I am an improvisor, in the garden, on the water, and in my studio. In the garden, I collect seeds in a paper bag, but many I let scatter. On the ocean, in my 14 foot sail boat, I follow the wind. At the keyboard, I play a few notes, then let the music lead me. Years ago, I memorized many touchstone pieces, glorious music by Bach, Couperin, Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin, Fauré, Satie, Ravel, Debussy, Albeniz, Janacek, and more. All my creations are drawn from these masterpieces. Like seeds and the wind, music always has an origin, and a destination. I recently rediscovered several improvisations I had videoed in my studio, and a few made at live performances. I acknowledge my editing choices and palette may not be to everyone’s taste, but the original footage is all stored deep on some hard drive on one of my shelves and I haven’t the desire right now to go and find it and make major alterations. So I have just changed some of the ugliest colours to less ugly ones, and now the overall hue is mauvish, the guy on the left has white hair and the hands on the right are blue. I admit my olden days love for all things psychedelic, and I find the weird out of sync-ness of the fingers of the guy on the left gives me a bit of the “I shouldn’t have taken that second hit of acid” feeling. Also the blue hands.
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I have yet to find the necessity of the second hit of acid. But the music you send out continues to be intelligent and delightful. In another century recall standing at one end of your family piano watching you accumulate this art form. This came from that?
Splendid!