Monday, December 12, 2011

Chthonic
( /ˈkθɒnɪk/, from Greek χθόνιος – chthonios, "in, under, or beneath the earth", from χθών – chthōn "earth"; [1] pertaining to the Earth; earthy; subterranean) designates, or pertains to, deities or spirits of the underworld, especially in relation to Greek religion. The Greek word khthon is one of several for "earth"; it typically refers to the interior of the soil, rather than the living surface of the land (as Gaia or Ge does) or the land as territory (as khora (χώρα) does). It evokes at once abundance and the grave.


one of the chthonic dieties is gaia.




there is also a band from taiwan.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Wednesday, November 16, 2011



look at these! look at these! look!

more on the front page of burn. by Tomasz Lazar.




Tuesday, November 15, 2011

i've just discovered the subtle wear-zone on my jeans that foreshadows their eventual downfall. it's like realizing the person you love is going to break up with you. it's just a matter of time.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

from "stamen," by dustin arnold and nicholas cope



my first reaction was man, these are vulgar. upon closer examination, though, the vulgarity disappears. oh well. more here.






also, i'm going to do a half marathon.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

i have lost sixty pounds. i now weigh as much as i did as a freshman in high school, when i was on the wrestling team. i stopped trying to lose weight about ten pounds ago but the rest has happened as a result of being addicted to exercise. so hey, i'm not complaining.

i gained those sixty pounds because when i was in high school, they tried to medicate the teenager out of me. then i went to college and made poor health choices for a couple of years.

here are some conceptions of sixty pounds:

the average weight of a border collie.



the weight of this hamburger.



this much pot.



a child big enough to not have to use a car seat in the state of california.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

nude, dunes




edward weston.

Monday, October 10, 2011


oh i love it. costume sketch for louis xiv, who was given the role of THE SUN in jean-baptiste lully's ballet de la nuit in 1683. this king was extremely important in the co-development of ballet and french opera, and could apparently dance the courante better than anybody else in france. and here is his costume as THE SUN.

Saturday, October 8, 2011

augusta withers, 1792-1869. botanical artist in london and worked as the Flower Painter in Ordinary for queen adelaide in the 1830's and '40's. she was considered is now of the most significant contributors to the british collection of orchid plates, though she would die penniless and of pneumonia.

today i find myself being really captivated by her paintings of fruit.





Friday, October 7, 2011

RULE SEVEN:
The only rule is WORK. If you work it will lead to something. It's the people who do all of the work all of the time who eventually catch on to things.



week six of grad school: survived.

i keep waiting for somebody to come into the practice room and point an accusatory finger at me: aha! i'm onto you! you don't have a clue what you're doing! you better get outta here, girl, before They find out.

there has been crying in a bathroom stall and sunny afternoons of elated, relieved accomplishment. a sense of comfort and growth is usually immediately followed by an increased workload.

but i'm here to grow in music and baby i'm gettin' growed.

Thursday, September 29, 2011

i have a problem with making rash decisions over these last couple of years. i'm going to go abroad for a couple months maybe because i have an under the table job in the middle of nowhere. i'm going to buy a one way ticket to somewhere i've never been and then live there. i'm going to get a masters degree in something i've never done.

i'm just swinging punches into the dark and waiting to for one of them to hit something solid.

Thursday, September 8, 2011


i dont want to practice.

Monday, August 29, 2011

one day.

Monday, August 22, 2011

i am close enough to campus to use the student wifi. i met a woman two days ago who was so excited about the tomatoes growing in her front yard that she gave me a handful of unripe green tomatoes and i had to tell her to stop picking them, because they'll turn red soon. my boss is so deeply a hippie that you can't tell at all; it's like blackbelts who don't tell anyone they're blackbelts. they're the ones to be afraid of. he brings me coffees and we talk about god. i dropped my new cell phone in my tea. i met with my piano teacher today and reached out to shake his hand and instead he hugged me. my roommate is a barbarian with a gentle dog who he saved from sex-slavery in southern california. i get to study my favorite piece of music for two classes. i work out twice a day. i am surrounded by wonderful loving people. i get to do what i want and know that it will get me to where i need to be.

i have arrived, baby.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011



eric satie, 1866-1925. automatic descriptions, for solo piano. included tongue-in-cheek notes for the performer alone, as seen above: "withdraw your hand and put it in your pocket." a small critique of the idea of concert music and the role of the performer in relationship to the music, composer, and audience.

