The Origin of a Drummer

photo credit: Lynn Shanklin Caldwell

When I was in the first grade, because my Dad was in the Air Force, we were living in Turkey where Dad was stationed at an Air Force base in Izmir. In 1961, My Dad was a pilot, a World War Two combat veteran, and part of a group of American pilots who were helping train Turkish pilots. One night, we went to a restaurant/nightclub in the American area for servicemen.

A band was playing — I suppose the hits of the day, probably in a light ‘jazz combo’ style of presentation. I took notice of the drummer and the drumset, and I wanted to play. I got permission to ask the drummer, and the next thing I knew I was sitting at a set of drums. The tables, the folks, and the whole area there, seen from the bandstand, made a deep impression on me. So did playing the drums. I think I tapped around on the various parts of the kit.  But I clearly remember sitting behind the drums. Thanks to that drummer, whoever he was, for allowing a six year-old kid to check out his drums!  

I think back on that pretty often. I still play the drums and am lucky enough to get to play with friends around the Charlotte area. Along the way I’ve picked up electric bass guitar, also.  For years, I played bass, enjoyed it, and worked to be good at it. 

In addition to making art and developing that, music has remained a big part of my life. I’d have to say that the one informs the other, the key difference being that painting is a solitary pursuit. Music, if you play with others in a band or duo, requires support and listening.   Something similar happens, at least for me, when developing a painting. In a painting there could be a ‘key’, as in music, and definitely there are harmonies of colors. Also, I would say those colors have volume — some are loud, some aren’t.  So music and painting are more similar than they might seem.