Art Shirts

Marilyn art shirts (via Vistaprint). We have sold a few, but we mostly wear them ourselves and give them as gifts.

Some of our shirts.

Michael David

Marilyn has been involved with artist Michael David as mentor, advisor, sponsor, and gallerist, initially through his “Yellow Chair Salon”, and then through individual consultation and critiques, and recently through his sponsorship of her at the Outsider Art Fair and a show at his gallery, M. David & Co. at ArtCake in Brooklyn.

We paid him a visit at his home in Tivoli, as he was preparing a major exhibition of his new work, composed largely of broken mirrors. His bio is pretty extraordinary, including a period as bass guitar for the Plasmatics. An unusually generous soul (especially for a male artist).

Michael David, in his studio at Tivoli.

Marilyn, reflected in one of Michael’s mirror pieces.

"Jamie Raskin Oratorio" now on Vimeo

"The Jamie Raskin Oratorio" — World premiere, September 7, 2024 - A Washington Musica Viva Commission — featuring poetry by Anne Becker, adapted from United States Representative Jamie Raskin’s memoir, “UNTHINKABLE”, with original music by Noam Faingold. Performed by Anne Becker, poet, Chris Royal, trumpet, and Carl Banner, piano. Video courtesy of Church of the Ascension, Bailey Joy Myers, director of music.

(Uploaded to Vimeo, so without any ear-blasting irrelevant ads!)

Large paintings on foamcore

When we closed the Hyattsville storage unit last year, seven large paintings on foamcore from 1989 came home with us, too big to fit in our house, so we leaned them against the back wall of the carport, where they have been weathering for several months. Two of them we destroyed, and we will ultimately lose the others as well, but we decided to do a little video documentation before they disappear. (Yes, there were a few mosquitoes).

Music on the Cape

Mar saw a notice on a bulletin board for a happy hour gig with Chandler Travis, she googled, and we went to hear him. He plays at Caroline’s Restaurant in Eastham, acoustic, barefoot (multicolored toenails) and in shorts, with a beat-up old guitar. He has a regular circus of collaborators he calls the Chandler Travis Philharmonic.

We were very fortunate to get together with Ed and his twin granddaughters to read through Brahms Quartet in A Op. 26. The young ladies were reading it for the first time - they had never even heard the piece before!

Sublime Beethoven and Natural Beauty

One of our most popular Instagram videos. With Bonnie Thron, cello.

(Click on image to view)


Another former IG post that people seemed to enjoy.

Henriette Bosmans Sonata clip, Bonnie Thron, cello; Marilyn Banner art plus Cape Cod nature photos

Some Biographical Material

Mike Hummel wrote his 2007 American Studies doctoral thesis “Three American Artists at Midlife: Negotiating the Space Between Amateur and Professional Status”, using me as one of the “informants”. He interviewed me multiple times over 5 years and used transcripts of our conversations in his thesis. I find it really interesting to reflect back on what I had to say and how he interpreted it in the context of his research. These interviews lay out the trajectory of my professional life as a musician, whereas the recent memoir addresses almost exclusively my inner life. Here is the full document (by permission from Dr. Hummel).

Carl Banner, 1998

How I Overcame Stage Fright (somewhat ironic!)

I was an informant for Mike Hummel’s 2007 PhD thesis. This is an extract:

“As noted earlier, Carl was fiercely independent in his thinking about music, and because he had been living outside the musical “box” for so long, he had not had to accept limitations in terms of style and canon that others did to survive. Carl wanted back in, but on his own terms. He had his own ideas about music, forged initially during a decade of intense training in his youth, then slowly modified by influences and experiences both inside and outside the established classical musical world. A concert in Buffalo in his early twenties had been a pivotal experience:

MH: In terms of your musical education, when was the biggest part of your crisis? In your 20s? When did you become aware of the crisis?

CB: Well, I’ll tell you, the one critical memory. It was a series of events, really, but it was in Buffalo in late 1969 or early 1970. I was 21. I was performing in a fairly legitimate venue with a violinist from the Buffalo Symphony and he was a strait-laced Viennese. And we were playing some wonderful music but he played it absolutely cold. No emotion at all. And so, I was very…increasingly upset about it. And um, in those days, I was doing a lot of drugs and took mescaline, and uh…I thought for some reason I thought that I would take mescaline before the concert. And so, I got out there on the stage just as the drug was taking effect, and I felt like I’m playing something which is supposed to be music with this idiot, and the audience looked hostile to me, and I thought, ‘I don’t think so,’ and so I played one movement of the first piece and then I walked off the stage and told the people that I wasn’t feeling well and was going home. My friend, another musician, was backstage, was quite alarmed, and he said, ‘Look, why don’t you just take off your coat, because it’s hot.’ I was wearing a suit or a tux, I guess. So I went back out…he convinced me to go back out on the stage. By this time, I’m ‘tripping.’ So I said to myself ‘what do I have to lose, I’m gonna be absolutely there.’ So I played without…the concert completely full throttle out. The consequence was that I played real music, the violinist was completely beside the point, and the reviewer in the newspaper the next day commented on the contrast between the violinist’s “lack of depth of feeling” vs. the pianist’s “more impassioned playing, sometimes overpowering him.”

MH: Did you play with your Viennese “idiot” again?

CB: No, no. Fortunately, I never spoke with him again. But I learned something there that I really took to heart, which was that you could be way way out there and play music. Now for years after that I played most of my concerts stoned and it was only gradually that I realized that I had changed enough that I could risk going out on the stage straight.

MH: You could still get to the same place.

CB: Still get to the same place. It took awhile to convince myself that that would be the case, but it was like the crutch I didn’t need anymore. You know, I don’t tell this story to everybody. It’s not something I recommend. I don’t think that’s how you do it. It’s what helped me. It certainly calls into question artificial structures that you might have put together, and if those are in your way, you know, it gives you a handle on dismantling them.”