Category: art

art, jazz, music

My Year of Hopefulness – John Scofield

Christa Avampato

Last week a date took me to Carnegie Hall to see John Scofield. I had never heard of Scofield though listened to a few of his clips on-line and enjoyed them enough to pique my interest to see him live. He’s a jazz guitarist with a very unique sound. I can see how you’d hear a few riffs and know instantly that he was playing. 


In hindsight, the date was largely uneventful though the concert has had me thinking about John Scofield ever since. I was a less-than-mediocre saxophone player in grade school and college, and not for lack of trying. I just didn’t “get it”. I can read music just fine, which is a problem. I approached playing music the same way I approached calculus – in a very academic, formulaic way. I couldn’t play with any kind of feeling – I never felt any kind of kinship with my horn. It was some external piece of metal that I got to play notes in a very unemotional way. Writing became my creative outlet, and remains so, though a tiny of part of me has always felt badly about not being able to play an instrument well. 

I do find that despite my lack of talent to play an instrument, I get a tremendous amount of joy going to concerts and hearing musicians play with such soul. I’m green with envy and teary eyed with joy. It’s so evident in their facial expressions that they are off in another world when they’re playing. It’s a world I long to see, though I’ve had to settle for being the person just outside, peering in through the window. 

John Scofield and his band are so in sync that there’s barely any reading of music and changes are spontaneous throughout a piece. All of a sudden someone’s taking a solo even though 30 seconds before they didn’t know they’d be up. I sit there in awe wondering how on Earth they do that – how do they know which notes to play? It’s a mystery to me. 

You would think my natural reaction would be extreme jealousy and confusion. And you’re right, but I can transcend those feelings. What’s so inspiring to me about watching concerts and listening to jazz is that through the arts there is another world that exists, whole and separate, from our everyday lives. If life on Earth has you down, put on a musician like Scofield and he’ll carry you away with him, at least for a little while. I highly recommend track 5, “Behind Closed Doors”, on his album This Meets That.    
apple, art, education, extreme affordability, museum, philanthropy, social entrepreneurship

My Year of Hopefulness – Social Entrepreneurship and iTunes U

Christa Avampato

By trade, I am product developer. I design and build product for American consumers, mostly wealthy ones. While I was in business school at Darden, if I could have chosen any career, this is what I would have chosen. In fact, it is what I have been doing my whole career in a variety of industries – I was building programs, theatre productions, communication plans, and fundraising concepts. However, up to that point I didn’t give much thought to the idea that what we do is just as important as how we do it and whom we do it for. 


Just after my graduation I moved back to New York City sans job. By the end of June I had a good job offer to start in July in the field of innovation, exactly what I wanted, and was free to spend a fair amount of time bumming around my old haunts, wandering, and reacquainting myself with a city that I had not lived in full-time since 2001. One afternoon I found myself at the Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum. They were running an exhibit called Design for the Other 90%. At the time I did not realize that this exhibit and my strong belief in community service would start me on a course that would begin to dominate the way I view my future and my career.

Now a year and half out of business school, a light bulb has gone off for me. I have spent all of this time thinking that I needed a really brilliant idea to start an entrepreneurial venture, and that starting my own business mean a complete about-face from all of the work I have done in the past. In actuality, becoming a social entrepreneur is an amalgamation of all the work I have done to this point, and mixing it up with personal passions of history, culture, and volunteering. As Steve Jobs says, “Looking back, we are able to connect the dots of our lives.” And that is exactly the process I currently find myself in. 

I have been doing some research to find a class to take on the subject. Columbia has a few, as does Pratt, the New School, and NYU. Though none of them have exactly what I’m looking for. They either treat the subject as part of a nonprofit management masters, a business class, or as part of the sociology curriculum. One woman from NYU suggested I take a class entitled something like “How to become a female entrepreneur.” Can you imagine? It was essentially a class on how to write a business plan. I was telling my friend and mentor, Richard, about these classes and his response was, “I don’t suggest that. You would be completely bored.” He’s right.

