Chicago 2017 - The Buskers

I have seen buskers before in the real world, but most of the images which come to mind at the word are cinematic. Dim, often green hued scenes from movies or TV shows set in places I've never been: train and subway stations in cities like Chicago and New York.

I was not thinking of these images or people as I began my trek from Chicago's O'Hare airport to downtown via the CTA, but as I ran across them they became integral bits of my experience of Chicago, and on my flight out of O'Hare later that day, I ended up making notes about the ones I came across.

  • Walking to the CTA station in the O'Hare airport there was an older white lady playing a strange, multi-bodied stringed instrument with a bow. It looked like something from a Picasso painting, and between my rush to get to the train and my surprise at the appearance of the instrument, I paid no attention at all to what it sounded like.
  • When I got off the train at a stop putting me closest to the Chicago Art Institute, there was a Polynesian man playing old time Americana on a guitar - This Land Was Made For You And Me, or some such. He had a capo on the first frets, his guitar case opened at his feet, and no one paying any attention.
  • At a beautiful plaza downtown, about a block from the train station, while people in suits were taking their lunch breaks and a group of tourists received instruction about one of the many large sculptures I saw installed in such spaces, an African American man played the saxophone to an audience of one Hispanic woman. He was accompanied by a prerecorded instrumental track on a nice boombox as the lady recorded the performance on her phone. An oddly private performance in the midst of such communal, almost tidal, activity.
  • Looking for a place to grab lunch, I came across a dentally challenged caucasian man sitting on the side walk outside a pharmacy playing AC/DC on an old, barely functional tape deck. He sang along, loudly, passionately, and poorly, while shaking a styrofoam cup of change to the beat. It was difficult to tell if he were busking, begging, or simply having a wonderful day.

Third Ways

"Reality loves its simple duality. It tells us both in this case there are only two choices: forsake all else or forsake each other." He looked hard at the defeat in her eyes, at the loss already blooming there.

"But I have never been a fan of reality's fascism. I understand there are no other choices. That doesn't mean I won't tear a hole in the world to make another way."

Thoughts on Creative Tension

How to encourage creativity and innovation in a group when so much failure is required to succeed?

How to care without feeling responsible and/or let down?

How to build something with a group and be graceful in the face of differing goals and values regarding the thing being built?

How to value something over which you do not have full control and be able to find contentment even when that lack of control means the thing is not always a fully accurate representation of the thing you value?

There is something intrinsically un-peaceful about creating things with others, and responsibility in such endeavors fosters an even higher propensity towards unsettlement.

Driving to achieve a thing of hard work and difficulty is to have an image of it in your mind in some state of completion towards which you are trying to move a shared reality. To let frictions and roadblocks defer you too far from that image means settling for inferior achievements. Dissatisfaction is an intrinsic part of making a thing better, whether that’s art or a program, a company or a community.

The problem for the individual driving achievement, driving the goal, is in finding some measure of peace within the dissatisfaction. The two are in opposition and to find balance is to give up on the full expression of one or the other.

Floor Plans

She sought to build into her life:

A full measure of intent,
held loosely
but passionately.

Time spent in beauty, in creativity, in growth.

A hope which may be far over the horizon.
A hope only a few steps away.

Stimulation:
in conversation,
in observation,
in undertaking.

An openness to wonders in the world.
A way to not be asphyxiated by its anxieties.

A way to interact with people based in dignity,
leaving all parties with a sense of value.

A willingness to approach complexity,
internal and external,
with grace.

Bravo!

I had never seen Steel Magnolias in any form prior to tonight's performance at Panola College and I have to say I was wonderfully affected by both the humour and the poigniancy of the performances and particularly the writing.

The author, Robert Harling, captured so many colorful, quick, and viciously humorous interactions in his story I was pressed at times to keep up, particularly with Jessica Bailey's perfectly droll performance of Oussier. A true joy to watch.

Of course the final act had me in tears and I seldom ask for more than that.