The cellist in our home

Max practicing cello in our room at Snowbird

Two years ago, when my oldest son was ready to sign up for 7th grade courses, he informed us that he wanted to sign up for orchestra and play the cello. This sudden desire to be the next Yo-Yo Ma came out of nowhere. We had to quickly get him an instrument and an excellent private instructor who focused on good technique. I was so glad that he didn't want to play the violin—not that I have anything against it, just that I had played the violin for three years when I was little and am consequently well acquainted with the ear-bleed inducing squeaks of a beginner.

As I was thinking about music and photography this month, I realized that one way of being a supportive parent is to photograph and display your child practicing. It tells them that you value their dedication without any nagging.

A few years ago, a woman asked me to photograph her three daughters with their violins—this, because they were all about to quit. She wanted to memorialize their woefully short-lived musical experience. The resulting photo is one of my favorites, but I have never digitized it. Part of me wonders what the impact of the photo would have been if it had been taken before their interest waned. Perhaps none, but I still wonder...

Thinking about this has made me realize that I need to add a photo of our resident cellist to our family photo wall.

Three views of a piano

I've been at a lodge in Snowbird for the past three days, which gave me the time to look through Sam Abell's beautiful book, The Life of a Photograph. In his book, Abell often presents multiple views and alternative versions of images in order to suggest "the process of seeking a picture—a process with no absolute ending." Inspired by his work, I photographed some elements of the lodge from multiple views. Since the focus here this month is on music, I thought I would share three views of the piano in the lounge.

View 1: As a cleaning lady works on the second floor, the piano sits quietly on the first.

View 2: What she would see if she peered over the railing.

View 3: Still silent, the piano holds a guitarist's playlists.

These three photographs of a quiet piano make me pause to consider the instrument's longevity and its role as a witness to passing time. Quality musical instruments often outlive us. A piano passes from one generation to the next. A violin gains character and tone with age. Brass becomes warmer and more mellow. Even when not in use, a musical instrument gives its environment more character. I have seen beautiful pianos in homes without musicians to play them, possessions to be valued, like bottles of fine wine, for their heritage, their quality, and for their imagined use, for the potential for enjoyment that they represent.

Of course, as a music lover, the silent piano in the photos above gives me a sense of melancholy. But then, melancholy has a beauty of its own.

Do you have musical instruments in your home? What role(s) do they play? How could you represent those roles through photography? Are musical instruments part of your family? Are they a friend to you? Maybe they merit a portrait...

American Idol, Air Force Style

Everybody sing: Yvan Eht Nioj...Yvan Eht Nioj....
OK, technically, that should be: Ecrof Ria Eht Nioj...

Sorry, but I couldn't resist that Simpsons reference.

I was driving by a park not far from a homeless shelter in Salt Lake City, my camera riding shotgun, when suddenly, I heard music. I immediately pulled over, walked to the other end of the park, and saw this:

and this:
Oh yeah, and a fighter jet, a rock climbing wall, a tricked-out motorcycle that is definitely not standard issue, a lot of people you wouldn't want to make angry, and a tent concealing a mystery exhibit that purportedly "takes only 5 minutes." Yeah, right! I thought. Five minutes to get you suited up for your tour of duty in Iraq!

Actually, I am a huge fan of anyone in the military. Their posture alone has me in awe:
Seriously, that photo could be a twenty minute video and it would look the same but for the wind-blown grass. That guy did not budge...Not even when Master Sergeant "Sweets" (and I'm not making this up) belted out No Doubt's "Don't Speak"—probably the first track on the torture resistance training mix tape.

The whole thing was such an unexpected sight. Why were they there? And who chose that location? Not that the homeless people didn't enjoy the show. Just look at the self-proclaimed "Rubber Band Man" demonstrating his appreciation with a few moves :
I doubt anyone would deny that the spectacle was surreal. I am just not used to seeing people in uniform rocking out—at least not since 1980. But even though my equally cynical colleagues would accuse me of being brainwashed for saying so, the Air Force Band rocks. Really. Max Impact is definitely not your father's Air Force band. I stayed and listened to song after song and wondered why these people weren't performing on American Idol—I mean, if you're looking for a large-venue PR campaign...

Having spent a year as a performer for a pretty cheesy group myself, I am in no position to point fingers at things that look like propaganda. Mainly, I felt sorry the band didn't have a better audience. Look at the woman in the folding chair:
You're really going to have to work to win over her heart and mind, I thought. But guess what? A couple of songs later, that woman was out of her chair and dancing up a storm. They were that good. If I were younger and had stayed in that park 30 minutes longer, I might just have gone into the mystery tent and signed up.

June Monthly Special: Music + Photo

One of the music shots from my "Nawlins at Night" post

Unlike many countries, America integrates sports and music into its schools—or at least it used to. As budgets tighten, guess which programs are the first to get cut? Football? Basketball? Not likely.

At the base of Bourbon Street in New Orleans, some talented students from a local high school earn money by performing nightly for delighted tourists and locals alike. As I look at the photo I took there in April, I remember the powerful energy of the brass, the uninhibited dancing, and the flashes of tourists' cameras. Look at the crowd in the background and you will see four people who, like myself, wanted to seize the moment with their cameras.

Now, I don't want to pit music against sports—not just because it wouldn't be a fair fight, but because for most of us it does not have to be an "either/or" choice. I will probably even devote a future Monthly Special to sports photography. But this month is all about music...

Photos inspired by music, photos of musicians, photos of instruments—anything that somehow combines music and photography.

The photo below (from a Paris flea market) makes me think about changing musical styles and the capricious consumer. Johnny Halladay's song "Rien à personne" ("Nothing to no one")—an anthem to the self-made man (i.e. who doesn't owe anything to anyone)—reads like a rocker's lament about his lost relevance (the fear of meaning nothing to anyone) as it sits in the discard pile.

Perhaps one of the challenges of "music" photography—as opposed to, say, "sports" photography (there I go again pitting the one against the other)—is that we do not automatically think of music as a visual phenomenon. Music has its spectacular side, of course, but sight is not the primary sense we associate with it.

I mentioned in my last post that this month's theme was inspired by Fritsch's site. His pairing of lyric and image seems effortless and natural, but I have never attempted it myself and am fairly certain that it will be a real challenge for me. I will be interviewing Fritsch later this month.

What is your own take on the relation between music and photography? How does music affect your imagination? What does "music photography" mean to you? Think about it this month, try something new, post your results, and share them here by adding a link below.