the Unofficial Franklin Park Research Outpost (visit 1)/Multimedia Project

I was visiting my grandparents in Middleboro last weekend when I chanced upon an interesting article in the Boston Globe about an artist's installation of found objects in Franklin Park. I've been thinking about acoustic sound installations, or music for public spaces recently, so I took interest in this project.

The outpost is a hut created with logs, branches, rope, and a tarp. It is very well made, and contains objects which have been found in the park, or left by visitors. It is meant to tell us how the park is used, who uses it, and how nature and the study of our surroundings can benefit humanity. Since the artist (whose name is Brandon Nastanski) did not seek a permit to create this work, it will most likely be discontinued by park rangers and city of Boston (they have left notices by the outpost implying its future destruction).

Because of my interest in public spaces and functions such as travel, one of my Summer projects is to create video of Boston-Related activities to be used in a large vocal work. It will be somewhat like an Opera, but with no plot, or specific characters. I hadn't figured out an interesting way to incorporate nature into the mix of trains, skyscrapers, and street activity, but I knew that this was it as soon as I saw it.

The article I read states that the outpost is located on the J.P side of the park, "near the Glen Road entrance." It is also at the base of a stone outcropping. With this information, plus a video of the outpost on Youtube, I was able to locate it on google earth (you can actually see it!), though on my first visit to the park, I had been unsuccessful in finding it.

My good friend Daniel Hawkins is helping me with the video project, so today we went to the park, and with the images from google in mind, again tried to find the outpost. A little over an hour into our search, we had basically given up, and just after turning back, we ran into the artist himself, who asked us if we were "looking for an outpost."

We said yes, and he led us there. It was less than a minute from where we had turned around, but was down a hill, and was not easily visible from where we were standing before. He being interviewed by an art critic from the Boston Phoenix, so in addition to finding the outpost and meeting its creator, we were also able to hear the background of the project directly from him. It was great to sit in on this, and I'm grateful that he let us (alot of people are like to keep those kinds of things private). We told him a little about our project, and he said he would be glad to collaborate in the future. Sometime soon, Daniel and I will go back to take video of Franklin Park and the outpost, but we needed to find it first.

On our way back, we met a kid in green Street station who saw Daniel's Audio equiptment and told us he was a rapper. Daniel gave him the microphone, and he asked if we could give him a beat. I tried my best, and we recorded him before the train came. He said he often performed at the Hyde Square Task Force, so we may see him again. This experience gave us a base for another aspect of the project - audio recordings of people from the city. We agreed that we won't go out looking for those, but if we happen upon them (like today), we can use them for something. This is the first day Daniel and I have gone out to work towards the video project, and I think it's really going to work.

the Roma Band of Boston

I've been a college graduate for a bit more than a month now, and although I'm going straight back to work on a master's degree in two months, things so far have been pretty good (and I was worried about not finding a day job).

About two weeks before graduation, I learned that I couldn't work at the conservatory over the summer, and this put me in a slight state of panic. Everywhere else I went told me they were not hiring, and here I am, forced to find ways to make a living with my musical skills. This is one of the best things that has happened to me. Recently, I've been doing some arranging for two local choral groups, and playing Sousaphone and Euphonium in the Roma Band of Boston.

This band is by far one of my favorite groups to play with. There are these five Italian guys that have been playing in the band forever, and a lot of younger people like myself. Not everyone in the band is an aspiring professional musician, so this means that they play with complete honesty, and a great sense of pure enjoyment.

There are no rehearsals, no written music, and the leader of the band (a trumpet player whose name is Salvi) now plays facing towards the band while sitting in the back of the truck because he can no longer march. You could never guess his disability if you had only heard the band. He has in incredible way of playing the horn that you do not hear every day.

There is a chaotic, on-the-spot element to this band that I really love. Before we begin a tune, Salvi will play the first few notes of melody, and when you hear him whistle, you know you only have a few beats before he takes off. Sometimes the wind makes it hard to hear his warning, which means you have to guess what key to start in.

