watercolor and Sharpee pen in Arches travel book
What a happy day I spent on Sunday with a good friend and the company of the finest Celtic musicians. We sketched and clapped and danced and spritzed ourselves with water to cool down in the 100 degree heat. Then more toe tapping music to bring a big smile to your face. Even the mournful songs seemed to bring up a grin when the fiddlers kicked into high gear. I particularly loved sketching some of these “strange” instruments I’d never seen before. All these sketches were done on a lap which was vibrating with all the tapping of my toes to the captivating jigs and polskas and such.
Alasdair Fraser. . .the man with the fiddle . . .or is it manfiddle? THis man and his fiddle are one divine source of music. All the musicians were complaining about having to play in the middle of the day. Geez. I’d been up for 6 hours by then!
When the Swedish group Vasen got on the stage I realized that I have perfect credentials for a Celt. My mother’s side were Finlys, Scots who lived in no. Ireland. And my father’s side were all Norwegians, those pesky Vikings who raided and settled in the Emerald Isles.
I switched to pencil at this point for a bit more accuracy.
What happens when you mix Celtic with tribal rainforest music from the Cameroons? And then you put it on the stage with dance and story telling? The unadulterated high of Baka Beyond.
We were fascinated by this guy, who i’m naming the unstoppable dancing spectator, who stood by each stage all day long dancing his little jig step. All day long, even in the midday heat. I understand the infectiousness of this music, but he had a pretty extreme case of it. Or maybe it was his day to run and he figured he’d get his aerobic exercise while attending the festival. . .
They piled on stage as dusk was coming, these musicians from around the world, and played as one.
My steps were several pounds lighter as I walked to my car.