After spending more than a year babysitting a Fender triple-neck steel guitar, I found myself going deep into a very physical sensation of playing steel guitar as a journey; that the necks and tunings were a landcape to explore: hills and valleys, lakes and rivers and shorelines -- summoned in clusters and shapes of tones, in the line of the bar moving over strings.
When the triple-neck went home, I found myself missing that new found expansiveness, and, in an effort to recreate it on my single-neck steel, eventually discovered a G6#11 tuning that opened things up for me again.
Here is my first textural/ambient composition made with the new tuning, recorded with live delay and reverb in one pass.
A journal by composer and writer Kevin Macneil Brown, detailing the creative process.
Saturday, May 31, 2014
Saturday, May 17, 2014
Chickering Bog Meditation ( watercolor painting)
Chickering Bog- painting by Kevin Macneil Brown, watercolor on paper, 2014.
I returned last week to the deep quiet of Chickering Bog. This place-- actually a fen, as it is fed by underground water-- was formed when ice age glaciers receded and left in the bedrock a hole full of water, to be enclosed over years upon years by vegetation in mats and layers. A small patch of open water remains, rippling with wind, reflecting trees and sky. The place has the feel of deep and ancient quiet. The day we visited, turtles basked on the shore, a few spring peepers sang across the breeze, and a broad-winged hawk came in for a fast fly-by, calling a whistling pwee-pwee. The next day at home I found a patch of sunlight and began this painting, holding the quiet and mystery of the bog in my memory, and then building the painting over the next few days with more layers of glaze than is usual for me. -KMB
I returned last week to the deep quiet of Chickering Bog. This place-- actually a fen, as it is fed by underground water-- was formed when ice age glaciers receded and left in the bedrock a hole full of water, to be enclosed over years upon years by vegetation in mats and layers. A small patch of open water remains, rippling with wind, reflecting trees and sky. The place has the feel of deep and ancient quiet. The day we visited, turtles basked on the shore, a few spring peepers sang across the breeze, and a broad-winged hawk came in for a fast fly-by, calling a whistling pwee-pwee. The next day at home I found a patch of sunlight and began this painting, holding the quiet and mystery of the bog in my memory, and then building the painting over the next few days with more layers of glaze than is usual for me. -KMB
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