news |
|
|
"You must never stop singing."
—Pope John Paul II 
|
REcENT NEWSJuly 27th, 2017
"My Bouncing Truck" is one of my top streaming songs for children. It's a fun, simple song that develops imagination. My son, Adrian, and I are almost done with our first music video for children, where we took our bouncing truck all around town.
Performed by Thomas (my son when he was 4 years old), and me. Filmed by Adrian Kohann |
The story behind this picture, part 1
November 15, 2016
On April 30th, 1979, as I walked to my University, I was hit by a drunk driver. My body was thrown into the air and then smashed into the ground. Pain beyond words soared throughout my entire body. I couldn't move. The pain became even stronger when paramedics picked me up and placed me on a stretcher. I was taken to an Army hospital. For the next 28 days I fought for my life. They put a metal rod through the femur bone above my knee and attached weights to it at the edge of my bed so that gravity would slowly pull my broken and dislocated hips into place. It was like somebody was breaking my bones over and over again. I was in the hospital for about 3 months, in constant pain and with constant flashbacks of a blue car appearing suddenly on my left side.
I did survive, but the 30th day of every April would make me very uncomfortable. Already on April 29th, the flashbacks would intensify and I would not want to leave the house. For the next couple of years, on April 29th, and 30th, I'd be curled up in my bed pretty much the whole two days.
So what does this story have to do with the picture above?
In 1981, the choir that I was a member of was invited to participate in the International Choir Festival in Sardinia, Italy. After that, we would come to Rome where we would sing for Pope John Paul II. We just didn't know exactly on what day. My family was thrilled—I'd get to see the first Polish Pope! Going to Italy was a huge deal then and a huge joy for all of us.
We were already in Sardinia when our choir Director announced to us our schedule; we would sing for the Pope John Paul II during the Holy Mass on—chills came through my body—April 29th. Everyone in the choir cheered with joy. Everyone but me. The flashback of the blue car appearing on my left became vivid again. I panicked.
The festival in Sardinia was wonderful. I made great friends and loved every second of my time there; singing, dancing in the streets, and experiencing the wonderful culture of the local people. Then the time came. We left for Rome. I tried not to think about that day on April 29th, but subconsciously I was very aware—my heart was pounding a little bit stronger than usual.
It was our only day in Rome. We were busy sightseeing and, as I was the only person who spoke some English, I was helping everybody with translations. Every question each choir member had, every souvenir that needed to be purchased—I was torn left and right trying to translate for my friends. My leg was hurting more and more (the pain I will have for pretty much my whole life). By the time we were sightseeing at the Vatican, I was completely exhausted, yet I kept going. After all, the whole choir depended upon me. I think that I was subconsciously pushing myself harder, not taking breaks, just so I wouldn't have time to think. Suddenly I started feeling really weak. Everything was becoming darker. The loud noise of the crowds of tourists was becoming more and more distant. I felt that I couldn't breathe. I saw the blue car on my left... and that was the last thing I remembered. A few hours later, I woke up in a dark room. I didn't know where I was. ...To be continued.
On April 30th, 1979, as I walked to my University, I was hit by a drunk driver. My body was thrown into the air and then smashed into the ground. Pain beyond words soared throughout my entire body. I couldn't move. The pain became even stronger when paramedics picked me up and placed me on a stretcher. I was taken to an Army hospital. For the next 28 days I fought for my life. They put a metal rod through the femur bone above my knee and attached weights to it at the edge of my bed so that gravity would slowly pull my broken and dislocated hips into place. It was like somebody was breaking my bones over and over again. I was in the hospital for about 3 months, in constant pain and with constant flashbacks of a blue car appearing suddenly on my left side.
I did survive, but the 30th day of every April would make me very uncomfortable. Already on April 29th, the flashbacks would intensify and I would not want to leave the house. For the next couple of years, on April 29th, and 30th, I'd be curled up in my bed pretty much the whole two days.
So what does this story have to do with the picture above?
