Singing and the Art Happening

“Without music, life would be a mistake.” -Friedrich Nietzsche

What’s a girl to do alone in a new city? Well, I know that friends usually don’t just fall in your lap, and I resolved to take the pursuit of fellowship into my own hands. I decided to try to find some group to join or some regular event to attend, and I discovered just what I was looking for at another one of Portland’s many festivals. The Bite of Oregon is a celebration of local food, drink, and music. While I was enjoying grilled Moroccan spiced prawns and an Organic Tree Hugger Porter and grooving to a Grateful Dead cover band, a choir stepped onstage.

“This is it!” I thought. “A choir like this is the perfect thing for me to join.” So I did some research and contacted the director, and now I am a member of the Flash Choir. It’s a small community choir that formed a year ago to perform at an art festival associated with the Portland Institute for Contemporary Art. And unbeknownst to me, I joined the choir at just the right time because this annual festival was just about to begin again, and the choir was involved in a couple different performances. This festival called T:BA (Time-Based Art) features dance, theater, visual art, film, video and things that cannot be easily categorize. Watch the following video to learn more. Happenings like this are the reason I moved to Portland.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i_Frk2OYJHM

We performed both opening and closing nights of the festival at a nightclub-type space called The Works. The building, called the Leftbank Project, is an industrial building converted into a venue for T:BA:08, and soon to be a community gathering spot.

The first night we sang a six-part song entitled “Caesar’s Gate”, which was written by one of the directors of the choir. And then on the closing night we sang “After the Goldrush” by Neil Young and “For Today I am a Boy” by Antony and the Johnsons, as well as another song written by our directors about the festival itself.

I’m at the end of the top row on the left.
Photograph by Gordon Wilson

It was a great experience, and I’m really looking forward to more performances. It feels so good to sing again! I love being a part of something so quintessentially Portland. I love the camaraderie of my fellow singers. It seems as though I’m thriving in my new environment.

The Beginning

Let me take you back to the beginning of my journey to Portland. My friend, Andy, my cat, Kage, and I set off from Phoenix on a hot June evening with my minivan (hand-me-down from Mom and Dad) and U-Haul trailer with the ambition to make the entire trip to Portland in one go. We took turns sleeping and driving, crawling up the I-5 in a kind of a haze.

Mt. Shasta in Northern California

We arrived in Stumptown over 25 hours later! Then, a kafuffle arose in regards to what I had planned to be my living situation. I had originally intended to move into a house with a roommate, but the place was so disastrous, I decided to give my backup (the Japanese couple) a call. However, I couldn’t move in right away, so Andy and I continued north, and headed up to Seattle to see a concert. I had purchased tickets to see Crosby, Stills and Nash several months earlier, knowing that I would be moving to Portland around that time. So, here we were, exhausted travelers with a U-Haul and a cat going to a winery in Washington to see a concert.

The next day we met up with Andy’s aunt and uncle who extended us very gracious and warm hospitality, and let us stay the night with them. We hung out with Andy’s cousins, and had a good time. Then we rolled back down to Portland, and moved all of my stuff into my little cozy new home.

Over the next couple of months, I enjoyed getting to know my new surroundings.

Mt. Hood at sunset over the Willamette River near my neighborhood.

I couldn’t wait to visit the coast, so as soon as I could, I drove out to Cannon Beach, which is only about an hour from Portland. I had such a glorious day, relishing my freedom and solitude. I went for a hike in the thick conifer forest above the shore, and then went walking on the windy beach.

Haystack Rock

Cannon Beach is such a quaint little beachy town with an artsy flair. There are several galleries and bookstores and bistros in rustic earth-toned buildings, and not a chain store (Safeway, McDonald’s, etc.) to be seen. I took a book into a appealing little pub, and I sat out on the deck as I drank a couple of locally brewed beers and looked out at the waves and read my novel.

On the 4th of July I road a bus downtown to the Riverfront Blues Festival. It was a sticky muggy night, and there were hordes of people everywhere. I brought along a blanket and found a tiny little patch of grass to sit on among the throng of families and bikers and hippies and drunks and canoodling teenagers. I grooved to the music and watched all the party-goers.

Party boats on the Willamette River.

When it got dark, two barges moved into position on the river and set off fireworks over Hawthorne Bridge.

Several weeks later the temperature rose so high in Portland, I had to escape to the coast again. I never thought that I’d be hotter in this balmy northwestern city that in scorching Phoenix, but then of course, I was used to everywhere being air-conditioned. My little a-frame upstairs apartment does not do very well in 104 degree weather with only a little fan to cool it down. So, in lieu of suffocating in my stifling studio, I drove out to Astoria, which is on the northern coastal tip of Oregon. This area of the state proudly displays anything having to do with Lewis and Clark everywhere. Just south of Astoria at Seaside, I paused to pose with the famous duo.

My plan was to go camping, but every campground I came across was full (I guess everyone had the same idea as me), until I ventured upon an RV park that had a few tent sites. It wasn’t exactly camping in the wilderness, but at least there was a cool breeze.

I visited one of the town’s well-known landmarks, the Astoria Column. It sits on the top of a hill as a monument to Oregon history and the end of the Lewis and Clark Trail. There were beautiful views of the ocean and the Columbia River below.

Closeup of the column.

The Columbia River opening out into the Pacific Ocean

Lewis and Clark River

Afterward I sat on the gusty beach and looked out into the misty horizon.

Bicycle on the beach.