C Within Magazine Fall 2018

MAGAZINE

Life Artistry. Deep Connection.

FALL TWENTY EIGHTEEN

free to take ENJOY AND SHARE

Welcome

H

ello and welcome. We are thrilled to have you join us. To feel, see and sense in every way what you hold in your hands. So before you begin, take a deep breath in and out, and settle into your body. Give yourself permission to be here, fully present in this moment - now.

What do you hold in your hands? C Within Magazine is an offering and an invitation to explore and dream; to see within. To see your inner world through the outer beauty, ideas and reflection found within these pages. To see your Soul, its depth, its strength, its worthiness, its creativity, its beauty and grace.

C Within is an invitation to be who you are. To be your fullest expression.

C Within is a place to connect with people who are being their fullest expression.

Those who are opening up new ways to share with the world and connect with those who are drawn to them and what they have to offer.

C Within is a place for contemplation and conversation for growth and deeper understanding of who we are; what we want; how we create; why we do what we do; and how it affects those close to us and across the globe.

C Within is a place to center within, to express and receive gifts of wisdom and beauty.

C Within is an offering; an attempt to give back to the world a measure of what we take from it daily.

In Gratitude,

Kristine

Kristine Wilkerson Center Within Expressive & Healing Arts cwithin.com

Photo Credit: Martien Bakens belight.photography

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CREATORS & CONTRIBUTORS publisher / EDITOR-in-chief: Kristine Wilkerson

Editor-at-large: Mark Wilkerson

Contributing Editors: Gianna Carotenuto Emily Johansen

Writers: Mark Wilkerson Justin Thurgur Kathy Span Cosetta Romani

Design & Art Direction: Kristine Wilkerson

FRONT Cover: THE HUMMINGBIRD by : Jena DellaGrottaglia

Photography: Cheryl Alterman, altermanimages.com Kati Greaney, katigreaneyphotography.com Jena DellaGrottaglia, autumnsgoddess.com

Photo Editors: Cheryl Alterman Kristine Wilkerson

MARKETING | DISTRIBUTION: Elizabeth Brown Nicole Blood

Printer: Hudson Printing hudsonprinting.com

Contact Us: C Within Magazine

BACK Cover: WATER by : Jena DellaGrottaglia

P O Box 567 Huntsville, UT 84317 CWithin.com kw@CWithin.com 4

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CONTENT

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Justin Thurgur— JOURNEY TO AN IDEAL

18.

New World Distillery — A LIFE DISTILLED

26.

TrouBeliever Fest — SONGWRITING CENTER STAGE

40.

Jena DellaGrottaglia— INTRICATE ELEGANCE

52.

Cosetta Romani — EMERALD BREATH

58.

06. within this edition 14. the power of STORY 5

Cheryl Alterman — ROCKSTAR BEHIND THE LENS

38. the power of practice

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Within this edition

All Our World a Story

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ithin this edition the team here at CWithin explored the art of storytelling in its many forms. We connected with artists from the UK, Canada, the Pacific Northwest, California and right here in Huntsville Utah. Their stories are rich.

Kristine Wilkerson

C Within

Storytelling is perhaps the most ancient art form, having its warm beginnings around what was likely man's first fire. Storytelling imbues all aspects of our lives, from the nursery rhymes and bedtime songs from which we first hear and learn language; to the stories our grandparents told us; to the children's books, novels, poetry, songs, we come to identify as defining "us." From all that surrounds us in film, tv, books, music, dance, paintings, photography, mixed media and internet... our world is story.

Magazine is a celebration of Life;

of all things Art and Artistry. It is a tool

showing by example, article by article, and artist by artist, “the way”. The way of the brush, the way of the writer, the way of the

singer, dancer, poet, sculptor, healer … the

way of the fearless dreamer. CWithin at its

core is an invitation to explore the elements

It has been said that storytelling is the most powerful way to put ideas into the world. Some believe it creates our world.

of our lives, the heartbeat of our genius and the subtle ways in which we can tap into

A

them. It is a call to each of us to become our

fullest expression, free of judgment and fear.

To dance and sing and paint and vision and

in these acts of creation live a life of authen-

ticity, liberation, artistry and ultimate joy.

Read on. Play on. Live life to all of its juicy, luscious edges.

shaman might say, "All of our world is story. The only question is which stories do you choose to hear, believe and to tell; and what are you creating?"

Enjoy,

CW

Kristine

Photo Credit: Martien Bakens belight.photography

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Justin Thurgur—

Journey to an IDEAL

BY: Justin Thurgur

A

while back I was playing in an African music festival in Colston Hall, Bristol, a double bill with Dele Sosimi’s Afrobeat Orchestra and Soweto Kinch. Kinch did a satirical rap called “A Jazz Planet”. It imagined a world run by Jazz musicians, where traffic lights are blue to remind everyone to stay cool and fathers are horrified when their daughters come home with a businessman boyfriend who’s clearly never played a bebop lick in his life. Dele, who I’ve worked with now for 20 years, was taken under the wing of the legendary Fela Kuti at 15. By 18 Dele was a regular member of Fela’s band Egypt 80 until he left with Femi Kuti to form Positive Force. Fela of course tried to make Kinch’s humorous vision a reality by declaring his own independent state in Lagos. Sadly it wasn’t quite the Utopian vision imagined by Kinch. Dele himself is an upbeat character, full of life and vivacity, but despite trying to put a positive energy into his life, the shadow of his past in a turbulent Nigeria sits behind even his most life-affirming songs about dancing together and a world that will be better tomorrow.

My mother’s parents set up a community called Pilsdon for people who were struggling with the world; everything from people just out of prison who were trying to adjust to normal life, or trying to beat drug addiction; to people who’d had a nervous breakdown or had other mental health issues and needed a safe space.

The community was self-sufficient. The people staying helped with the growing of food and looking after livestock, and rotated things like washing and cooking.

If other things were needed they would barter, using excess produce, with local farmers or shops. The idea behind the community was simple; if people were in an environment where they felt accepted and useful they could achieve some level of contentment.

My mother grew up in this community and it’s where she met my father, who went to work there as a volunteer one summer.

The spirit behind Pilsdon informed a lot of my parent’s decisions through life. They worked in progressive boarding schools. As houseparents they had a literal open door policy. As a child I was surrounded by sixth formers* some of whom added strongly to my sense of the person I wanted to be. Most of my schooling was in a progressive independent school called St Christopher’s in Letchworth, where my parents taught. The underlying principal of the school was that of self government.

Students were encouraged to be independent and questioning, with the idea that you respect because you’re respected; trust because you’re trusted; with a low

.. . m usi c c o n t i n u e s to p rogr e s s a n d r e inv e n t i t se lf b e c a u s e thi s i s th e f o o d t h at n o ur i s h e s a c re ati ve c ommu nit y I was lucky enough to have been brought up to believe life could be ideal, or at least that it was ok to aspire to it being ideal. Not because we had lots of money, my parents were teachers. So, we weren’t wealthy but we weren’t poor either.

*In the education systems of England, Northern Ireland, Wales and some other Commonwealth countries, sixth form represents the final 1-3 years of high school, where students (typically between 16 and 18 years of age) prepare for their A-level examinations.

