Soundwalk: An Inkling of Spring

       The cheerful "ring, ring" of a bicycle coming up behind someone hits me first. This is immediately proceeded by two strangers bickering-- "You're not supposed to be on your bike on the path. Walkers only! You're on your bike so that makes you an asshole!" to which a husky male voice replies: "Well you're not on a bike and you're still an asshole!" The bickering fades into soft background keynotes; nearby birds chirping, the low rumble of a truck far away and the very distant hum of a passing plane. The wind beats through the trees.
        Then comes more foreground sounds; the tick-tacking of paws clomping the pavement, the jingling of leash and collar, spurts of conversation ranging from intimate to obnoxious. A critter behind me is rustling through the leaves and I catch the approaching giggle of a little girl. Someone hocks a considerable loogie. Tall heels click-clack past in a hurried fashion. Someone sniffles their stuffy nose.
       I hear two large dogs throwing their bodies against one another, wrestling and yelping overjoyed. An old man's raspy Italian words float by as he addresses the inside of a stroller which is emitting gurgling, squeaking baby sounds. A sharp sound signal breaks the softness and the crack of plastic indicates someone dropped their phone on the pavement. A nearby chihuahua responds with a deafening cry of disapproval. I hear a young boy's curious Spanish words stroll past. Stroller after stroller creaks by crunching the dirt underneath the rubber wheels; they form a rhythm with the beating of shoes up and down on the ground. Distant chuckles just barely reach my ear.
      A large panting dog gallops by in sync with his jogging owner whose breath is quick and gasping. Fluttering feathers touch down right beside me and a turtle dove coos as she lifts off from a tree. Two French accents hurry by whispering thick gossip. The wheels of a scooter roll past on my left carrying a little girl singing secretly to herself. I hear the wet lapping of water against large rocks and suddenly the afternoon church bells float over the trees. All sounds indicate it's almost Spring in Central Park today.

Project 1- College Eats

https://vimeo.com/88177015

My Artist Statement

When my best friend was thirteen, his father passed away and left him his 1966 Ford Galaxie. As long as I've known my friend, I've also known how special that car is to him. One day, I decided to paint a picture of the Galaxie to show Kevin how much it meant to me too. Every since then I've been painting pictures for others, rather than for myself. I'm inspired by stories of the simplest things that mean the most to people.

I've been acting on stage since I was in the fifth grade. During my senior year, my class went through a tragic loss that left the entire school emotionally wrecked. The accident occurred on the opening night of our drama club's spring show. That night our drama director, Paul, sat us down and said very simply this is why we do theatre. He told us that we were to go out in front of that audience and help them forget, just for a few hours, what they'd gone through that day. Moments later, we all went on stage together and gave the best performance we ever had. Ever since that day, I've been performing for the audience, rather than for myself. I'm interested in stories that reveal rather than pretend.  

I was walking in the park a few months ago and saw an old woman sitting alone on a park bench. Then, I realized she wasn't alone, she was holding a small scruffy dog in her arms; they were nose to nose, just staring at one another. No one else seemed to notice this tiny friend peaking out of her coat; I snapped a picture and grinned the whole way home. I'm motivated less by big stories and more so by those daily spontaneous moments that could easily be missed but when witnessed, stick with you forever.