In 1981, the choir that I was a member of was invited to participate in the International Choir Festival in Sardinia, Italy. After that, we would come to Rome where we would sing for Pope John Paul II. We just didn't know exactly on what day. My family was thrilled—I'd get to see the first Polish Pope! Going to Italy was a huge deal then and a huge joy for all of us.
We were already in Sardinia when our choir Director announced to us our schedule; we would sing for the Pope John Paul II during the Holy Mass on—chills came through my body—April 29th. Everyone in the choir cheered with joy. Everyone but me. The flashback of the blue car appearing on my left became vivid again. I panicked.
The festival in Sardinia was wonderful. I made great friends and loved every second of my time there; singing, dancing in the streets, and experiencing the wonderful culture of the local people. Then the time came. We left for Rome. I tried not to think about that day on April 29th, but subconsciously I was very aware—my heart was pounding a little bit stronger than usual.
It was our only day in Rome. We were busy sightseeing and, as I was the only person who spoke some English, I was helping everybody with translations. Every question each choir member had, every souvenir that needed to be purchased—I was torn left and right trying to translate for my friends. My leg was hurting more and more (the pain I will have for pretty much my whole life). By the time we were sightseeing at the Vatican, I was completely exhausted, yet I kept going. After all, the whole choir depended upon me. I think that I was subconsciously pushing myself harder, not taking breaks, just so I wouldn't have time to think. Suddenly I started feeling really weak. Everything was becoming darker. The loud noise of the crowds of tourists was becoming more and more distant. I felt that I couldn't breathe. I saw the blue car on my left... and that was the last thing I remembered. A few hours later, I woke up in a dark room. I didn't know where I was. ...To be continued.
The story behind this picture, Part 2
March 12, 2017
It took me a while to realize what had happened. I must have fainted. I vaguely remembered somebody helping me walk back to the place where we were staying, and put me in my bed. I fell asleep. When I woke up it was already later in the day. The brightness of that sunny day was starting to fade.
"Yes, I should get up and try to make it. Yes, I should..." yet, the uncomfortable feeling started crawling in... April 30th.
"No, I better stay here," I decided. I was glad I was in bed. It felt safe. There was only one problem: What will I tell my mother? "Oh, sorry Mom, I didn't see the Pope because I wanted to stay in bed? No, no, I can't do this to my mom. I've got to go, I eventually concluded. I put on my light blue jacket and walked out of my room. It didn't even cross my mind to put on my choir uniform. My heart was pounding. I was scared. Yet, I kept walking. Despite the pain in my leg, I kept moving forward. Soon I made it to St. Peter's square, but the crowds still seemed endless.
"There is no way I will be able to get to the front of this enormous crowd," I thought. "I'll just stand here and watch the Pope from far away."
Yet, suddenly some strength, like a magnet, started pulling me in.
"No, I am here. I have to make it." I started pushing myself into the crowd, desperately squeezing between people. A couple of times the guards stopped me but I pleaded, "Io cantare. Io cantare!" I sing. I sing. I was exclaiming in my broken Italian. Somehow, they kept letting me pass through the different sections. Toward the front, the crowds were almost impossible to walk through. People were so crowded together that there was no way I could squeeze through. But I wasn't giving up. Inch by inch I was still moving forward. Finally I was able to see my choir. "I am here!" I yelled. My conductor saw me. She started waiving her hands for me to get there faster. There was absolutely no way to squeeze through. My conductor pleaded to the people, "Please, please, I need her here." Suddenly I felt my body raised above the crowd. People lifted me above their heads and passed me all the way to the front, where my conductor welcomed me with joy. I started moving in the direction of my place in the sopranos, but she stopped me. "We have a problem," she said. I saw a strong sign of concern on her face. To be continued...
It took me a while to realize what had happened. I must have fainted. I vaguely remembered somebody helping me walk back to the place where we were staying, and put me in my bed. I fell asleep. When I woke up it was already later in the day. The brightness of that sunny day was starting to fade.
"Yes, I should get up and try to make it. Yes, I should..." yet, the uncomfortable feeling started crawling in... April 30th.
