Session Photos: "The Lodge" by Carl Weingarten

SESSION PHOTOS:  I met guitarist/producer/writer Barry Cleveland in 1991 during a visit to San Francisco, shortly before moving there the following year.  Robert Powell drove me to Barry’s house in the Oakland Hills which was referred to as “The Lodge”.   It was a combo live-work-studio-jam-lounge-hotel-party-recovery-sanctuary meeting place for musicians and artists.  After relocating from St. Louis, I was invited into this wonderful community of musicians.  Barry and I became friends and we began working together.  For months after, and I don’t know how I did it, I carted my 80 pound 8-Track TASCAM recorder back and forth across the bay to Barry’s studio where we tracked and mixed my CD, “The Acoustic Shadow”.  This is one of my favorite pictures.  I took this photo during a rare daytime session as Barry recorded his signature guitar on Light Years Dark Skies.  It captures the scene as it was; the studio-living room with gear everywhere and with Barry at the controls and inside the music. The song also features Barbara Else on flute, Dan Reiter on cello and I on “Morricone” guitar.  -CW

Session Photos: "Alex de Grassi" by Carl Weingarten

SESSION PHOTOS:  In the late 1990s, my friend Michael Manring was kind enough to put in a good word for me at The Noe Valley Ministry in San Francisco, and they booked me as the opening act for an Alex de Grassi concert.  Alex is among my favorite guitarists, and though we had met before, it was a pleasure getting acquainted with him for the show.  Near the end of his set, we played together on a new song, which led to him, several weeks later, recording on the same piece, “Read The River” for my CD escapesilence.  (You can download the song here: http://snd.sc/O6k6lr)  It was an honor to have Alex in my humble San Francisco apartment studio, though my neighbors unfortunately were less welcoming.  It was after 9pm when I snapped this photo of Alex as he was tuning up.  Behind the wall next to Alex was my neighbor’s bedroom.  The couple apparently kept early hours, and during one take, I heard a rumble.  When I pulled off my headphones, the neighbors were banging on the wall, “Turn it down!”.  I cleared things up with them, but I felt bad for Alex.  Here was a world class musician who performs for thousands of people every year, and yet my neighbors complained that the (god forbid) acoustic guitar was too loud.  In any case, Alex was a trooper, and wonderful, and the session went great.  “Read The River” includes Michael Manring on bass, Robert Powell on pedal steel, Alex on guitar, with myself on dobro.

Session Photos: "Fareed Haque" by Carl Weingarten

SESSION PHOTOS: I met jazz guitarist Fareed Haque through my friend Joe Venegoni in 1990.  Joe and I were still living in St. Louis at the time.  Our Critical Path CD was in the works, and Joe suggested bringing in Fareed to play on a few songs.  I resisted at first as I didn’t know Fareed or how his sound might impact the album.  But Joe insisted, and he was absolutely right.  Fareed was spot on.  The Blue Note Records guitarist turned out to be a recognized modern jazz guitar master and improviser.  Fareed came in from Chicago, and upon his arrival to the studio, he immediately dug in and recorded several inspired performances.  At one point, setting his trademark nylon acoustic aside, Fareed played my electric guitar on one song, breaking a string in the process, which I hung proudly on my studio wall.  While Fareed’s playing was excellent, the most inspiring moment for me was his work on “A Window”, a song I had composed and recorded as a solo guitar piece a few years earlier.  Joe and I had agreed to record the song again, with orchestration.  Fareed quickly learned the melody and began, like spreading wildfire, to improvise and embellish on the theme.  It was startling how quickly he connected with the tune, and for the first time in my life, I heard my music played by someone other than myself.  If you’re a composer, it’s like witnessing your child’s college graduation.  Fareed infused new energy into the composition and it was affirming to hear my music in such capable hands.   I didn’t take any photos at the session, but I did capture Fareed in action a few years later, during a recording session jam in the bay area.  The group that day featured Fareed, guitarist Henry Kaiser, bassist Michael Manring (also in the photo), among others. 

Mismatch.com

Moving from the Midwest to the West Coast meant getting acclimated to the climate change.  No more fiercely cold winters or broiling summers.  Just chill, fog, rain and sun; often on the same day.  Then there was the social climate.  In the mid-90s, I attended a tech fair in San Francisco.  At one busy table was a group of women promoting their new company called Match.com.  Anything online was still a new concept and Internet personals were a promising option to the social maze of San Francisco.  I took the free membership and set up my online profile, then spent the next few weeks trying to crack the code of others.  I wasn’t having much luck.  My emails usually went unreplied, or the responses suggested I was a suspect rather than a suitor.  One evening I received a message that looked promising. The sender was a single mom, 33 years old, a professional who described herself as a legal advocate for men in child custody disputes.  We started a conversation, sharing interests in music and politics, and over the next week our emails and phone conversations were refreshing in a city where people “networked” but rarely stuck with their connections.

