Panomorphia in Super 8

Two years ago, while going through some boxes I had in storage, I came across an unfinished film I had made in the late 70s called The Fair. It was a project I had started during my summer break from film school, and ended up being some of the last footage I ever shot in Super 8. It was filmed at The Fair in The Square, a community summer event in University City, where I grew up. I transferred the film to video and uploaded it to Youtube in 2010. As I wrote in my original blog post, I was in full experimental film student mode when I made the movie, shooting all the footage in extreme closeup. What comes across, at best, is a mood piece for a dreamy summer day. In 2010 the music I chose for The Fair was a track I was working on called, “Panomorphia”, which has since become the title cut of my new CD. I’ve remastered and reposted the film here, with the updated CD soundtrack, which now includes Michael Manring on bass and Celso Alberti on drums. Enjoy the dream, --CW

Panomorphia | CD Cover Photo

People have been asking me about the cover image on my new CD, Panomorphia.  It’s not one of my photos, but it’s an amazing image that I chose because it absolutely conveys the spirit of the album.  The photo was taken by award winning photo journalist, Christopher Furlong, who licensed the image to me through an agent.  The photo shows Lloyd Scott, a retired Fireman and professional U.K. Footballer and “Extreme Fundraiser”, as he waded into Loch Ness. In support of a charity for Children with Leukemia, Mr. Scott wore a 180lb vintage diving suit, and walked the 26 mile rim of the famous Scottish lake, 30 feet below the surface in 37 degree water for 12 days straight.  He didn’t see the monster, but, “I only saw two fish - which means there wasn’t many in the loch in the first place or something has eaten them all.”

The Evening Sun

This is my one submission to the Alameda On Camera exhibit, which opens next weekend 4/6/12 at The Frank Bette Center For The Arts.  Like the other 48 photographers, I had 48 hours during a weekend in March to work within a designated slice of the Alameda map.  Loved this tree, fully grown, all by itself.  “The Evening Sun” is a processed image, snapped shortly after sunset, and illuminated by park lighting.

Bert Sugar: A Friend To The Sweet Science

The boxing historian Bert Sugar passed away this week.  A writer, publisher and sports commentator, Mr. Sugar was a fixture on ESPN, sports television and documentaries.  When I first saw him years ago, I didn’t like him very much.  He seemed more interested in playing the vintage newspaper man character than providing good information.  But I grew to like and respect him as it became clear that he knew a lot more than his younger colleagues.  Even if I didn’t always agree with his analysis, he brought integrity, humor and insight to my favorite sport.  In 2007, I was a guest at The Cotto-Mosley fight at Madison Square Garden.  I sat in the press section with my friend, Richard O’Brien, and seated in front of us was Mr. Sugar.  Mr. Sugar didn’t say much during the fights, but when the main event was over, he turned around and we spoke briefly, even sharing a joke.  I watched him make the social rounds, converse with friends, including Lennox Lewis, whom Bert was lecturing to long enough for me to snap a photo.  However, the moment I remember most is the image I captured here.  During the National Anthem, while the crowd stood at attention, Mr. Sugar didn’t remove his hat.  Instead, in a very personal gesture, he bowed his head, and ever so slightly, lifted his fedora.

Panomorphia (New CD release)

A few years ago, one of my favorite musicians had a guitar solo on a major movie soundtrack.  The piece was just a few minutes long,  but it was absolutely brilliant.  I spoke to a friend of his, who joked to me that the guitarist had actually recorded the song in his home studio, and it had likely taken him less than a half hour.  “Yes”, I said, “but it took him 40 years to get there.” 

Panomorphia actually took several years to produce, but the music is rooted in the tape delay improvisations I explored three decades ago.  Looping, as it’s called now, is the music technology that allows the artist to generate multiple layers of sound on sound, stacking melody and rhythm on the fly, creating spontaneous compositions.  But the method can be unforgiving.  As the music builds and takes shape, each new layer is critical.  A note out of key, a strum out of time, a phrase out of context can send the music in a different direction, spoil the mix entirely.