And then I remembered an earlier post I wrote on this blog about iTunes University. Apple collected a wide variety of classes and lectures from the world’s top universities and put them on-line. For free. And sure enough, Stanford’s Center for Social Innovation had an entire series posted with exactly the material I was looking for. Did I mention that it was free. And it’s mobile so I download the lecture into iTunes, put them on my ipod, and away I go. I spent the afternoon walking around, doing my errands, and being inspired by the ideas and experiences of the brightest minds in my chosen field. 3 birds (exercise, errands, and learning) with 1 stone. 

I also learned that I don’t need a degree to do this work. (Good thing since I can’t afford one!) I have and am currently amassing the knowledge and experience I need to do this. And rather than take a class or apply for a fellowship in this field, Richard encouraged me to sit down and write letters to the social entrepreneurs I admire most. Ask them if I could visit their organizations and spend half a day with them learning about their work. A handful of plane tickets and my time will teach me a whole lot more about this field than a once-a-week class for four months in a lecture hall. It’s also cheaper and places an emphasis on networking with people doing the work I aspire to do. I may have just found my mountain…
art, creativity, theatre

My Year of Hopefulness – Shakespeare

Christa Avampato

Did you ever feel like somewhere along the line you lost a piece of yourself? A hobby, a part of your job, a relationship or friendship that you wish you hadn’t let just fade away? It happens in life, with all of our comings and goings, that things slip between our fingers into some abyss. The good thing about that abyss is that it’s not really that far away and we can easily fish out what we once loved and make it new again. 


Theatre is that candle for me that went out several years ago. I was in it, making it, and then my interest in it just faded away. I was disillusioned by certain practices and the politics and the commercialism of it all. I just cared about the art, and in that field getting the credit (and as much of it as possible) is crucial. Or so I thought….

I recently joined a brand new group at work called Temporary Shakespeare, a soon-to-be nonprofit, that offers free Shakespeare readings, and workshops to help corporate employees attain and maintain work / life balance. Our first show is Comedy of Errors and will be held January 14, 15, and 16. I’m excited about this new venture and what may come of it. At rehearsal today, I felt like I reclaimed a passion that I thought was so long gone, and it was actually just over my shoulder all along.   
art, comedy, humor, NBC, television

I Might Be Liz Lemon, and So Are You

Christa Avampato

I’m a little late to the party on this one – 30 Rock has already won several Emmy’s and is in its 3rd season. I’m just now getting into the series on DVD. Hilarious. And comedy writing is not easy – I’ve tried it and I was terrible. I laugh out loud at the ridiculous behavior of those characters and marvel at how often I think things at work that they say freely to one another. If only all workplaces were that honest, we’d have greater job satisfaction. It’s the passive-aggressive behavior, the simultaneous smile and toss under the bus that kills morale. 


Liz Lemon, Tina Fey’s character, is someone I relate to immensely. She is a single 30-something who lives on the UWS, just a few blocks from me. Works hard, sometimes to the detriment of her personal life, makes impossible relationships a hobby, and eats as much as I do. She’s nerdy and independent. We love our humidifiers. While she has this dream job, she’s constantly worried that she will be reduced to teaching improv at the Y. She’s all our unsavory features rolled in to one sympathetic, funny shell. We don’t love the character because she’s perfect or well-balanced or someone we aspire to be. She isn’t any of those things. We love her because she is who we are, warts and all.

30 Rock is proof that we can do something original in an over-crowded field. It just requires that we put aside our egos, stop looking to others for “copy-and-paste” ideas, and just be exactly who we are and say exactly what we think, funny, nice, meaningful, or not. And for goodness sake, we need to learn to laugh at ourselves and those around us.      
art, environment, green, photographs, pictures

Picture of the Year

Christa Avampato


The Today Show recently ran a contest to determine the “picture of the year”. There were images of Obama, Michael Phelps, moving photos of conflicts around the world. But the theme that ultimately won out was nature. 3 of the top 5 photos chosen by viewers depicted acts of nature around the world, the top one being of a lightning storm over a volcano in Southern Chile. The photo is dramatic – so much so that you’d think it was doctored up or contrived. Rest assured, it is real and awe-inspiring. It was taken by photographer Carlos Gutierrez for the Patagonia Press. 


