La Blogothèque

Vandaveer / Maps and Atlases : IC Silver Series

It had been a while since we’d last seen our friends and partners at Invisible Children, but lucky for us we were able to catch back up with them this past March, at SXSW in Austin, Texas.  In between throwing back cold Lone Stars (us) and educating local Austinians and musicians from far and wide about the situation in northern Uganda (Invisible Children), we took some time to reconnect in a random park not too far from the commotion of 6th Street and the heart of SXSW.  The two Take Away Shows that resulted were performed for and filmed as a part of Invisible Children’s Silver Series – 25 years of war in Northern Uganda, 25 years of SXSW festivities in Austin, Texas, and 25 artists contributing their time and their talent to support and promote it all.

Scattered with a few picnic tables and shaded only by a handful of trees lining a dried up creek, an empty pool in one corner, our meeting point at Palm Playground was more a slim expanse of land near I-35 than a place for children to run and play.  In an effort to hide from Austin’s afternoon sun, we made our way over to those trees, by that dried up creek.  Teased by a slight breeze and joined by a healthy collection of fans, we settled in on the grass for a little Maps & Atlases.  The voices were powerful, the sounds of guitars and drums and more guitar an excellent score for this afternoon, making us all forget how hot and tired we were and remember why it was we were here, at Palm Playground, in the first place.

Next we were joined by our good friends and La Blogotheque veterans Vandaveer.  Because our trusty spot under the trees was now old news, we found ourselves crawling under the chain link fence surrounding that empty pool, and hiding out in the deep end, under the shade of a big oak tree.  Amidst piles of dead leaves and a scattering of twigs, we looked on as Mark and Rose, accompanied by a gentle violin, performed “The Nature of Our Kind”.  Just for us, at that very moment, in the shaded deep end of that empty swimming pool.