being in banff...

Pictures: Roadside view from on the way to the Columbia Ice fields; 3 images from Castle Mtn., Rockbound Lake Hike with Scott Dorman, Susan Bowman and Charles Tucker; 2 images of My Studio at the Banff Centre

At the halfway point. The clock is ticking.

How do I explain this place to you? A brilliant idea I must admit. Whoever thought to put so many creative people into a single place and then to fund it, brilliant. It allows for a focusing on work that other places and spaces don’t quite. No worries about food. A forced separation from the concerns of real life. A complete freedom from stress. No need to think really except about work. Jazz in the evenings and places to walk, hike, think, be alive.

First one must find a rhythm. Get up. Get coffee. To the studio. Decide what must be done today. Set goals. Make plans. Mid-afternoon, a break please. The only danger, too much time to think. Affairs blossom like mushroom spores here. The waiters will tell you, “Don’t you know what this place is known for?” A bit of drama, a thrill to push the blood and make sure we remember we’re the passionate ones. I’m in luck. I brought mine with me. (A smile here).

In my studio, a fairly square room with white walls. In our room, beige. One big bed and maid service. Meals in the Dinning Hall remind me of the assisted living place my mother spent her last months. Dinner is too early. Meals at set times. The food, well above average, never-the-less becomes routine.

The jazz and the players. All young, earnest, sweaty palms and false bravado. I know their names. They don’t know mine. Beautiful, talented. I long for my youth and the possibilities of naïveté.

The land takes your breath away. It is almost, on the edge of, sublime. The sun is like Miami but the wind is its own thing. Yesterday we climbed a mountain.