I think about the environment a lot, its beauty and power. I used to work for an environmental nonprofit and it is one of the main causes I donate to. I read extensively on the topic and am constantly working to lower my carbon footprint. I am certainly a green consumer and firmly believe that there are enormous public health implications if we do not do everything we can to protect our natural world. I am so pleased that Mr. Gutierrez’s photo won – it shows that I am not alone in being inspired by nature, not by a long-shot. Of all the photos that were taken in this historic year, nature reigned supreme in inspiring people around the world.
  
I hope 2009 will be the year when green energy and environmental conservation takes center stage – in this country as well as in other countries around the world. I hope we put policies and regulations in place that halt the rapid disappearance of species and habitat. I hope that more people will be willing to pay a bit more now for green products rather than pay dearly for the consequences of not protecting the environment in years to come. As a society, I’d like to see us protect and treasure life.

There is a song that John Denver sings on the Muppet Christmas album that is one of my favorites. It’s about a little tree named Alfie. At the end of the song, John communicates one small request from Alfie, and whenever I hear it I get a little bit choked up. It bears repeating. “You see life is a very special kind of thing. And not just for a chosen few, but for every living, breathing thing, not just me and you. So in your Christmas prayers this year, Alfie asked me if I’d ask you to say a prayer for the wind, and the water, and the wood, and those who live there, too.” That’s a request I’m very happy to fill. 

art, education, family, friendship, music, possessions, technology, wealth

Taking stock of what I’ve got

Christa Avampato

This month, Real Simple Magazine ran a column by author Merrill Markoe who wrote the books Walking In Circles Before Lying Down and The Psycho Ex Game. Hmmm…I don’t recall ever meeting her though it appears that she has her finger on the pulse of my life. Most of my ex-boyfriends aren’t psychos per say, though a few of them have turned out to be so odd in the end that I am left scratching my head, wondering what I ever saw in them. But I digress…


Merrill’s column details the fires in Malibu, California last year when she had to nearly evacuate her home and grab a few precious belongings to pack in her car. She considers what the belongings she chose to save say about her and her values. She is a deeply witty, self-deprecating writer – my favorite kind! – and her column had me thinking about what I’d take with me if I could only pack up a carload of belongings.

There are the items that must go with me without a doubt – my phone, my Mac, my external hard drive, my digital camera, my IBM laptop (merely because that machine saw me through my two years of graduate school for which I am intensely grateful), my ipod, the jewelry box my mother gave me, a handful of photographs, particularly those of my grandmother and one of my brother, sister, and I when we are all little and playing in my grandmother’s backyard. 

If there’s room, I’d stash all of my books and take them with me though if I can only have a few, I’ll take Me Talk Pretty One Day autographed by David Sedaris telling me that he’s so proud of me (though I have no idea what for), Bird By Bird by Anne Lamott, Nelson Mandela’s Long Walk to Freedom, Three Cups of Tea, my autographed copy of Moving to Higher Ground by Wynton Marsalis, Dreams of My Father by (Future President) Obama, Hotspots published by Conservation International because it was signed by all of my friends there, A Reason for Hope by Jane Goodall, Women Who Run with the Wolves, Orbiting the Giant Hairball from my former boss, Bob Giampietro, who taught me how to thrive in a corporate environment, 700 Sundays by Billy Crystal, and Yoga: Poetry of the Body because one of my very favorite essays, “Winter” by Nina Zolotow, is in there. No fiction book made the cut…hmmmm…..what does that say?

