind.
<p>FRIENDS. Continuing our Year of Collaboration, this post is guest written by my dear friend and truly incandescent songwriter The Carley Baer Music Page, carleybaer.com. </p>
<p>We did not know as we were writing this song how supremely lucky we were to be in each other's physical company, as we do now, in this unimaginable moment in our world's history. </p>
<p>You will find many common endeavors in her (beautiful) writing here: The joy of the first glimpse of an idea for a creative endeavor. The necessary use of will to stay focused against the siren call of other ideas, other people, other endeavors. The endeavor to be thoughtful of other collaborators' ability to contribute. </p>
<p>And perhaps most of all...the miracle of friendship, of trust, of surrender to the process, of two people's creative efforts yielding something far greater than the sum of their parts, and the marvel of how it goes out into the world differently from each contributor, connecting with listeners we know and may never know. </p>
<p>Go here https://steelbridgesongfest.org/track/1255852/the-monster; to listen to the original song, sung by Carley Baer and played by me (I forgot how you can hear Carley smiling as she sings, and that I played the xylophone with bows - !) </p>
<p>Go here: https://jennybienemann.com/music to listen to the version that appeared on my record, 'Every Soul Grows to the Light.' </p>
<p>Steve Hamilton recorded the track and had the brilliant idea to keep the song simple with just one singer. Special thanks to Pat MAcdonald, Melaniejane Jane and the Holiday MusicMotel for producing these songwriting events so beautifully for so long. </p>
<p>And now, ladies and gentlemen, Carley Baer... </p>
<p>"Once upon a time, Jenny Bienemann and I were hiding out in beautiful Door County, WI. </p>
<p>It was a verdant week in June, on the banks of the sparkling waters of Sturgeon Bay, and we were attending Steel Bridge Songfest, one of three annual songwriting festivals hosted by the Holiday Music Motel. The essence of these week-long writing frenzies is collaboration by way of a bottle spin; each night, everyone stands in a circle, three spins gives you your writing trio, and you have 24 hours to write a song in homage to the local metal structure from which this particular fest takes its name. </p>
<p>For three days, this is the drill-- spin, write, record, repeat-- and at the end of the week, all the brand-new baby songs are performed in a theatre for the town. The first two days of a festival are effervescent with potential energy. Everyone’s kicking ideas around. Licks become melodies, melodies become verses and choruses. You can hear them crystallizing through the walls. </p>
<p>By day three, the hallways of the motel are reverberating with dozens of emergent tunes. People are being recruited from outside their spin groups to add instrumentation or backup vocals. Groups are in and out of the on-site studios; the format of the end-of-week shows is starting to get nailed down. Folks start getting spread pretty thin, but even so, the siren song of more chances to collaborate is hard to resist. </p>
<p>It was the third night’s spin that put Jenny and I together. I’d known her for a few years at that point-- her husband Robin was one of my first and favorite co-writers when I started attending the festivals-- but this was our first chance to collaborate, and I was really excited to see how we would work together. </p>
<p>As is the nature of a festival midweek, however, the other person who rounded out our cosmic trio was forever getting called to do other things. We would make a plan to meet, and Jenny and I would find ourselves waiting indefinitely, and then get distracted or called away ourselves, and then we’d attempt to meet again a few hours later. After a few more of these fruitless cycles, something had to be done, but the etiquette in this situation was unclear: do we stay in a holding pattern, awaiting the presumed future availability of our co-conspirator? Or do we start writing at the risk of cementing an idea and excluding our partner in the creative process? </p>
<p>Eventually we decided that we could just write our own song, and when (or if) our third became available, we would start a fresh idea all together. But in the meantime, there was no sense in wasting our time waiting. Not with all the creative energy in the air. </p>
<p>Speaking of which, the next obstacle we faced was finding a quiet place to write. Every room in the motel had some tune fragment drifting out of it. There were writers in the lobby, writers in the diner, and melodies coming from every corner. As songs were getting dialed in, the air was electrified with excitement. The urge to hop on to any of these newly-forming gems, riding their momentum to the finish line instead of starting from scratch on our own, was hard to resist. </p>