Everybody plays whatever they feel is needed to accompany the melodic instruments, and there is often a slide in key center from the low brass while we try to figure out what key they are in. We play some pieces multiple times, and they always sound different.

The other day we played a parade in Braintree, MA. I commuted from my Father's house in Bridgewater, and then drove back to Boston with Ben Miller (a trombonist in the band). I love traveling in any form, and going around to gigs like this is no exception. On the way back, we drove up route 93, and I was in awe at the amount of people trying to get in and out of the city, and how big it really is. In my usual routines, I never get the full view of what's really happening out there.

That's one more reason for me to continue with this kind of work - always having a different view of wherever it is that I'm going, what I'm doing, and why. I really love that.


An Artist (6/26/10)

I’m interested in how an artist goes about their day-to-day life (how they literally get from point A to point B on a given day). Do they drive, walk, take a bus or a train? Maybe they fly.
What is their experience, and are they happy with these aspects of it?

Do they rent an apartment, or did they feel compelled to buy a house? Do they commute, work from home, or travel irregularly?

Some live alone, and others have a partner or a family. I think about what artists do when they are not working, or when they are on their way there. Sometimes, there is little separation between work and play, and I like that. I think about all of these things and why an artist is able to live in a way that interests me. The work of an artist can be less than half of what is important. Most of it is the fact that artists themselves are living installations.

Traveling

I first wrote the phrase "traveling underground is a good way to keep dry" in 2007. It was the title of an improvisation that my friend Timothy and I did at Berklee College of Music (before I transferred to NEC).

I've always had a fascination with traveling, and modes of transportation. As a child, I remember riding the T into Boston to see Disney on Ice, and being completely blown away by the trains, and moving underground.
When my aunt, uncle, and cousins moved to New Hampshire, we would visit them. This was long before Boston's "Big Dig," and we would always end up sitting on the Lower Deck of Interstate 93, elevated high above the city, watching it move around us. I remember going by the old Boston Garden, and being able to see the inside of the arena during its demolition - seating intact, with just the wall facing the highway removed.

After my High School graduation, my father and I drove an antique Ford Model T up to Maine from our house. It took 8 hours of back roads to get there. Something especially neat was driving up through Boston - Up Dorchester Ave., through the North End, and over into Charlestown. We turned so many heads, and in passing a duck boat full of tourists, could hear the clattering of their camera shutters.

During my first year of studies in Boston, I knew I wanted to leave my first school. I took an audition at the University of the Arts in Philadelphia, and that trip was really interesting. It took about 7 hours to get there. My mother and I drove down Interstate 95, passing by NYC on the way. In Philly, I didn't know where anything was. I still don't. I've passed through it a few times since I was there in 2006. I really wanted to go there, although if I had left Boston, I probably wouldn't have done anything that I've been able to do here. I sometimes catch myself imagining what might be different had I gone there.

Since September, I've gone to Central PA three times to visit my best friend, who moved there last summer to pursue a Master's degree. On this most recent trip (June 2-8), I was lucky to be given a flight voucher from Providence to Philadelphia (I have the best stepmother!) as a graduation present. I hadn't flown for over seven years, so it was basically a brand new thing for me. The take off was fast and exciting, and the flight was really short - cutting about six hours off my travel time. On my return trip, I took Amtrak from Harrisburg to Philly, and a commuter train down to the airport. Adding trains into the mix was a good idea, and something that I'll always do in the future. Going from Harrisburg to State College on a bus is fantastic, because you are being taken on a tour of the Appalachians, but as you go farther east, the landscape on the highway is nothing special. The train was also much quicker.

Over my last spring break, I went out there and used only Buses - I did it overnight. Getting into NY around 1AM, I ate in Times Square, got on another bus to Philadelphia, and hung around Center City for a few hours before catching a third and final bus, arriving in state College at 1PM.

Being in Philadelphia brought back memories of the Uarts trip. Walking around Market and 12th streets, I knew that my mother and I had been there before, and that was a strangely beautiful thing. That's something that is a good marker for many places I go. I am so often cheerfully thinking "We were here."