I’d love to bring along my grandmother’s rocking chair and sewing machine though that may be a bit ambitious given their bulky size. I’d definitely grab the knit shawl my mom made for me for my birthday, the teddy bear I bought for my grandmother while I was in college (she sat on the couch watching TV with that teddy bear every day up until she passed away because she said it made her feel less lonely.) I’d take the heart-shaped ornament with the word “Sister” inscribed on it, given to me by my sister at her wedding.

My Snoopy Snowcone Machine, in the original box, is a must-have as is a framed painting of a woman dancing with a rose given to me by Kaye Ballard. I’d also snatch the two water colors I purchased in Prague just after September 11th on my first trip to Europe. My poster of Sunset Boulevard signed by Petula Clark needs to come with me, as does the watercolor I painted that is a replica of the last greeting card my grandmother sent to me before she passed away. 

Cruising into my kitchen, I’d snag my crockpot, deluxe blender / food processor, and two magnets that read “Be Nice or Leave. – Thank You” and “Good girls go to heaven. Bad girls go everywhere” (A classic!). Everything else can stay. 

Bathroom – not much I’d salvage in here except my Sonicare toothbrush, my Dr. Greenfingers First Aid Kit, the purple vase from my dear friend, Blair, and my birth control (that stuff is EXPENSIVE!)

On my way out the door, I’d grab my black leather jacket, the purse my mom made for me that earns me a multitude of compliments every time I use it, a scarf my friend, Amy, bought me in Paris, my favorite jeans, my lockbox of important papers, the Chinese silk robe given to me by Petula Clark (I’ve never worn it though it serves as a reminder to me of what a true class act that lady is), my Tibetan prayer beads that hang above my front door, my swimming goggles that I learned to swim in just after my 30th birthday, the tiny birdhouse wind chime my mom gave me when I was in college, and the Coach leather bag I take to work everyday. And three more pieces of art – one of orca whales that I purchased on a solo trip to Alaska, the cloth painting I purchased in Soweto, and the painting of a monster in the forest given to me by the Crayola Factory. If there’s any more room, I’ll grab my two diplomas – the very small one from Penn and the very large one from UVA. Oh, and my passport.       

If our most prized possessions are a reflection of our values, what does this jumbled list say about me? Well, clearly there are a number of strong women who have made a significant impact on my life, particularly my mom and my grandmother. I deeply value my travels and education, and want to be surrounded by reminders of those experiences. I care about the environment. Art is a source of inspiration for me. And when it comes to appearance, I care only about the bare essentials (meaning, I’m most concerned about my teeth. These suckers were expensive and paid for by my Uncle Tom when he footed the bill for my braces. I think of him every time I look at my teeth, which is many times a day!) Technology is a big part of my life, and my life is easily transportable. I value my career. 

When I look around my apartment at what would be left after all of my favorite possessions are gone, I see some furniture, clothes, some small appliances. Though not much else, and truly all of that stuff is easily replaced for a very small amount of money. I guess I have weeded the garden of my life, stripping away nearly everything that is not essential. For one thing, I live in a 400 square foot studio. Though more importantly, I did cut back significantly on my possessions after I graduate school because I could only afford to take two car loads worth of items I could carry myself. (Movers and moving more items than that was cost-prohibitive for a recently graduated student moving to New York City without a job offer in hand.) Everything else had to find a new home in Virginia. It was an exercise in taking away all the non-essentials so the essentials could speak, and be saved. 
art, calm, career, encouragement, job, meditation, peace, work

Keep Calm and Carry On

Christa Avampato

My friend, Monika, graciously hosts group dinners at her home; a small group of us are hoping to make this a regular event with each of us taking turns with the hosting duties. Yesterday, I went over to Monika’s and we were taking turns trading stories about work when I noticed a poster she just had framed. It’s reprint of a WWII British propaganda poster that reads “Keep Calm and Carry On”. I figured if the British could keep their cool during such tumultuous times, I could certainly do the same. 


