Deep thinking, lots of music reflect Amy Jo Krise's life

Amy Jo Krise takes a selfie with her daughters, Katarina and Chloe.(Submitted photos)

This week the T-G caught up with local artist and mother Amy Jo Krise. If you have anyone you think would make for an interesting Sunday Conversation, email Sadie Fowler at sfowler@t-g.com.

T-G: You mentioned you grew up in California? At what age did you leave and how did you end up in Bedford County?

Krise: I left California when I was 15 years old. My parents were transferred with their job. In our area of California, jobs were scarce due to overpopulation. Simultaneously business doors were closing due to the cost of living increasing dramatically. I was concluding my sophomore year of high school, attending Monache High School. I thought I might die. Luckily, I survived.

T-G: Both your parents were musicians. Tell us a little bit about your relationship with music. You mentioned you play piano and fiddle, but have had some instances of stage fright. Where do you think that comes from and have you, or do you think you can, overcome it?

Krise: Music has always been there like a secret best friend. I can't imagine life without it. It reflects the entire spectrum of human experience. My dad used to sing and play for me when I was teeny-tiny and throughout the first years of my life. He made up a song about me that I can't remember, but I remember him singing it to me.

My Mom's dad and uncles were always playing music (guitar and fiddle). My mother was always an excellent singer. She sang in church, the church choir, and frequently in the shower. One time, my brother and I (his name is Austin) stood outside the bathroom window and howled like our Rottweiler. She seriously thought real dogs were howling. Of course, we were only teasing like two little snots, until we heard her start laughing and say "Oh my! I've got the dogs howling!!". We ran in the house all nonchalant. Such tricksters. She always sang beautifully, though, and knew how to take a joke.

My first experience with stage fright happened during a dance recital. I was maybe 6 or 7 and was performing a ballet number mixed with tap dance. I got on stage and realized I forgot my other ballet slipper. I awkwardly stayed on stage throughout the routine and pointed at my family in the audience until I was taken backstage by the assistant. "Expect the unexpected" could be my motto. Then there was the time I went to sing "Sweet Chariot" in church. I believe I whispered instead.

Krise took part in a color run in Nashville.

T-G: You said your fiddle's name is "Mystic." What's the story behind that name?

Krise: It was 2010, and I'd decided I wanted to learn a new instrument. I had some cash stashed away, and decided to hit the Record Shop. It was a toss-up between learning guitar and fiddle. I knew I'd get what I was supposed to get, and just threw it out there openly for the divine to step in if it was supposed to be (I literally do things like this regularly and leave it to fate, or destiny, God to decide), if anything was to be at all.

It just so happened the gentleman behind the counter had just had a customer bring in a fiddle complete with case and bow, all of it. It was a student fiddle. I didn't discriminate. It looked good and sounded good. I bought rosin and left with a fiddle that day. Her name is Mystic because of the mystical way we met. She's like a unicorn, only a fiddle.

Maybe it was coincidence to some, but to me, life is more interesting with meaning and myth infused into it.

Krise resembles a painting after participating in a color run event.

T-G: You said losing your father tragically at the age of 5 drastically altered your imagination. Could you elaborate on this? Do you feel imagination and art are important to overcoming tragedy?

Krise: My Dad died suddenly of a heart attack at age 31. I believe his loss enhanced my imagination in many ways. I had terrible dreams for a long time and bouts with sleepwalking and talking, some night terrors. I remember feeling a sense of him being with me, even though I couldn't see him. Possibly, it was how I coped. I was heartbroken. Everything became a message from him. It still does sometimes. I remember carrying a sense of vulnerability about my odd sensitivity and perception. Singing and music was kind of like a ritual to honor him, whether it be in my room or at church. I withdrew in school and became best friends with a young girl who lost her mom and sister in a car accident. Their van had gone into a canal. Her name was Stacey, and she understood. We understood each other.

It was my first taste of the lack of permanency in this world, and that fate won't skip one to move on to a more deserving person. We are the equal. If it weren't for the compensation of my imagination things may have turned out differently. I think that having something sacred to turn to is vital. Whether it be a hobby, a belief, an act, praying. Putting intense feelings into form so that they can change form is important. Turn it into a cause, or turn it into a masterpiece; your own masterpiece.

T-G: What's your favorite memory of your father?

Krise's father, Gerald "Gerry" Merlin Krise, plays his banjo on the trunk of a car while other family members join in.

Krise: My favorite memory is of laying on his lap while he sang to me, and played the drums on my knees. He was always thumping something.

T-G: You mentioned you studied black and white photography under Ken Preiser. Tell us a little about that experience. What was it like and what insight into photography did you gain?

