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I ran into an old friend from my writing program today. We hadn't seen each other in ages. She asked how I was, and what I was doing with myself and how my writing was going. I told her I was really involved with taiko, but that I hadn't given up on the idea of writing. And then she said something that really made me feel better about my state of not-writing. Something that made me feel that I didn't have to be so hard on myself for not writing. She said that I was really young when I started the writing program, and that it's really important to live. And that really hit home for me. I've been telling myself this for a long time. I need to do more living in order to return to writing. It was with such understanding and empathy that she told me this. I always looked up to her. She is actually a successful writer, published a couple books already, one of which she started in our writing program, and now she teaches here at the same school we both attended.

But it also made me think about writing. I really feel like I'm able to go back to it. We made some calculations and realized, with shock really, that it's been 10 years since we both started the writing program. I've done some living since then. Big things have happened. Life has delivered some promises, and broke some, and suprised me in many ways. It's broken my heart and filled it up again. There have been many adventures. She said your 30s are good years. She's lived through them, and is about to turn 40. When I first met her, she was about to turn 30. She says she's looking forward to her 40s. And these days, a lot of the people I do creative things with are in their 50s, and they seem happy and satisfied. I'm glad and grateful I am surrounded by wonderful people. I'm glad for all my teachers and all those who have inspired me. I feel like I'm on the verge of something here.

Today as I was driving to work I watched the thin clouds arrange themselves in the parched atmosphere, assembling for thunder, and though nothing materialized, I longed to be out in the dryness of a desert, drinking it in. I wanted nothing more than to stand in front of a drum, sweating away at drills. I wanted to pull the tacks out of Janet's old drum and rehead it. I wanted to be sitting somewhere sipping at coffee and working something into language in a notebook. I'm so close. I just need to sit down and organize my thoughts and bring something together. Yeah, I'm looking forward to the rest of my 30s. To the rest of my life.

I Have Great Students

They're wonderful. They like to play taiko, and they play it well. It helps me as a teacher to work with people who are so nice and enthusiastic. They give me great confidence. Before I started teaching I had a whole year to think and worry about being a teacher, and I hope I'm the teacher I want to be. I hope I can become something remotely like the teachers who have inspired and encouraged me. Having great students helps immensely.

Rudimentary

For the past few weeks we've been working on basic drills. We've got some time to breathe and focus on stuff like kata and sticking, and it's been really good. I love drills. I love it when they make you all tired and sweaty. Tonight I pulled out my drum practice book and worked on some rudiment stuff. Worked on left-handed doko dons, my favorite counting drill, paradiddles, pataflaflas and getting my left hand to play an egg-shaker. I've been concentrating on my left so much, when I played with my right it sounded wimpy. It was daylight when I first crawled into the chasm to practice, and when I looked up later, it was completely dark.

I feel like I'm entering a new phase in my taiko education. Up to this point it's been all about learn-learn-learn. I sucked up everything anyone could teach me, always wanting more. But now I think it's more about learning how to learn. How can I explain that? I think it's one thing to seek out others to teach you, but at some point you have to take what you already know and expand on it yourself. You have to seek out new things and teach yourself what they are and how to play it and how to interpret it to suit you and to use it as a way to express your own artistic goals. I don't know if I'm at that lofty place yet, but I'm learning it. Breaking away from Emeryville, while liberating and a little scary, has sent me down a new and exciting path. Playing with Maze is a challenge. There's the material, which is different and hard, and I don't get the sort of learning curve I would have gotten at E-ville. Over there, you would go over the same piece of material week after week, learning what the sticking is, and where your arm should be and where you should be looking and how to stand--you did that until it hurt. But with Maze, those things are more given, and we plow through things. They don't leave me behind when I don't get it, which is wonderful and comforting, but I guess the level and expectation is different. Learning how to learn.