For me, looping is just the starting point.  It’s the paved road, but not the journey.  In late 2008, I recorded a series of electric guitar improvisations.  The recordings were made, usually late in the evening, directly to a stereo recorder. During each session, I did my best to put the day behind me, and play without expectations.  Afterwards, the new tracks were set aside for several months, in order to come back with the freshest ears possible.  The best tracks were selected based on those moments when I didn’t recognize my own playing, where perhaps, I had forgotten the recorder was running, and found myself at the end of an hour long space walk. 

Next, in came drummer Celso Alberti, bassist Michael Manring and trumpet/fluegal horn player Jeff Oster, who recorded live to each loop performance.  Sometimes responding to the ebb and flow of the music, or finding a pulse and driving home their own orchestral groove.  I added new parts of my own, building structure and melody. With each layer, the song evolved into something new, but all in keeping with the spirit of the original performance. 

Panomorphia will be released on April 2, 2012

Multiphase Records  MP-CD117

Sculpterra Panoramic

A couple of weeks ago I had the pleasure of playing with Diane Arkenstone’s band at the Sculpterra Winery in Paso Robles, CA.  The setting was beautiful, and we lucked out with the weather.  During a break I walked over to the vineyard and took some photos, including this panoramic stitch.  Rather than smoothing everything out, I kept the soft blend to each frame, showing the steps through each perspective.  Plus, I have a thing for the NASA probe montages and the classic wintery moonscapes.  --cw

The Wonderful Mrs. Bartlett

There’s something about artists who work off the grid, who insist on finding their own creative way.  Established styles can be inspiring, and popular trends are seductive, but in my view, the best work is for its own sake.

One such person was a woman who worked at the Delmar-Harvard Elementary School I attended in the 1960s.  Her name was Mrs. Bartlett.  She was not a teacher, though I learned from her.  She was not an administrator, secretary or librarian.  Mrs. Bartlett was the school janitor.    She was a friendly and memorable staff member who enjoyed working around children.

That’s all I would likely have remembered had it not been for one important episode.  On a particular school day, possibly in second grade, I was down in the basement hallway near the exit to the playground.  Mrs. Bartlett’s office door was open and she was inside.  I was by myself and probably just curious, and she greeted me as I said hello.  There, among her brooms, buckets and cleaning supplies, were easels and canvases.  I asked her what they were and she said, “They’re mine.”  Mrs. Bartlett was also a painter.

This was something of a revelation to me.  Art, or so I thought, was what we did in class for school, or it was something in a museum. But until that moment, it did not occur to me that art was anywhere else.  But there it was, a group of paintings resting on the shelves of our school custodian’s office. 

I’m embarrassed to say it now, but I was so taken with the discovery that I likely and immediately asked her if I could have one of her paintings.  I don’t know how she took my request, but she agreed to give me a particular work which she said was at home.  So I waited, and I’m sure reminded her each and every school day that followed.  Finally, one morning she told me the painting was in the bedroom where her husband slept and didn’t want to disturb him.  She promised to set the painting by her front door that evening, “So I won’t forget it.”  The next school day, she presented me with the artwork.  Mounted on a modest 15” square of cardboard, the painting was a colorful and impressionistic country scene of a house, bridge and stream.  The canvas had been stretched and wrapped around the back, where it was secured with glue.   To my eyes, it was beautiful. It was signed, “To a lovely little boy, may you always stay that way.  Love, Mrs. Bartlett .”  Mrs. Bartlett said it was painted at the property she and her husband owned outside of the city.  This was in keeping with the view of a friend I recently consulted, and who paints professionally.  According to her, Mrs. Bartlett’s work is a sincere expression, with skilled use of color and depth in “clearly a cherished scene.” 

 

It was a thrill to receive Mrs. Bartlett’s gift and my excitement was contagious.  I may have “discovered” Mrs. Bartlett, but as a result, other students did as well.  On a day soon after, Mrs. Bartlett entered our classroom with two more paintings.  I recall more than a twinge of envy as she cheerfully handed the paintings to an excited pair of classmates. 