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Photo Credit: Dena Garcia Abarca

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Reggae, Funk, Jazz, and mixing it all up with some incredible musicians from all over the world. This music did call to me. It had the creative energy I was searching for and a real sense of shared purpose. It was my first true experience of such a multi-cultural community. I instantly felt at home. After a month sitting in on the jam Kishon asked me to join the house band. That was the start of a musical collaboration that continues to this day.

emphasis on hierarchy and discipline. Teachers and students were on first name basis. There were no uniforms.

I thrived in this environment.

For reasons I can’t remember I wanted to play the trombone from when I was around 3 or 4 years old. After a false start on trumpet (because the then brass teacher said I was too small for a trombone when I was 8… wrongly in my opinion) I eventually took it up aged 10.

I was like a duck to water.

Around this time I discovered, by chance, a jam run by Dele Sosimi. He’d fairly recently arrived in London and set up an Afrobeat jam as a way to bring together some of the players he already knew in London, and to meet new ones. Shortly after, he decided to put together a band and his Afrobeat Orchestra was born.

I was surrounded by music. My mother is a singing teacher and my father a keen amateur pianist and singer who avidly consumes music. The turning-point moment in my life though came in my third year of high school.

The school had a practice of bringing in post-graduate musicians for a year. When I was 14 a trombonist came named Trevor Ap Simon. He was the first teacher I’d had who was a really inspirational trombonist. I still play the same instrument as he did, and model my tone on his. More importantly, he introduced me to improvising and playing in jazz and world music ensembles.

Who knows what would have happened if Trevor hadn’t come to the school, but certainly after he came I was hooked. When he left the Head of Music hired a new trombone teacher to continue the Jazz group, almost solely for me. I’ve never looked back. A couple of my close friends at school played piano and sax. With them and some local musicians we formed our own jazz group and started gigging.

Jump on a few beautiful years of amazing musical discovery, with a slight detour to do my degree in Classical Music and History, and in 1995 I landed up in London looking to play professionally.

Dele Sosimi & Justin Thurgur

Photo Credit: Jurgen Dhont © muziekclub N9'.

Dele is a larger than life character who tries to spread positive vibes wherever he goes. Being on the road with him is never dull. One time, touring Austria, we were taking a train from Innsbruck to Vienna. As we stepped on to the train you could feel the trepidation amongst some of the passengers. Before we’d even sat down the police were on the train asking to see the passports of the black members of the band. Dele pretended he couldn’t find his and proceeded to put on a comedy show attempt at looking for it. Before long the police were laughing.

After they’d left Dele danced down the aisle of the train singing “I feel good…der-na-ner-na-ner-ner… I found my passport”. The journey was five hours long and he didn’t let up, sitting next to a very game 90-year old nun he goofed around with big exaggerated gestures until the whole carriage, many of whom had initially been reticent to say the least, were in hysterics. His skill is that he behaves this way with such a spirit of generosity

At this time most of my experience was in Jazz. My biggest inspirations were the likes of Miles Davis, Wayne Shorter, Herbie Hancock, Lee Morgan, John Coltrane, and the community of musicians around them. I loved their spirit of creativity, progress and discovery. When I moved to London and was trying to get on the scene, the more straight-ahead jazz jams that I went to didn’t call to me. These jams felt retrospective and I was interested in being creative, not just recreating what those giants had already done. Then one day a saxophonist friend of mine invited me to a jam. I walked into a basement bar in Soho to the sounds of the band leader Kishon Khan soloing on Rhodes over a heavily African infused modal jazz track and said, “This is where I want to be”.

The ‘St Moritz’ jam was a truly international affair. We were playing grooves from Africa, Brazil, Cuba, India,

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and humility that people are drawn in to his good will and not affronted by it.

DELE'S HORNS: L to R Justin Thurgur (trombone) , Tom Allan (trumpet), Eric Rohner (tenor sax), Tamar Osborn (baritone sax)

On another occasion we took a ferry to Terschelling Island. Within minutes of boarding Dele finds the intercom and starts announcing to everyone, “Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Afrobeat Captain speaking, please fasten your seatbelts and get ready for the ride”.

He went on for awhile and what amazed me was that the stewardess standing nearby just stood there laughing. As we left the boat the actual captain stood at the gangway to shake everyone’s hands as they left. Dele stood next to him and did the same.

Dele, Kishon and the musicians around us have been my musical family for over twenty years. We share a commitment to borderless music, to celebrating the multi-cultural community that surrounds us.

After a year St Moritz and The Bonobo Orchestra ended and Kishon and I threw ourselves into expanding our knowledge of different musical languages. That’s seen me working with the likes of Afrobeat drum legend Tony Allen, Cuban giants Giraldo Piloto, Julito Padron, and Changuito, Indian percussion master Pandit Dinesh, and I was a member of the seminal English Folk group Bellowhead. Our projects together though have continued trying to represent the multi-cultural nature of London. Most recently that has been in Kishon's project Lokkhi Terra, my ‘Afro-Jazz’ project and with our record

Photo Credit: Pascal Rohner - pascalrohner.com

label, ‘Funkiwala’. Lokkhi Terra is a project mixing Cuban, African, Brazillian, Reggae and Jazz music with Bengali folk songs (Kishon is of Bangladeshi origin). A series of ‘Lokkhi Terra meets...’ albums has included a dub Reggae EP featuring the incredible Baul singers Baby Akhtar and Rob Fakir. Our latest one, ‘Cubafrobeat’, is a coming together of Lokkhi Terra and Dele’s band, drawing on the shared musical heritage of Cuban Rumba and Afrobeat. My Afro-Jazz project is similarly eclectic in its influences, despite the band’s name.

'The Lokkhi Terra Crew: from left to right, Kishon Khan (piano, rhodes and hammond organ), sitting; Oreste Noda (percussion), Javier Camilo (percussion and vocals), Aanon Siddiqua (vocals), Graeme Flowers (trumpet), Sohini Alam (vocals), Aneire Khan (vocals), Justin Thurgur (trombone), Jimmy Martinez (bass), Tansay Omar (drums)

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Photo Credit: Simone Sultana

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An idea I’ve been pondering lately is how dominant cultures frame our understanding of the world. If I wear an African shirt it is noteworthy, but no one thinks twice about an African person wearing a pair of Jeans, or me wearing them, yet I’m no more American than I am African. In the UK black people are still largely perceived as being from somewhere else even though their families may have been here for thousands of years, but no one thinks of me as Norwegian despite my Viking heritage. Similarly with music, for me to play Cuban music or Reggae brings up more questions than if I choose to play Mozart. Yet culturally, I’m no closer to an 18th century Austrian than a 21st century Cuban. Everyone’s allowed to use influences of Rock music. It runs deep into our everyday thinking. I named one of the tracks on my album ‘Mr. Perceptionalization is King’; what is considered a truth is often only a perception.

The notion of musical ‘tradition’ is also interesting, the implication is a time when music stood still. In reality most music in the world is a fusion because globalization has been going on for thousands of years. There are moments in time when a particular sound might become consolidated and recognizable as being from a particular area, but generally music continues to progress and reinvent itself because this is the food that nourishes a creative community.