We discussed getting together, but the 30 miles of time and traffic to her place in San Jose meant planning for a weekend.  To be honest, I was in no hurry.  Some years earlier, I had become involved with a woman who, shortly after we met, left town for a summer job.  Our letters while she was away greatly enriched our relationship.  It was an experience I still value.  It was also a lesson for all the times I’d rushed in, letting expectations get ahead of me.

My new friend and I continued talking over the next week.  The following Sunday morning, I received an email from her saying that she and her friends would be having brunch across the bay in Berkeley, and would I like to join them.  Yes, I responded.  It was nearby and would be a good day to meet and finally spend some time in person.  Through the city and over the bridge I drove.  Arriving in Berkeley, I was blessed by the parking gods with a spot only three blocks from my destination.  As I entered the busy and popular restaurant, a hand went up on the far side.  It felt good to be recognized and welcomed.  I walked over and greeted my date and her three friends, who were sitting comfortably in a booth.  They had already eaten.  After the formal smiles and head nods, I then noticed that no one was making room for me to sit down.  I pulled up an empty chair from a nearby table, sat down and ordered a coffee from the annoyed waitress who kept squeezing past me. The group seemed friendly enough, and I began talking with my friend.  She had seated herself on the inside, which caused me to speak directly past the person next to her, who was nice, but gave me the sense that I was going through a translator.  Fortunately, the scene didn’t last very long.  When the check was paid, we made our way out the door with the rest of the dispersing crowd. 

It was a beautiful morning, and I was anxious to spend time with my new friend.  The fog had burned off, the sun was bright, and the air was freshly clear.  Just the kind of perfect weather one imagines in the Bay Area.  As we stood outside, I asked my friend what she would like to do next.  “Oh, we have plans,” she said casually.  And the four walked off, piled into a sedan, and drove off into the Kalifornia sunshine.

"In A Small Sanctuary" by Carl Weingarten

One reason I enjoy improvisational music is the act involves as much listening as playing.  Recently I visited the Audubon Canyon Ranch in Stinson Beach, California.  It’s a beautiful wildlife preserve with hiking trails along the Highway 1 coastline.  On the hunch that I might get to do some playing in the quiet outdoors, I brought along my traveler guitar.  For fun, I started shooting some video on the park grounds. Then I came across what looked like a door to an old building.  It turned out that this was a Bird Hide - a camouflaged shelter for up close observing of nesting and feeding birds.  Covered by trees and overgrowth, the observation room and the sanctuary were screened from the open air and wind, making the room amazingly quiet and peaceful.  There was a brief period when there were no other visitors, so I sat in with the band.

Old Film With Modern Message

I received this film bundled with some other footage I acquired recently.  I can find no record of this episode, but it was part of the Screen Magazine series produced by the war department in for distribution the troops.  The film a tribute to the writer and journalist Ernie Pyle, who volunteered as a reporter during the Second World War.  This film must have been produced shortly after Pyle was killed in action in 1945, as the narrator suggests the war was still going on.  I was really taken by this film.  The photography is beautiful, the people appear vivid and natural, and the words and theme are in keeping with Pyle’s personal and compassionate writing about people.  Above all, I thought a forgotten 1945 film that promotes diversity was worth showing.

“We Drove All Night Until We Reached 1930”

Growing up, we never had a color TV in our house. For most of those years, our set was a small portable early 1960s model with a 10-inch screen. The reception was often so distorted that even when we weren’t watching Star Trek, everyone on TV looked as though they were going through a transporter. Still, for some reason I thought our set was in color. Despite my father’s earnest explanations, and even my own witnessing of a color TV once at my grandparents, I still believed that the image on our little TV was true to life. Eventually I figured out the difference, especially when I began shooting and editing super8 movies. But black and white remained my photographic view. In fact, I didn’t fully embrace color photography until the prolific instantaneousness of digital photography finally gave me the crash course I needed. After 10 years of color work, returning to black and white seems more natural than ever – like the fresh perspective of a traveler coming home. My friend and photographer John Huseby introduced me to shooting with lens filters, which have added a new creative layer. It’s like color without color. True color is beautiful, but it’s complicated. Color can open your eyes, but it can blind you. There’s a timeless essence to black and white that appeals to me; like this photo, taken at a vista along Route 253 in Mendocino County.

Carl Weingarten | The Simian River Video

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