GOOD HARBOR, MORNING- Painting by Kevin Macneil Brown,
acrylic on canvas, 2010)
.... seaweed, kelp, and keen of gulls where the liminal begins (can liminal have a beginning?) and bells ride the wind and tide. I might find, in any sky, that the light makes real the world...
As I finish up recording and mixing THREE MILE BRIDGE-- an EP, I guess, not quite an album-- of my most recent country songs, I realize that I've never let go of an obsessive memory from my teenage years. It's that of late night/early morning radio, coming up on WWVA from Wheeling, West Virginia in the 1970s.
On Saturday nights I'd stay up all night, transistor radio under the pillow, to listen up close-- as close as I could, anyway, through all the static, the distance and drift. Live music with steel guitars and fiddles; singers, some well-known, others obscure; Coffee-and twang-fueled truck driving songs from the Jamboree.
I liked the voices, the stories; the sense of something timeless reaching through those late nights and early mornings; across the plains, up the Blue Ridge Mountains, or from who-knows-where; sounding in the gray-blue pre-dawn of my New Hampshire mountain home.
I can't let go of the yearning and joy those sounds brought to life inside me. So I keep coming back to my own imagination of them; in my own way. Most of these new songs are about places close to home here in Central Vermont.
(Spring Sky From Shoreline- Painting by Kevin Macneil Brown, watercolor on paper, 2009)
Finding Light: Music, Word, and Image for Equinox Arrival A meditative and contemplative celebration of Spring's arrival, with live ambient music, poetry, and images by Kevin Macneil Brown.
My first novel, COMPASS,WATER, STONE AND TIME, began in my consciousness with the vague image of a lonely, whiskey-drinking trail runner who finds himself caught up in a solitary search for something lost in the woods of steep-sided Irish Hill in Berlin, Vermont. I’d been running regularly in the area, around Berlin Pond and up into those woods, exploring trails and an abandoned town road that I’d come to call “the ancient highway.” Months later, the intersection of two events pushed a story to the fore. First, a coyote on the trail ahead of me on the ancient highway actually led me to an old cellar hole. (It was covered then in brush; now, years later, I notice that the brush has been cleared, and the old Stewart farmhouse foundation has been exposed to the sky and to the eyes of visitors.) Then, a boxful of VERMONT HISTORY magazines that I turned up at a library book sale offered a serendipity of articles: one chronicling the history and culture of the Irish in nearby Northfield, on the opposite slope of the hill; another offering an account of the Fenian Invasion of Canada in 1866. A story and characters began to churn inside me. I got the first draft done over the course of a summer, sitting outside in the sunny mornings before work, writing in longhand with pencil or ballpoint pen in a bright orange surveyor’s field notebook that my mother had found at a yard sale in New Hampshire and sent to me. Another vital inspiration at the heart of the book came from what I can only call The Muse; in this case, a vision of a dark-haired, dark-eyed, sweet-tough woman who somehow stirred my imagination to create Shawn Donahue, the woman who pulls protagonist Liam Dutra out of his loneliness and shares in his quest. Liam’s real quest, his deepest yearning, is for connection--communion even-- with the landscape he lives in, including its hidden past. Shawn, I think, having grown up in this place that Liam has come to love, embodies that landscape: physically, culturally, even spiritually. In this, she turned out to be crucial to the story, crucial to Liam’s ongoing journey from solitude into engagement. Subsequent drafts-- I was using the computer by now-- showed me how hard it could be to write a mystery novel. Changing one small aspect of a character or shifting one event slightly in time might cause a narrative to slide off its foundation and into a horrible abyss. There were some desperate times when I wanted to pull out my hair, rip up the pages, delete all the files; just quit... But I kept going, thinking and stewing, scrawling notes to myself, shuffling the plot and character details I had notated on blue index cards. Things began to fall into place. Writing the book within the book-- Neal Donahue’s 1866 journal-- came later, in the winter. It was mostly a pleasure, with Donahue’s voice often flowing clearly and without much effort onto the page. The historical research was enjoyable too; I still carry fond memories of old books, window-focused sunlight, and quiet investigations at the Kellogg-Hubbard Library. First—and second, third, and fourth—readers kicked my butt in good ways, inspiring further changes and rewrites. In hindsight, and with three more books in the series written now, I see COMPASS as a dark, dense, and sometimes lonely woodland of a book, with sunlight and water --and love-- offering redemption and hope. ( A few drafts in, I noticed the way some kind of water-- rain, stream, lake-- tended to be part of the scene whenever Shawn was around.) Another thing I’d like to say is that in writing COMPASS I wanted to offer homage to the writers who inspired me: John D. MacDonald, James Lee Burke, Robert B. Parker, Raymond Chandler; Hawthorne, Melville, Thoreau. But I also worked hard to find my own voice, and particularly, to honor the northern New England landscape and the way people live, and have lived, in and upon it.