My album’s title is ‘No Confusion’. It is inspired by my community. I’m proud that the album manages to sound like me and you still can hear the character of all my friends in it.

It’s funny because on the surface I appear to be a quintessential, introverted English man, yet my wife is a chatty, vibrant South African woman and my friends are all the colours of the rainbow. And, despite the cerebral observations I’ve made above, I don’t live and play the music I do from any political or philosophical social standpoint. It just feels to me that this is the way it’s supposed to be.CW

funkiwala.com justinthurgur.bandcamp.com facebook.com/Funkiwala facebook.com/justin.thurgur

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Photo Credit: Matt Thomas (aka Mister Tee) Cover Design: Jules Lowe

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the power of story

Not the Buddha

BY: Stephen jenkinson

Not the Buddha is excerpted from COME OF AGE, The Case for Elderhood in a Time of Trouble, Ch 19, pages 335-340

I was in yet another bookstore in yet another airport a half year ago. It isn’t the best place to buy a book to while away the transcontinental hours, but the whole enterprise can get you to thinking. Really, they’re not even bookstores. They are grottoes of grim fascination with technology, and they are selling gizmos that promise to enhance the reading experience but are clearly helping to make books—the paper kind, what they call now the bricks-and-mortar of the trade—a nostalgic memory. This is something that is happening in your lifetime. Nostalgia sells well (the word means “the return of pain”), and it is a halfway house on the road to oblivion.

I don’t know by what criteria books are chosen for inclusion in airport shops. As I’ve scanned the pointless isles, I’ve been stymied by it. There are the usual items appealing to the business class, star elite, gold and platinum partners, and so on. They are clever for the first couple of pages but seem to burn out beginning with the witty titles. There are the deeply misanthropic items that feature profanity in the title with one letter starred out, coy and mockingly clever slanders of modern peoples’ ways. There are all manner of self-esteem and self-help offerings, of course. There are biographies of people you’d not be likely to inquire after, and some cookbooks. Always cookbooks. Not much in the way of literature, I’ve noticed, unless it has been discounted to retail oblivion. Taken as a whole, the range of titles suggest that the people who choose this stuff credit the travelling public with little or no attention span, contemplative chops, or general give-a-shit.

I know this: I’ve written two books that made it to the marketplace, and I’ve never seen either of them in the airports I’ve passed through. I don’t know what that means, marketability-wise, for what I’ve done. It may be a compliment, and it may not be.

Regardless, I was in one of those shops, trolling, thinking that I’ve lived long enough to see reams of books about the zeitgeist of the times with the mark of ephemera all about them. One promised a brief history of mankind. Now, provided you haven’t caved into misanthropy entirely and you still imagine humanity as something like a worthy subject and a worthy audience, why would you settle for a brief history of anything?

Imagine what gets left out. Imagine that a good story might take at least as long to tell as it did to happen. Isn’t the enterprise of learning something of how things have come to be as they are worth the time it might take to learn it? When did learning become cruel and unusual punishment? Yes, I know that not everyone will read the Loeb classics in their wondrous bilingual splendor, in their scores. Almost no one will. Still, when did the value and merit of the hours of your life come down to a matter of how easy they’ll make it for you as you go along? Old school is what I’ve become on this and other matters. Not old school as in vintage leather jackets and 33 rpm stereo sound—not cool that way—more like old school as in stuck and left behind by the thrum of the next new thing. I suppose I’d never be accepted into the kumbaya congregation of The Church of What’s Happening Now. Too late for that.

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I myself don’t while away hours. A protestant-in-manner to the death, though largely lapsed now, I am prone to working. Not droning. Working, by which I mean giving myself to something, hopefully to something like the highest, noblest bidder. There is, of course, the problem of fetishizing activities that are not much more than dithering. If you don’t find the highest bidder for your attention and your skills, and still you are fond of working, and you obey the fondness to a fault, you could, in time, resemble someone on the subtle end of the autism spectrum, full of involuntary getting on with your life, life probably going the other way. But if you work at it, and the reason for your birth comes into view, work can be good for you. So it has gone for me, anyway.

The indignities can mount as you go along. They truly can. I do not mean the long list of dissemblance that becomes your body in time. Books that catalogue “infirmity” as synonymous with geezerdom are out there now, playing their part in discrediting elderhood by discrediting age, though they’d never own up to it. Being left out of the time parade: that would be undignified. You’d be a freak of nature. Give in to that kind of lunatic cheerleading, and then do the existential math of the thing. You see that you are sentencing subsequent generations to navigate this veil of tears utterly bereft of the venerable signs of time making its way, of time leaving its maker’s mark upon you. You discredit whatever cooperates with time as a losing proposition, as a failure of the will. How is anyone to come of age when age has become “too much sun,” “too much stress,” “too much”?

No, by indignities I mean the laurel of vague regard bestowed upon the greying head by the peak-income-generating boors racing to their deaths. I mean the graceless approval heaped upon whatever they mean by timeless. I mean those cantos of crafty delusion and secret dread sung for change, for novelty, for the newest shiny thing. It leaches dignity from the bones of our mutual life for people who are old enough to know better to line up for a better deal than still being here. Though they might no longer remember what they wish they could or are glad they can’t, they themselves are memory for people half their age. They are living testimony, living witness to the vagaries, to the unleavened mercy that comes with not being, in the mortal and enduring and utterly faithful words of the patron saint of the Orphan Wisdom School, “in full command of every plan you wrecked.” Bail out of the age parade and you betray those unwittingly seeking sustenance from your creaky presence on the scene. That is not a right. It’s not truancy, and it’s not a day off.

That is dereliction of duty.

I’ve been teaching about this fractious phantom called elderhood for maybe half a dozen years, and over the last year I’ve begun to make some preliminary gatherings of my take on it all. Happily I’ve found that there was some willingness out there in the world to consider this very thing. I’d begun to call the sessions “Meditations from the World Tree, Withered.” I’d intended to use that as the subtitle for this book, but I’m fairly sure that every focus group in the hemisphere would pooh-pooh it as hopelessly long and confounding.

It doesn’t give itself away in seconds, and in that way is not pornographic, and so it has no seat in the marketplace of book cover designs. But people seem to figure that elderhood is the preliminary phase of dying, so at first blush, those who figure I am The Death Guy might go along with it.

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Years ago, sometime after the release of a documentary film about my time in the death trade called Griefwalker, I was approached by the online arm of a Buddhist magazine. They had a kind of movie study group, and they asked me to participate in a month-long online discussion forum. I reluctantly agreed. I say reluctantly because 1) I wasn’t a Buddhist, as far as I could tell; 2) the film wasn’t Buddhist, as far as I could tell; and 3) I didn’t really know how to do an online anything, never mind going back and forth with unknown people about a film in which I appeared. But I was persuaded that this was something the film, otherwise not very well promoted, might deserve.

