Greetings and good morning!
I had thought that after 365 times of getting up to create a guitar and coming up with something to say with my creation that I would be so over it when it was done. I’m not. Curiously I miss the discussion more than the creation – as I’m off creating something else most days anyway. So I always appreciate a random guitar if for no other reason than I might get it “out there” and have a chance to reconnect with some of the people who were reading 365 Guitars on a steady basis.
So I was delighted to come across this photo of Guitar Lake somewhere in the Sierra Nevada. I have a new destination for my list. I think I’ll try to find it on Google Earth and pinpoint the location a little better – and I’m going to guess that it will look pretty good from space.
In a just and perfect world, this would be my driveway. I’m not sure I want quite all of the rest of the place – a side effect of living in a 300 year old house is that I am able, with laser-like clarity, to recognize the maintenance nightmare that is a place any larger than 950 square feet set on a postage stamp. Still, the driveway would be really, really cool. But just in case any of you are in the market – it could be yours…Many thanks, Morgan!
It is Thursday
I have something to do if Spring ever arrives. This was posted to the Face Book page “Guitar Control”. Now I want one. Zen, musical, all kinds of happy things. Yes. I will dig down and set the stones properly. I will enhance the soil and plant grasses mixed with chamomile. I will contemplate. I will do some of those things. Really. The fountain is a nice touch.
Yes, I am aware that it is all over. And I’m painfully aware that there are moments that I miss the daily-ness of writing and guitar-ing. It’s only been five days but feels like an eternity. I am adjusting to how days actually pass by, and it is still strange.
But the universe keeps giving me guitars. This is not my fault. I mean, at MY house, even the birds drop guitars in the driveway. Was I not meant to share?
As the sun is burning the frost off the barn, I am facing the end of what has turned out to be a surprise that has lasted a year. I find that I am not really organized in my thoughts about finishing – a little liberated, a little sad. I am not even able to write this in quite the straightforward manner I usually employ…indicative, I suppose, of the slight emotional dilemma. So the surprises keep coming…
One year ago, on the 13th, I started this adventure with 365 Guitars. I had no idea on that day if I would last it a day, or twenty days, or, as it turned out, 365 plus one. I have had mornings when I could not wait to create the guitar I’d dreamed about all night, and mornings when I dreaded getting out of bed because the obligation to create was weighing heavily on my mind. I have made some guitars that in retrospect are not creations at all, and I have made some that astound me for various reasons. It could be the simplicity or the complexity, the natural or unnatural nature of the materials, or the speed with which the concept came to mind. In all cases I have to acknowledge a creative force that is much larger than I am, and I am happy to do so.
So I decided, in these days that round out the poetry for me to wander back through my year and find the pieces that I like the best. I find that it is hard to do – in some cases, it is the story behind the work that makes the piece for me, which does not necessarily make them the best of the lot. So I have chosen ten. That they are totally random will be obvious, I guess, and in this case, I am choosing on looks alone. Tomorrow I might choose an entirely different line up. But for now:
Now, lest I wax nostalgic, I can rejoice in knowing that the guitars from the outside will keep coming. Yesterday, in a post from France, Martine sent me:
I have an idea for a guitar this morning, coming direct to me from someone who has been with me through this entire process – except that she gives me this suggestion from Key West, which puts me in the position of simultaneously loving her steadfast loyalty through both the good and bad of this project, and a kind of stabbing resentment at what I imagine are her first languid moments of the day, probably on a balcony with coffee and fresh local fruit overlooking a sun drenched ocean in vaguely the direction of Cuba.
Give me a minute. I’m thinking. Trying to scramble up the muddy hillside to the high road, but having some trouble…
So she asks if, in my collections of everything, I might not have cigar boxes. I thought that maybe I did, but as it turns out, I have one. It is exactly the right shape and size to house cocktail napkins and is emblazoned with the visage of George Washington. How Washington Cigars came to make the leap between them and the Father of Our Country beggars my imagination, but well, there you are. I am from Washington State. For me, the connection was obvious. So, not enough cigar boxes for a guitar. I do, however, have a very pleasant collection of wine crates. This too, makes more sense in the context of me than any number of cigar boxes might ever…so Guitar 365 of 365 Guitars is made of these things that make sense. Almost as if sense is what I can make of the entire project.
So, as to this being the 365th entry. I still have a couple of days to fill, in view that I have some kind of poetic notion that the project should run until 14 January, but I’m thinking now that I will be looking back over the last few hundred guitars and trying to find my ten favorites. I will try to get 5 of them up tomorrow, and the final 5 on the 14th. Then I will be done. I have to admit a certain relief, mixed with wonder as the project comes to a close, but I was reminded this morning that I will be finding guitars around me forever.
Small case in point. I went to breakfast this morning and took my sunglasses off when I got to the table. Something caught my eye on the glasses as I laid them aside. I picked them up and looked more closely. Bear in mind, these were the emergency darks I ran into Walmart and picked up at random the day I left for New Jersey without glasses. Sunlight bouncing off of snow is brutal and I had a headache and about three minutes. I grabbed the first pair that didn’t have sparkly things on them and got back on the road. This is what I found this morning – about two weeks later…
You would think, after all of this practice, that I would be producing grand, elaborate, and possibly playable guitars by now. Nope. I stick with what is close to hand and grab the shape of a guitar out of the ether every bit as much now as I have over the course of the year. So it is with today’s guitar. An intense and meaningful birthday lunch became a great excuse to make a guitar out of pizza, but we ate the pizza. So the cup lids had to suffice. I can only do what I can do here, people…but, the pizza was really, really good.
I heard recently that it was wrong somehow to clean up the Christmas decorations before 3 January. I know people who leave them up until Valentines Day. In a normal year, I believe in getting it all put away by Boxing Day…but here I am in this most unusual year still mucking about with them on January 10.
Poinsettias are always a problem for me. As a gardener, and a sentient being, it is difficult for me to discard a living plant, and basically, to treat them as decorations. So I don’t buy them. But at Christmas time, they come. I have one friend who gives me one that almost makes it easy…a purple, glittered poinsettia has never been seen in nature. It is a signature item, and I’m always delighted to be a part of the small group that receives one because it is a gift of identity in such a touching and loving way. This year, I can make use of this gift in a very different way, all guilt assuaged. Win-win…
Winter brings out the need for comfort in most of us, I suppose, and I am really no different. The only thing I can say that seems unusual is that I have a very specific set of criteria that is the basis for my emotional if not physical comfort when it comes to cold weather. Three cords of dry firewood and a pile of woolen blankets. All else is lovely, of course, the chili, the cocoa, the Royal Riviera pears…but my enjoyment of anything in winter stands upon this sturdy base. Firewood that burns and wool blankets that do not. As a consequence, I have a collection of Pendleton blankets that fill the house. Seriously, they are in every room. I must have been very, very cold in some past life…