"No, I better stay here," I decided. I was glad I was in bed. It felt safe. There was only one problem: What will I tell my mother? "Oh, sorry Mom, I didn't see the Pope because I wanted to stay in bed? No, no, I can't do this to my mom. I've got to go, I eventually concluded. I put on my light blue jacket and walked out of my room. It didn't even cross my mind to put on my choir uniform. My heart was pounding. I was scared. Yet, I kept walking. Despite the pain in my leg, I kept moving forward. Soon I made it to St. Peter's square, but the crowds still seemed endless.
"There is no way I will be able to get to the front of this enormous crowd," I thought. "I'll just stand here and watch the Pope from far away."
Yet, suddenly some strength, like a magnet, started pulling me in.
"No, I am here. I have to make it." I started pushing myself into the crowd, desperately squeezing between people. A couple of times the guards stopped me but I pleaded, "Io cantare. Io cantare!" I sing. I sing. I was exclaiming in my broken Italian. Somehow, they kept letting me pass through the different sections. Toward the front, the crowds were almost impossible to walk through. People were so crowded together that there was no way I could squeeze through. But I wasn't giving up. Inch by inch I was still moving forward. Finally I was able to see my choir. "I am here!" I yelled. My conductor saw me. She started waiving her hands for me to get there faster. There was absolutely no way to squeeze through. My conductor pleaded to the people, "Please, please, I need her here." Suddenly I felt my body raised above the crowd. People lifted me above their heads and passed me all the way to the front, where my conductor welcomed me with joy. I started moving in the direction of my place in the sopranos, but she stopped me. "We have a problem," she said. I saw a strong sign of concern on her face. To be continued...
The story behind this picture, Part 3
August 1, 2017
Now, it is time to tell you about Margaret. Margaret was a nineteen-year-old beautiful girl with pretty sapphire eyes, and a perfect soprano voice. She was the main soloist of our choir and the daughter of our conductor. At every performance we ever did, Margaret always sang solo. I was the back up soloist. I had to learn all the solos, practice them at rehearsals, but I never performed at any of our concerts. Margaret was always the one. I didn't think much of it. Other choir members would tell me that I was too humble, that it was not fair that I never got to sing solo, but I was OK with it. Maybe somewhere deep inside I wished I could sing at least once, but my fear of making a mistake or being too nervous was stronger than this hidden wish, so I never asked about it. I liked Margaret's voice more anyway. This day everything was about to change.
Our conductor seemed to be so happy when she saw me.
"Liliana, thank God you are here," she sighed with a sense of relief. "Can you sing?"
Apparently, for some reason, Margaret was unable to sing.
The music was about to begin. "Liliana, can you sing solo now??" I heard again.
My heart pounded stronger. I was out of breath from all the climbing and pushing through the crowds. "What did she just say?" I saw the choir members looking at me with anticipation. This was one of those moments where despite all the noises outside, everything suddenly seemed silent. It seemed as if one second could determine my entire life. I heard my own heartbeat, and then my own voice saying:
"Yes."
Suddenly, I was surrounded by the biggest circle of microphones I ever saw. I couldn't see the end of the crowds. The music was about to start. I saw the Pope lifting his head up from his deep prayer. He was waiting. The conductor lifted her hand. The music began. The whole choir started singing the first verse of the beautiful Italian song, Deo Del Cello. Basses, Tenors, Altos and Sopranos filled the entire air of the Vatican Square. I usually sang the first verse with the sopranos, but there I was, standing up front, trying to catch my breath. I was so dumbfounded. The second verse begins where the choir just hums, and the soloist is supposed to start. The conductor looked at me with hope in her eyes.
Before I knew it, I heard my own voice spreading all over, and echoing back to me, singing this beautiful song. It was one of the most wonderful experiences I have ever encountered. The crowds were so huge, yet I heard no noise, only one voice singing, and praising God in this breath-taking song.
After the ceremony, another miracle happened. The Pope would come to meet us. The whole choir, except for me, was dressed in our formal choir outfits. Yet, our conductor handed me the flowers. "Liliana, you give them to the Pope," she whispered.