I was on the road teaching at the time, and I awoke one particularly bright morning in New Mexico with three new companions. I had bronchitis; I realized that I’d utterly forgotten to check in with the discussion group; and I discovered that the allotted month for doing so was already half over. Awash in feeling irresponsible and breathless at the same time, hoping that my silence would be forgiven or, failing that, overlooked, I had my host guide me through the Byzantine machinery of gaining online access to the group. Surprisingly, people had been weighing in on the film, and they’d been weighing in on me, too.

I’d somehow counted on the reviews having a particular Buddhist bent to them, meaning that I imagined they would be gentle in some fashion, of the inquiring kind, flirting with benevolence, maybe innocently but welcomingly bright-sided. I imagined that the group had committed to something like a spiritual equivalent of the Hippocratic Oath. All of which is to say that I knew very little about the on-the-ground realities of North American Buddhism, obviously. These were my fantasies, not theirs, and they can’t be defended, and shouldn’t be tried at home.

So I was a bit chagrined when I read through the reviews. Though it was advertised that I would participate in the discussion, very little of it was directed towards me. It was largely about me instead, as if I was in a room of people who knew I could hear them but seemed unrestrained by that, as if I were a ghost who hadn’t gotten the word yet that I was dead, that my time was over. One particular thread of the discussion centered on an apparent gap between what I was “preaching” and what I was “practicing,” always a ripe killing ground when anonymity prevails. A variety of my shortcomings were explored, their causes revealed. There were attempts to defend me—half hearted, I thought—by pointing out that it didn’t really matter what kind of person I was, that the teaching could rise or fall on its own impersonal merits. And then came the coup de grâce, the murderous denouement. In a gesture of equal parts dismissal and forgiveness, someone ventured that I was to be offered a pass on my shortcomings, since I obviously wasn’t the Buddha.

And that was the one that stung. What was so obvious about it? I wondered. Was it so glaring as to deserve this dismissal from the Pantheon of Worthies? Was the Buddha so obviously the Buddha at the time? Is anyone? It was dismaying that it was so obvious from the film that Buddhahood had escaped me utterly. It was a proverbial chicken bone in the spiritual throat, at the time. But I remembered Hesse’s Siddhartha, which is the extent of my formal study of Buddhism. I remembered that scene from his early life of luxury and comfort and parental design, when he clambered over the garden wall and dropped into the world. Out in the street he saw age, saw its fate, saw what it meant for him and his future, and was gutted by it. He saw suffering, and the rest, and that seems to be all he saw, at least for a while. I don’t know for sure, but it may be that the religion that fanned out from him had some element of that moment in it for a while, too.

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Maybe that is a young person’s take on aging, no longer restricted to young persons: diminishment, depletion, demise, then the deep end. Maybe that take on aging is a rookie mistake, entered into as if it is no mistake at all, as if the mists have lifted and heaven and earth have conspired to bring all to this noble truth, that aging is suffering, and that’s all that it is, or almost all. I know that there’s more to it than that, that Buddhism in all its flower is more elaborate on the subject than that. I know that Buddhism’s scholars and practitioners have this whole business of suffering sorted in ways that have escaped me. I know there is attachment involved in the arrangement. Maybe, though, that “suffering from age” is oracular degeneration. Maybe that suffering is the unclaimed bastard child—or one of them—of refusing to age, refusing to fess up to being able to hear time murmuring your name, refusing the deal that was so nobly struck early on. Maybe all of this, and the awareness of all of this, is to be surrendered with greater and greater grace, now that you are coming of age, now that you are singing your grief song of gratitude, now that you are able to stand on the street corner of your life in the dusky light and see it all, finally, and wish the whole thing farewell. Not the Buddha, really, not by then.

The witness.

Stephen Jenkinson on Tour NOWNIGHTS of GRIEF & MYSTERY Brilliant! Performance Art ... storytelling at it's finest, original music, moving you seamlessly between laughter & tears, with a bit of swaying in between.

You will not see life the same.

I HIGHLY RECOMMEND! Kristine

Watch these beautiful short introductory films about the life and work of Stephen Jenkinson: Come of Age (Ian MacKenzie filmmaker) Die Wise A Manifesto for Sanity and Soul (Ian MacKenzie filmmaker) Griefwalker (NFB Film Canada/ Tim Wilson filmmaker) The Making of Humans (Ian MacKenzie filmmaker)

Stephen Jenkinson is the Author of DIE WISE and COME OF AGE and is the susbject of the documentary film GRIEFWALKER OrphanWisdom.com

The Meaning of Death (Ian MacKenzie filmmaker) Come of Age: A Case for Elderhood in a Time of Trouble by Stephen Jenkinson, published by North Atlantic Books, copyright © 2018 by Stephen Jenkinson. Reprinted by permission of North Atlantic Books 17

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A New World - Distilled BY: kathy span

D

is · t i l l

de-stil/

verb

1. purify (a liquid) by vaporizing it, then condensing it by cooling the vapor, and collecting the resulting liquid. “they managed to distill a small quantity of water” synonyms: purify, refine, filter, treat, process;

2. extract the essential meaning or most important aspects of.

When Ashley Cross told her husband she intended to leave her profession, it wasn’t an announcement she made without a replacement path in mind. She had a plan. She was a planner. She was a 20-plus year veteran educator. Oh yeah, she had a plan.

She would work at Home Depot where, she says, she could wear a bright orange apron, work in the paint section, and thus “surround herself with color.” When asked why she no longer wanted to work in public education after 23 years, she simply stated that she needed “a new world.”

By distilling down her dream of a colorful “New World” Ashley condensed, and then extracted, the crucial aspects of a life of artistry: authenticity, color, fun.

Something aligned with nature. Something unique.

Something that makes people smile (in moderation of course). Something creative. And, something with a less rigid schedule.

New World Distillery opened its doors on December 10, 2016. While Ashley's "colorful Home Depot" plans didn't quite materialize, she and co-owner/husband, Chris Cross, have done something much bigger. They built a craft distillery in the heart of Eden Utah, a small town perched at 5400 feet above sea level on the shores of Pineview Lake, and surrounded by some of the purist backcountry snow on the planet. The small-town, authentic, Western setting matches their product.

Photo Credit: Kati Greaney Photography katigreaneyphotography.com

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Ashley and Chris channel the elements of the location, art, as well as pure science, to draw the essence of their rarefied products drop-by-drop from nature. They apply the artistry of craft distilling to every aspect of the New World Distillery products that now frequent the shelves of Utah’s State liquor stores.

A foodie at heart, Ashley’s favorite part about running a distillery is sorting the botanicals to ensure a perfect, and perfectly replicateable, recipe. Chris, on the other hand, as an engineer, finds macho-geek-joy in constantly honing the complex equations that add up to perfection on the distilling side. Art is often challenged by technology. That said, Chris argues that without the technology, New World Distillery couldn’t raise the bar and then surpass it, enabling them to make spirits that are deserving of over-the-top shelf status.

New Word Distillery keeps its focus narrow, and pure.

One theme: purity. Three products, Agave Spirits; Gin, and a reluctant but luscious Zen Vodka.