Friday, August 5, 2011


vernet, 1759, shipwreck.

when the enlightenement ideals of rationalism and empiricism had failed to do justice to the human experience, the germans responded with the contrasting aesthetic of sturm und drang, which was characterized by subjectivity and extremes of expression. 1760-1780. music was often in the minor mode, with a driving rhythmic force and jagged melodies. paintings often depicted shipwrecks or storms.

mozart's little symphony in g minor, no25.


i just love how everything goes together!

Wednesday, August 3, 2011



what is rococo?
fragonard, the swing.

Jean-Baptiste Lully. 1632-1687. He was keeping time for an orchestra during rehearsal by banging a long staff on the floor (typical for the time and a precursor to the baton) when he bashed his toe with the staff. The wound became gangrenous and he refused to have it amputated. He died three months later.

Carlo Gesualdo. 1566-1613. He took a young wife who had anticipated participating in the pleasures of marriage, but, finding none, found another man and kept her love a secret for two or so years. Gesualdo came to suspect her infidelity and so told her that he would be going on an overnight hunting trip. Instead, he waited until the middle of the night and burst into her bedchambers to find her and her lover in the suspected state. He stabbed her repeatedly and kept shouting, “She’s not dead yet! She’s not dead yet!” When the two bodies were recovered from the room, the servants found that her lover had beenwearing a woman’s dressing gown, while is regular clothes were folded and unbloodied next to the bed.

Henry Purcell. 1659-1695. Died at the height of his career "The cause of his death is unclear: one theory is that he caught a chill after returning home late from the theatre one night to find that his wife had locked him out."

Jean-Philippe Rameau. 1683-1764. Composer of graceful music but, according to accounts of his acquaintances, an absolute jerk. While on his deathbed, he reproached the priest administering the last rights for chanting poorly.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

sometimes a horoscope can be freaky accurate. this one predicted the days i will be moving to colorado, with a family member (my father), the day i will be taking my placement exams and they day i will be paying for tuition.

All in all, it appears a new life is shaping up for you, dear Sagittarius. You are on the beginning of a huge cycle that is only beginning now, and from now on, it's onward and upward. This is a wave you'll be glad to ride, and if you had any setback in the past year, you will see it was only part of the plan, for it freed you to pursue something infinitely better.

Sunday, July 24, 2011

john cage: some rules for students and teachers

RULE ONE:
Find a place you trust, and then try trusting it for awhile.

RULE TWO:
General duties of a student - pull everything out of your teacher; pull everything out of your fellow students.

RULE THREE:
General duties of a teacher - pull everything out of your students.

RULE FOUR:
Consider everything an experiment.

RULE FIVE:
be self-disciplined - this means finding someone wise or smart and choosing to follow them. To be disciplined is to follow in a good way. To be self-disciplined is to follow in a better way.

RULE SIX:
NOTHING IS A MISTAKE. There's no win and no fail, there's only make.

RULE SEVEN:
The only rule is WORK. If you work it will lead to something. It's the people who do all of the work all of the time who eventually catch on to things.

RULE EIGHT:
Don't try to create and analyze at the same time. They're different processes.

RULE NINE:
Be happy whenever you can manage it. Enjoy yourself. It's lighter than you think.

RULE TEN:
We're breaking all the rules. Even our own rules. And how do we do that? By leaving plenty of room for X quantities.