I think my new challenge is to figure out how to contribute more. It's less, do it this way, and more, how do you think we should do this? I need to have answers. Need to figure out what I think is interesting. I'm trying though. I think that Janet gives me nudges in the right direction. She doesn't tell me outright, but I think she opens up opportunities for me to come into my own. Maybe she's not even doing it intentionally. But she gave me my own taiko class and the opportunity to be a leader and to develop my own sense of direction. She has never told me how I ought to run the class or what material I should cover or anything. I have to figure that out on my own. And she so generously gave me that drum to finish and put a head on. That was a saga in itself, but now she's given me the opportunity to put heads on her other drums. It's not exploitation or anything--it's something I want to do--first because I need to start to repay the kindness of her giving me my own drum (which is my own concept, not hers--the only string she attached was that "Maze could maybe play the drum"), but also because I'm finding that I love working with my hands and figuring out how to make equipment and stuff. I made my own down stand a month ago. I remember when she was teaching at E-ville, she'd play her own drums and didn't want the beginners to play on them (because they tend to pound the hell out of them). But now, I get to put new heads on her drums. That's kind of an honor, I think.

This is something new for me to think about and work on. How do I move from being a student to being my own person? It's a new chapter-- a good one too.

Pushing

Today before rehearsal I got a call from Janet saying that she'd be late and that she wanted me to lead the others in drill. Cell phone coverage sucks, so just to know that I heard her right, I was like, drill? You said drill? And she said yeah, drill. I drove straight-away to RCW, less because I thought I'd be late, and more as a chance to think about what drill I ought to be doing. We had a nice discussion last weekend, and I figured that oroshi (drumrolls) would be a good drill for us. It's my most unfavorite drill, but really good for you if you're a taiko player. Oroshi is good opportunity to work on kata and strength and (my least favorite part) kiai and energy. I was also thinking, so why'd she call me? Was it because I'm always early? Was it because I teach a taiko class? Was it because she thinks I can actually lead the rehearsal? Such responsibility! Such pressure! Good pressure, mind you. I felt very responsible and humbled. I felt so kohai.

Anyhow. The others were a little late, and Janet was not as late as she thought she'd be, and we wound up doing oroshi. I don't know if I was the best leader, but I pushed them. I think my problem is that I push myself really, really hard, and I think that I can push others as almost as hard as I push myself. But is that right? Is that ok? I don't want to go into my own life experiences, but you can't always expect others to push themselves as far as you would push yourself. You can't think that just because you can go so far that others can too. Sometimes as far as you can go isn't as far as someone else can go. Sometimes you can do more harm than good. I've done this. I've gone that far before. And while at rehearsal tonight I pushed really hard, I felt a great responsibility, thinking, oh, maybe we should stop because so-and-so is not playing and instead stretching her arm out. But then I was like, oh we can so do this. Just a little more--let's just finish the drill--I know we can. But are you gaining anything when people start to drop out? Is it ok to do that kind of pushing? I mean, I've been pushed that hard and when I came out on the other side I felt stronger and I felt like I was a better player. Is it ok to expect the same from other people?

Inward...and Beyond!

Spent this last week doing nothing related to taiko except thinking about it. It was good. Sometimes you need to back off the constant physical part of things and think about the mental and theoretical of it. It was also good that I was concentrating on work stuff, since we need to bring in this new class and a part of that is making about a billion photocopies in the xerox room, which provides plenty of time for inward thinking. Today it was just me and Janet and we talked some, and she gave me lots to think about. Also we worked some on chekere, which was my request, so there's more to work on. Also working on becoming a better taiko player. She always tells me nice things about me, but really, I want to become even better. There are always those things that are not always explicit in playing, or performance or solos. The little tweaks we all make in ourselves that make us better players, or better teachers, or better PR people, or just better people. I need to work on those things. All of them.

I've also been taking on some equipment-maintenance projects for Maze. I like it. I made my own down stand the other week, which sounds complicated, but wasn't. I think that in a lot of taiko groups the equipment-person just rises to the sruface like grease in soup, even if they didn't actually set out to be the equipment-person. Did you know that during college I was a "maintenance technician," which is just a fancy word for handy(wo)man? My dad, through example, as well as teaching us, showed us kids how to interact with and tinker with the physical world. We've joked about the merits of duct tape and wire, and how you can fix anything with those things, but really, the mystery of how things work, or don't work, and how to fix them is not as shrouded as you'd think. The world is a logical place, and having someone to show you that logic is, well--magical. Anyhow, I took on some more down stand-making projects as well as taiko reheading, which, after my own taiko making experience, sounds like fun to me. I might actually get to use Janet's space at RCW when it become available, which I'm sure my downstairs neighbor is totally thrilled about, even if she doesn't know it yet.

