What you have to know is this: I was raised in a cave. By wolves.
Mind you, they were loving wolves and they made sure I lacked none of the "necessities." I had shelter and clothing and delicious food and more toys than anyone else I knew. But in my home music was not played, books were not read, and decorative objects you'd be hard pressed to call "art" hung on walls. To be fair, my parents did take me to at least two big Broadway events--The Magic Show with Doug Henning and Dracula with Frank Langella--but seeing these didn't set me on fire.
Then, when I was twelve, we moved to a suburban town and it seemed all of my new friends' parents played music in their homes and had books on their shelves that they actually read and there were fine, unique, and often bizarre drawings and paintings and photographs hanging on walls.This was a new world to me.
A few of my friends played musical instruments, mostly guitar. That they were actually playing Neil Young songs right there in the same room with me thrilled me. I wanted to do that, too. So when I was old enough to drive I started taking guitar lessons. And I loved it. I dedicated myself to music for several years, studied classical guitar and a little jazz guitar; I practiced four to six hours a day and for a time I was a music major in college. During those years I thought the only thing I could possibly be in life was a musician. Nothing gave me a greater sense of fulfillment than turning a silent room into a room full of music. Devoting my time to anything else seemed insane.
That was my way in.
How I transitioned from musician to writer to writer-filmmaker is another story.
Photo by Mary Louise Geering.
David Licata and J. Walter Hawkes
performing "Girl from Ipanema" for their fellow artists at the Virginia
Center for the Creative Arts, March 2009.