Co-Published: BeYourArt.com and The North Shoreian Magazine, The Romantic North Shore Issue, Volume 2, Issue 1, Practicalities of the Surviving Artist, January/February 2009. Written by Joseph Shortsle.

Photo by Irwin Bedell

I’m writing this for everyone who wants to play music, and especially for those who used to play but gave it up to focus on other things.  Making music is fun and satisfying, but it can be a daunting prospect starting out.  Assuming you can already read music at a basic level, major concerns are usually the cost of buying an instrument, deciding whether or not to take lessons, and finding opportunities to play the music that you enjoy.  If these concerns are what are stopping you from pursuing music, either as a hobby or more seriously, I suggest you consider learning to play the recorder.

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Co-Published: BeYourArt.com and The North Shoreian Magazine, The Christmas Issue, Volume 1, Issue 12, Practicalities of the Surviving Artist, December 2008. Written by D.T. Arcieri.

D.T. Arcieri with his Underwood #5 typewriter (circa 1910)

I had been writing successfully for at least five years when I came up with the idea. And by successfully I mean that my one-act plays had been produced at nice, albeit small, venues in the City and here on the Island. They were all good little shows that, of course, made no money. Which was fine with me because I just wanted to do quality work. And I think I was. But then I thought maybe I could do better if I had… a studio.

Writing at home and at work was full of hazardous distractions. Things like, say, refrigerators and telephones and televisions and cats. And actual responsibilities, both familial and professional. They got in the way, too. Not to mention people: colleagues, family, friends, strangers, whoever. Distractions! All of them! Keeping me from doing the best I could to write that brilliant play, that full length play, the one I needed to win that Pulitzer prize.

Yes! I needed some privacy, some isolation. A place to focus. To concentrate.  To write. I needed a creative environment full of cool artsy stuff like an antique typewriter on a chipped and pitted desk; a vintage black & white art museum poster of Georgia O’Keeffe nude; Bach or Kid Rock playing in the background; a string of red chili pepper Christmas lights glowing on the wall; a stick of nag champa burning in front of the plastic Buddha I bought at the flea market that summer. I needed an environment that caressed all my senses gently, putting me in zone. The writing zone.

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