The Tears of Mary

An old friend recently brought Oliver Schroer and his music to my attention (thanks Cam). I had the good fortune to catch the beautiful documentary "Oliver Schroer: Silence at the Heart of Things" on the Knowledge Network (http://www.knowledge.ca/program/oliver-schroer-silence-at-the-heart-of-things), and was really moved by what I experienced watching it.
Oliver was diagnosed with untreatable leukaemia in 2007, he died in 2008.
A few years before that, he undertook the "Camino de Santiago de Compostela" pilgrimage, a 1,000 km trek (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Way_of_St._James), and proceeded to play in the chapels and churches he encountered on his journey, recording his improvisations on a "portable recording studio" (his words).
However, this was not a trip made to "gather things," as Oliver said: “The main plan is really to walk a huge amount and to concentrate on that. I may do some playing or some recording of things along the way, but the focus is most definitely the walk.”
You can read his "El Camino" diary here: http://web.archive.org/web/20051223163828/http://www.oliverschroer.com/camino.htm
Peter Coffman took beautiful photos during that pilgrimage, several can be seen here: http://www.petercoffman.com/?albumid=1
After viewing the documentary, I immediately bought Oliver's "Camino" CD (http://borealisrecords.com/products-page/oliver-schroer/camino/) and had (still have) a journey of my own, listening to that essential music.
There's so much that could be said about the depth of Oliver's music, about its honest "simplicity" ("costing no less than everything..."), about its spirituality (as Cézanne said, "Art is religious, its aim is the elevation of thought"), but I find it more appropriate to pay tribute to Oliver's legacy by trying to serve it with "my" images.
Hence this piece.
People who know my work, who have read my articles, attended my lectures and/or have been students in my classes, know how little I care for "techno-plumbing," how little interested I am in displays of "smarts," and how much I respect -and am moved by- work done "by way of not-knowing."
Faced with the domination of the "life is a bitch and then you die" agenda, and the rule of conceptually driven "art," it is soul-lifting to encounter the music of Oliver Schroer and renew, through it, one's faith in humanity.
For me, there is a "before" and an "after" the discovery of Oliver Schroer and his music.
May he rest in peace (somehow, I believe he is).