 I’ve kept the painting, of course, and recently took it out of storage to make a photo copy for the first time. I have not been able to find any more details about Mrs. Bartlett or her work.  The sweet nostalgic tone of her inscription suggests she was an older person.  It’s entirely possible that she and her husband were retired, perhaps living out of town, where she commuted to work at the school for the extra income. 

Painting, as it turned out, would not be the direction for me. But the episode sparked something.  The notion that someone who seemed ordinary could have extraordinary skills was empowering to me, especially at a time when I was failing at school.  As I wrote this piece, I remembered something else.  It was about the same time that I received my first camera and began photography.

University City High School Arts | 1975 Super 8 Film

They say you can never go home again.  That’s unless you book a round trip ticket.  It took me almost three decades to look back at the films I did during the 10 years between junior high and through college.  So, recently, inspired by the renewed interest of the Super 8 format, I opened the old boxes and began transferring my Super 8 films to DVD.  One of movies was this one, “The High School of The Arts” which I made at University City High School in St. Louis 1975.  This film was my first attempt at a documentary.  Three art teachers were profiled including, Tom Lawless (sculpture), Carol Ray (ceramics) and Sherry Londe (modern dance).  All three were very popular and highly regarded educators, as I’m sure my classmates would agree.  They were also among my first creative mentors, who encouraged me and my high school movie geek aspirations.

I recorded interviews with each teacher for the film, asking about their work and careers.  Their comments were edited and mixed over the classroom footage I shot.  Sorry to say, much of the soundtrack has crumbled away in storage.  The first interview, featuring the late-great Tom Lawless sounds clear (Who could forget THAT voice!), but unfortunately much of the audio for Carol Ray and Sherry Londe didn’t survive.  I may have the source interview tape in storage somewhere, and if I come across it, I’ll post it.  In any case, I thought my homies would like to see this.

Rediscovering "Conquista!"

Our personal influences are immeasurable.  They pour in through our senses every day, constantly shaping who we are and the choices we make.  There are also those subconscious influences, akin to the Butterfly Effect, which is a belief that any event, including the waving of an insect wings are said to be enough to shape human behavior.  If true, that would also apply to mosquitoes.

When I was in high school, I watched a television special that depicted the first meeting between a horse and a Native American.  The story took place in the 1500s when the Spanish arrived, bringing horses to North America for the first time.  I was interested in the program as I had been riding horses since I was 12 at a summer camp in central Missouri called Camp Crystal Creek.  The camp honored Native American culture and history, and a network TV program that showed the Indian’s point of view was just new in mainstream media.

The story begins on a western prairie. A young Native American encounters a horse, an animal he has never seen before.  Over a single day, the horse and man struggle for dominance, in some of the best stunt riding scenes I have ever seen.  In the end, the horse accepts the Indian as a rider and companion.

I recorded the audio of the broadcast on an old reel to reel tape recorder.  During my final year in high school, I listened to the soundtrack over and over.  A few years ago, I began searching for the film, for which I had forgotten the title.  I had no luck until very recently.  In a dated blog post, several fans of the film were asking about the program and what it was.   Replies appeared, and with details.  It turns out the film was a BBC production made in 1970, filmed in Spain and directed by author/filmmaker Michael Syson.  It was called “Conquista”.  The music was by composer John Scott.  The acting and stunt riding work was Jose Maria Serrano.

Apparently there were several versions of Conquista, beginning with the original 40 minute theatrical release in London, followed by a U.S. network broadcast with actor Richard Boone’s narration, and finally an abridged version, distributed for schools. 

Finding the movie wasn’t easy.  Aside from a reference to an out of print VHS, few people I wrote to had even heard of the film.  After weeks of failed leads, I found a film collector who was liquidating his inventory of 16mm school films.  To my amazement, he had the film, and was willing to part with it. 

