Patterns in Kensington and in my fingers
patterns everywhere
Hello Friends!
I’ve had a very nice few weeks in London going to exhibitions, finding a vintage dollhouse at the charity shop, and learning tunes on my banjo.
My banjo is very special to me because I made it. It’s not the only banjo I play, but it’s the one I go to when I’m learning tunes because it feels like an extension of my heart. My Dad and I made our banjos together in Appomattox, Virginia, under the capable and humorous guidance of the late Mike Ramsey. After my Dad passed away in 2016, I felt distant from my banjo and sad when I picked it up. I played other banjos in concert and learned a few new tunes, but I slowly let it drift out of my musical life.
Recently, I was knitting and listening to one of my very favorite records by Jake and Sarah Owen. Dad and I saw them at Merlefest twenty years ago and they set our hair on fire. Sarah played the fiddle and Jake played gourd banjos which he’d made. Her voice was high and plaintive. His was plain and honest. To this day, hearing them transports me to a time when Dad and I were learning to play clawhammer banjo. I was writing my first songs and we were going to music festivals on the hunt for sounds that made our hair stand up.
Last week, when I heard Jake singing “Red Rocking Chair” through the speakers of my computer, I started singing new words to that old tune. This is something that I do and one of the many places from which my songs can spring. If you listen to the Jeni & Billy song “The Hum,” you’ll find that you can take the words and sing them to the tune of “Folsom Prison Blues.” I had just heard a Rockabilly band do a cover of that song at a concert in Liverpool while I was on tour and sitting in with the warm-up act. That night I couldn’t get the rhythm of those words out of my head. So, I wrote words to that rhythm. Separately, Billy had been working on a banjo tune which I’d never heard. When I sang my words, they fit his tune exactly.
This past week, I took my dear handmade banjo off the wall and began learning the finger patterns for “Red Rocking Chair” and it felt like my Dad was all around me, smiling, tapping his foot. He was a monumental foot-tapper when he played music. Dad and I were weaving our old patterns of tunes together in my heart.
Banjo tunes are patterns. Songs are patterns. Foot-tapping and dancing are patterns. Patterns are everywhere and I love them. They move me through the day with rhythm, song, and color.
On assignment for Modern Daily Knitting, last week I walked through the London borough of Kensington. It was one of those days where I saw patterns everywhere. Stencils on the of the bright green cab shelter, shells, swirls, and diamonds in the columns of the natural history museum, brickwork and trailing vines on a hidden mews home, ovals and snake trails in iron ore stone, and glitter in a meteorite. This festival of pattern felt like a tune in my day tapped out across my eyes and in my heart. I was happy. I was thinking about the banjo tunes I would play when I got home. I was thinking about making knitting patterns from stone carvings.
My brain was alive with ideas and my Dad seemed nearer in my joy.
I hope you enjoy this little tour of one corner of London. In each caption, I’ve included a link so that you can learn more if your interest is piqued.
Also, if you’re meant to visit London soon, you might enjoy these two exhibitions which I’ve just reviewed for Modern Daily Knitting. It’s the year of elections, according to Time, so get your hat on.
I wish you peace.
And kindness, always,
Jeni
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Last month, I shared an unreleased song, “Ice Cream Will Always Be Here” with my New Song Club (what Substack calls paid subscribers). I’ll always have plenty of stories here on Substack in my newsletter for everyone. But this year, I thought I’d create a special paid series of unreleased or new songs once a month. If you’d like to join along, click below.
Ice Cream Will Always Be Here
It must be something contrary in my nature that has persuaded me that a song featuring ice cream would be appropriate for January. But, nevertheless, when I considered which unreleased song I wanted to share with you, this is the one that pulled at me.
My Mammaw played banjo clawhammer style. Said she picked it up from her brothers. One of my favorite photos of her was one Sunday after church when she was still wearing her church clothes - a pretty pink suit and one of those pillbox hats Jackie Kennedy made so popular. She’s in a chair in the kitchen with her skirt all hiked up and the banjo between her knees letting ‘er rip!
Jeni! Sorry it took so long to read. Back 3 days and still shaking off jet lag. Love that you crafted your own banjo! Cool story with you and dad making them with the same materials, yet sounding different. Great to know you still get to play it when you visit mom. Finally, the cabman’s shelter…how cool. Had no idea. First thing that popped in my head…cabby shack. Rim shot. Good night. 😉