“Imitate, assimilate, innovate. In that order.”
— Clark Terry
There’s a song by saxophonist Kenny Garrett that I fell in love with when I was a jazz student in Austria. I used to put the song on repeat and listen to it over and over again. At some point I even wrote lyrics to it, made it my own… Then later I continued and wrote my own melody inspired by the original tune. The lyrics came last, and finally it was time to bring the song to life in performance and recording.
Much later I learned that the original melody was written for a band member who had passed away. My song became a bridge to the grief of a lost friendship.
This month I was called to create a floral arrangement for another sad and sudden goodbye. I walked through the woods, visited the family garden, listened to the stories. Then I gathered all the materials in the workshop, let them rest and strengthen in water, and began the work.
I piled up lichen and moss, layered callunas, bilberries and spruce, flowers and wreaths from the garden… added some, left some. Branch by branch, flower by flower, the work came together. Much like a song comes together from pieces of history, thoughts and feelings that are recreated in its final form. It’s a very deep, personal and emotional process, that I relive in writing and in singing.
Music and flowers are my bridge over deep and dark waters. They are the words and the steps. They bring me back to earth when it seems the sky is crumbling and falling, and most of all, they gently remind me to breathe and grow.
To follow my own pace and pulse.
One breath at a time.
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