<p>But we had a commitment to honor, to the bottle and to ourselves. We finally found a vestibule at the end of a hallway and sat down-- Jenny with her guitar, I with my notebook. I felt the prickle of apprehension that I always feel at the start of a new session. Co-writing can be a daunting endeavor. With nothing to build on, no way to know whether the initial offering is going to turn into something that’s any good, those first moments can make or break a session. But one of Jenny’s great gifts is her ability to put a soul at ease. Despite my indiscriminate misgivings, the positivity of her spirit assured me that the experience was going to be good, whatever the song ended up becoming. </p>
<p>She began finger-picking a gentle, rolling riff in drop-D tuning and I was drawn to it instantly. It sounded introspective, bemused. A quiet song of self-reflection. Down from the heavens, a melody dropped into my head. I offered it tentatively. “All my life I’ve been afraid of a monster…” She beamed. “YES.” From there, the rest came with ease, at least as far as I can recall. The premise we devised was fun to work with: at the beginning, the monster is something we fear, whispering from the shadows that the world is scary and people are cruel. Then one day the monster is right next to us, and rather than respond in fear, we invite him in for tea. That initial act of bravery reveals that it’s not really a monster at all. It’s our inner voice, trying to tell us how to see the world around us. At first all we hear is the fear and judgement, but when we summon the courage to take a closer look at the world and how we react to it, we realize that fear is just a story, incomplete-- people can indeed be cruel, but they’re far more often kind. </p>
<p>I was elated. For one thing, I was in the midst of a hardcore Joni Mitchell phase and something about the song (the alternate tuning? the inward focus?) felt very Joni-ish to me. But beyond that, I found that Jenny and I have a lot of common ground in the way we approach writing. My belief about co-writing is that the song itself is secondary; the primary goal is getting to understand your co-writer and seeing how big of an overlap there is in your Venn diagram of influences and approaches. Sometimes that can take a lot of work; sometimes the overlap is a sliver, or there’s none at all. In this case, however, it felt like we had an immediate understanding, that our Venn diagram was a single overlapping circle, and the song was largely finished in a matter of hours. </p>
<p>There was one final caveat. In the course of crafting the narrative arc of the tune, we forgot that the whole point of Steel Bridge Songfest is to write songs about the eponymous bridge, and as we were getting to the end, we realized that our creative director’s first and likely fatal critique would be that we had neglected to do so. Dang iiiiit. We pored over the lyrics, searching for any kind of bridge angle, anything at all that could make it relevant (and, if we’re being totally honest, merit inclusion on next year’s album of bridge-themed songs), but there was nothing we could do without ultimately moving the words away from the story we had created, and we loved the story too much to change it. So, in a last-ditch effort to circumvent the impending critique, we tucked the word “bridge” into the last line of the last verse, to describe the twilight between sleeping and wakefulness. </p>
<p>In the end, speaking for myself, the song could be an allegory for the very writing process that yielded it: my initial fear and anxiety, the bravery to confront and inspect those feelings, the peaceful confidence that followed once the fears were assuaged. It’s amazing what you can discover when you open yourself to the co-writing process. If you’ve never tried to collaborate, I cannot recommend it more highly. It changes you; you learn new skills, acquire new tools, forge new bonds. Yes, it can be uncomfortable to make yourself so vulnerable to others. Yes, people can be cruel. But you’ll find that they’re far more often kind." </p>
<p>On April 24, we will be doing a Haiku Milieu: Collaboration Concert. We had originally planned to have it at Outtaspace. Now, it is very likely that we will have it online. We would love to have you with us. Save the date, and stay tuned. </p>
<p>Photo credit: Jen Brilowski.</p>
2:58
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6242391
2020-03-09T06:18:04-05:00
2020-12-31T08:25:21-06:00
Jennifer Ferguson: An enthusiastic beginning and a triumphant end.
