You, Light Up My Life

Last year during Somerville Open Studios, (check here for the 2008 Somerville guide and here for the JP guide. you might just find her and unfortunately that is not one of her photos, but it is in the same vein) I found an artist’s exhibit of photographs showing lighted windows at night. In a short introductory blurb, the artist described her fascination with the lives of other people and this non-invasive way of expressing and exploring that fascination. Thinking her slightly odd for her bordering-on-stalker-esque subject choice, I perused the photos and realized how artistic they were, regardless of the oddness. With every uniquely shaped window and tone and color of light there was a story taking place.

Suddenly I’ve found a bordering-on-stalker-esque fascination of my own. There is someone on my street that plays the stand up bass. This person lives about three houses down from Jason and I. On week-end mornings I sometimes catch this person playing. I’ll be on my way to or from the store to get breakfast provisions when I’ll hear the low “twa-wunk twa-wunk” as I pass. Clad in my pajamas, winter hat, and coat the music still slows me until I pause to listen. Other mornings this same person listens to jazz music on a stereo, the music turned up loud. This is all I know of this person.

Tonight on my walk up the street, I discovered another musical neighbor. This person I might actually have met, a man named Pete who resides on the corner at the beginning of my street. I met him one day when I was picking a sunflower from in front of his house. A row of sunflowers, their heavy seeded heads draping toward the ground, lines the sidewalk there. He came out just as I snapped the head off one, He said, “That will be $5, please.” Embarrassed, I apologized and he laughed. “Just kidding,” he said nicely. He introduced himself as Pete, I told him my name and we exchanged pleasantries. As I left and Pete got in his car, I smiled, enjoying the memory of his lilting Irish accent.

Pete may be the new mystery musician or at least it is someone in Pete’s home. A fiddle player. On my way back from dumping our compost, the rhymthic, dancing notes of the fiddle stopped me. As I listened, I also heard the sound of an accompanying foot stomping, keeping time. My foot began to tap too. My mind wandered. I imagined Pete was practicing for a big gig tomorrow, tomorrow being St. Patrick’s day. Working out the tunes he was to play, stomping, sitting in a small kitchen. Maybe some of his friends were there too, some dancing a little, others just silently standing and listening.

My thoughts returned me to my current place - standing on the curb outside a stranger’s house, my breath showing in the cold air, listening to a fiddle. I began to walk home, leaving the sweet song of the fiddle and the dreams of a cozy kitchen behind. What other hidden talented people live on my street? I wondered. And how do I breach these walls that separate us to learn each of their stories?

* I have since found this interesting website, Learning to Love You More, that might have proposed a solution. The site is maintained by an artist couple who are seeking to engage anyone and everyone in creating more art. They have assignments to do say, by me, of which I can complete and send the results to them to be posted on the site. Many of the assignments are artistic and have a creative nature, but they usually also have a component that reaches out to people. Whether it be people you know, people you choose, or just random people, the assignments all have an affect on you and others. I might just have to try one*