When I was 10, I had a role in a community theater play. It was The Secret Garden, and I died of the cholera in India in the late 1800s, within the first scene, and sang a ghostly children’s nursery rhyme to seal my fate. I appeared throughout the play as a ghost.
When I was 12, I attended performing arts camp. Surprisingly, the first day included a dodge ball match, which (no lie) I benched the entire camp. I wrote my first play and produced it with my fellow camp mates. It was based on time-travelling athletes who accidentally traveled to ancient Greece, to participate in the very first Olympics. It was called “5 Rings and a Lightning Bolt”.
When I was 13, I attended acting lessons in a group setting with all ages. Later I would find out that my acting teacher would be the same man who would call me to tell me my mother was sequestered for the jury duty she was part of, and that I would have no contact with her. I just happened to recognize his very quirky voice, and ask, “Is this Andy?”. It was the week before high school, and I lived at my best friends house, and went to my first day of high school on my own.
When I was 15, I asked three unsuspecting school mates to start a band. Within a week only one was interested, as the other two had summer school. Later, as my band members grew and I met my songwriting partner, he would convince me to tell the story differently, that He and I had started the band together, as if by divine providence.
When I was 18, I played live for a television segment called Ed the Sock. The iconic Toronto show was exciting to play for, and the hosts truly respected what our young band was trying to do. After we played, I was invited to join the “models” they had on the ending credits, as they jumped over me on a day bed, and tried to wrangle a dilldoe with the face of the virgin Mary. Somewhere there is footage of me awkwardly smiling and watching them pile over my legs.
When I was 21, I was tarred and feathered. We toured to New York City, Cleveland and Detroit... We had every industry buff come out and ruffle their feathers, as we ruffled ours. We packed sandwiches, we dressed in our stage costumes in bathrooms, and drew our eyeliner in dusty mirrors. Somehow we were potent, and full of potential, and spent at the very same time.
When I was 23, I went to India. For the first time I was away from my life, on a privileged journey I completely lucked out on in being able to have. The cliche, it changed me. Not just because all of the wonderful experiences I had, but because I was away. Away, for the first time. Away from the energies I had amalgamated with, only to discover myself between the lines. I was happy, and I didn't want to give it up for anything. An elephant never forgets.
When I was 25, I was divorced. From my band, from my former self, her duties, her responsibilities, her social obligations. Suddenly freedom felt very lonely. But it was more a realization of what was always there, (or not there.). But I was free of an energy I was no longer part of, and that was okay.
When I was 27, I moved away. Out of the city, into an 1870s farmhouse in a small town outside of Buffalo, NY in Canada. Suddenly I was connected to nature, I bought an upright piano to write on that I kept in my kitchen, and I began helping animals in my area that were struggling. I had every emotion played out and explored, but I wasn’t doing enough.
When I was 28, I was hired for the first time to create a musical score for a documentary. It was published across Canada, celebrating Canadian art history, and the “board” approved me for future commissions. By the next year I had scored three other historical Canadian documentaries, and produced classical musicians in a recording studio, playing my sheet music, a life long dream being realized. Writing music based in the time era of the early 1900s seemed to resonate with my new home, and the past life experiences I believe I have endured. The scores opened up a new dream for me, to compose for film.
When I turned 30, that very week, my mother in law passed away. I had lived with her for 6 years, and took care of her every need. My 30th birthday was spent alone in a hotel, going to bed early to get to the wake the next morning. I would spend then, up to now! (8 months ago) dealing with the loss of my mother figure, and not having her in my home. As life is all about timing, my first solo album was completed, and I was anxious to release my first single, “Facing the Grass”. A song that deals with not being able to look away, when you know you are aware. Why can I not be blind? When it is easier to be that way. But I released the song, and the video which was created with great care.
I’m thirty, and my story of being an artist has only just begun. My story is my own, but I hope whomever is reading this can see a little of their own journey. Cheers to another 20 years my lovely...