<p>In our work together, Jennifer Ferguson, dulciusdesign.com, takes what is black and white but full of hope and potential and brings it to life.</p>
<p>She is first and foremost, a listener. She listens to you. Your ideas. Where they have gone right and where they have gone off the rails. You feel relieved after you speak with her. Immediately, you sense you are in good hands. </p>
<p>I was introduced to her by my singer-songwriter friend, Kathy Greenholdt, herself a wonderful designer. She thought we might hit it off, and was she ever right. </p>
<p>You have experienced her work on almost all of my creative endeavors: the poster for my FitzGerald's residency; all the materials for my songwriting classes and workshops at the Old Town School of Folk Music and beyond; and my Haiku Milieu book, audiobook and soundtrack. Her keen eye, diligent work and thoughtful feedback have made everything she touches, more...well...touching. Vivid. </p>
<p>So when it was time to create the art for the April 24 Haiku Milieu: Collaboration Concert, I asked Jen to once again work her magic.</p>
<p>When we had settled on the design, asked her to share her thoughts on our collaboration and was genuinely thrilled to receive this back:</p>
<p>"As a creative professional, I sometimes feel like an automated design machine. People approach me, punch in their order, push a button, and I calculate their instructions and hand it over.</p>
<p>But from the beginning of our working relationship, Jenny's process was collaborative. She included me in her brainstorming and asked questions instead of giving orders. She left the windows wide open for inspiration to come and go and welcomed my thoughts along the way. It's rare that I'm allowed to share the wheel and do some of the driving along the journey, and I'm very proud of the Haiku Milieu designs that we created, and thankful for the energy and passion that Jenny brings to all of her work. </p>
<p>Jenny's requests for me are refreshingly different from my other clients, and I can count on having a bit of fun with the work. She has what I interpret to be a very loose, carefree drawing style, and when I receive her sketches in black and white, I try to honor the flow and "whimsy" as she calls it by filling in the empty spaces with bright textures and colors. I've learned that I can relax and experiment, because Jenny is comfortable in the sometimes messy and unattractive (but always crucial) stages of back-and-forth that come between an enthusiastic beginning and a triumphant end. Neither of us is afraid of walking around the thing we're making and finding ways to make it better. </p>
<p>If a collaboration is working well, I believe that a culture of trust is established; each person is unafraid to show up with their unique skillsets and contribute. Working with Jenny sometimes feels like following the rules of improvisational comedy: whatever one person suggests, the other will try to always say "yes, and..." by adding something. It's a safe, authentic, positive space for growth. I'm honored that Jenny trusts me to help realize and deliver her vision, and grateful for our partnership over the past few years." - Jennifer Ferguson, Dulcius Design</p>
<p>Friday, April 24 is the Haiku Milieu: Collaboration Concert. 25 artists will share music, spoken word, and visual art inspired by a photo and haiku from the Haiku Milieu universe. We hope you'll join us.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6234347
2020-03-02T08:24:09-06:00
2022-05-29T13:16:03-05:00
Klem Hayes: Everybody has a secret.
<p>2020: The Year of Bringing Things to Life with Other People</p>
<p>Klem Hayes: Zeus of the Bass. Also, husband. Father. Friend. Consumer of chocolate. Occasional writer of songs, but generally content to let the bass do the talking. His great secret is: his words are as powerful as his playing.</p>
<p>We wrote a song together for the April 24 Haiku Milieu: Collaboration show. I asked him to be a guest writer for the blog. He gave me more than I could have asked for. Like he always does.</p>
<p>Here's what he wrote:</p>
<p>Everything has been revealed. Every thought has been expressed. Every path has been explored. Every word parsed. Every flavor, color, smell, sound, turn of phrase has been catalogued; everyone has a toothache. Everybody has a secret. Every melody is now part of the public domain. You look familiar. And still we cling to the idea that new perspectives are possible and that we have something to reveal and contribute. </p>
<p>Ignorance is a blessing. We are blessed. </p>
<p>While the wealth of our planet's six thousand year history is spilling off the edges I discovered this: If you give something to me I'll try to return it in better condition. - Klem Hayes</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6225588
2020-02-24T07:46:29-06:00
2020-12-31T08:26:23-06:00
Grace Smith: Do what you can do when there's nothing to be done
<p>2020: THE YEAR of BRINGING THINGS to LIFE with OTHER PEOPLE. </p>
<p>We were both heartbroken. Lost from loss. Reeling from unexpected turns of events. We knew we had to get out of the house. We went to a coffee shop and sat. Silently, pretty much. I with my coffee, she with her tea. </p>
<p>One of us had the idea to make something. It was probably me. I have a hard time believing that there isn’t something I can do, even when there is absolutely nothing to be done. I think I got the ball rolling with a piece of scratch paper that had printing on one side and was blank on the other. I wrote some words down, and my daughter made a drawing. We went on until we filled the page. </p>
