Less than a week ago, I shared something that happened on the Hawthorne Bridge. Cliff-notes: theres a spot at the downtown side facing the waterfront walkway that carries a sweet two-second delay. Sound sails the treeline. First time I played there, a grouping of small boats and jet-skis became the floating foundation for an audience of passersby that would grow to round thirty people. This experience led to starting a Twitter account for the purpose of spreading word on short solo sessions outside. The idea was to create a platform for engaging the stages found in forests, bridges, and parks throughout the city. Each location is occupied for thirty minutes to an hour, dependent on mood. My first official tweet from hornhappens was this past Thursday. Had some downtime before heading to PSU for nostalgia and swing. Decided to hit up the same spot on Hawthorne Bridge to see how the moment stacked against the initial discovery. It was later in the day this time around. Blue hour. Interesting scene. Rotating crowd of five to ten. Street kid stayed with me to the end. Id listen to you all night! she belted out, as I finished In a Sentimental Mood. Each jaunt into a place where trumpet comes as a surprise has returned something in kind. Often magical. Many positive words heard. Many people detouring with thanks for the song. Many birds chirping back, at times even on cue with call and response. Ive traded fours with a few at Tabor. At a tempo taken with much liberty, naturally. Sounds impossible. But so is the following story behind the video attached. When I feel like playing outside, Mt. Tabor is a favored destination. Best thing about that dude pissing in the reservoir which is certainly a strange sentence to write: the amphitheater that was left behind after theyd drained all the water. The reservoir was nearly full last night, as per usual. But there was still enough exposed concrete to generate an echo. Sent my second tweet, on location. Played for close to half an hour. Then it happened. Hey Pace! Is that you? The voice came from above, as Andrew had been walking along a winding dirt path that snaked through the forest. Andrew who runs The Italian Market food truck that sits behind beloved Belmont Station. Andrew who had decided to take an old friend visiting from New York for a walk around Mt. Tabor to treasure the skyline at sunset. This friend was named Vik. He shot this video. I didnt see it until after we had toasted pints at the Station, shortly after he had showed up with Andrew. After leaving them at the reservoir. After I had finished playing. After seeing a stranger smiling on the hill, who had just documented pure happenstance. Within moments of broadcasting the impromptu serenade, a tangible response had been gifted. Similar coincidences have happened countless times in the past, but this is the first occasion Ive written openly about serendipity. Its a surreal place, Portland. Leaving for Laurelhurst Park in ten. Maybe Ill see you there.
Posted on: Mon, 13 Oct 2014 03:27:15 +0000
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