At the moment I am feel a fair amount of anxiety, more than I have felt in a long time. A lot to do and not enough time to do it. All day today I’ve been working, getting things in order, and I have been concentrating on my anxiety trying to figure out how to get it to dissipate. It really is like this knot in the very pit of my stomach, and it’s casing my muscles to ache, especially in my shoulders and neck. So I sat for a few minutes on my couch, and concentrated on just breathing, just being. And remarkably I felt better despite that I hadn’t gotten any further along than I was 5 minutes before.      

I realized how much time and energy I was spending being frustrated and irritated. How much effort I was putting into my disappointment. And it was clouding my ability to see this tremendous opportunity for growth and change that was being laid at my feet. Challenging situation, yes. Impossible to get through, of course not. It’s a moment when I am rising to my potential and then some. And that is something to be grateful for, if only I can remember to “Keep Calm and Carry On”. I just ordered my poster. Get yours at:  http://www.barterbooks.co.uk/catalog/product_info.php?products_id=32036    
art, creative, creativity, education, health, medicine, music, philanthropy

Genius Awards – $500,000 "no strings attached"

Christa Avampato

How would you like a half a million bucks with no strings attached? All you need to do is be a genius, and by genius I mean someone who is “creative, original, and has potential to make important contributions in the future.” The John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation awards 25 people every year with their Genius Awards. The Genius Awards for 2008 have been announced and the variety of recipients is encouraging.


When I heard that they were awarded based on originality and creativity, I naturally assumed that the awards were primarily for artists. And many of the recipients are indeed artists from many different areas of the arts. But there’s also an urban farmer, a critical care physician, and an astronomer. This variety supports the sentiment that artistry and creativity can, should, and will be found in every discipline the world over. 

We are all creative, inspired people regardless of our title at work or the discipline in which we work. The trick is how to leverage that creativity for the greatest benefit of the world at large. In short how do we take our precious, common gift of idealism and make it extraordinary? Geniuses take what we all have – this innate ability to imagine things the way they could be – and they go global with it. Well worth a half million dollars for their priceless contributions to humanity. 
The image above can be found at http://www.wilywalnut.com/Genius-choice.jpg
art, books, creativity, economy, education, jazz, music, New York City, politics, society

Moving to Higher Ground: How Jazz Can Change Your Life

Christa Avampato

I gave up my horn about 10 years ago because truth be told I wasn’t even mediocre, and even if I practiced for hours a day I’d never be great. I want to be a lot things, but I have no intention of getting in the habit of spending my time being mediocre. I love jazz, but I couldn’t play it. I just don’t have that ability. My creativity is in my writing. 


So for years now I have socked away all of the academic knowledge I built up around the music. (I studied it for a year in college and played in a few different bands.) People ask me if I miss playing, and truth be told I don’t. I never even think about it. Playing music doesn’t hold any kind of magic for me, but I still very much enjoy listening to it, and really what I enjoy is the history, all of the stories that come along with musicians. And there are plenty of stories to go around. 


My brother is a trumpet player and because he is 6 years older than me, I learned about Wynton Marsalis and the Marsalis family at a very young age. When I saw that Wynton would be at my local Barnes and Noble I decided to go hear some of his stories. He was so engaging and charming that I bought his book on sight, which I never do at author readings. And once I started reading Moving to High Ground: How Jazz Can Change Your Life, I couldn’t put it down. (And it helps that his co-author is the brilliant and well-spoken historian, Geoffrey Ward.)


For me the genius of this book is not to tell you about all the drugs that musicians have done, or all the women they’ve had or how down and out and poor they were. It talks about what the music has to teach us about living other aspects of our lives. How we treat each other. It teaches us about acceptance and nurturing and compassion. Wynton lays out the value is studying jazz not to be great, but to realize a certain aspect of humanity that comes through generosity.  Its is a living, breathing thing that connects the generations. It allows us to learn from generations of people who were long gone before we were every a twinkle in our parents’ eyes.  