<p>There is a tension, an energy inherent in collaboration. It is different every time, and between every collaborator. The trick is to allow it, let it exist and inform what you’re making, while not getting caught up in it. When it feels good, it’s a gift. And even when it is…well, tense…you wind up being grateful for the intensity, the way it reminds you that you are alive. </p>
<p>As we passed the paper between us working on one drawing, we were not necessarily on the same page. Tension was there. Energy was there. Look past the child-like drawings and you will find two people of different generations climbing out of the void, each in their own way, yet together, by bringing something we made from it back with us. </p>
<p>Maybe it is just a simple story. Maybe it is the start of a project, like a children’s book. Maybe it is just a record of how we spent that one day. Who knows? What we know for sure is that making art is the one thing people can do together when nothing else can be done.</p>
<p>On April 24 at The Outtaspace in Berwyn IL, join us for the multi-disciplinary Haiku Milieu: Collaboration show. 20 new pieces brought to life by 30 amazing artists. JOIN US.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6217790
2020-02-17T07:55:12-06:00
2020-02-17T07:55:12-06:00
Collaboration disables fear
<p>2020: THE YEAR of COLLABORATION continues. </p>
<p>How often do we feel something we create has to become Something for it to matter? That it must “prove” its worth, value, and, most subtly, our validity as endeavor-ers? </p>
<p>Many artists will tell you, collaboration scares them, because they just want what they make to be good. </p>
<p>There is something wonderful about not caring. I myself do not get there very often. I care all the time, and too much, about everything. For me, caring is a way of feeling part of a community striving for high ideals when much of my day is spent bringing things to life alone, whether it is a spreadsheet, a poem, a song, or a drawing. </p>
<p>Hilariously, caring makes me feel like I am doing something, when I’m not. That I’m part of something, even if it only exists in my mind. I can become very loyal to its mandates: principally, be good at what you’re doing. You don’t exist if you’re not good. Better to not make something than risk not being good and not belonging. </p>
<p>It's not true, but it is incredibly seductive. Sometimes, it feels better to be smart and right and to have principals, than it does to wrestle something new from the void. So we do what feels good in the middle of our busy lives. Who can blame us. </p>
<p>There is one workaround that I have founf: working with other people. Collaboration. </p>
<p>A few times a year, I get to teach a day-long songwriting workshop at the Old Town School of Folk Music alongside master songwriters Steve Dawson and Sue Demel. </p>
<p>In one of my sections, we did a co-writing exercise where one person writes a word. They hand it to the person on the right. The next person writes a 3-line poem, then hands it to the next person on the right, who uses color to express how the word makes them feel, then hands it to the person on the right. That person writes a final, 4-line poem. From one such collaboration, grew this: </p>
<p>“Clouds are drifting overhead </p>
<p>every changing, ever new </p>
<p>now you see it, now you don’t </p>
<p>different vista, different view”</p>
<p>On 4/24 at The Outtaspace, we are doing a whole show of collaboratively built pieces: Haiku Milieu: Collaboration. Hope you can join us.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6210028
2020-02-10T07:00:02-06:00
2021-06-20T17:05:11-05:00
FitzGerald's Open Mic
<p>2020: the year of collaboration continues. </p>
<p>We have to “make” so many things. It starts first thing in the day with “making the bed.” “making the coffee.” “making nice,” so we can “make a living.” If we get in an argument, we “make up.” As I write this I understand why the mere whisper of the word “make” will “make” us break out in a sweat. </p>
<p>Every Tuesday night, there is an Open Mic in at FitzGerald’s in Berwyn, Illinois. Robin and I try to get there each week. One warm summer night, we were all sitting around listening and chatting, and we decided to make something. Together. </p>
<p>This loose band of miscreants, err, I mean musicians, decided for that night that they could draw. One frame grew from another, one artist took inspiration from another, and one artist peered so intently at it by the light of a votive candle that it caught on fire. We shared it on the Fitzgerald's Tuesday Night Musicians page. Someone called it an Open Mic artifact. I like that. </p>
<p>It was a simple as deciding we were going to do it. We flipped over an old piece of direct mail lying around behind the bar to its blank page, divided it into quadrants, and passed the paper among us. I have not tagged the artists in this post, not just because they are not all on Facebook, also because there are some things you just “make” for your self. And each other. And maybe just maybe, for someone else someday. </p>
<p>On April 24 at The Outtaspace, we're going to do a whole Haiku Milieu concert where the pieces are created in collaboration. Hope you can join us. More info at jennybienemann.com.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6201449