Talk about unique and pure: as the only distillery in Utah distilling agave spirits, Chris and Ashley source 100% Organic Agave of the Blue Weber (no relation to the County) variety. While there are many varieties of wild agave, Blue Weber is the only one that legally can be distilled into tequila, or Agave Spirits. Each bottle is adorned with a custom image of Myauhel, the Goddess of Agave, commissioned from local artist Tyler Davis, who works brush in brush with the Crosses on each unique bottle design.

Chris explains that the Goddess is green on the Blanco Agave Spirits because the Blanco is the most agave or fruit-forward of the three types of tequila. New World Distillery’s Blanco was released on Earth Day of 2016.

The bottle art is a Gold Medal Winner from the San Diego International Spirits Festival. The Goddess is red on the Reposado, which translates as “rested,” appropriate for the middle-aged product. And gold on the Anejo, which translates as the wealthy and wise grandmother, “well aged.”

New World’s Agave Spirits are aged in bourbon barrels in accordance with Mexican tequila-aging traditions.

The longer the spirit remains in a barrel, the more it takes on the amber color tones from the beautifully liquorified bourbon barrels, and the more it develops a succulent complexity unique to the barrel in which it was aged.

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Quite often, customers will ask which is better: the blanco, the reposado, or the anejo. Ashley’s answer isn’t quite what folks expect: “There is no differentiation in terms of quality; all are pure, and all are excellent. It is all about taste - yours.” Some prefer the brightness of a perfect Blanco and some prefer the depth of an aged spirit. Both have a distinct space in one’s liquor cabinet.

New World Distillery’s launch product is equally known for its perfectly crafted botanical bill, as it is for the intricate artwork that adorns the Oomaw Gin bottle.

A multi-award-winning Gin, both domestically and internationally, Oomaw Gin is defined by a mixture of 9 organic botanicals distilled over many many hours. The Crosses spent over a year experimenting with tasting and finally perfecting their recipe. The result is what Ashley calls “THE perfect craft gin.” If you go on a tour of the distillery you will learn all about the botanicals used in Oomaw Gin and how the Crosses, with art and science in equal measure, determine the ratios in relation to the flavor profile, to achieve the pure perfection they seek. “A fabulous gin is like a painting,” Ashley explains. “You start with a perfect neutral backdrop and add the brilliance of botanicals to color the palate.”

The dragonfly image on the Oomaw Gin bottle was inspired by the first summer the Crosses lived in Ogden Valley. It happened to be a summer when the presence of dragonflies was unimaginably prolific. The Crosses worked closely with artist, Tyler Davis, to convey their vision for each spirit bottle. They knew exactly what they wanted: intricately-patterned, fossilized wings, subtly woven with iconic, Utah images hidden within.

Layered metallic and black paint, the dragonfly stretches across the clear bottle and is reflected against clouds that show through the bottle. The dragonfly is the image of transformation and steadfast determination. A dragonfly of a Gin indeed.

Vodka. “What a Zen juxtaposition of concepts in the spirits world!” Ashley bemoans. “Vodka is the essence of nothing. The ultimate challenge is to create a perfect no thing.” Legally defined as a “neutral spirit,” vodka is contrary to the other products about which the Crosses feel such great passion: “How do you have a passion about something that is nothing?” Everything we love is taste-intense: tequila, gin, food, life.”

Vodka, as a neutral spirit, challenged the Crosses. And yet it is the purist of the pure from a distillation standpoint. So, bring on the purity and Zen. According to the

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Crosses, at first visit, there does not seem to be much to say about vodka. It is in theory a tasteless and odorless spirit.

After initially ignoring the demand for the first and only craft vodka distilled in all of Northern Utah, the Crosses finally decided to bring the oft-conflicted worlds of art and technology together. They Zen’d a uniquely-crafted vodka, rare in terms of sugar source and distillation practices.

Ogden Valley Vodka is one of only two vodkas in the entire United States distilled from agave. Vodka can be distilled from any sugar source. The Crosses chose as their sugar source the most natural and pure one they could find. One that few others use and one which engineer Chris had already mastered in terms of both fermentation and distillation. And so, Ogden Valley Vodka.

So what does one do with a perfectly natural neutral, sippingly-smooth vodka? One designs a bottle that is as beautiful, unique, and Zen as the spirit within. The Ogden Valley Vodka bottle features art that depicts all that the Crosses love most about the Ogden Valley: the wrap-around mountains, the pristine air, the ability to see the stars against a dark sky. The ability to identify with a place that speaks to “purity.”

By designating their Vodka as the “Community Spirit” and donating a portion of the profits each year to a local conglomerate of non-profits in the Ogden Valley, the Crosses fulfill the most hopeful Zen concept. They create something from nothing, nothing from something, and accomplish good in the process.

The perfection of neutrality through technology. The creation of art on a bottle that captures the perfection that we see in our everyday spectacular surroundings, and the ability to embrace a spirit of a community grounded in aesthetics is how we too came to love vodka. Ogden Valley Vodka is only available at New World Distillery in Eden…naturally.

A rarefied location, distilled.

An essential life, distilled.

An essential dream, distilled.

Well of course, New World Distillery. Cheers. CW newworlddistillery.com

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Watch for our upcoming

events - newworlddistillery.com

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Simply Eden organic goat milk products handmade in Eden, Utah 24

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ply Ede n m i S t c e f Simply Per

simply eden

2612 N. HWY 162, #3 EDEN, UTAH 84310 Retail Store: 801-745-5033 Online Store: simply-eden.com 25

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TrouBeliever Fest— MAGIC Songwriting Center Stage

BY: MARK WILKERSON

S

o what drives a great song, words or music; lyric or melody; that is the question?” Say I. “Well, I do love a good Shakespearean reference. But, no that is not the question,” says Monty Powell.

Monty, who has won enough Grammys and National music awards to wallpaper a music studio (speaking of which, you should see his studio), including Songwriter of the Year, and who you should think of every time you hear Keith Urban singing “Sweet Thing”, was sitting across from me in his extraordinary high tech music studio (you should see the wallpaper) in Huntsville Utah.

He agreed to visit with me about the art of songwriting, with as a backdrop the just completed TrouBeliever Fest 2018, a music festival focused on singer/songwriters and their craft. The festival, brainchild of Monty and his songwriting and life partner, the brilliant Anna Wilson, rocked. It was a mix of fantastic solo performances, full on rock and roll bands, classics from the 70’s, and new music by up and comers as young as 14 years old. Magic.

a great song i s a seaml ess blend, a com p o u nd, an al chemi c bi ndi ng together of w ords a nd m u si c The festival was held over a sunny two days at Snowbasin Ski Resort’s Outdoor Amphitheatre.

Interspersed between 120 performances by 20 different artists, were songwriting seminars, vendor booths including one with 40 different Godin guitars one could try out, and completely mind-blowing impromptu jam sessions. All with Monty, Anna (a beautiful genius with the voice of an angel and bunches of hits and awards of her own), and their many famous pals including Billy Dean, smoothly guiding the audience through a truly unforgettable musical experience. The focus throughout was on the art of the songwriter, that magic moment when a lyric meets a melody and finds grace.

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pace alliteration metaphor meter. A great song employs musicology and musicianship, twelve notes in each octave reforming in almost infinite combinations; consonance dissonance harmony and progression. Tempo texture theme tone transposition triad and triple meter—and that’s just the T’s.”