Nocturna

Nocturna, a radio show on the LA public radio station KCRW, is currently the soundtrack of my nights. The listening experience is completely different at night than it is in the day. It's even better at night listening to it in your car while driving the streets and freeways of LA, the orange streetlamps casting their light and shadow, light and shadow, in your car. I don't know why I get so nostalgic for my hometown sometimes. The music on Nocturna isn't even the type of music I usually seek out, but for some reason, it really affects me. I love the deep base that KCRW broadcasts their DJ's voices at. I love the way you can play the music quietly in the background and hold a conversation and then somehow the conversation is that much more deep or meaningful. Do you ever have those moments where the pauses in conversation are just as precise as speech?

Thanks to the wonders of the internet, you can listen to it anytime, but may I suggest, you listen to it at night?: Nocturna on KCRW.com

A Night on Mount Diablo

Went camping with friend Mary this weekend atop Mt. Diablo, right below the summit. It's the highest mountain in the area and really beautiful. Mary and I used to like to go camping all the time when we were in college, but we haven't been in over 10 years. I've really missed not being able to go camping with her, or even seeing her on a regular basis, so it was really wonderful when she seized a rare scheduling opportunity and we managed to find one of the only open camping reservations in the area--for one night only.

Mount Diablo has that rugged California landscape about it: live oaks clinging to the rolling hills browned by the late July heat, outcroppings of dry, hard stone, and tons of poison oak. One of the great things about getting out into California open space is smelling that wonderful earthy, tangy smell. It is so lovely. We had a full moon to our very selves, and it was the first time since I can remember where we weren't shivering our butts off in the rolling fog of night. We were actually above the fog line, and we watched as it rolled in, covering San Francisco so that the only visible landmark was Sutro tower, and filling up the lowlands and spilling up over the foothills and filling in the valleys, slowly creeping toward us but never quite reaching our vantage point high above the world. We watched the stars roam across the night sky overhead, we saw the darkness of the cities and suburbs come alive with the constellations of orange streetlights, saw the streaming tail of the highway that brought us here. The land is so dry and parched in July that they prohibited campfires, but it was ok. We sat in the circle of light cast by our lantern, and we talked, and we not-talked deep into the night. We listened to the sound of the breeze fill the pines so that they created rumor and spoke their secret languages, heard the rustle of the dry, jagged leaves in the oaks, felt the presense and immensity of the wind like some giant, unknowable sea-creature come close, as if out of curiosity, and felt its wake as it moved like current through the last of the dry grass and then disappeared into the inky blackness of the atmosphere above us, leaving only stillness and inpenetrable silence. In the night, animals walked by our tent like menehune, unaware or unconcerned that someone woke in the night and heard it pass, and then closed her eyes to it, wishing that schedules were easier to schedule, and that opportunities like this would come by more often, and, most of all, that nights in summer were a little longer.

Shows!

I don't have any pics yet of our BIG SHOW, but I know they'll probably come dribbling in here and there. I'll post them as/if I get them. We SOLD OUT, people! Isn't that amazing? SOLD OUT! There was a wait list and they were adding chairs at the last minute and I know we started really late, but the audience was really great. We had support from all our dear Drum Camp folks, as well as some of my wonderful and fabulous taiko class students, as well as family (my Dad and his sisters!) and friends, and tons of people who are just really great supporters of the arts. Thank you to all who attended. You have no idea how wonderful it is to perform to such an appreciative audience. It just means the whole world. It really does.

We worked really hard on this show. Lots of rehearsals. A new song. Refining what we already had. It was good. It was really great to work with such great people. Meri and Crissy, our newest members, just blew me away. Meri plays the fue so beautifully, and Crissy is an amazing taiko player--she was a Kodo apprentice, yo! And our core members--Janet and Bean and Carolyn--they're my rock.