The second book of the series, THE HAWK OF THE INTERVALE was much easier to write; indeed the first two drafts were often intense and instantaneous in the way they came to me. Sometimes I’d have multiple scenes and conversations unfolding simultaneously in my imagination while I was out on long autumn trail runs. I’d run home and feverishly write things exactly the way they had come to me. It was exhilarating beyond belief, and only slightly exhausting. HAWK allowed me to discover more about Liam and Shawn’s characters, and to deepen their relationship. Virgil, the Abenaki fisherman and poet who is at the center of Liam’s quest, allowed my poetic side to speak freely. And the Gloucester part of the story was a very satisfying way to immerse myself in my own roots and some haunting childhood memories. The prologue, with Virgil presenting his testament in a dream, came from an actual dream I had; Liam’s meetings with Ferrigno echo actual experiences that I had as a teenager in Gloucester, tracing the steps of my hero, the poet Charles Olson. While COMPASS lingers in my writer’s memory as a sometimes dark and shadowed book, thinking back on HAWK summons up for me a sense of spaciousness, of clear horizons. Even the manuscript itself seems lighter, with more blank space on the pages!
I’ll add my thoughts about the third book at another time.
First off, I'm excited to announce my upcoming author event/reading/ book-signing, Tuesday, February 16, 7 PM at Bear Pond Books in Montpelier, Vermont. I'll be celebrating the publication of my Liam Dutra Mystery series with readings from COMPASS,WATER,STONE AND TIME and the other books in the series. I'll also be talking about the process of writing fiction inspired by the power of place--landscape, culture, nature, history. I look forward to answering questions, too!
Artist a. minor is presenting a party featuring her dynamic live video art at the Lamb Abbey in Montpelier, Vermont on Saturday, February 13 from 7-10 PM (FREE admission), and I will be providing quiet live ambient textural music to accompany the visuals.
a. minor's work, often inspired by the light and rhythm of ancient Mayan textiles, is a wonder to behold. I'm really looking forward to this event!
--------------------- Also, my exhibit of acrylic paintings, LIMINAL HORIZONS, continues at THE SHOE HORN in Montpelier through February.
Thanks again for reading, looking, listening!
-kmb
In ancient Greek myth, the Halcyon Days were those surrounding the winter solstice: a period when calm seas allowed the island-dwelling kingfisher to lay her eggs; a period of quiet and well-being, a time for contemplation of new possibilities.
While we might not always experience that sense of calm at this time of year, I would like to summon a bit of it for just a moment while I offer my deep thanks to all of you have looked at, read, and listened to my work this year; who have come to shows, readings, performances, exhibits; who have purchased books or art; have supported me in other ways too many to detail. You have helped me to have an exciting 2009! Again, my deepest thanks to all of you.
I've some interesting things on the horizon for early 2010, including another art exhibit, an author event for my series of New England mystery novels, and a run of Fridays with Rusty Romance at Langdon Street Cafe here in Montpelier, Vermont.
Until then, happy holidays and a great new year to all!
A meditative space with live music and images to contemplate and welcome the returning light at the winter solstice
Monday, December 21 12 Noon to 1 PM
Bethany Church’s Working Chapel Montpelier, Vermont
Free and open to the public
---------------------------------------- At the winter solstice we mark the return of —in the outer world of sky, stars, planets — the sun’s light in a dark season. We might also find, in any time, at any moment, the experience of returning light within ourselves.
These sounds, images, and words are offered as a quiet meditation upon that returning light, within us and without. Please feel free to listen, to look; to close your eyes and follow your own thoughts and images as they rise and fall, come and go.