Monty pauses for breath. I start to speak but halt; he’s not quite done.

Oh and then there are the instruments, over 1000 at last count, that you choose to lay down the music you want. Guitar for me (Piano for Anna) is a must. But do I three finger pick it, strum it, pluck it, play it as lead, play it as rhythm? And which of my 32 guitars should I use, and when in the song should I use each different one I select? Look, the bottom line is a great song is a whole bunch of cool stuff blended together so perfectly that they add up to far more than the sum of their parts. A great poem is fabulous. A great piece of music is fabulous.

But a great song is a quadratic of fabulous. It attaches to all of your senses. It comes pouring in your ears and flows to every corner of your brain, and then right on down to your fingers and toes. If a great song is soulful, it will fill your soul.

Emmylou Harris headlined, playing until midnight in a sultry testimony to the brilliance that is a songbird singing songs she wrote. Every song had a story. Every story had an intention. Every rhyme had a reason. Every note rang true to the intention. Magic.

While Emmylou Harris, who confesses to getting crushes on certain words and building a song from there, exemplified the experience of TrouBeliever Fest, every artist gave us a look -- more than just a toss off peek like “Hey I wrote this on the tour bus on the way to Boise Idaho” -- a real look into the magic of making music.

Each explained how they conceived those words and that music, and the particular moment the two merged to became one magnificent whole.

Monty pauses grinning, and then adds as if an afterthought of something I ought to already know.

A song. A catchy, gripping, stick in your head, sing in the shower, unforgettable song. A song that when heard 30 years later evokes not only the time and place you first heard it, but often the smell in the air, the taste on your lips, the touch of a hand, the tingle in your spine.

Right there just behind the eyes; fully formed memories of stunning detail; memories with all five senses fully firing. A three dimensional moving picture with soundtrack. Right in front of you. And all from “That Song” first heard those many years ago. Magic.

Oh, and you must have a message--something to say that is worth hearing. And you must keep it all, every word and every note, authentic to that message. Finally, you must, simply must, keep it simple.

WHAT? My brain screams … simple! SIMPLE? Oh sure simple, like brain surgery is simple if you are a brain surgeon. Seeing my head about to explode, Monty decides to ease off on the firehouse of information.

So back to my search for the key, the trick, the formula that unlocks the ability to write a great song. Back to my question about words or music. Monty replies,

Look man, I’m just messing with you, sort of.

There really are lots of things that go into a great song, but the basics are constant: message, music, hook. The real trick is finding the music that matches the lyric and blending them together as the means to deliver your message.

No, words or music, lyric or melody, that is not the question. Great songs, unlike Shakespeare’s baleful, ‘to be or not to be,’ are not an either or proposition. A great song is a seamless blend, a compound, an alchemic binding together of words and music, lyric and melody, and much more. A great song is lyric rhythm melody

Experiencing TrouBeliever Fest gave me the perfect reason to explore this alchemy that is songwriting, I think two songs by the two headliners are worth examination.

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Emmylou Harris and Rodney Crowell are way way famous. They started out playing together, and have done a lot of songwriting and performing both separately and together over the course of 45 years. Both are justifiably revered by other famous songwriters, who use words like “exquisite, authentic, genuine, bona fide; not a wasted word or note; consummate musical story tellers.” But it turns out they write entirely different kinds of songs.

Rodney Crowell’s “The Answer is Yes” is a great song.

It is brilliant. The story is a vignette; fun, rich and nuanced. You can see the bartender grin as the playful Crowell teases and flirts with his love interest de jure.

With a fast pace, heavy back beat, and 3 chord rock-nroll music, your feet are practically dragged to the dance floor. As you start to move your feet, you can’t help but grin along with that cocky Romeo over there at the bar flirting with the hot girl. You are in the moment, living the scene, all the while itching to dance. Some would argue that this is a traditional country-rock song. But forget the labeling.

Let’s look at the song. The music moves and shakes, and makes you want to sing, and certainly dance, along. The music matches the message. Teasing, cocky, fun, “Let’s Party.” It has 4 sets of lyrics, each 36-38 words long. It has a 44 word chorus that repeats 3 times. It is 4:19 minutes long with 180 non-repeating words. That is one new word every second and a half.

Americana Troubadour Rodney Crowell

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emmylou harris 2018 Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award winner

Emmylou Harris’s “Red Dirt Girls” also is a great song. It is brilliant. The story is a novel; deep, heart-wrenching, and poignant. You can smell the dust rising off the dirt road just outside a sun beaten cabin with two barefoot grinning girls singing on the porch. You are there with Lillian when the telegram comes, tears streaming down your face. You feel the depths of desperation when you nod along knowingly with, “One thing they don’t tell you bout the blues when you got em, you keep on fallin cause there ain’t no bottom…” With a slow deliberate pace, haunting bass, and plaintive guitar punctuated by steel, your heart skips a beat and tears well in your eyes.

You are in every moment as you look in on the hopes and shattered dreams of a life not permitted to be well lived. Some would argue that this is a traditional country folk song. But forget the labeling.

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Let’s look at the song. The music pulls you in and along with the story, thumping and crooning with sorrow. The music matches the message. Sad, thoughtful, nostalgic, “Let’s all try harder to love one another.” It has 6 sets of lyrics, each 55-70 words long, plus a 22 word wrap up.

It has NO chorus. It is 4:19 long (yes the two songs are precisely the same length) but with 389 non-repeating words. That is 1 ½ words per second.

Much slower. Twice as many words. No chorus.

While Rodney Crowell dances us through a one night barroom encounter with a sly winking promise of love, Emmylou Harris tells us of an entire forgotten life, “the life and the death of a red dirt girl.”

One great song makes you grin, dance, and maybe lust a little. The other makes you cry softly, hug your loved ones, and promise yourself to be more kind. Although vastly different in tone, tempo, and story, both songs share the key elements of all great songs -- a story to tell, a way with the words in which to tell it; a way with the twelve notes to bring the story to life; and an overall authenticity that guides the binding of the words to the music.

TROUBeLIEVER FEST - SNOWBASIN SKI RESORT, HUNTSVILLE UT

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KENNY ARONOFF troubelieven on the drums

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Troubador 77 Left to Right AUSTIN WEYAND (Guitar), ANNA WILSON, (Lead Vocals/Piano), KASSIE

WEYAND (Bass/Vocals) NATHAN CHAPPELL (Drums), MONTY POWELL (Guitar/Vocals)

BILLY DEAN

MARIO BIFERALI, Godin Guitars, sharing tips in the "Guitar Room" at Snowbasin Lodge where 40 Godin Guitars were available for artists and concert goers to examine and play.