I played with all my heart. Projected best I could. Put my all into my solos and into bringing everything in me to the performance. And I sweated like crazy. My forearms sweated. I didn't know they could do that. My hachimaki was heavy with sweat when I took it off and my tank and pants were all wet. That's a good sign. I was completely wiped out on Sunday and took a nap I had a hard time waking up from. One of those really hard naps where your eyes are so heavy they won't open. Woke up like that this morning. Heavy.

And today we had a nice-paying gig at Yeeha again. This time at corporate headquarters. They've got nice digs there. They make it so you don't have to leave to go get your hair cut or go to the gym or get an iced mocha--it's all there. It was a completely different audience than the Big Show. But eh, it was a slick gig. Here are people being goofy:
I love being a taiko player. In the year since I joined this Maze Daiko group I've had so many adventures! It's fun. It's such an interesting journey. I look forward to more adventures.

Wet T-Shirt Contest

Ack. Tonight was the sweatiest rehearsal ever. I got to RCW early in order to tighten a shime for the big show before the rehearsal started. That got me really sweaty. It was just dripping off me as I was standing on top of that drum, pulling my heart out. I was a little embarrased because when I brought the shime over to Janet to ask her something about it I was making a puddle and trying not to get it on her. Then when we were rehearsing, I got even more sweaty. My shirt was soaked and my hair was all wet and it was as if there were a raincloud hovering over just me. Janet too. After a run-through she said, There's water all over the stage and I know it's not all from me! It was like a scene from Flash Dance! Not that I'm complaining. Sweat is good. Crissy said that she tries not to drink too much water in order to not get sweaty. I guess that's a good theory, especially when you have such impressive performing experience like her, but you need water to keep you going, and sweat is not such a bad thing. Kinda gross, but not so bad. The only time I don't like it is when I'm performing and it runs into my eyes and blinds me, but, eh. When I got home and out of my shirt, I noticed I'm losing a lot of minerals--salt maybe? I've been drinking gatorade lately--more for the sugar than anything else--but I guess I need that little kick of sodium to keep the blood levels in balance.

Oh this is going to be a great show. I am working with really amazing people, and I know they are nothing but good influence. I have so much to learn. And I am so inspired to work harder on solos and stage presense and all that. I feel like this is just the beginning. Time for bed now. I have tomorrow to prepare and most of Saturday day. Are you coming to the show? Oh, please oh please say yes!?

Maze Daiko in Concert!

I've been so busy lately I haven't had much time to do promo for our upcoming show featuring Maze Daiko and Ojala. Here is our blurb:

Saturday July 21, 8pm

$18 in advance $20 at the door

Buy tickets for Ojala and Maze Daiko - an Evening of Women Drummers
Ojala is a group of 6 talented women who combine traditional Afro-Cuban folkloric music, infectious funky contemporary rhythms, beautiful vocals and imaginative and original songs. Carolyn Brandy, a groundbreaking Bay Area female percussionist, is the musical director of the band, and the inspiring vocals are led by Regina Wells and Elouise Burrell. Joining them are Annette Acosta and Sue Matthews, and dancer Ava Miller.

Mazeru is the Japanese word for "mix" and taiko (daiko) is the Japanese word for "drum". Maze Daiko creates an exciting mix of instrumentation and rhythms with the physical elegance and powerful sounds of taiko. Ensemble members Janet Koike, Kathryn Cabunoc, Carolyn West, Crissy Sato and Tina Blaine (also featured on djembe and dumbek), plus guest artist, Meri Mitsuyoshi playing fue (Japanese flute), create intricate rhythms and melodies to fill the stage with vibrant music and sound. Two amazing groups in one evening!

Rhythmix Cultural Works
2513 Blanding Ave
Alameda, Ca 94501
(510) 845-5060
mailto:info@rhythmix.org

O Mio Yemaya

Just got back from drum camp. It was a wonderful experience. I got to help teach taiko as well as take other kinds of drumming classes. It's really nice to see the things other types of percussionists are doing, and to hear their stories and to be able to play with them. We had to take two trips to get all the drums there (in 2 cars), and two trips to get them all back. Exhausting, but so worth it.

