The Brain
"God's art"
Call the sun in the dead of the night
And the sun's gonna rise in the sky
Touch a man who can't walk upright
And that lame man, he gonna fly
And I fly (fly)
Yeah, and I fly
Holly holy love
Take a lonely child
And the seed
Let it be
Full with tomorrow
Holly holy
- Holly Holy, by Neil DiamondI know this bright young spirit. My grandson, Asher. He’s eight. This past weekend, once again, everywhere he went in our home, he saw something he loved. Fascinated with the antique repurposed doorknobs, mirrors, brass towel racks with brass sunflower shapes nailed into the wall, my old jackets in the closet, Papa’s colorful tie rack, running his hands along the vintage bookcase, asking a million questions, happy as a lark. He loves the visual, the sound of The Beatles playing throughout the house, and the feeling of flight in all he does. Every single time we are around him he is full of imagination, showing us what he drew, made — fascinated, engaged, fearless and free of negative influence. I wrote a piece about his love of art here, when he was five.
The essence of the beautiful is unity in variety. Even if, in one or other of them, I had a particular word or words in mind, I would not tell anyone, because the same word means different things to different people. — Felix Mendelssohn
As you begin to leave childhood behind, the world becomes a predictable place. And I was thinking perhaps the biggest reason I was drawn to photography, besides the way my dad looked so happy and vested behind the lens, was that it extended a limb. It shook the hand of something I could be a part of. Covering life behind a camera is a thrill because it feels as if you belong. In the snap of a button it’s yours. Carried, treasured, downloaded, delivered, retained. The brain is a marvelous place when firing on all cylinders.
And now that I’m in more of an archiving stage, dreaming of using my broken down legs to see a bit of the world, I live vicariously through music and stories imagining I am there. Taking in the breath of others who exhale their passion out to the universe. Wishing I could capture it and take it home. Enlarge it for my wall. Nod my head and tell them, “I understand what you felt here.”
“In order to make you understand how extraordinarily the Hebrides affected me, I send you the following, which came into my head there.” — Felix Mendelssohn
A few Sundays ago we had the pleasure of going to the Pasadena Symphony for the first time. From the moment Grammy award winning, and acclaimed Kentucky bluegrass raised, classical violinist Tessa Lark looked up and took a deep breath, I was there, floating in surreal form as Fingal’s Cave rose out of the water. An uninhabited Isle of Staffa, part of Scotland’s Inner Hebrides. With stunning hexagonal basalt columns rising from the sea, it’s natural acoustics, dramatic sea-cave formations made from ancient volcanic lava flows — you could feel the heat — the passion of earth.
With every breath Lark took, she worked her mastery.
Disney is not far off with it’s exotic locales in movies like Moana.
Formed over 50 million years ago, Fingal’s Cave is part of a vast network of sea caves carved from the same lava flow that shaped the Giants Causeway, an area of about 40,000 interlocking basalt columns in Northern Ireland.
In 1829, composer, Felix Mendelssohn was so taken aback, when he first saw Fingal’s Cave in The Hebrides, he wrote his sister, Fanny, the above quote, accompanied by the opening musical theme of his famous Hebrides Overture.
Struck by the “comfortless, inhospitable solitude” and the intense, natural sound of waves crashing into the basalt columns, he originally titled the work Die einsame Insel (The Lonely Island) before later renaming it.
The dramatic scenery immediately translated his mind into musical notes.
Of all our favorite bass players in the world, it would be seven time Grammy award winner, Edgar Meyer, who would compose a violin concerto (1999), commissioned by Sony Classical and famously performed by Hilary Hahn, which would challenge Tessa Lark, from his string trio, into a new era of performances. It is a two-movement work blending classical with bluegrass influences and often paired with The Hebrides Overture. It features a lamenting first movement in G-sharp and a technically demanding second, highlighting the soloist's range.
We were so close to the stage we felt Lark’s passion as she sojourned through Mendhelson and Meyer’s landscape. Composers composing nearly 200 years apart. Eyes closed, Lark’s hand extended toward us, the audience — most, who had never seen such a marvel. She gave, we received, and like every image, Lark took them home. An old master, new masters — it was theirs, hers and ours to treasure.
Extraordinarily affected, we heard what Mendelssohn saw, with an extra special ode to a single violin, backed by several in the beauty of a full orchestral tour.
I have watched my husband play this difficult piece, on double bass, in the wonderful Southland Symphony.
The arts, when they have done their job, leave you with the gift of belonging to something spiritual. We belong to them and they to us. No banana taped to a wall will ever compare to the Holy of what the heart takes with it into eternity.
Out of every art, music is what holds us together. It cannot be taken away. The birds of the air sing in complete harmony reminding us we are free in spirit to believe in something greater than ourselves. To trust the process without seeking division. We are not “something,” or “better than.”
I had a friend who underwent brain surgery (many years ago) with the very best brain surgeon in Los Angeles. Dr. Keith Black told her, “the human brain reveals God’s art.” He said the first time he opened up the brain he found it to be “a miracle.”
We are, humbly — miracles.
“I believe that those two things, a Bible and a radio in a 6x8 cell, could change my life... I believed that music had the power to save my life and God had the power to change my life. Jesus is not owned by no music label. Jesus is Jesus and anybody can have a relationship with him. Jesus is for everybody. Jesus is not owned by one political party.
Dear God, I just wanna say thank you. Nothing is possible without you”
— Grammy award winner, Jelly Roll at the 2026 Grammys
The brain.
God’s art.
As I was hunting for something that would do Fingal’s Cave justice I came upon photographer Jim Richardson showing his gorgeous image on Instagram. Ironically, and separately, I had recently discovered Richardson’s work through receiving a really cool book for Christmas (by him) called, “High School USA.” My youngest son picked it up in an old book shop in San Francisco. (favorite gifts!) I wrote him a text, this past Saturday, telling him how much I’m enjoying it and what an amazing photographer Richardson is. Inspiration is an understatement. I had yet to go through his website and I’m so glad this amazing Nat Geo treasure is now on my radar.
The wonderful surprise is Jim Richardson has an entire body of work from The Hebrides Islands plus much more. INCREDIBLE. I graduated high school in 1978 and relate to all the black and white images from my own yearbooks, albeit I went to a HUGE high school. Still, we were the same kids dreaming and growing up. Crazy how I randomly went full circle back to this photographer while writing a piece that had nothing to do with him. Update: I just discovered Jim Richardson is on Substack! I am thrilled!
Oh and Here’s 11 Fun Facts About Your Brain
I was also searching for Tessa Lark, playing Edgar Meyer’s violin concerto, to Mendelssohn’s Hebrides Overture, to no avail — but the music above is a nice recording without the violin overture.
I have a character in my book, Cascade, named Asher—a good name which means Happy or Blessed.
You are too good, Deb! Music...one of the healers of the soul and spirit!