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tim daniels band

Top left: PROFESSOR OF ROCK interviewing MONTY POWELL & ANNA WILSON

Middle left: SHAWN COLVIN Bottom left: GEORGIA MIDDLEMAN and GARY BURR. Husband & wife duo award-winning singer/songwriters, share secrets of songwriting at the Songwriting Sessions in Earl's Lodge

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Top right: VIVIENA WOLFGRAMM, age 14 vocals LEISINA WOLFGRAMM, age 15 piano/vocals Middle right : BILL MCGINIS of Park City, UT, Jam Night audience participation Bottom right: REBEKAH POWELL, leading Songwriting Sessions in Earls Lodge.

middleman burr

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I have thought about all Monty Powell said. I have thought about and dissected the great talents of Emmylou Harris and Rodney Crowell. I have reflected back on the two dozen other excellent songwriters who graced the Snowbasin stage at TrouBeliever Fest 2018.

I have considered the words of the great poet Donald Hall, who wrote, “be not tired, ordinary, trite, or false.” I have listened to Bach, Dylan, Petty, Isbell. I have thought deeply about the art of songwriting. And here is what I have come up with. Every great picture might tell a story. But every great song tells a truth. Short story or novel; happy or sad; playful or soulful, every great song captures all of your senses, imprints itself on your heart and soul, and brings you joy over and over for all the years of your life. All in 4:19 minutes or less.

As for the process, the craft, a lot of that can be taught, but the actual art of songwriting. Well, that’s just Magic.

CW troubelieverfest.com

montypowell.com annawilson.com troubador77.com

anna wilson & monty powell - CREATORS OF TROUBELIEVER FEST Grammy award-winning singer/songwriters Monty Powell and Anna Wilson (founding members of Troubador 77)

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HABITAT FOR HUMANITY INTERNATIONAL was the charitable partner at TROUBELIEVER FEST 2018. The charity brought in a facade of a home to the festival site where artists interacted with fans and signed the wall, sharing messages of hope and goodwill.

Anna Wilson (festival co-founder) penned the theme song for Habitat, A HOUSE A HOME habitat.org

legends live with Anna & monty Supporting Habitat for Humanity habitat.org

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the power of practice

Creating a New World

In the course of history, there comes a time when humanity is called to shift to a new level of consciousness to reach a higher moral ground. A time when we have to shed our fear and give hope to each other.

That time is now.

i don't want to protect the environment. i want to create a world where the environment doesn't need protecting. ~Wangari Maathai, Winner of the NOBEL PEACE PRICE 2004 for her contribution to sustainable development, democracy and peace

~Wangari Maathai

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NEW LOCATION ~ HISTORIC SPACE NEW & TIMELESS ARTISTS |~ NEW EXHIBITS JOIN US F~R THE EXPERIENCE

the power of creating a better future is contained in the present moment.

OPENING EXHIBIT 12.1.2018 6pm 7390 E 200 S Huntsville, UT Check Website for future Events

wilkersonfinearts.com

POWER OF PRACTICE SPONSORED BY:

lisa karam

you create a good future by creating a good present. ~ Eckhart Tolle

801.791.8801 Living and selling the Ogden Valley Lifestyle for over 25 Years 39

lisa@lisakaram.com ogdenvalleylifestyle.com

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Jena DellaGrottaglia Intricate Elegance BY: Kathy Span

IMAGINATION

and creativity can

change the

World

anoynmous

Jena DellaGrottaglia describes herself as “an outspoken mute”, her work, “intricate elegance”. When pressed, she says: I am not much on words, hoping instead to speak with my art. These images all live and thrive within my mind, my dreams and my soul. They are my voice. I want each image to speak to the viewer, yelling or whispering.

No matter what it says, I want the image to tell its story. multimedia artist jena dellagrottaglia expands the imagination through layered imagery that tells its own story.

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sacred wild one

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Raphel

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beloved

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gold leaf angel

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coyote

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THE OWL Jena’s art has a mind of its own, a soul and a creative process unique to the image. While she would like to say, “I did that piece,” she just can’t. Her images have a story to tell, a life and vision of their own, sometimes very different from what Jena first imagined. The multimedia paintings “work” Jena, not the other way around.

She often sees images in her dreams, vivid and clear, waking her up and holding her in the limbo between asleep and awake, until she gives into the art, gets up and gets to work.

Jena will sit with the idea and meditate on it until she receives a clear vision. Then the physical process begins.

Jena creates the bones of a piece in Adobe Photoshop.

Then she prints it out and starts adding gold leafing and painted accents, layer by painstaking layer to make a singular piece. Each image has between two hundred and one thousand layers, depending on the process, and how Jena crafts the many tiny details.

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Jena feels she is blessed to do the work, “some days I just pinch myself.” She is most widely known for her imagery used in oracle decks, created with Colette Baron-Reid, with whom she has deep friendship built on respect, trust, and what Jena describes as, “a sisterhood of the soul.”

Jena also creates personal art, as well as her own signature calendars and greeting cards. When asked to sum it all up, Jena looks thoughtful, and then a bit fierce: I trust in my art. I trust in its ability to speak for me. And I trust viewers will hear my outspoken yet mute voice proclaiming with intricate elegance what the heart knows as truth. CW OFFICIAL WEBSITE: autumnsgoddess.com INSTAGRAM: @ jena_dellagrottaglia TWITTER: @autumnsgoddess

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the power of words

Emerald Breath

Poems to Foster Bea uty

from: Cosetta romani

river The river would be silent if it didn’t meet the stone people along the path.

Instead it strikes marvelous conversations with stones of all size, shaping a singing refrain: Don’t hold Go down Free flow Flow now.

I go to the river to wash my stories to find stillness in the movement.

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ASK A TREE

Ask a cedar, a maple, an olive tree how to stand strong when the winds of loss will whip you down.

Ask large-bodied trees how to halt your doing and rest in being.

Ask a redwood, a eucalyptus, or a palm tree how to grow taller than your disappointments.

Ask the forest about the freedom of diversity and the power of its oneness.

Ask a chestnut, a cherry, a jungle tree how to lean into light and grow slanting arms of love.

Ask any tree how to let go of your need to know and whirl like leaves with death’s wind.

Ask a blooming tree about the beauty of your bearing stillness.

Ask a log how to burn for others with such love.

Ask conifers how to preserve your gifts and talents all year round.

Ask a tree all your questions.

Then wait.

Wait.

Ask an alder tree how you can bridge your need to root and flow.

Wait.

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the power of words Here at the beach where the weather is always right, I find my breath growing fuller, feet sinking deeper.

I bow to the ocean and step on her skirt, she gives a cold flap

Ocean love

that resurrects the stream in my heart.

With long arms she pulls me closer to her breasts to wash the stress that steals my zest, splashing her giant belly over my crown crashing strings of thoughts, buckets of moods and shoulds and wrongs.

This water is my mother, no wonder her tears are as salty as mine.

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nowness

It is a new day to step outside with feet bare hands empty jaw unclutched eyes soft nostrils open.

I exhale a bow of reverence to the dazzling sun whose presence purifies my character perpetually.

And who else is feeding me with freshness while living with old collectibles?

Two hummingbirds playing acrobats with the sky for my amusement.

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Cosetta Romani Yoga, Meditation, Dance Ceremonies & Rites of Passage Shamanic Healing purevitayoga.com

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Sacred Mayan Journey April 3 - 17, 2019 • Chiapas, Mexico The ancient Atlanteans, ancestors of the Maya, call us to return to these sacred sites to remember the gifts and wisdom we are here to share today.

