All That Jazz

My husband and I went to Salt Lake tonight to hear a mission friend play in a jazz band. It was part of an Art Expo thing going on, so we walked around and saw some interesting pieces of art before the band performed. I'd sure like to get inside the head of some of these artists and know what they know; feel what they feel, which causes them to paint what they do. Some pieces were stunning, making me look deeper and longer at the piece, and some made me uncomfortable. Interesting though. I do appreciate the arts.

The band's space to play was in an old building, almost like a garage, definitely a work space with half the ceiling still unfinished, shelving everywhere, dirty, no heat, only about 20 chairs set up, some shady people (one of which I actually witnessed stealing the "tip" jar, which was located up by the band, right in the middle of a song), and yet once the music started, I was transported to a whole other place.

As the music filled me, I felt it a shame that only a handful of people were there listening to this great music. A few more would wander in, some would wander out, not fully appreciating the talent right before them. But soon, with my toe tapping, my head boppin, and a smile on my face; the snow falling outside (indicative of a worrisome ride home), and all other cares of the world, didn't matter.

Jazz! Yah!!!