Seconds later, there he was, standing right next to me, talking to me.
I was never sure if I should be singing or not. I didn't think I was good enough. I was criticized a lot before. I knew I wasn't perfect. Yet, at the end of our conversation, Pope John Paul II, as if he knew how I felt, held me, and I knew he would say something profound. I will never forget this moment. Here he was, this incredibly important man, and yet, he made me feel like I was the important one, like I was the only thing that mattered at that time... He said:
"You must never stop singing."
Then came the time for the picture. We turned to the camera. He was holding my hand. He turned to me once again and said jokingly: "And by the way, next time, don't forget your clothes." Snap! The photo was taken. My response? You can see it on my face in the picture.
From that point on, April 29th was no longer a terror for me. I always remember that day, but it is so different now. Not just pain but also happiness. Not just a shadow, but also a light. Not just a fear but also a HOPE, a hope that, no matter how hard it is at times, at the end there will always be LIGHT.
Now, it is time to tell you about Margaret. Margaret was a nineteen-year-old beautiful girl with pretty sapphire eyes, and a perfect soprano voice. She was the main soloist of our choir and the daughter of our conductor. At every performance we ever did, Margaret always sang solo. I was the back up soloist. I had to learn all the solos, practice them at rehearsals, but I never performed at any of our concerts. Margaret was always the one. I didn't think much of it. Other choir members would tell me that I was too humble, that it was not fair that I never got to sing solo, but I was OK with it. Maybe somewhere deep inside I wished I could sing at least once, but my fear of making a mistake or being too nervous was stronger than this hidden wish, so I never asked about it. I liked Margaret's voice more anyway. This day everything was about to change.
Our conductor seemed to be so happy when she saw me.
"Liliana, thank God you are here," she sighed with a sense of relief. "Can you sing?"
Apparently, for some reason, Margaret was unable to sing.
The music was about to begin. "Liliana, can you sing solo now??" I heard again.
My heart pounded stronger. I was out of breath from all the climbing and pushing through the crowds. "What did she just say?" I saw the choir members looking at me with anticipation. This was one of those moments where despite all the noises outside, everything suddenly seemed silent. It seemed as if one second could determine my entire life. I heard my own heartbeat, and then my own voice saying:
"Yes."
Suddenly, I was surrounded by the biggest circle of microphones I ever saw. I couldn't see the end of the crowds. The music was about to start. I saw the Pope lifting his head up from his deep prayer. He was waiting. The conductor lifted her hand. The music began. The whole choir started singing the first verse of the beautiful Italian song, Deo Del Cello. Basses, Tenors, Altos and Sopranos filled the entire air of the Vatican Square. I usually sang the first verse with the sopranos, but there I was, standing up front, trying to catch my breath. I was so dumbfounded. The second verse begins where the choir just hums, and the soloist is supposed to start. The conductor looked at me with hope in her eyes.
Before I knew it, I heard my own voice spreading all over, and echoing back to me, singing this beautiful song. It was one of the most wonderful experiences I have ever encountered. The crowds were so huge, yet I heard no noise, only one voice singing, and praising God in this breath-taking song.
After the ceremony, another miracle happened. The Pope would come to meet us. The whole choir, except for me, was dressed in our formal choir outfits. Yet, our conductor handed me the flowers. "Liliana, you give them to the Pope," she whispered.
Seconds later, there he was, standing right next to me, talking to me.
I was never sure if I should be singing or not. I didn't think I was good enough. I was criticized a lot before. I knew I wasn't perfect. Yet, at the end of our conversation, Pope John Paul II, as if he knew how I felt, held me, and I knew he would say something profound. I will never forget this moment. Here he was, this incredibly important man, and yet, he made me feel like I was the important one, like I was the only thing that mattered at that time... He said:
"You must never stop singing."
Then came the time for the picture. We turned to the camera. He was holding my hand. He turned to me once again and said jokingly: "And by the way, next time, don't forget your clothes." Snap! The photo was taken. My response? You can see it on my face in the picture.