Listen. Do you hear the call?

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Facilitated by Martien & Teressena Bakens with Mayan Master Teacher, Miguel Angel Vergara

For more information:

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Rockstar Behind the Lens -

An Interview with Rocktographer Cheryl Alterman

BY: Kathy span

I

have just started with my standard interview questions: What, why, where, etc? Cheryl Alterman was primed with finger on the trigger.

She launched like a rapidly clicking shutter, making this the easiest interview ever:

to learn. Without a pause, my hand went up, I shouted, 'drums'! The teacher walked over to me and said, 'Girls don’t play drums.' She then handed me a violin.

I have always loved music and art. I always thought oil painting would be my career. I've been painting since my youth and felt I'd hit the big time when in my early twenties one of my oil paintings was chosen to hang in the Royal Academy in London. So when you ask, why do I do it - why do I photograph musicians? My answer could be that oil painting is a solo effort, or that there is lots of clean up. But, let's be real. The real reason is that painting, even for one with some natural talent, does not include LIVE MUSIC. I am and always will be a full on nutter for music. Music photography enables me to be in music ... to finally be ‘WITH THE BAND’!

Well, Art! First through oil painting, then graphic design and now music photography. Combining my lifelong love of music and the art of photography has given me the power to capture the essence of the musician, the music, and document a moment in time that will never be the same again.

I probably do it because I always wanted to be the female Keith Moon (for those readers recently returned from a distant moon of their own, or who are just a bit younger than this writer, Keith Moon was the quintessential brilliant wild and crazy rock-n-roll drummer for The Who) but it never happened. I blame it on my fifth grade teacher who asked the class to each chose an instrument

OMG! It's my life, my blood, my passion. I feel alive when I’m shooting. The music is like a life force that I’ve always been connected to. And I’m great at this. I feel at home in the pit, meeting people, networking and being backstage with the artists. It all comes naturally, and feels so right. I know this is absolutely where I’m supposed to be.

As far as photography itself; I pride myself on what I seem to be best at, capturing the essence of the musician, the music, the artist and the all important moment. Most of my subjects don't even know, or seem to care, that I’m there with camera clicking away. They are naturally being who they are and creating their art, their sound.

And I am right there quietly dancing in and around the action, creating the photo that tells the story of that magical moment.

Photo Credit: OC Budge

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Photo Credit: Aaron Rubin

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DAVE GROHL

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When I’m shooting, there is not much that distracts me from getting ‘the shot’. However, sometimes the music takes over ... I remember shooting Tom Petty in San Jose a few years ago. I’m in the pit. Tom Petty walks onstage, stands inches in front of me and starts singing. I was so swept up in the music, “Mary Jane’s Last Dance,” that I couldn’t help but sing along and dance to the music.

At the start of the third song, I felt an elbow in my ribs, the photographer standing to my left nudged me and reminded me that we only have one more song in the pit so I better get shooting. That’s when I ‘woke up' out of my musical trance and got shooting. I captured some great shots. I like to think I was guided by my passion for the music.

I shot Tom Petty several times since then, the last time was five weeks before his tragic death on October 2, 2017.

Tom’s death occurred six days before my neighborhood burned to the ground. On October the 8, 2017 The Tubbs fire took 1321 homes in my neighborhood down to the ground. Forty-three lives and 8,800 structures were lost in these Northern California fires that October. Luckily, I wasn’t at home when the fire raged through my Coffey Park neighborhood. My friends’ homes to the south and north of my own were burned down to the ground, so I thought for sure mine was gone as well. I remember dropping to my knees when I heard about the fires at 4 am that morning from 67 miles away in Alameda. My first thoughts were that my Petty pics are in that house.

The last concert I’ll ever shoot of him, and they’ve burned in the fire. Hours later I went back to find my house smoldering but still standing. My paintings and photos had survived.

Gratitude was the lesson for sure. These were the most destructive fires in California history. They affected thousands of us and will forever be part of who we are.

I haven’t yet moved back into my home due to smoke damage, but that day is soon to come. In 2018 my life changed drastically. Everything about my life changed and I didn’t see any of it coming. But change is (usually) good in the long term. I think it only makes us stronger to have survived difficult evolutions.

Throughout the past decade of shooting musicians, I have many stories and experiences that I can smile about whenever I think of them. Through the years, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting and hanging out with some of my favorite musical heroes. At the top of that heap was probably my time in the dressing room hanging with Debbie Harry (of Blondie), and spending time with one of my other childhood favorites, Dale Bozzio (of Missing Persons). I readily admit that being recognized and allowed into the world of many artists I looked up to as a

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ca pt ur ing t he e s s e nce o f mus ician s is my l if e , my bl o o d, my pa s s ion

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Cheryl's CV is lengthy, a few highlights: •Senior photographer/photojournalist BAM magazine •Board of Directors Bammies Music Foundation •Contributing photographer Guitar Player Magazine •Live Music Blogger 'LiveAt' altermanimages.com •Freelance music photographer | album covers | gigs, studio shots | music festivals | 'on tour' photographer...

Billie Jo Armstrong COVER IMAGE FOR BAM MAGAZINE (most viewed to date)

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kid, feels really special. I get to experience what I love most in this life, live music, the art of photography and hanging out with the artists that create it. Finally being part of the band! What a gift that I get to do this. I know I’ll never take this gift for granted. As the great songwriter Monty Powell, famously wrote, "Who wouldn’t want to be Me?" I love what I do, the artistry, expression, creativity and connection. When I shoot the music I feel as if I get to connect the audience to the artist. I look at my body of work and I see my style usually incorporates a direct look from the artist to their audience through my lens.

I love it when I get the shot of the artist looking straight at my camera. I feel like somehow they are reaching out and talking to the viewer. Sometimes being a woman has its advantages. Much of the time, I’m the only female in the pit. And, well, I have never blended into a crowd.

So with these things combined, I can usually get the artist to look my way. And when that moment presents itself, I get that shot. That is what it’s all about to me!

My dream job? That would be to shoot for Rolling Stone Magazine and to tour with artists as their main photographer. My cousin Larry recently said to me, “Cheryl... to get anywhere you must dream big” ... And dreaming big is what I do. I believe whole heartedly that with my tenacity, and my passion for this art ... it's happening and it's happening now. Life is good, and even in the not so good times, there are always lessons to be learned. We must always remember that we wouldn’t be able to really feel the great magical moments if we didn’t have the colorful contrast of the dark times. Nowadays I appreciate it all. I have learned to relish and cherish all that life has to offer, because I have seen and lived through enough dark painful times to really feel the difference. As for music ... like The Who said, “Long Live Rock, I need it every night!” That kinda pegs it for how I feel. As long as there is music in the air, there is magic in the world.

Any other questions?

Uh, nope. Thanks. We are good to go. CW altermanimages.com

alterman IMAGES CHERYL CRADLING JIMMY PAGES GUITAR

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Photo Credit: Pat Johnson

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Artisian, creative, design studios Gallery, Event Space & Restaurants Nine Rails Creative District 25th Street & Ogden Ave, Ogden Utah

themonarchogden.com

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