My mother had me taking piano lessons when I was 5. I kept going until I turned 17 and broke my arm in a car wreck. In all that time, I never played anything but what was written on the page. In fact, if I misplayed a single note, my piano teacher would correct me.<\/p>\n
Perhaps her voice in my head, telling me to play it exactly as it was written, was part of the reason I never cut lose and tried to create anything on my own. I knew I didn’t have much of an ear and didn’t believe I had the creativity to write anything myself.<\/p>\n
About three years ago, I studied up on chords and began embellishing a little with hymns. I wrote a couple hymn arrangements. But still I wasn’t willing to try to play anything out of my own head (or heart).<\/p>\n
In the last few months something’s shifted, and I enjoy just sitting down without any music in front of me and making up whatever comes.<\/p>\n
Tonight I turned on the recorder and played. This is what came. It’s not polished and I’m sure a professional would laugh at the immaturity of the composition, but for me it was a breakthrough to trust myself enough to just play, record it and put it out there.<\/p>\n
I set the music with some photos I’ve taken over the last year around Northwest Georgia, most of them in Catoosa County. I call it “Seasons of Solitude.” <\/p>\n