Heather S. Ingemar's Blog, page 11

Storyteller — Single-track “early bird” download!

Some of you may remember me performing this song at Wealdsmere’s “Border War” last fall, and some of you may just remember the impromptu YouTube video I cut of it around the same time:

I am very pleased to be able to offer this song as an “early bird” download through my music store:

Enjoy, and please remember to check back as the complete album will be released later this year.

 

Tagged: bardic, music

Sewing Project Roundup: 1540′s Tudor Merchant’s Wear

I have been sewing.

Like a MADWOMAN.

This last Autumn was when I really decided to up my game in the sewing department. I took a commission to sew a 1600′s French Gentleman’s outfit for a friend (post coming soon!), and shortly thereafter, my husband requested that I make him some new Tudor garb. (Because I honestly don’t know what to do with myself when I’m not actively working on a sewing project).

And so I present: Tudor Merchant-Wear from 1540:

Basically, when I’m taking on a new project, I sit down and draft ideas as I do my research. This outfit was inspired by the Tudor Tailor’s version of documented Royal servant’s attire for 1540.

Since my husband’s persona is that of a merchant, we didn’t want anything too terribly fancy, but still better looking than your average working man of the time. We chose a fine-weave linen for the red layer, and a textured weave linen for the black. Linen was the fabric of choice for much clothing of the time, and as the clothes really DO make the man, it shows this gentleman is still a worker, even though the cut and style of his garments say he is well-er-off than your average laborer.

Since I already had a fairly standard doublet pattern (Simplicity 4059), making the necessary alterations for the black overcoat was a snap. The skirting needed more fabric for the necessary pleating in the back, and a swooped cut down the front. I used another jacket pattern for the red layer, and pretty much followed those directions verbatim.

The pants were another story…

The Pants of Doom

Oh, the pants!

Never have I EVER had a project that was so tricky and cunning and snarly to make! I used the pants pattern found in my Simplicity file, and then had to figure out how to pane them (that’s the term for the “striping” down the leg). To make these paned breeches, as they are called, I cut the cuffs and waist, and then cut and sewed ten 2 inch strips (the panes) all out of the black. The main portion of the pantleg came out of the red. Now the tricky part of the panes are that they have to be stitched both into the waistband AND the cuff, and with enough drape to them that they don’t prevent the wearer from moving his legs to sit, or walk, or jump, or step up onto something.

Traditionally, paned breeches came in varieties of different lengths, the most common being the men’s “short-short” version (aka. “slops”), or a slightly longer version that were worn with tights and/or grippy shorts called “canions.”

My sweet husband adamantly insisted there would be no “short-shorts” in ANY variety in his wardrobe. So paned “breeches” they became!

Once I solved the major issues of construction that always seem to occur (parts not lining up they way they should, sections not laying or draping correctly, especially on those Pants of Doom), it was time for buttons and finishing:

Took around 40 hours for all the cutting, trimming, serging, sewing, and finishing, and all things considered, I am well pleased with how this project turned out.

Tagged: Rapier, Renaissance, sca, Sewing, Society for Creative Anachronism

Looking at Pictures

The other night, I finally had the guts to open my Pregnancy photo album.

Not that I haven’t done it before now — I’ve stumbled into it, and always reeled and backpedaled the Hell Out Of There — but the other night, I opened it on purpose.

Feeling Michael kick. This was just a few weeks before he was born and we had to say hello and goodbye in the same half hour.

As expected, I cried a lot, especially when I looked at the photos of Michael. Oh, the longing. It amazes me how I can still miss him so. I also shed tears for the naively happy woman smiling in the belly pictures, because the Heather in those pictures could only just understand the precious gift she had been awarded to carry.

Tears for the pang of longing and tears for the beauty of the gift.

And then I began reading the comments.

It was like reading them all over again for the first time — those first days were such a blur, I remember checking my Facebook page and clicking ‘like’ on comment after comment to simply let people know that I had read them and appreciated them, but I remembered little of what they actually said. As I sat there curled up in our chair the other night, I read this multitude of comments, and the waterworks were going, but it was a good kind of waterworks. Because oh, the Love.

Oh, the Love.

All these people, some of whose lives are only passingly impacted by mine, reaching out…

I’m still amazed. It makes me choke up. But in a good way.

Such a good way.