Knotted Up

Oy. If I could reach down inside my stomach I'd probably pull out something like this. I'm stressing, though I know I shouldn't. I'm learning a new song that we're going to perform and it just makes me nervous. I'm almost at the point where I can play it smoothly, but it hasn't sunk in yet. It's not at the point where I can play it without thinking, where it gets nice and deep into the muscles and tucked away in the chasms of the brain. The song has really pretty movement and it's in six time and thank goodness I don't have to solo. To complicate things, I'm busy. It's a good busy--teaching my taiko class, and then assisting at Drum Camp again this year, and lots of rehearsal and family coming up for the show. It's all good though. I'll get through this!

Aloha

Just got back from my first vacation in over 3 years. Boy did I need this vacation. I went to the Big Island of Hawaii and stayed for 10 days. We went to the beach almost every day and I was in heaven. Did and saw so much that I'll let the pictures do most of the talking. I had a good time.

Here goes.

This is actually Maui seen from the airplane. Pretty.The Big Island is the youngest of the Hawaiian islands. As you may know, the islands sit atop a volcanic vent that spews forth lava that accumulated and eventually formed each of the islands. The tectonic plate that the islands sit on keeps moving westward, hence, the dozens and dozens of bits of land in the island chain. The Big Island is, well, the biggest, and evidence of all that (relatively) recent volcanic activity is everywhere. Here is Laupahoehoe Point, site of a major tsunami in the 1940's (I think). Rugged and beautiful and dangerous: And here is the highway outside of Kona. Pure volcanic landscape at sunset (with rainbow, if you look close enough):One of the things I love most about Hawaii are the houses. Most of them have these galvanized roofs and sit on raised foundations, I think because it rains a lot here. I took tons of pictures of houses and this was one of my favorites, maybe because it's green:Oh, and they don't have trash in Hawaii--they have rubbish. This is a rubbish bin, as my Mom used to call them:

Before major tourism took hold, two of the major industries on the Big Island were ranching and sugar cane. My great grandparents came here in 1899 to work the sugar cane in Puna. Evidence of the sugar cane industry, although now defunct, still sprouts up here and there:Ranching is still intact. My grandfather actually worked on Parker Ranch, one of the oldest ranches in the U.S. He was a carpenter. Parker Ranch has been around since 1847, and they were celebrating their 160th anniversary. Every year they hold a rodeo and we got to attend it on the 4th of July. They had horse races (the guy on the loudspeaker kept saying, "no wagering, please." Yeah right), Poo Wai U (which is a kind of calf roping), Branding (with paint, thank goodness), calf-dressing (you heard me right--the team that could put a T-shirt on a calf the fastest won), Ranch Mugging (more calf-roping) and Team Roping, which I didn't see because we were in line to get us some chili. Here is a pic of the dreamy paniolos, or cowboys:And here is a shot of my first Hawaiian obon. They had taiko drummers playing in between old-time music blaring from the loudspeakers. I don't know how to dance, but my friend wanted me to dance the Electric Slide when it came on. I politely declined. Who knew it was an obon dance??:Another thing I love about Hawaii is how quaint things can be. Here is a picture of a small-town grocery store. Reminds me of the store they had on the island of Lanai we used to go to when I vistited as a kid:And of course I went to the beach--almost every day. I was being a tourist after all, and I love the ocean, especially when the water is calm and warm and practically crystal clear. We saw fish and honu, or sea turtles. Here's a shot of one of the lovely beaches we went to and one of me in my Japanese tourist disguise (and I'm actually a couple of shades darker now):They also had a grass shack set up at the beach. I wanted to move in and stay forever, but I couldn't find the front door:Oh, and on the 4th of July we also got to set off fireworks. In LA where I'm from, they banned fireworks when I was just about old enough to remember anything. All I remember is setting off sparklers, which kind of suck. But here fireworks are still legal. We bought a box of fireworks and friend Kris said we also needed to get "punk." I was like, huh? What's punk? Apparently, punk is a slow-burning substance often used to create a kind of smoke that repels mosquitos. They used to give it out when you bought fireworks, but not anymore. One of the highlights of this trip was when we went to the store and Kris asked someone, "You guys got punk?" And the lady replied "Aisle five." You have to understand that in Hawaii everyone speaks a wonderfully lovely and fluid pidgin. It's like everyone is singing to each other. When my mom (who was born and raised in Hawaii) got together with her sisters, they would sometimes speak pidgin. You have to go there to appreciate it. Anyhow. Here is me with punk and my first fireworks:
And in parting, here is another one of my favorite things. On the highway between the house and the beach was a sign saying that the Minimum speed limit was 40 mph. Wouldn't want anyone getting too comfortable with the relaxed and slow-paced island life. Ahh. It was good. It really was. Can't wait to go back. But now it's time to get back to life. I had a 5-hour taiko rehearsal today. Another tomorrow. Class on Tuesday. Drum camp all next weekend and a ton more rehearsals. July 21st people. Big concert. Try to go if you can!