While this event has a beginning and ending in time, it is also meant to be complete in any moment or section, to be experienced quietly within your own frame of time and attention.
FIRST LIGHT ON DARK WATERS (New Music for Steel Guitar)
Also Available: MORNING LAKE REFLECTING SKY
My two long, ambient/ textural works for 2009 are available on audio CD-R via mail order now. The discs are 10 dollars each, plus 2.50 for shipping. (If you buy both, I'll throw in a surprise bonus!)
(Ogunquit, Late November- painting by Kevin Macneil Brown. watercolor and graphite on paper, 2009] ------------------------------------
I made this painting in the days following a long walk on the beach at Ogunquit. I was inspired by the low light on water and the ever-changing skies of a late autumn morning on the Maine coast.
(Monoprints by Kevin Macneil Brown, gouache on paper, 2009)
These four prints were made in a single morning, using abandoned gouache, water, and scrap papers. Images were made by manually overlaying and pressing paint and papers in various ways.
Although this occurred on a morning in spring, the images immediately told me a story about late fall; I named each piece as quickly as I made it.
(October Beach 1- Painting by Kevin Macneil Brown,
acrylic on canvas, 2009)
On Monday, November 9, at 7 pm in the Hayes Room at the Kellogg Hubbard Library in Montpelier, Vermont, I'll be presenting a program entitled BETWEEN WATERS: LAKE CHAMPLAIN MEDITATIONS AND INSPIRATIONS.
This will be an evening combining readings of my poetry and prose with live creation/ performance of ambient music, and a showing of visual art. The works presented in BETWEEN WATERS, inspired by the lake, explore natural and cultural history, evoking power of place and the transformational energies of nature, time, and landscape.
Concurrent with this event, my Lake Champlain paintings will be on exhibit at the library throughout November and December.
This past summer I had the chance to share my love for Lake Champlain in a video interview with Bridget Butler of Voices For The Lake at the Echo Lake Aquarium. Voices For The Lake is finding interesting and innovative ways to foster stewardship of the lake, honoring a mission to "Connect, Share, Affect." Here's their blog:
Arriving at the season of falling leaves, colder air, and opening views, I can't stop thinking about my trip to Chickering Bog a few days ago. I rode my bike up into the hills on a perfect blue sky day. Along the way I was treated to the sight of a hunting harrier in September sun. For a good ten minutes I watched her low flight over pond, sedges, cornfield-- stealth maneuvers and random patterns-- the clear light of sky and water shining on her buff, white, and gray feathers. Later, I stashed the bike in the woods, and ran along mossy trails in pine-filtered light to the bog-- a fen actually: a small stretch of ancient open water surrounded -- and eventually to be covered by-- sedges and vegetation mat; the glug-glug of those waters and the hammering of a woodpecker the only nearby and discernible sounds.
As for my harvest, I'm excited to announce the publication of my mystery novel COMPASS, WATER,STONE AND TIME. It's the first of 5 novels I've written. The story was inspired by one place in particular, the old roads and trails of Irish Hill--running and exploring in those woods and meadows set my imagination in motion. You can sample-- and purchase-- the book here:
I've also recently finished a long ambient soundwork that I composed all through the spring and summer of 2009.You can listen to it and read about it by going to the post just previous to this one. (It's available on CD in a limited edition version with a selection of prints; to purchase a copy, contact liminaleditions@gmail.com).
Now, looking forward to further adventures, along with cider donuts, snow geese, and the silver light of autumn sky and water.....
Morning Lake Reflecting Sky ( Painting by Kevin Macneil Brown,
acrylic on canvas, 2009)
Going to Lake Champlain in the contemplative quiet of early morning, I have found that water and sky give off a compelling sense of power and mystery. Fog, breaking and changing sunlight; the muffled sounds of birds, waves, oars, and distant boat engines all add to the softly resonant soundscape, shorescape, skyscape.
Over the spring and summer of 2009 I made this long soundwork to evoke for myself and others the moods and feelings I’ve found in contemplating the morning lake.
This piece is designed to move very slowly; to vibrate in subtle ways and conjure the sounds, sights, and textures of a time and place where water, light, listening, and perception might come quietly together.