I watched the movie for the first time in three decades.  I wasn’t shocked that the movie didn’t live up to my memory, but I wasn’t disappointed either.  Conquista may not have been a big budget production, but the director certainly delivered on his unique vision.  John Scott’s music is still inspiring.  Surprisingly modern, his orchestrations have a classical-Spanish flare, much like Ennio Morricone’s spaghetti western scores from the same period.  I reflected on Conquista’s hidden influence in my own music.  I could see why it had such an impact on me as a teenager.  The setting, the discovery, and the struggle, along with the physical adventure, is a great coming of age story.

UPDATE 2/1/2024: 

The complete version of CONQUISTA! is now available on DVD

01.  CONQUISTA! Standard Edition $25.00

Movie Only (47 Minutes)

02.  CONQUISTA! Deluxe Edition  $30.00

Complete Movie (47 Minutes) plus abridged US version with Richard Boone's narration plus original soundtrack music by John Scott.

To Order please Contact: rotoscope66@gmail.com

Conquista! The Restoration Preview from Rotoscope on Vimeo.

An Introduction To "Bunk Beds"

A Making Of video for the holiday-children's single "Bunk Beds"

Download the "Bunk Beds" Single

My friends, here is the new single, "Bunk Beds" as a free download via Soundcloud. It was fun recording this song, and I hope everyone enjoys it.

I came up with "Bunk Beds" during summer 2011, one afternoon while I was practicing guitar at a local pub. Slide guitar is usually played in an open tuning, and I was playing in G, which I hadn’t worked in for a while. I was just fooling around and the melody came together in a few minutes. Over the next few weeks I added a middle section, and once the song was together, we recorded it with guitars, piano, percussion and vocals. I wanted to go for as big a sound as possible, but recorded with live musicians (Celso Alberti percussion, Troy Arnett keyboards, sister Tate and Reece Bissinger vocals) rather than canned orchestration. This gave Bunk Beds a “live” and intimate feel.

 

Philadelphia Concert & WXPN Broadcast

Hey all. This week I fly to Philadelphia to join Jeff Oster (trumpet) and Michael Manring (bass) for a weekend of jazz/ambient music concerts and recording sessions. On Friday we tape two sets of music for the syndicated public radio program Echoes (http://www.echoes.org/). Saturday evening we play a show for the legendary Gatherings Concert Series (http://www.thegatherings.org/), and then hustle over to WXPN-FM for a late night zombie set, which will stream live over the internet from 2-3am Sunday morning EST. Here’s the link: http://xpn.org/music-artist/xpn-stream.

Unlike Michael and Jeff, I don’t get to tour very often. I’m a recording studio homeboy, but there’s nothing like a live audience road test for inspiration and perspective. In the mid 80s I made a brief go of solo touring. I had released a few LPs at that point. Airplay and contacts were all on the upswing, and the indie music scene was wide open. With each gig, I’d pack my Ford Escort wagon and hit the road. No cell phone. No email. No Internet. No credit card. Just a map, a list of phone numbers, some cash and change for pay phones. With luck, the gig paid for my return trip. I’ve been reflecting on a few of those (mis)adventures lately, including a week long drive to and from Philadelphia in 1987. Lindbergh crossing the Atlantic I was not. No legion of French girls on the other side for Carl. It was many hours of bleary-eyed highway hypnosis, uncreative detours, toll bridges, air-break deafness, spooky rest stops, mountain roads, radio static, cassette tape jams, spilled coffee, french fries and other diner delicacies. Character building, yes. Great music, fer sure. Cool people, absolutely. Worth it? I like to think I came out ahead. Hope I left something behind too.

A Belated Thanks

The more I’ve come to know myself, the more I appreciate the people who shaped and influenced who I am. I had an opportunity to thank one of those people during a recent visit back to St. Louis. Over ice tea and pasta my friend and I shared lunch at a local Italian restaurant I had often been to with my family while growing up. Though my friend and I had exchanged letters recently, we had not seen each other in about 36 years. Now in person, she and I caught up regarding our careers, families, our elementary school (now closing after 100 years) memories, and I showed her some photos I had taken as a child. They were photos of my old classmates. My classmates. Her students. Mrs. Susan Beecher was my third grade teacher – twice.

