- I’ll Be Your Sous-Chef, Baby!
- Confessions of an Online-Course Junkie
- Dear (Contact First Name),
- Stitching a Connection
- The Nightingale – Download Sheet Music for Harp
- Dumb is Deep
- Why Silence?
- Being in Boston in Paradox
- Yesterday. Boston. The Marathon bombings.
- How I learned the Physical Zoom
- Super-Secret MP3 Widget
- A Short History of Easter Rabbits & Eggs
- Appearing LIVE … at YOUR House
- What would a Beta-testing Live-Streamed Dress-Rehearsal be called?
- The Recording Conundrum
- What do Harpist Composer’s-Assistants Do?
- Harp gets Hip at the Altamont in Asheville, NC
- Loneliness of the Long-Distance Composer
- Home Brew Cabaret – Mon. Mar. 11 – Cambridge, MA
- New Solo Show – Sat. April 13 at 8pm – Asheville, NC
- A Kiss is Still a Kiss
- What’s the name of that “IT”?
- Who’s Your Muse?
- Love Songs for Peter
- Making Peter’s Valentine
- The Laboratory is Open
- Jazz Valentine Listeners Needed!
- A Self-Discovery Manual
- Jazz Valentine Project
- The World of Imperfect Completion
Monthly Archives: May 2010
For the last 3 months, Australian harpist Michelle Smith has been here at HipHarp Headquarters doing intensive studies with me. Michellle’s only been playing 3 years, but she’s serious about making a career playing harp, is already a great Burlesque … Continue reading
I recently received a query from a national TV show about the “Burnt Food Museum” of which I am the founder and primary contributor. They asked me some great questions, so here they are, with my answers: Curator & Founder’s … Continue reading
When my wellness-coach, Natalie, saw the article about my Burnt Food Museum in the Boston Globe, she said it made her think of the piece I debuted in my shows last weekend, a 15-minute musical stream-of-consciousness that weaves together some … Continue reading
I’m trying new material at my Mother’s Day shows this weekend (details on the shows below) – so I’m psyched!! And I’m setting up this page so people who come to the shows will have a place to give feedback. … Continue reading