Round up

I came into Songs and Places not knowing what to expect. My friend Ian recommended the class to me after telling him I was interested in taking one of the Visual Studies courses offered here at Berkeley. I knew I wanted to make things, to make art - to get away from the type of work we do in architecture studios and instead explore a more creative, less prescriptive side of making.

What I got with Songs and Places was a reason to be making something every week and a source to draw inspiration from every time. I got to practice my drawing (creatively rather than drawing what I see or drafting) and try a whole bunch of mediums I would have never tried without 185x. I painted, I carved, and I used wood as my paper/canvas. I think things really picked up for me during the second half of the semester once I found wood, really. It became what I worked with for most of the last semester and I will definitely continue to use it for future projects.

Aside from making my own worked, I loved seeing the work of others. There were some incredibly talented people in S&P this semester. Actually, everyone was impressive to me and everyone developed so much throughout the semester (S&P should be longer than 14 weeks!). I loved seeing and hearing how other people interpreted the music each week. As a matter of fact, other peoples work probably inspired me just as much as the music. It gave me momentum that built up as the semester progressed (I really could've used some more time in the class).  

Above everything else I got out of Songs and Places, I am so happy that I had the chance learn about a long history of music I would have never been exposed to. We listened and learned about some really beautiful music. From the blues to spirituals (which were two of my favorites), every week I was amazed by how much I could learn about an era or group of people based on their music. And the singing! We had so much fun singing. I looked forward to our hour or two of singing every week. Thanks for those train whistles by the way, Tony.

Overall, great time! And I'll be stopping by next semester for sure.

Tony, goodnight!

Sea shanties

Thoughts on the Chicago blues...

The Chicago blues got me thinking about migration, and the exchange of ideas and songs between places. So many of the great Chicago blues musicians came from the south, bringing their traditions and methods with them north and influencing the style of music there while adapting to new modes such as the electric guitar. The south was always in their conscience, and a good deal of the songs we listened to this week referenced a place called home - always in the south. 

I had an idea of what I wanted my piece this week to stand for - the move from a slow and languorous life in the south (the bottom) to a more high energy and quick environment in the north (the top). It didn't quite work out the way I wanted to, but for the better. 

We were asked to ponder some questions on the blues. The use of the electric guitar made me think of the electric highlife genre that was forming around the same time in West Africa. I wondered if they had anything to do with each other, any dialogue, any influence upon the other. While I still don't know the true answer to this question, after our class I'd say of course they do. 

We talked about the idea of home for African-Americans, and how the origins of Af-Am music is undoubtedly related to Africa. I was blown away by what Beth said about having a home in the States, but feeling a bond to a home in Africa that she doesn't and most likely will never know. Even though she's several generations removed from Africa, the connection is still there.

My piece ended up having a mind of its own, and serendipitously, the grain of the wood I outlined on its lower half is strangely reminiscent of the shape of West Africa. 

Love for a place

For this week on the Delta blues, I focused mainly on Robert Johnson, researching his life and trying to understand where he came from. He died young, but managed to become a master of the blues in his short 27 years.  He did not receive recognition for his skill and talent, however, until long after his death.

Robert did a lot moving around in his life. He lived in Memphis, TN and traveled to cities all around the country.  What struck me the most about his life was that no matter where he went, he always ended up where he came from. He continuously moved around to different cities in Mississippi even after experiencing places like New York and Chicago, and died only two hours away from where he was born.

Robert Johnson's life got me thinking about the idea of home. It seems like he was very attached to the landscape of his childhood. I know some people that would never live anywhere but their hometown/region, and I think Rob was one of these people. He really loved where he was from and always came back, even if other places may have been better for him to develop as a musician (the chance to be around other blues musicians from different backgrounds, play more shows, etc). I started to reflect on my idea of home. I realized that I'm not attached to any singular place. I've lived in Chicago, New York, and now Berkeley and I have no particular yearning to live in any of these places for the rest of my life (not to say I wouldn't go back...). I am completely open to moving around and making a home wherever I end up. I guess me and Rob were different in that way...