It’s almost eight months now, without Michael, and while I know the road will always be a bit rocky, I’m feeling okay. Good, even. Willingly looking at that photo album was a BIG step for me, and a necessary one. It was a bit like saying goodbye all over again, but it wasn’t hurtful, like a knife to the chest; it was more like a soft, nostalgic sigh and a wave.

There may be hope for me yet.

Tagged: grief, healing, life, loss, love, neonatal death, Pregnancy

Musical Partnerships, or, Asking a Dead Guy How to Play Music

I’m learning a LOT of stuff about early music as I prepare for Kingdom Bardic. I’m learning more about music history, how stage performance began, the science of notation, oral/aural traditions, and, well, lots. of. stuff. The Interlibrary Loan service at my local library has become my best friend. A few weeks ago they got me this book, “Medieval and Renaissance Music: A Performer’s Guide” by Timothy McGee, and it’s such an eye-opener!

So, back in the day, the bulk of my musical studies were classically oriented. Now, I love me some good classical music, but the biggest reason I abandoned those studies as soon as I graduated college was because I wanted to have the ability to interpret songs how I best felt they should be played. Unfortunately, this is not a popular idea in the classical genre. For example, in the classical field, if you aren’t playing that staccato exactly how the composer wanted it (nevermind that he’s been dead for a few centuries and you can’t ask him), then it’s wrong, and how dare you even consider adding a tiny grace note at the start of that 16th-note run.

I hate that, because we musicians have a lot to offer in terms of interpretation. We can make our instruments truly sing, if we’re given enough leeway to do so. We can take that unassuming page of ink and breathe life into it, and it won’t always be terribly off-the-wall and avant garde.

I’ve always had a fascination with early music, but had never gotten to study much of it beyond what was glossed over in my Music 101 courses. I had assumed it was apples to apples, because it is the base from where classical music grows. When I decided I’d go out for this Kingdom Bardic thing, I’d kind of been internally preparing myself for the fact that I would have to suss out what some long corpsified anonymous songwriter was feeling when he or she penned that fermata.

Imagine my surprise when I read this:

In the musical tradition of the early centuries the composer assumed that the performer had the proper skills to convert the page of notes into music. What was written down was the composer’s share of the creation, but for the performer merely performing the written notes was not sufficient, and it is therefore insufficient for historical recreation. (McGee, p 8)

and:

The composers of the early centuries expected the performer to add to the written score… (p 149)

The musician as a partner in the creation of music? AWESOME! I’m in!

McGee goes on to talk about how everything you need to know about music is already there on the page, and how in early music, the written score is basically just a blueprint for how the composer thought the piece might sound best — but all the shots (instrumentation, pauses, grace notes, and ornamentation) are called by the musician. And as long as you have a heart for honoring the temperment, tone, and soul of a piece (i.e. not doing something outright crazy, like playing a Gregorian Chant on an electric guitar…), you are well on your way to recreating an authentic historical performance.

Groovy.

Because, I’ll admit it; if I had an honest-to-goodness lute, it would never be let out of the house because they are so spendy and fragile. The thought of even taking a reproduction Renaissance Guitar (with oodles of fancy inlay and hand-carved bits) to an SCA event makes me cringe. Hell, I even go out of my way to treat that rescued guitar of mine with the utmost care and respect (of course, in its defense, it HAS probably had quite enough abuse back in it’s day to last it the rest of it’s lifetime…). But I still want to be able to present these pieces I have selected in the most accurate manner possible, and no matter what I play, I still appreciate the breathing room to follow my gut on interpretation.

Asking a dead guy how to play their music just isn’t my thing.

But listening to what those dots on the page tell me they need, is.

* * *

Really starting to get my practice routine on, and I’m beginning to see things come together. Found out the other day that I can’t just turn in one, massive, thesis for my three pieces — I have to do one, short paper for each. It’s not too big of a deal, but a tad frustrating as I was almost finished with my Massive Thesis. I went through the other night and split the document into three, and now I have a list of things I need to fill in and bulk up on. Yeeha!

I’m also in the process of scheduling a “dry run” for myself and other people in my Barony to present our entries before an audience, so we aren’t going into Kingdom A&S completely cold. Lots of fun!

Tagged: bardic, music, performance, Renaissance, research, sca, Society for Creative Anachronism

Hands

I’ve never really paid that much attention to my hands, before.

I mean, I’ve listened to whether they hurt or didn’t hurt, I’ve listened to what they tell me they can and cannot do. They were always merely the vehicle to my music, to typing my thoughts, to whatever I was working on at the time.

