the freedom to be

Consider these simple goldfish:

They have a safe pond to live in. They are fed and cared for by a watchful staff. They get to live their lives, doing their own work, day in, and day out.

While at an artists’ colony, I have the good fortune to do the same. My meals are taken care of. I have a warm place to sleep. There are ping-pong tables, and record players, and grand pianos. And all that is expected is that I engage with my work.

Today I talked about poetry, played Bach, discussed Charles Seeger’s Manual of Dissonant Counterpoint, wished fellow artists a fond farewell, and played several hilarious games of ping pong. How does that relate to my new compositions? I am happy and relaxed—what better place to write from can I ask for.

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