"An empire he saw in the Pacific Northwest", Roll On Columbia

I picked up on some common themes through the collection of Woody Guthrie songs we studied this week that inspired my work: the man and the exploration of the unknown. In the case of Roll On Columbia, the unknown is the Pacific Northwest. For my piece this week I envisioned an explorer heading West, arriving at a landscape he's never seen before. I've always been intrigued by how America's real explorers were so fearless as they went places no (western) person had gone before. They must've loved the sense of mystery. That's why I chose a blurred image of a man standing atop a mountain (that's how I interpreted the image), taking in what's around him. I placed a piece of acrylic, which I sanded, atop the image. The blurriness of the photo and the fuzziness of the plastic express uncertainty, and the ambiguity of the light in it contributes to this feeling. I like that I don't know what time of day it is in the picture. Is the sun rising from the East behind him? Or is it setting in the West as he looks back toward home?

Six feet under the clay - Louis Collins

I was struck by the melody's similarity to Freight Train and how that plays into the idea that folk music is a product of sharing and tradition.  It's crazy to me how two songs about completely separate experiences (personal ones nonetheless) can share the same backbone.  I can imagine someone writing a song and only knowing that melody and just going with it and making it their own.

The angels laid him away
Laid him six feet under the clay
The angels laid him away

Most of the time when i'm deciding what song to base my week's piece on it is because of the lyrics. I read and reread the lyrics as if I was analyzing a passage of prose or poetry. Even though Louis Collins is (obviously) in English, the phrasing "angels laid him away" almost seems like a different language, a vernacular of a time and place I am not familiar with. Despite the fact that Louis Collins is about a death, its language is romantic to me.

For my piece I wanted to create something that represented the six layers of earth Louis was laid under. The gradient seemed like the right choice for two reasons: to convey the sense of getting deeper below the something (distance and time), and to allude to the transition from life to death (light to dark).

The brier and the rose

They buried her in the old churchyard

They buried him in the choir

And from his grave grew a red red rose

From her grave a green briar

They grew and grew to the steeple top

Till they could grow no higher

And there they twined in a true love's knot

Red rose around green briar

The songs we covered this week shared similar themes - they were all about love with a dark twist. Barbara Allen is about a sickly young man named William who tells Barbara Allen that he loves her, and that her love is the only thing that can make him better.  He dies after she rejects him and she soon kills herself after.

I enjoyed the debate we had about Barbara last week in class.  Some people argued that Barbara was cruel for not reciprocating William's love and for making him die.  Others argued that Barbara was narcissistic for thinking that William died because of her.  William would have died either way.  Other people thought William was inconsiderate for telling Barbara that he loved her on his deathbed - that that was unfair for him to do to her.

Overall, the song paints a dark image for Barbara.  Out of William's grave grows a red rose, while out of her's grows a brier.  In my piece for this week I wanted to represent the rose and the briar through different mediums that spoke to their inherent qualities.  I carved the brier into the wood I used to create a rough texture and painted the rose to create a soft and bright appearance.

Everyone's guitar

My piece for this week depicts Leadbelly and Maybelle Carter sharing a guitar.   I was inspired after reading the folk song revival piece in the reader to draw something that represented the sweeping nature of folk music through time and place.  A line that struck me in the reading - "Can a white urban folk song performer successfully since Negro prison blues?" I chose to draw Leadbelly and Maybelle Carter because they were two artists with folk and southern routes separated by a generation that found success in the industry through their unique methods/style - Leadbelly with his 12 string guitar, and Maybelle with her 'Carter lick'.  It amazes me that two artists from different times, places, and background - Leadbelly spent a good amount of time in prison in the South - can share a genre.  Shows how relatable folk music is to so many people.