But I’ve never really… noticed… them before.

The other night I cut a webcam video of me working on one of my Kingdom Bardic pieces, as a way for me to better pinpoint focus areas for my practice routine. Filming yourself practicing, by the way, is an awesome avenue for seeing the things you really should be working on, because you can hit ‘playback’ and you don’t have to be concentrating on the music or your instrument, you can just concentrate on seeing areas of improvement.

Anyway.

Hmm, think I have a little bit of a dry skin problem…

So I cut this little webcam video, and as I watched, I noticed my hands.

When I sit here and type this, they look very unassuming, as hands go. They’re slender, smooth-skinned, and have knobbly joints despite being fairly fine-boned. Small scars dot my knuckles and joints, and the palms are covered in fine lines. Different parts of the fingers are covered in calluses. You know — hands. Plain, jane, average, women hands.

Watching them on the video was entirely different. The webcam was set low — not high and focused on my face as is typical — and as such it had a spectacular view of the magic happening. My hands are… graceful. Lithe. But what surprised me the most was how unusually rugged and muscular they are when in action. I’ve never considered my hands muscular. As I mentioned above, they’re slender, and fairly fine-boned. You don’t expect such a thing to be muscular, let alone rugged. But mine are, and I suddenly find myself in awe of the form and function.

That’s… years… of piano, saxophone, guitar, ukulele that built those muscles. Thousands of hours of finger-aerobics and — with the stringed instruments — the equivalent of weight lifting.

I had no idea. And it’s so remarkable. And I find in light of actually seeing these two simple structures in action, that I respect even more the things these humble hands of mine are capable of.

Tagged: hands, music, performance, respect

No Turning Back

The Kingdom of An Tir’s 12th Night celebration was this last weekend, and thus, my Letter of Intent to turn out for Bardic Champion in March is set.

No turning back.

I’m committed.

Though it is more than a month away, I’m feeling that first, subtle rush of adrenaline, because now? It’s ON. The stage has been set, the lights dimmed in anticipation.

Yes, I live for that playful giddiness that comes when you know exactly what you have up your sleeve.

There are six of us hopefuls. And from here on out, I will be single-minded, focused with a driven and enthusiastic intensity toward this “minstrel olympics” where I will strive to represent my Barony and Canton well, where I will honor my duties as an Artisan to my Baroness, but above all, where I will entertain. For this is what it’s all about: bringing my audience into 1500s England for a few moments, and letting them see the world the way Emma would see it.

I have my drum. I have my guitar. I have my voice.

Time to raise the roof.

Tagged: bardic, medieval, music, performance, sca, Society for Creative Anachronism

More Up than Down

The seven-month mark of Michael’s absence slipped by yesterday with no fanfare. While everyone else is posting videos of their little crawlers with first words, first foods, first thises, first thats, I am finding I’m more up than down. I’m finding I’m more calm than anxious. I’m more peaceful than turmoiled.

These are good things. I am happy more often than not, though the social awkwardness of interactions fraught with talk of children remains.

At work the other day, three women with new babies were clustered together, talking about their labor and pregnancy experiences, and it made me feel like an outsider, because I struggle to feel valid. See, every mother who wanders around with a child in tow has 100% freedom to talk about their pregnancy, their labor experience, their joy upon seeing a first ultrasound, but women who were unlucky in the draw? Not a bit. There’s this unspoken hint to be quiet. Even if you have good things to say (I could talk for hours about how much I loved being pregnant, and you know what, I even enjoyed being in labor), even if you are policing yourself to not inadvertently scare someone with cold, hard, facts, it’s like — since you don’t have a child tottering along behind you, you have nothing of worth to say.

And it makes it even rougher, some days, because at seven months out, Michael is disappearing. I struggle to remember what he looked like, what he sounded like when he cried immediately, I fight to recall how heavy his little body felt in my arms. He is completely intangible and far away, and on days that I feel so “up,” the mind begins to play tricks: Was I really a mother? Couldn’t it have been all in my head?

I begin to see why so many women cling to their grief. When you’re grieving, your child is as tangible and close as they can be by virtue of your tears and the ache in your heart. While you are grieving, the world is quick to reassure you that yes, you are a mother, and yes, your story is as valid as the ones that pan out the way we’re told they should. When the grief becomes managed, however, when you are no longer visibly hurting, all that disappears. You’re left to handle day-to-day life, awkward and alone, and then chastised by society’s rules when you don’t know how to handle things like the dreaded, “how many kids do you have?” and “when ARE you two going to have a baby?” or when mothers are complaining to you how much of a distasteful trial it is to care for their children. Life after the worst pain of grief has faded is tricky. I get chastised because I’m not “my old self” yet. But who was that girl, anyway? I look at myself in the mirror and I can’t see her anymore — I just see me.