HINTS:
Always be around.
Come or go to everything.
Always go to classes.
Read anything you can get your hands on.
Look at movies carefully, often.
Save everything - it might come in handy later.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

god DAMN i want to go back to gimmelwald.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011



i've been hiding trashy romance novels all around my work, in boxes of lids, in coffee packets, in the freezer, and so on. it has taken them a month and more than fifteen novels to start wondering, is this a joke?



in two weeks i'm outta ohio and there's going to be a crescendo of books. in the baker's cooler. in the meat locker. in the box of hats. with the frozen chocolate chip cookies.




is somebody willing to mail one to my place of work from a location somewhere outside of ohio? or to fax the image of a trashy cover?

Monday, June 6, 2011

working on this piece (among others) right now. wonderful wonderful.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Untitled

Untitled by em_loeffler
Untitled, a photo by em_loeffler on Flickr.

Untitled

Untitled by em_loeffler
Untitled, a photo by em_loeffler on Flickr.

one day i will have something more interesting to say. it is hard to realize how awful these are. i mean, it is easy to realize but awful to address. budget amateur! c'est moi.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

IMG_5980.1copy by em_loeffler
IMG_5980.1copy, a photo by em_loeffler on Flickr.

like me on facebook! emily loeffler photography

IMG_6300.1copy by em_loeffler
IMG_6300.1copy, a photo by em_loeffler on Flickr.

Monday, April 18, 2011

Untitled by em_loeffler
Untitled, a photo by em_loeffler on Flickr.

grandfather and grandson. part of the 1st birthday suite. made the mother cry. i am okay with that.

i will be taking three days off of work to do a large mothers day photoparty (that the tearful mother is arranging!) and i will be making more in three days than in forty hours at my latte job. i am okay with that.

i am going to grad school in the fall in colorado. i have two job offers out there. i am so excited and scared out of my mind. i am okay with that.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

IMG_5976copy by em_loeffler
IMG_5976copy, a photo by em_loeffler on Flickr.

IMG_6298copy

IMG_6298copy by em_loeffler
IMG_6298copy, a photo by em_loeffler on Flickr.

IMG_5946copy

IMG_5946copy by em_loeffler
IMG_5946copy, a photo by em_loeffler on Flickr.

Monday, March 28, 2011


by david chancellor. here is his webpage.

he is a photographer from south africa but i am really drawn to the pieces that have a flavor of the american west.






something about these resonate on a level with me that has to do with being totally outside. vastness of air and dirt. the feeling of being lonely and safe, or unsafe, of solidarity. you do not stay too still for too long at the same time that your motion comparative to the landscape is so insignificant that this necessary motion is meaningless, is rendered into stillness.

it is difficult to find the same whirling stillness in the city where i currently live.



the photographs also resonate on a level concerning personal strength and integrity. maybe the feeling is just a product of the aforementioned outside-ness -- of how the sense of self becomes distilled. i am jealous of this girl's sure look.

i know that i am romanticizing but i need to do it right now.
i need dirt and sunburn and outside-aloneness!

Monday, March 21, 2011

layering1

Sunday, March 20, 2011

there is a certain kind of everybody's grandfather who has survived the war (wherever the war was) who likes bear claws. "don't bother putting it in a bag."

i am profiling you.

men talk to me more when i wear makeup.

it is warm and i have money now but am still working on the part with "friends". two weeks ago i went out with a guy from work. i had spent all day in bed with a fever and probably should have stayed there, but i was determined to not cancel my first (and only) social event in the seven months since i have moved here. i felt as though i had forgotten how to have a face-to-face honest conversation; i'm not so good at it any more.

very much a sea of aloneness and my hair smells like bread. is this adulthood?