From that point on, April 29th was no longer a terror for me. I always remember that day, but it is so different now. Not just pain but also happiness. Not just a shadow, but also a light. Not just a fear but also a HOPE, a hope that, no matter how hard it is at times, at the end there will always be LIGHT.
Click here to subscribe to Liliana's newsletter
|
|
|
Today my book was at the Museum of Agriculture...
December 1st, 2016
Today my book was at the Museum of Agriculture. It was a special day that set the mood for Christmas. I want to thank all the people that bought my book and gave me such a positive feedback! Official release will be April 26th, 2016 (my birthday) (:-) 
|
|
female Power rock ballads from the 80s and 90s
just one more nightI wrote this rock ballad in 1989, recorded in 1992. Guitars are played by Vic Johnson (Sammy Haggard's guitar player).
April 26, 2016 OK, so today is the day... As I am rebuilding my life... as I am remembering my passions... the first of my rock songs written in 1989 (yes, the year Taylor Swift was born) and recorded in 1992, is out on iTunes, YouTube, Amazon and CDBaby! (Please, if you don't like power rock ballads, don't listen to this (:-). My sons were so surprised when they heard this song after years of listening to my lullabies, which as you know are calm, and which I sing softly. They were shocked that I used to sing with so much power. I promised them I would put it out on iTunes one day... Vic Johnson, an amazing guitarist who is currently Sammy Hagar's guitarist, plays with me on that song. |
|
Filming MUSIC VIDEO "As My vision keeps improving"
January 18th, 2015
Filming Music Video to "As My Vision Is Improving."
On my "home" page, under the video with the song As My Vision Keeps Improving, I wrote that I dreamed of making a music video to this song some day. That day came. Today I finished editing and you can see it here on my site under Video & Film.
|
|
filming A fun commercial for Newgy's Robo-pong
November 20th, 2014 Filming a fun commercial for Newgy's Robo-Pong
Here is our first commercial/short film for Newgy's Robo Pong, a table tennis robot, that I also have at home, and I am addicted to! ( I do play and love modern table tennis!)
You can also see it on Newgy's Robo Pong Youtube Channel, or to learn more about Robo Pong click HERE.
Recording song for Newgy's Robo pong commercial
November 20, 2014
Here is a ROUGH version of the song I wrote for the commercial I produced for Newgy. For now it is just me playing guitar and singing. We found a perfect singer for the part, Don Gatlin, and the recording is almost done. I'll post it it here soon.
Below is a picture of Don Gatlin of Savanah Jack, recording our first Robo-Pong song for Newgy's commercial. To hear more of Don Gatlin and his wonderful band, go to http://www.savannahjack.com/
|
|
our first attempt to make animation of my drawing
September 2014
our First LITTLE Animation of my drawing!
I wanted to have some kind of logo for ending my short YouTube videos, and so I asked my son, Julian, for help. I thought it would be just a nice font with a sunrise or something like that, but Julian insisted on using my own drawing. He wanted it to be a tree and then a bird would fly out of it. He wanted me to draw a bird in different flying positions. I didn't want to do it as I have never done anything like that and I knew that it would take a massive amount of time. My son would not take "no" for an answer. He gave me a rough outline of different bird flying positions, and there it is—It is so amazing to see my little drawing move! Thank you, Julian! Now I can't stop thinking how nice it would be to have a little animated film, or if I could dream big—BIG PIXAR MOVIE! |
|
our first short film receives a special talent recognition from sundance film festival, 2011
Our first film! My three sons (Julian 8, Adrian 6, Thomas 4) and I worked so hard on the stop animation scene where our hero, Jake, is running to save the lady from the dangerous criminal! It took us about two months to make this short film, hundreds and hundreds of pictures, hours of me lying on the floor with a camera, and endless time of my boys manipulating their little lego hero!