Finished! Done! Finito!

I'm sure you're tired of hearing me talk about the whole drum building process (I know I am), so here is the final post on this subject. I'm proud of the tacking on this head, and can't wait to try it out. I haven't named her yet, though I have an idea or two. A picture is worth a thousand words, so without further adieu:

First Stretch for the Second Time

Working on the second head. I'm so much more happier with the way this first stretch turned out. I've got a nice, even pull on my mimi, plenty of room for tacks, and the whole process just felt a whole lot calmer and more organized this time. Here's the outcome from last night's pull:And I realized last night that when I get the head back on for the second stretch, that I won't be able to see the inside again (not until I replace the heads anyway). That made me a little sad, so I took a picture:I need to compose a little message to write on the inside of the barrel. It's like putting a message in a time capsule! A little thank you note to Janet and some graffiti to say that I was here once upon a time.

Kata . . . and stuff

We're learning a new (to me anyway) song with tons of movement and beautiful kata. Nothing like beautiful kata to remind me how ungraceful I am. One of my goals in playing with Maze Daiko is to try to develop my kata and learn some cool new moves. One of the best things about watching really good performing groups like San Jose is their sharp kata, and it's amazing to see how even the most subtle of movements can add a whole new dimension to a piece. People are often attracted to the big booming sound of taiko, but I think that the right kata actually makes seeing taiko so impressive. The song I'm learning is in 6, which means weird timing. There's two lines of the song that I've just been struggling with. It's like I can play it, but I can't feel it in me. I like this struggle though. Brain and body, all working together.

Oh and we're having our own concert next month. Actually, we're sharing the stage with the wonderful group Ojala, and I guarantee it will be an exciting night of percussion. You should come. Bring a friend too while you're at it.

And I'm teaching taiko. Next week will be the last class of this session. That was fast! They seem to be enjoying themselves, and I had them playing Matsuri last night. I'm totally impressed since we've only had just had 3 classes. I like their spirit and energy. I'm trying to figure out how to teach the next session. This is just supposed to be an intro class, but people are coming to the next session and some to the session after that. So do I teach a new song? Teach the same one over again? I guess we'll see.

So busy lately!

Head #1!

Yesterday I finally put the first head on my new taiko. That was quite an adventure! I've never done anything like this before, so I just jumped in with optimistic naivete. Eh, why not, right? Started out by setting up my stretching rack, which is made up of eight 4x6 pieces of lumber, four hydrolic jacks, 4 sheets of heavy plywood and quite a bit of rope:At this stage, which is called the second stretch, you take the head you formed during the first stretch, soak the inside of it, and then put it back on the drum, and then wind the rope around the mimi (those stick-things) and back down to the stretching rack. You use the jacks to pull the tension down on the heads.People often ask me if playing taiko is an outlet for anger or aggression. I say making taiko is a better outlet. This is when the party really gets started. After climbing up on to the drum (and getting over that fear of heights) you gotta walk around and massage and bounce on the drum until you break up any lumps. It would be better if I lived in one of those nice victorians with 10-foot ceilings. When the hunchback thing got tiring, I used my knees.
After much massaging, and several cranks on the jacks, we reach the final stage: tacking. In theory I was all set to create two perfect rows of tacks. I had all the tools and measurements and understood the hows and whys to get a perfect row of tacks. The only thing I lacked was experience (which I have some of now). The problem was that I had no idea what I was doing when I cut the slits of my mimi, and I should have made them lower. Or I should have taken the first stretch a tad bit further. In any case, my problem was that I didn't have room for two nice rows of tacks in some spots. So 1/3 of the drum is kind of, well, tacky:The other 2/3 is not bad. Not perfect, but not bad:
The second head will be much nicer. It's soaking in the bathtub as we speak. More adventures in the upcoming week. Hopefully I'll have some pics soon!