Friday, February 4, 2011

i used to frequently cry during shavasana, back when i did yoga. sometimes it was like i finally reached a well of sadness that i hadn't known was there; sometimes it was just crying. it was embarrassing, at least, as soon as the lights were turned on and i rolled up my mat. and then i started having parallel experiences in my piano lessons.

one of the first times it hit me, we were working on a mompou cancion y danza. my teacher stopped me partway through the first phrase.
"stop," she said, "you just need to stop caring what i think and play from yourself."

so i started again from the top, and starting crying almost immediately. i cried all the way through the piece, through the end of the lesson, and through my kickboxing class afterwards. but i played it really well. my teacher was very pleased.

about a year later, i was working with another teacher on the first movement of the bach concerto in d minor. she was playing the orchestra part and yelling at me at the same time. it wasnt until i gave in and started crying as i was playing that the sound changed in the right way. she immediately noticed the change and commended it. i cried to the end of the concerto and at the end she said, "that was very good, emily."

had another lesson, again, last night. a schumann song, without a singer. it is a technically very simple piece, we took it at a meditative 60% tempo and it was the same feeling again, this welling up. this time, though, i wasn't willing to give in and start spontaneously sobbing in front of my new teacher. (i'm pretty sure he already thinks i'm off my rocker.) (maybe i am.) so i missed the point.






i used to have frequent dreams about the end of the world or the death of everybody. they'd happen two or three times a week and invovle large bodies of water rising over a city, the climbing of mountains as refugees, the systematic slaughter of a community with poison, dogs, guns, what have you. in spite of them being really awful dreams, i was only ever watching them and would wake up feeling fine.

it was last spring that i think i stopped having them, and this week, they're back. i've had three of these in about as many days and this time i'm feeling them, too, the horrible nightmarish part.

the one from last night was populated mostly by children. those of us who had survived hiked to the top of a hill covered in black scree and sat in a circle. we posted sentries, who wore garbage bags over their heads. at this point, the enemy (whoever they were) set dogs against us and came and threw the bodies into a van. and then i woke up.




obviously there is something i need to be working through right now but i have no idea what it is.

Monday, January 24, 2011

whenever i don't have a primary goal in my piano work i have this constant feeling of needing to be in some sort of therapy. individual. group. maybe i should go to AA even though i don't really drink, just to find some deeper love of the human stage.

but when i'm working on a project -- in this case, an audition in colorado in thirty-two days -- that need suddenly disappears. i don't care if people return my calls. i don't notice how many dishes are in the sink. i forget to make lunch for my girlfriend. when she says, "lets do something fun this weekend," i say, "mm," and then she says, "jesus, never mind."

it takes me a full day of work to pay for a single hour-long lesson. i am more specific about how i practice for them now, now that i have a more immediate appreciation of their cost.

i am finding that there are two primary kinds of teachers. both teach you how to feel, how to understand a phrase, how to shape a gesture, and so forth, but one tells you in a way that you do not personally comprehend in your bones while the other shows you in a way that is like how a friend points out that those elusive car keys are right on the kitchen table, under your nose. they show you ideas you already understood but couldn't articulate. in short, the second kind makes a lot more sense, requires a lot less emotional charlatanism, and is often more fun to work with, regardless of their "ability." of course there are gradiations, shades of gray between the two, but so far this is what i've come to notice about the different people i've worked with.

lessons with the latter can feel like a really good yoga sesson, or a massage, where afterwards i walk out with an enirely new sense of my body, of my spacial-temporal relationship with music, and a new quietness from the reminder that while everything takes a lot of work it doesnt take a lot of effort. if you have twenty miles to walk today, you should walk slowly.

i find that it is very hard to explain a true musical experience without sounding either like a religious nut or totally obscene. i love men who listen to classical music with their dicks, like an antenna. we seem to understand each other. is it crazy to say that all of the flaws in my playing are parallel to the flaws in my daily living?

Friday, January 7, 2011

i need to remember that god is waiting in every part of the breath. i need to remember that the emptiness is a good thing where all music comes from.

there are all these walls that have been set up that need to come down. i'm trying to take them apart brick by brick, or trying to kick them down, or trying to dig a tunnel under them, or trying to figure out where they came from in the first place. all i really need to do is walk through them. they're not actually there.

"the heart is the hub of all sacred places. go there and roam." -bhagawan nityananda

Monday, January 3, 2011

this is how i know a woman loves me.