Krise: I was swallowed by photography and the entire creative process. I have a tendency to focus intensely on certain things I enjoy, a little obsessively really. Photography was one of them. I began tutoring in the middle of the semester after assisting my classmates in understanding the process of development. I was still learning myself, however. I still learn new things about it. Especially with the ever increasing technology. My favorite photographers are Minor White for his simple but profound study of light and infrared photos, and Mary Ellen Mark for her unflinching capturing of humanity.

A picture can say a thousand things without a single word being spoken. It doesn't have to overly explain itself, like me.

T-G: You mentioned you were drawn to analytical psychology. What is it about that particular field of study that interests you so?

Krise: I feel a compelling need to understand what makes people tick along with an urge to define the inner essence of a person or moment. Depth psychology (analytic psychology) takes us to the root of our psyches through symbols, their meaning, and almost basic mythological inheritance. This fragments and shapes our lives for better or worse; through our own complexes to family demons that remain undifferentiated in a family's psyche for generations only to pop out of nowhere with their own special (yet inconvenient) timing.

There's meaning behind the black sheep of the family. They express what everyone else represses; they are like a mouthpiece for something much older. Like an inversion of a family blessing.

The more consciousness we have of ourselves, both the dark and the light, the less we project "out there" and this gives us more control in our lives. Not all, but more. Our personalities as well as experiences are shaped by this constant interaction between conscious and unconscious, and our inner characters have an inherent duality; this fascinates me. We truly contain opposites within ourselves.

"The brightest flame casts the darkest shadow." (George R.R. Martin)

T-G: You mentioned you take an active role in the Relay for Life events. How has cancer personally affected you?

Krise's mother, Lora Lee Carter Stolle, and Krise's grandfather, Orville "Sheriff" Carter, both of whom were influences to Krise.

Krise: At the ages of 12-14 I lost both maternal grandparents, Orville and Virginia Carter, and my paternal grandfather, Merlin Gerald Krise, to cancer. I also lost my great-grandmother, although not to cancer. It was as if generations of the most important people were swept away suddenly. My grandmother, Jean Krise, is a breast cancer survivor. She's an amazingly strong woman.

They are why I Relay.

T-G: How do you deal with grief?

Krise: I let it happen. I allow it to pull me down to the underworld. It's a part of living. I don't try to suppress it and I've learned that grief comes with many different faces. Ranging from a façade of "I'm just fine" to a primal rage to insomnia. Sometimes it is paralyzing. Sometimes, doing nothing is the best way to process grief. Personally, I have hidden away to grieve before. Being alone helps to hear what the inner world is saying. It also helps to find meaning in what is being experienced. This helps it to change form and move from the pit of your stomach.

T-G: Tell us a little about your children.

Krise: My daughters are Katarina and Chloe. They mean the world to me. Kat loves music to the point that it borderlines obsession. Chloe likes to draw and build incredible things from her imagination. Chloe has a sword called "Blood of Evils Bane", and Kat sings all day recording herself then perfecting her sound.

I love them both for who they are and the young women they may become. Most importantly, I want them to know they are loved and supported, and also that they must try to shape their dreams. Always. Even if it's to be a professional ice cream maker, but wear a business suit with hi-heels (this is Chloe's dream), or join the Air Force and simultaneously be the winner of "The Voice" (Kat's dream. She gets it from her grandmother).

One of Krise's paintings in progress titled, "Going Home."

T-G: If you could pick one person to interview, who would it be and why?

Krise: I can't just pick one. It wouldn't be honest. Lt. Joe Kenda and Candace Delong. I'm truly obsessed with forensic psychology, and wish to somehow involve analytic psychology with criminology. I can't imagine anything more painful than the agonizing ache of losing a loved one and not knowing what truly happened to them. I feel that understanding the psychology/psychopathy of individuals who commit such crimes holds the key to comprehending the unfathomable. Last (but not least) Jack White. I mean, where does he come from? How does he stay so in tune with the collective pulse? I love everything he does.

T-G: What's your idea of a perfect day?

Krise: It would be a day of good conversation that's deep and lighthearted at the same time. With a little bit of mystery and a lot of trees. Like a hike. I also love exploring old cemeteries, battlegrounds, and dilapidated houses. Even floating the river. I love to be outside.

T-G: What's you favorite song to play on the piano? How would you describe the song to a deaf person?

Krise: My favorite song would be I'll Fly Away, in a close tie with Moonlight Sonata, Beethoven's No. 14. Although my kids like it when I sit down and play "Mary had a Little Lamb" with intense drama and hair flinging. "Fly Away" would be a book of pictures portraying resurrection of the soul after the final death. The releasing of our individual cross to bear that we took on when incarnating. Like final emancipation. It says that life is a transient phase to another much more beautiful place. This song is an ode to the happiness that awaits on the other side.

Source: Deep thinking, lots of music reflect Amy Jo Krise's life