2020-02-03T07:31:11-06:00
2020-02-10T07:03:29-06:00
Robin Bienemann on Collaboration with "Hey Nonny" song
<p>2020: THE YEAR of COLLABORATION continues. Enjoy this post from guest commentator Robin Bienemann. </p>
<p>Chip Brooks at HeyNonnyAH in Arlington Heights invited Jenny and me to pitch a regular series on a Tuesday night at their excellent music club. We came up with the idea that “Tuesday is TWOS-day,” featuring us and another duo. Chip and his team turned that into the TwosDay Night Special: Jenny & Robin Bienemann w/ Small Potatoes” and we had our first one last Tuesday, 1/28. (The next one is April 28.) </p>
<p>Our pitch included the notion of a theme song. I had been noodling around with ideas for quite awhile. But now, with the inaugural "Twos-day" show one just week hence, the theme song needed to get done. </p>
<p>Writing songs on assignment suits me. I would have been a perfect Mad Men-era jingle writer describing products and their exquisite virtues. </p>
<p>If I have any consistent process it involves testing simple melodies, matching them with phrases from "research" scrawled across many pages of my eel-skin notebook: wiki-fed historical factoids; ridiculous rhymes with "Nonny"; spelling games. No filters allowed. Experience bears that I might end up hanging a song's hat on the most peripheral detail. But I REALLY need to keep an eye on the cracks and corners. </p>
<p>I was tickled that this might be a song that ONLY made sense to play at Hey Nonny, and even more mischievously, only at our Twos-day event. </p>
<p>After a week of intermittent dutiful solitary labor I was stuck. I had exactly one Mambo-esque line referencing the race track. Not exactly a sing-a-long anthem. It is the line that became the intro: "Hay ... is for horses ..." </p>
<p>By Saturday morning I expressed to Jenny that this was NOT going well AND I was resenting the hours it was stealing from my precious weekend, which was exposing this whole enterprise to negative vibes. In literally one minute Jenny said it should "go like this" and hummed a simple nursery rhyme melody into an iPhone voice memo. Each line ended with a loopy phrasing for "Hey Nonny". </p>
<p>That is the melody (NOT the one I labored over) that we spent the next day and a half living with - riffing on silly puns, rhymes and word games about the days of the week, counting to 2, and the venue's unusual name. </p>
<p>It happened to be a weekend when we could check in on and off for 36 hours straight. Advocating for a phrase here, agreeing to compromise on a phrase there. Ultimately our loose criteria was to keep an idea if it kept us laughing even after the 2nd and 3rd time we heard it. </p>
<p>The first performance may not have been technically perfect, but was especially gratifying that the audience spontaneously sang along every time the "Hey Nonny" phrase came around. </p>
<p>Enjoy! Thanks to Ron Lewis for recording. </p>
<p>Robin Bienemann</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6196421
2020-01-29T22:29:20-06:00
2020-01-29T22:31:42-06:00
Painting by Sue Demel for "Every Soul Grows to the Light."
<p>Love reminds a star <br>the dark is just pretending <br>you are made of light </p>
<p>Sue Demel made this gorgeous work of art to match the music on my album, "Every Soul Grows to the Light." When you open the CD package, this painting is all you see. </p>
<p>This morning I realized, Sue's title for the painting, "Love Reminds a Star The Dark is Just Pretending," only needed a third line to be a Haiku. So I added: "you are made of light." </p>
<p>For me, 2020 feels like it is all about bringing things to life with other people. I am wonder-struck that my first collaboration of the year is with my beloved Sue-Belle. Check out her work in Sons of The Never Wrong, Come Sunday and at suedemel.com.</p>
Jenny Bienemann
tag:jennybienemann.com,2005:Post/6196420
2020-01-29T22:25:03-06:00
2020-01-29T22:25:03-06:00
"Isn't it Nice" collaboration with Robin Bienemann
<p>Each Monday, I am sharing a work brought to life through collaboration, and this week I give you: "Isn't it Nice" by Robin and me: https://youtu.be/njRc55zXGOQ </p>
<p>The idea came to me while I was driving. I called Robin and said, "I have an idea I want to write with you!" "Ok..." he said, not knowing what the idea was, or how he would find time away from his own creative work to work collaboratively. We both only knew that I was excited about the idea, and that it would be our first time collaborating on our home turf. </p>
<p>I wrote the melody in the car, recorded it on my voice memos app, and sent it to him. I kept tinkering. About a week later, we sat out on our porch one Sunday morning, discovering the intro, the chords, and building the bridge section. It was fun...and also several times, we broke a sweat. And not just because it was warm out, know what I mean? Two people with strong ideas coming together to build something new? It is simple, it is FUN, it is almost always fantastically rewarding, yet not always easy. </p>
<p>It would take another two months of tweaking and a solid deadline to complete the song. We knew we wanted to play it with the Jenny & Friends Band at the 1-year celebration of Jenny & Friends at FitzGerald's Nightclub. We finished the song the night before our rehearsal, and the next night our friend Marshall Hjertstedt captured it when we played for Fitzgerald's Tuesday Night Musicians at the Open Mic. Hope you enjoy. </p>
Jenny Bienemann