How often do we judge others and different situations without really seeing the whole picture? Have you ever been accused unfairly? Or have you judged yourself unfairly? If you tell yourself, "I can't," "I'm lazy," "I'm a failure," most likely you are jumping to conclusions and you are not judging yourself fairly. Liliana's quest for creative ways to pass this knowledge to her children resulted in this fun short film, The Moral. Watch how cleverly the older brother teaches his younger brother this valuable lesson. He tells the story of Jake. The tension begins when Jake is about to witness a murder... As in many of Liliana's writings there is a twist at the end of a story, watch carefully as you are surely set for a surprise!
Winner of Steeple Players Independent Film Festival, this film received special talent recognition from Sundance Film Festival, 2011. To watch on YouTube click below:
YouTube  PICTURES AND CREDITS
   From the top left:
1. Julian Kohann (Editing), Christopher Conrad (Father), Ula Wojciechowska (Mother), Adrian Kohann (Older Brother) below: Thomas Kohann (Younger Brother) celebrating the premiere in Steeple Players Theater 2. Adrian and Thomas Kohann (the "mafia" brothers) 3. Thomas, Liliana and Adrian Kohann    From left to right: 1. Adrian and Julian working on editing voice overs. 2. Julian, editing and stop action animation. 3. Thomas in the studio, editing sound effects. |
|
US Olympic trials, 2012
February 9, 2012 I participated in US Olympic Trials in Table Tennis. The Trials were in Cary, North Carolina. I did it to break my fear, my pride, and to experience what really modern table tennis is all about. It was an amazing experience, both: terrifying and wonderful! I did have a chance to be #12. Only thirteen women were competing (:-). But I worked really hard to get ready. I trained in Newgy Robo-Pong club, with a wonderful coach Roger Dixon. Newgy club is now temporarily closed, I feel homeless! It was a place where my youth was being re-experienced, my potential as an athlete re-discovered, and the sport of Table Tennis re-defined!
Challenge, and fun, fun, fun! 
|
|
gratitude for children
June 26, 2015
On June 1st, 2015 I finished the first lyric video of one of my songs I sang for my children when they were little. This is a great step in rebuilding my life after a number of hard years... remembering that despite all, I was always a loving, compassionate, and fully devoted mother. In this song/video I express my gratitude for my children, and for all that life brings,
"...for the things yet to come, for loving and learning and this child in my arms..." 
|
|
red wine polka
July 2014
I am currently working on recording couple of my songs with some wonderful Bluegrass musicians from Nashville, TN. Below is Red Wine Polka in a pre-mastered form. Still making sure that the mix is balanced, etc. I am putting these out temporarily to get feedback from friends.
|
Below are short videos of recording my adult contemporary ballads with special musicians:
|
1. "Loving you". after so many years... such an emotional day...
I always dreamed of having at least one CD where I would not have to worry about the budget, and just be able to work with a great producer. I also dreamed of having at least one time experiance of singing one of my songs with an orchestra... Oh, sure, and another dream off having one of my love ballads in a great movie. (So far I do have Samba, Polka and a Rock'n Rall in motion picture)
But for now I do have to worry about the budget as I have to pay for everything myself. After many years of not being able to do any of my adult contemprary music, I was able to come up with some budget. Robert White Johnson (Writer, producer, Celine Dion, Lynyrd Skynyrd) was kind enough to work with me. We would have two songs with keyboard's string arrangements by Jimmy Nichols (Reba Mcentire, Faith Hills), but due to my budget limitations we chose to omitt drums, bass, and what I really loved—a cello. Despite all these limitation, I think we have something really good. Robert is absouletely wonderful, and I am so grateful for all the input, great work, and encouragement (God knows I needed that), and for coming up still with such a good production despite my budget limitations. He has a true gift. For so mnay years I couldn't record my own songs in my own recording studio... It is complicated why, and I'll share more in my book. But in this video you will see my first day in the studio recording recording my love song. Not only I was so emotional that I finally had courage to do it but I was also recording quite an emotional songs for me. So here it is, a day in the studio with pianist, Jason WEBB, and producer Robert White Johnson. We are working on a song, Loving You, preparing for recording.
|
|
|
.
