It's my tenth time here, but the first as part of an entourage. I am here with a group from Lincoln Center, and my charge is to film a set of Cuban musicians preparing for a trip to New York, where they will play on the same stage as Joshua Bell, one of the finest violinists of his generation. The Cubans' journey was seeded this past April, when Joshua, Dave Matthews, Smokey Robinson and Usher journeyed with President Obama's delegation of artists to Havana. They jammed with Cuban musicians and when Joshua returned, he began planning a collaboration which he hoped would take place in New York. Six months later, the date has arrived—Joshua will be joined onstage at Lincoln Center by the same artists he met in Havana last April.

The musicians include Aldo Lopez-Gavilán, one of the subjects of our film, TWO BROTHERS, his wife Daiana Garcia, one of the island's finest young conductors, and the singer-songwriter Carlos Varela. Last night we filmed the final rehearsal of Daiana's Chamber Orchestra of Havana, nearly all-female, in the beautiful courtyard of Cocina de Lilliam, a family-run restaurant in Havana's Playa neighborhood. It was great to see Daiana up close; her energy is high, she brings Cuban rhythms and inflections to her work, and she has assembled an ensemble that reflects the island's variety of skin tones.

Daiana Garcia, one of the island’s finest young conductors.

Our crew meeting took place over dinner at another restaurant, and included some of my oldest Cuban pals, many of whom are notable filmmakers and artists. Two visionary cinematographers—Roberto Chile, who filmed Fidel Castro on nearly 70 international trips, meeting every foreign leader from Mandela to Khadafi (he loved the former, didn’t trust the latter), Rafael Solis, who works in both documentary and fiction; Figa, our excellent sound recordist who just converted his childhood bedroom into one of Cuba’s first 5.1 studios, Ivan Soca, photographer and subject of our film, THE LENS, Claudia Maria Bueno, our favorite local producer, and Javier Rojas, our driver and dear friend. It’s a dream team, and we spent dinner catching up on our families’ news and planning the next day’s shoot.

Met with two of my favorite artists today to continue a dialogue about our series. Mabel Poblet had several pieces in last year’s Havana Biennale, and her work is striking. She did several pieces with incarcerated women called, “Simple Beauty.” She told me how lucky she felt to be born an artist in Cuba, rather in the US, where it is so hard for artists to earn a living. Kadir Lopez-Nievesdoes mixed-media work about history and memory, often mounted on old porcelain signs left by American companies (Esso, Texaco, Wells Fargo, etc) and shot up by rebels during the revolution. Both are interested in participating in our series.

*Rubrik's presidents, work by Kadir López.*

We started filming the preamble to Los Rollings the morning of the concert. The line was quite short—don’t they know that they should line up for 3 days and hold a bacchanale while waiting? Apparently not. There were a few hundred people in two lines, clearly enjoying themselves, but not unruly. They were in their 60s and teens, pierced and clean-cut, Cuban British, American, German, Mexican. Our conversations with them were quite moving—this was a historic moment, the first big show in the history of Cuba, whom had once banned the music. It was both a reflection and an announcement of the change taking place. David Blanco, one of the most well-known pop/rock musicians here, described it as an opening , a bridge builder. Of course, they want more concerts, but he was expressing more than that. A man in his 60s told me that this indeed was their Woodstock.

*Our crew waits for the concert to begin. (L to R) Ernesto Granado, Javier Figueroa, Ivan Soca and our own Ken Schneider.*

A very nice lady and her mom who live across the street from the venue invited us to her rooftop perch, where we set up a camera to capture 2 PM--the moment when the gates opened and Cuba poured in. I was on the ground filming, and it was exuberant. I spent the next six hours conversing, with and without the camera, and the pulse of Cuba beats pretty well today. A large (estimates were 500,000) but civil and polite crowd—people gently touching my shoulder if they needed to move past me, no strung-out people, little overt drunkenness. And tremendous enthusiasm, with an understanding of both the gravity and joy of the moment.The two port-a-potties on my side of the field could have used help though, like another dozen. I imagine that Los Rollings brought them in, as the Cuban version was a rusted stall placed every few hundred yards on the street.

Mick and the boys are quite incredible in their early 70s. They still put on quite the show, although the voices are not what they once were. For me the music was fun (they did play a few of my favorite Stones tunes, and even threw in “You Got the Silver” when they needed a rest on stage), butthe event was spectacular. And, by the way, free. And therein lies the rub. More bands will certainly come; they are already lining up. Will they too give free concerts? Or will future concerts rely on a middle and upper class to pay for tickets? Change here is inevitable, and the creating of said classes is already underway. Many Cubans I talk to embrace that aspect of the change—at least the creation of a middle class. But yesterday I saw a broad swath of el pueblo, the Cuban people, in attendance. What happens if, next year, a band plays, and it costs $20 to attend?

Havana, We Meet Again

ART & ROCK N' ROLL