Mrs. Beecher began her teaching career in the mid 1950s. She taught elementary school in the University City School district of St. Louis, where I attended. Later, in high school, when she was awarded Teacher of the Year, I went to visit and congratulate her. Despite the thousands of students she’d already had, she recognized me right away, just as she did as we met for lunch. When I thanked her for helping me, she responded politely, but almost in passing. As we continued talking, it occurred to me that someone with a life of service to others sees their work with a long view. It was up to me to appreciate the value of our experience.

I didn’t do very well in school. I had a learning disability (unrecognized at the time) which made school often a bewildering experience. To compound this, I had come down with Nephritis when I was in first grade. Confined to bed for two months, I fell impossibly behind. By third grade the school had no choice but to hold me back. As an eight year old, the humiliation of repeating a grade was devastating, but the fear of losing friends and classmates was even worse.

But tough love is a blessing. Mrs. Beecher believed in me. She and our veteran principal Mr. Earl Greeson, insisted that she have me as her student a second time. It was a smart move. During that second year, I was treated no differently than the other students, but the familiarity of the class and Mrs.Beecher’s personal encouragement, made all the difference. My old classmates were there in passing every day, and new friends came easy. It turned out there was some notoriety in being a repeater. I became the go-to guy. Many a classmate’s head swiveled in my direction when Mrs. Beecher presented a new subject. I’d been there, man. For the first time, school wasn’t perpetually confusing. I was never a great student, but for one important year, and thanks to Mrs. Beecher, I felt like one. --CW

Bodie 2011 or Las Vegas 2062?

Speaking of boom, bust, recession and what not. I traveled to Bodie California a few weeks ago. I have always wanted to visit and photograph a genuine ghost town. And Bodie it is. In 1880 Bodie was a sprawling mining town of 7000 men, women, prospectors, entrepreneurs, settlers, industrialists, gamblers, robbers, swindlers, business ladies, and bankers. Today only 5 percent of the peak era settlement remains above ground. Preserved as a national park, the decaying buildings stand sprinkled over the Martian like desert landscape. It’s a beautiful, eerie and amazingly quiet place. Though we arrived late, and I only had an hour to shoot, the afternoon light turned out to be perfect. As the jeep driving park rangers bull-horned people back to their cars, I wondered do all empires inevitably end up as tourist attractions?

New Web Site

Announcing a new web site isn’t the ground breaking news it was 10 years ago, but since it still ranks over a listing in the phonebook, I thought I’d post this invitation. Please visit. From the main page, choose either Music or Photography. On the Photo side you can view several flash galleries, including portfolio, pinhole camera, or restored photographs. There’s also a poster shop. On the Music side is news (CD coming this fall), reviews and video, plus an MP3 download page. The catalog lists CDs currently in print. Each album page has a music player, where you can listen to the entire CD. Enjoy. Same URL, www.carlweingarten.com

Photo Restoration - Cleaning Windows To The Past

I’ve been doing photo restorations for myself, friends and clients for several years now. Someone once wrote that photography, developed in the early 1800s, was a technology way ahead of its time. From Civil War battlefields to intimate wedding photos (like this one) a good photograph contains a wealth of detail and information. They’re also amazingly resilient, even when damaged. The key to restoration is taking the best areas of the image and using those shades and textures to rebuild on what’s been lost. Not a bad approach to life.

Recording Session 6/4/11 - Celso Alberti

I’m very lucky to be friends with the distinguished Brazilian drummer/percussionist Celso Alberti. Celso is a brilliant musician with an extensive resume which includes tours with Steve Winwood, Airto Moreira, Flora Purim, Herbie Mann, Craig Chaquico, Neto Band, Andrei Kondakov, Joyce Cooling and many others. A rare talent, Celso is a virtuoso player with a producer’s ear. He listens to the big picture. And I’m thrilled to be recording with him on a new CD. Celso and I were in the studio this last weekend, with producer Noah Perry, where Celso recorded a number of hand percussion instruments, including the amazing pandeiro!