First Stretch

Started putting the skin on my drum. I can't believe I'm doing this. I never thought I'd be making my own drum! Anyhow, last Sunday I started soaking my first hide. It started out looking taquito-like and very stiff:But by the next morning, it was pliable enough for me to take it out of the bathtub (so I could take a shower!) and put into a smaller container, where it soaked for 3 days:So I've been studying the holy grail and one of the most complicated issues was how and where to put the mimi. I spent a long time creating the cutting diagram for the skin and the template for the mimi slits. I wasn't sure how far out the mimi should be, or how much wiggle room I needed. You know the saying: measure twice, cut once. Here's what it ended up looking like with the dowels in:And then it was time to stretch. The first stretch is when you start forming the shape of the heads on the barrel. It's not a tight stretch. It's more like an introduction: hello barrel, I'm skin, nice to meet you. Barrel: Hi skin, come here and give me a hug. The real stretching and tension comes later.

This was also the part where I took those skeletons out of my closet and placed them on the floor. Also pulled out the rope and plywood and my fabulously tunged drum body. Things were really feeling like they were coming together. I researched and studied this for so long that I was halfway through putting the first pulls of tension on the skin when I realized: hey, I've never done this before--what am I doing? Am I doing this right? Why does this seem so easy? But then it was cool because everything seemed to be going just fine. I mean, I could be making mistakes or doing something horribly wrong, but right now, I'm happy with the results.

So here's what's all over the floor in my place:Pretty cool huh?

Gods of Steer

I don't know about you guys, but I think these things look like giant corn tortillas. Give me a cauldron of menudo or posole and I'd be in heaven. They're actually the skins for my new taiko! I feel like I should give some sort of offering to the gods of steer in thanks for these skins (does anyone know of anything like that?). I don't know much about choosing hides, so I let the good folks at Rolling Thunder do it for me. I heard good things about the rawhide they sourced, and when I called them they were very helpful and sent these things my way. I'd like the drum to be ready for our Big Show in July, but we'll see, especially since I've never skinned a drum before, or even seen a drum get skinned before. But luckily I have the Holy Grail of drum notes, borrowed from Janet:
This book has all the answers. Or at least, it's enough to give me the courage to try to do this on my own. I think the best thing about it was that she was willing to give drum building and skinning a try and she just rolled up her sleeves, jumped in, and gave it a go. It's actually a good read, and it helps that she is very precise (ahem, anal!) and observant (anal!) and exacting (anal!) with pretty little pictures and diagrams which are enormously helpful*:
I can so totally do this.

*I'm anal too. That's why I think it's such a great read. Who else would totally be enthralled by notes about how the radius was more successful when it was at 3/8" larger than the original 1/4", or whatever.

Teaching

Last night I taught my first taiko class all by myself. I've done lots of assisting before, I've done team-teaching before, but I never had my own solo class. I wasn't too nervous because I've been anticipating this since February of last year. I created my own syllabus and went over what I wanted to teach and got some feedback and was pretty confident. There was about an hour right before class when I started to get nervous, but then I told myself: shut up. Once I was up there, with students in the class looking at me, and me looking at them, well the nervousness kind of melted away and we got down to business. Actually my class was completely sold out, and if I hadn't brought my shime, we wouldn't have had enough drums! Can you believe that? My class is the first RCW class to sell out!

After class I was thinking about how full circle I've come. It feels like not too long ago that I was a beginning student learning renshu (I still think of myself as a beginner, actually). And now, thanks to Janet who keeps offering up these great opportunities and experiences to me, I'm doing the teaching. I've got my own class and my own students and everything. That's kind of a big step for me! I keep making these steps--some big, some really small, each bringing me a little further along. It's exciting.