Wynton goes on to talk about how we all hear something different in the music. He talks about arrogance and greed and the darker sides of our personalities that the music uncovers. But mostly he talks about how musicians with disparate styles can come together, should come together, to create something wholly different than they could ever make on their own. Nobody gets through this world alone in the same way that no jazz musician builds a career alone. Jazz is a way of capturing what it means to be out and about in this world. It’s a way of sharing that experience with others whom we will never meet but for whom our music could be a beacon of freedom if we are strong enough to tell our own stories, look them in the eye, and harvest the very best of what they have to teach us.


Wynton’s thoughts on community come at a particularly poignant time. Throughout the book I thought a lot of about the state of our world. How scary all these moving parts are – the economy, our national security, our political systems, health care, education. There is a lot to be afraid, maybe even more to be afraid of than at any other time in our history. What jazz, and musicians like Wynton teach us, is that the only way we can be safe is to let go of that fear with the confidence that those around us will support us. Their harmonies will carry us through. And if all else fails at least the swingin’ will give us enough encouragement to keep our chins up and the rest of us moving forward with grace.  

art, books, friendship, health, music, New York City, relationships, wellness

How Ashford & Simpson showed me the way

Christa Avampato

I work out at the gym in my office building. It’s nothing glamorous but it has what I need: a precor machine, easy to use weight machines, a rower, and clean bright rooms for classes. It also has a view that reminds me every day of the preciousness of life: it overlooks the 9/11 site. Today crowds of people will be flocking to the site to pay homage to the people who spent their final moments on that site, people who are sorely missed by their families, friends, and by our city. It is a sobering reminder that every day, EVERY day, counts. 


I am now in the midst of reading Wynton Marsalis’s latest book, Moving to Higher Ground: How Jazz Can Change Your Life. I picked it up initially because I met him at Barnes & Noble during a session he was doing across from Lincoln Center, because my brother adores him, and because I was a mediocre saxophone player many moons ago.The book is incredible, and I’ll write a proper post reviewing it as soon as I’m finish reading it. I mention it here because it’s going to tie nicely into my thoughts on 9/11, right after I mention one more recent occurrence. 


My dear friend, Dan, whom I write about often and spend a good deal of time with, is the publicist for Feinstein’s at the Regency on Park and 61st. He took me to see Michael Feinstein’s Christmas show in December and on Tuesday he invited my friend, Monika, and I to see Ashford & Simpson. I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun at a show. They play with such joy and love. I’m still humming Solid and Ain’t No Mountain High Enough. I was dancing, shouting, clapping. I was living that music and I felt so connected to every person in that audience even though I didn’t know anyone save for Dan, Monika, and Dan’s co-worker, Danielle. We were all together, celebrating life.


After the show let out, I walked west to catch my bus home. It was a long walk and I waited a while for the bus so I had a decent amount of time to revel in my happiness. And I finally understood the premise of Wynton Marsalis’s book in a way I hadn’t understood before seeing Ashford & Simpson. I understood those feelings of gratefulness I get when I’m on the rowing machine and looking at that sad, expansive space where the Towers stood majestically watching over us for so many years. It’s that feeling of just being happy “to be”. 


The only job we have in this world, and I mean the ONLY job, is to experience joy and express it every day for as long as we have the privilege to be citizens of this world. Any art, but music in particular, is a thread to connect all of us because we all hear the same notes but they mean different things to all of us. It allows us to be the same, be different, be individuals, be a group, all together across many generations. We don’t need to know a language, wear certain clothes, or be raised a certain way to enjoy it. It’s an equal opportunity companion.


It’s in our best interest to share joy because as we share it, there’s more for us to have. Ashford & Simpson and Wynton Marsalis personify that principle and have reaped the benefits of its implementation. So sing, paint, play the trumpet, go to a show, write, love your job, garden, volunteer, run, swim, tell jokes, have a boogie break in your apartment. Spend time with interesting, fascinating, diverse people, and let them into your life in a profound way. And recognize how infinitely lucky we are to be alive at all. Just being able to walk around on this Earth and take it all in is an amazing gift.