Recording Session - Guest Vocalists

Having shaved 30 new songs down to baker’s dozen, the new CD is falling into place. The latest recording session was a real pleasure. Two members of the Piedmont East Bay Children's Choir, Tate and Reece Bissinger, sang harmonies on the new song “Bunk Beds”, which will also feature bassist Michael Manring and percussionist Celso Alberti.

Three Women One Dress

More dangerous than Three Mile Island, more toxic than Chernobyl, and potentially more catastrophic than Fukushima, is the poison atmosphere of three women arriving to a party in the same dress. The radioactive looks will peg the needle of a Geiger counter, not to mention the razor sharpened finger nails, digging deep into boyfriend’s hands, or the raging rivers of mascara. But tonight was a false alarm. The screaming sirens I heard were not warnings to take shelter, but were the cheers of celebration. It was a girl’s night out. A summit of three gal pals had arrived to the bar in full runway mode. Leading the way was the birthday honoree, followed by her dress-coordinated entourage and their inebriated boy toys. With makeup at maximum strength, drinks refreshed, brassieres fully loaded, cigarettes ablaze, and air-kisses delivered, the trio granted me a photo op for which my camera was blessed.

The Camera Is The Seer (The Film Remembers)

“Are you a professional photographer?”, the security guard asks me. This is the third member of the church cathedral uniform to ask me the same question. Professional, I assume means do I make my living with photography? I answer “No”. “What are you going to use it for?” he asks. “Personal” I say. “We have protocols.” he says politely, and walks away. The cathedral has a well regulated militia, and I have set up my camera within their jurisdiction. A week earlier, I had asked the receptionist on duty if photography was allowed inside the cathedral. “Oh yes, that’s no problem.” She had answered. So as with scripture, there are many answers to the same question.

The cathedral I am standing in is called Christ The Light. It was built in 2009 near where I work in Oakland. The giant steel and glass turret structure is 12 stories tall, sleek and modern. I had watched and heard its construction, rising from parking lot to the massive concrete complex. One afternoon last summer, I stepped inside to escape the heat, and was taken with the immense, beautiful and quiet space. After several visits, I experienced something else, an atmosphere of common courtesy. No cell phone yellers or boasting public chatter, piped in radio, hissing headphones, laptop tapping, or moonfaced heads bobbing in front of tiny glowing screens. Just rows of long, comfortable benches, with patrons standing or sitting quietly, some speaking softly to those next to them. Alone together in lunch hour heaven.

Common courtesy seems rare these days. Yet people will abide in the house of the almighty. Outside the cathedral, where God is apparently not looking, values get reinterpreted. As when for example, on my way home recently, a distracted BMW driver, and god fearing cell phone user, praised me with shouts and gestures after I changed lanes in ahead of him.

With my tripod secure, I faced the pinhole camera down the center aisle. There is no lens on a pinhole camera, just a tiny opening on the front, exactly 0.3mm wide. Light shines through the hole, and assembles an image, naturally, against the far side of the camera. The image is then captured on film. This miracle of nature is fundamentally how our eyes work.

Sunlight illuminates the cathedral hall. Streaming through the tinted glass above and between wood shades lining the tower, the light sparkles without glare. I take a meter reading, which indicates that my exposure should average 40 seconds. The light coming through the pinhole is so dim that the film must be exposed from between a few seconds to a few minutes. During the exposure, the camera and the subject must remain perfectly still. Objects or people moving within the image become either a blur or completely invisible. I open the shutter and count off, one . . . two . . . three. . The camera captures the church interior in a dynamic wide angle view. The patrolling securing guards disappear like ninja.

I move the camera to get several views inside the cathedral, including the two figures of Jesus. One as a giant projection of life on the far wall, and the other as a hovering statue of the dying martyr. I think respectful thoughts and count off, one . . two . . three. As the seconds pass, I reflect on the moment, and flash on the idea that something unseen and magical will appear in the photograph. With the film exposed, I pack up my gear and leave unnoticed.