There are a lot of tears in the Bible and feelings of nostalgia

 

Our song for the week - O Mary Don't You Weep - got me feeling nostalgic

over memories past and friendships that have faded away

Two versions of the song struck me the most -

The slow and melancholy version we sing together in class

and the considerably more upbeat version by the Swan Silvertones

Which is where I get the title for this post

"There are a lot of tears in the Bible," a raspy voice says at the start of the recording

A clear reference to the content of the song

But then the music starts and its upbeat and makes you want to dance

All in all

O Mary Don't You Weep made me nostalgic in a sad and happy way

Sad these things are over

But happy they even happened

My sister and I at the airport sometime in the 90s

My first roommate

Me and my best friend

Sketch from Giverny

Jumpin' Judy

In the early 1930s, John and Alan Lomax visited several prison farms across the South in hopes that African-American songs about slavery would be preserved.  What they found, instead, were songs about life in prison then - work songs. In Jumpin' Judy, a song characterized by the rhythmic beat of axes hitting trees in unison, Allen Prothro sings about real struggles faced by inmates at his prison in Chattanooga, Tennessee.  Wanting to know more about the history of the song, I did some research and discovered that Judy was a common name used in Southern prison songs, and the word 'jumpin' was used to describe how inmates reacted to angry guards.  In a slow and gritty voice, Mr. Prothro sings the story of a prisoner coming up against a violent guard and wanting to report it to his captain, who has been gone for a very long time (for me, this part of the song hit me hard because it let me know how careless prison organizers were with their inmates).  His captain ends up not caring about the abuse the prisoner is receiving from the guard, and the songs ends with singing about the desire to escape.  What's most upsetting to think about is that this song was not one man's story.  Prothro even sings that there are Jumpin' Judy's all over this world. It is crazy and saddening to me that so many people could relate to being in such a helpless position.

Jumpin’ Judy, jumpin’ Judy, hanh!
Jumpin’ Judy, jumpin’ Judy, hanh!
Jumpin’ Judy, jumpin’ Judy, hanh!
All over dis worl’, hanh, all over dis worl’, hanh!

Well you kick an’ stomp an’ beat me,
Well you kick an’ stomp an’ beat me,
Well you kick an’ stomp an’ beat me,
Da’s all I know, da’s all I know.

Yonder come my cap’n,
Yonder come my cap’n,
Yonder come my cap’n,
Who has been gone so long, who has been gone so long.

Gonna tell him how you treat me,
Gonna tell him how you treat me,
Gonna tell him how you treat me,
So you better git gone, so you better git gone.

He got a 44,
He got a 44,
He got a 44,
In-a his right han’, in-a his right han’.

Gonna take dis ol’ hammer,
Gonna take dis ol’ hammer,
Give it back to jumpin’ Judy,
An’ tell her I’m gone, suh, an’ tell her I’m gone.

Ef she asks you was I runnin’,
Ef she asks you was I runnin’,
Ef she asks you was I runnin’,
You can tell I’s flyin’, you can tell I’s flyin’.

Tell ‘er I crossed de St. John’s River,
Tell ‘er I crossed de St. John’s River,
Tell ‘er I crossed de St. John’s River,
Wid my head hung down, wid my head hung down.

Down in the valley

Notes on the song:

I love the sound of the man and woman's voices dueting in the recording that was given to us.  I find the entire song incredibly relaxing despite it essentially being about heartbreak.  I especially love the quiet dinging of something in the background, unclear if this is meant to be the sound of a train, and if it is, unclear if it is intentional or not (since we have talked about old recordings picking up on natural background sounds).  "Hang your head over, hear the wind blow"- I've done this. I just imagine resting my head on the window of a car and hearing and feeling the wind pass by. It's an incredibly sensory lyric. Also, wind is one of my favorite things.  

On my piece for this week:

I imagined being in the mountains, in the woods, and just envisioned an ominous scene.  In my mind, the jail in the song is Down in the Valley, in the foreboding woods.  Up the mountain is a woman waiting for a response to her question - "Will you be mine?"