Natural splendour, real musics, wines, wordpower
I do not believe in the notion that any single player/composer/writer/whatever kind of artist is – or ever was the best.
That said, Zakir Hussain was undoubtedly the most influential, most eclectically-inclined, and most ubiquitous hand-drummer/percussionist in human history.
(Jim McGuire took the photo of him)
Zakir Hussain died on Monday, in his adoptive home city of San Francisco.
He was born 73 years earlier, in what was then Bombay, now Mumbai.
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Q #1: what is the pictured jellyfish-like fragment from a (presumably) recently-deceased marine creature?
A: I do not know.
Q #2: upon what has it “washed up”, in very shallow water?
A: sand, obviously.
(on Lights Beach, at eastern end of William Bay National Park, on Western Australia’s south coast)
Bigger question: what is sand, exactly?
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This post’s photo is far-from-perfect.
Nonetheless, I think/hope it conveys a sense of just how fleet-and-flurrying (and splashy) is the to-and-fro of zebra finches at a drinking/bathing “station”.
In arid regions such “stations” can themselves appear and vanish, very rapidly.
The pictured pool sat at the base of the eastern wall of Jessie Gap on 14 June 2023. (photo is copyright Doug Spencer. Jessie Gap is a short drive from Alice Springs)
Musically, I agree with the listener who suggested that if J.S. Bach had heard Chris Thile play, there’d be a set of Bach mandolin suites.
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The featured image looks north/ish, to the silhouetted edge of the Namib’s “sand sea”, circa 40 kilometres east of Sossusvlei.
I took the photo at 7.37 pm – Sossusvlei’s sunset time on 21 November 2022.
This little series’ final image was captured 7 minutes later.
Had I had available the necessary time and technology, I would then have loved to listen to a particularly sublime musical creation which I first heard in 1989, and which amazes and inspires me, still.
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South India’s large terrestrial mammals hog the limelight, but its insects, amphibians, birds and reptiles are equally worthy of appreciative human attention.
The non-mammals offer an enormously higher number of individuals and species, with a mind-bogglingly diverse array of shapes and colours.
Butterflies abound.
The pictured individual is a member of this region’s (probably) most oft-sighted butterfly species.
One CommentImagine (no, not that song) this:
The Tardis delivers a very surprised J.S Bach into the present day, with no briefing.
He finds himself seated at an interesting “new” keyboard – a grand piano.
Atop it is a device, pre-loaded with a diverse selection of music/s from the second half of the 20th century.
He is given absolutely no “background information”.
The printed instruction to him says, “press button to listen to these pieces, then improvise upon whichever one most pleases you”
JSB is intrigued by I Am The Walrus.
Q: what would he do with/to it?
A: perhaps, something like what you are about to hear….
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This post’s actual footprints come from bears in Alaska, birds on the Indian subcontinent and continental Australia, a Tasmanian wombat, and humans in an African desert and Australian suburbia.
The musical bonus is courtesy of one of the greatest jazz musicians – equally so as composer, virtuoso instrumentalist and inspired improviser.
There’s also a metaphorical footnote which involves New Zealand’s largest farm…
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Arguably, this particular oxymoron nicely describes Phacochoerus africanus – the common warthog.
Ugly Beauty is also the title of an unequivocally beautiful composition by one of jazz’s greatest composers.
This post’s kneeling hero was neither injured, nor pious, and although the fire in this image was part of a lovely dinner experience, warthog was not on the menu.
The opening couplet from Guy Clark’s “Old Time Feeling”:
And that old time feelin’ goes sneakin’ down the hall
Like an old grey cat in winter, keepin’ close to the wall
As it happens, just a few days after the recent winter solstice, I happened upon an old grey cat who was keeping close to a wall…but, more crucially, taking advantage of the steps in front of it.
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Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all…
So begins a justly celebrated poem by Emily Dickinson.
In this post “hope” is viewed through photographic, musical and poetic “lenses”.
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