One week in Victoria, and I feel as though I’ve lived here
my whole life. It must have something to do with growing up in England. The
land is green and carpeted with moss, the sea is never too far, the skies are
moody. The main difference is the sub-tropical flora, the towering proportions
of the trees that make my heart brim with awe. It’s hard not to feel alive
here.
This photo was taken on the Tsawwassen ferry to Swartz Bay, en route to Victoria. A chance meeting with a couple of Celtic musicians led to an impromptu photoshoot on deck. The violin glowed under the caress of the sea breeze, turning a honeyed amber in the sunlight as we sang to the passing islands. The pegs untuned themselves spontaneously in the saturated air, playfully instigating experimental improvisation.
That day we were setting off on our honeymoon, my violin and I. One week later, after hours of practice in a suite at the Chateau Victoria, what began as a crush is now a full-blown romance. It hasn’t been easy, getting to know the vagaries of a new instrument. I’ve found myself seeking fluidity and balance like a Tai Chi game of “push hands”. The violin reminds me that it has a voice of its own. I am only its partner in a dance with the breath.
I now know that purchasing a new instrument – after playing on the same violin for the past two decades – is an important rite of passage that I can’t put off any longer. I hope my upcoming performances will help raise the necessary funds. Tim Gosley and Petra Kixmöller, my hosts for my début performance of Paganini’s Shadow on October 24th, have generously declared the evening a fundraiser in support of my dream: to purchase the John Young violin currently on loan to me from the Israelievitch family.
Fundraising is only one obstacle I’ll face before a purchase agreement can be successfully negotiated. I’m reminded of the Buddhist wisdom that nothing truly belongs to us – we’re simply custodians along the way. The beauty of this violin, like the beauty of nature, reminds me of another dream, abandoned years ago: to move to the west coast and live here year-round.
Already my partner and I are talking of returning next year, to escape the Toronto winter. As with the purchase of a new violin, there will be many rivers to cross. It’s so easy to get caught up in the distant future, projecting our hopes and desires, overlooking what’s right in front of us. Then glorious nature pulls me back to the present, reminding me that I have much to be thankful for. Right here, right now, I’m living the dream in Victoria.
This photo was taken on the Tsawwassen ferry to Swartz Bay, en route to Victoria. A chance meeting with a couple of Celtic musicians led to an impromptu photoshoot on deck. The violin glowed under the caress of the sea breeze, turning a honeyed amber in the sunlight as we sang to the passing islands. The pegs untuned themselves spontaneously in the saturated air, playfully instigating experimental improvisation.
That day we were setting off on our honeymoon, my violin and I. One week later, after hours of practice in a suite at the Chateau Victoria, what began as a crush is now a full-blown romance. It hasn’t been easy, getting to know the vagaries of a new instrument. I’ve found myself seeking fluidity and balance like a Tai Chi game of “push hands”. The violin reminds me that it has a voice of its own. I am only its partner in a dance with the breath.
I now know that purchasing a new instrument – after playing on the same violin for the past two decades – is an important rite of passage that I can’t put off any longer. I hope my upcoming performances will help raise the necessary funds. Tim Gosley and Petra Kixmöller, my hosts for my début performance of Paganini’s Shadow on October 24th, have generously declared the evening a fundraiser in support of my dream: to purchase the John Young violin currently on loan to me from the Israelievitch family.
Fundraising is only one obstacle I’ll face before a purchase agreement can be successfully negotiated. I’m reminded of the Buddhist wisdom that nothing truly belongs to us – we’re simply custodians along the way. The beauty of this violin, like the beauty of nature, reminds me of another dream, abandoned years ago: to move to the west coast and live here year-round.
Already my partner and I are talking of returning next year, to escape the Toronto winter. As with the purchase of a new violin, there will be many rivers to cross. It’s so easy to get caught up in the distant future, projecting our hopes and desires, overlooking what’s right in front of us. Then glorious nature pulls me back to the present, reminding me that I have much to be thankful for. Right here, right now, I’m living the dream in Victoria.
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