Wounded, yet healing, me.

And even though I’m not bouncing-off-the-walls-bubbly anymore, there’s still a sparkle in my eye. Though the poignant notes of the song resonate more powerfully, now, there’s still a joyful lilt underneath it all.

You may just have to be patient enough to hear it.

Tagged: grief, healing, life, loss, neonatal death, Pregnancy

Posters Available!

After much internal debate, I finally decided to offer the option to purchase actual-size posters of some of my cover art through my Webstore.

When you checkout, you’ll have the option to tell me whether you’d like it unsigned, signed, or personalized.

Orders will ship within 30 days.

Bandcamp accepts Visa, MasterCard, American Express, Discover, and PayPal.

Tagged: announcements, art, merchandise, music

Music Notes: Buying Gear Online

Yesterday R. asked me via Facebook,

How do you find reviews?

Buying an instrument or gear online can be a scary prospect. It’s hard to know what you’re getting and whether you’ll even like it once it arrives… and that doesn’t even take into account the mishaps that can happen during shipping (that’s another post).

But how do you go about it?

I’ve always insisted on looking at reviews for an item (especially an instrument) before forking over payment. Most online music stores offer some kind of review system, but I also like to hit sites like Amazon, for example, that typically see a high volume of buyers. Basically, I read anything and everything I can get my hands on about the gear I’m interested in. I do a lot of Googling. I read blogs, forums, whatever, so long as it’s written by a player and not the manufacturer. Manufacturers want to sell you something; Musicians are actually using it and forming opinions about it.

Granted, the best, tried and true method for finding the right piece of gear is to try it out in person. By trying something, you’ll get a better perspective on what you like and don’t like. Testing a piece of gear out first isn’t always feasible, though, and it becomes a question of gathering a well-rounded sample of information.

I always like to find negative reviews. A positive review is usually happy-go-lucky and tells you very little: “I liked it, it was awesome.” A negative review tells you a lot about the product in question and the person writing it. When I purchased my Yamaha APX guitar, I read every negative review I could find, looking for any patterns and weighing them against what I knew I was looking for. All of them were written by guys who wanted a bigger-bodied, heavy on the bass, instrument. I knew I wanted a thin, light guitar because of my frame, and I tend to prefer a much more balanced sound.

The other thing to keep in mind is that a few negative reviews are not a deal-breaker. A lot of people want a piece of gear that everyone likes, and that’s just not possible. Not everyone’s needs and tastes are the same, and the truth of the matter is, occasionally manufacturers will make a lemon. It happens. And then sometimes you end up with a reviewer who made up their mind to hate the product and can’t stop spewing vitriol. Ignore that. Look past the language at the content to see if you can figure out why. Were they looking for something else? Were they having a bad day? What prompted them to spew? Weigh it against other constructively negative and mediocre reviews — is it one, lone, example, or are there others who say the same thing?

I steer away from products that have a multitude of negative reviews, especially if they are negative on points of craftsmanship. You want something that will last, not something that will need to be replaced in a year or less. Spend your money on a good product, not junk.

I also look more critically at products that have a multitude of positive reviews. My APX was a good example — 95% of the reviews I looked at were 5 star or higher, and it prompted me to do extra research because very few products have that good of a track record. (Turns out my guitar was one of them.) Even if you have to HUNT, HUNT for those sub-par reviews. You want to know as much about what you’re looking at as possible.

After you have your information, then you can consider your needs and wants, and weigh it all against what you’ve learned. Can you deal with the negative points? Worst case scenario — what would you be looking at? It’s important to remember that buying anything online is a bit of a gamble, but you need to have an answer to your question. Does the product match up with what you’re looking for? I find that if I experience any doubt, that it is helpful to sleep on it, and/or do more looking. You have time (typically). Use it.

Happy shopping!

Tagged: buying guide, gear, music, reviews, tips

They Will Pass

We are all dealing with something ugly, or tough, or hard. Right now.

Believe, because It will pass.

And you are not alone.

Tagged: difficulty, grief, hard times, healing, life, love, music, redemption