Walnut Key of "A" Flute by Kay Harris (#015)

Walnut Key of "A" Flute
23 1/5"


$325.00


Kay Harris is one of those people who stays busy all the time. This guy is an extraordinary woodworker, musician, guide, outfitter and cattleman. Because of his outdoor lifestyle, Kay is a tad weatherworn and sunburnt, but his careful craftsmanship shows none of that kind of wear and tear. Kay’s flutes are a thing of beauty and have a range of tone from that of a whispering wind to the shrill of a song bird. His flutes are played and appreciated by several professional flutists of the Native American style, such as John Huling and Carlos Nakai.


Kay Harris





The Flutes:
Are patterned in the "Plains Indian" style, and made from hardwoods selected for their durability, unique grain, and natural beauty.





Care & Feeding of Flute:
Re-oil periodically with mineral oil. Break down totem assembly and clean brass with fine steel wool. Reassemble with beveled (a.) part of brass forward
















Kay Harris is a bit of sage, sand, river, wind and rock, worn and weathered by thirty years of navigating rivers, hiking canyons, and climbing sandstone cliffs in Southern Utah. His flutes are an expression of his love for the Earth.
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The front of the totem lines up with the back of the front hole. (b.) Retighten leather thong securely to avoid movement in totem assembly.

My "trademark" is the circle within a circle. The dark wood is the world we live in, the silver, the player of the flute. Placed off center it symbolizes our struggles in our journey from earth to sky. It is hoped that before we reach the sky, we move closer to center, having found harmony with all of life




There's a certain song when you are standing under a red rock overhang, and the rain dances down the canyon walls turning slickrock to obsidian, muting the mesas into a watercolor awash with the solitude and simplicity, the peace and the pause of the canyon lands. It is a song born of wind on rock, whispered by a hawk's wing on the wind, hummed by water washing over slickrock and danced on a red rock mesa when morning wakes. It is an old song. Old as grandfather canyons and the ancient ones who walked there. It is a borrowed song. A beautiful song. These flutes hold this song until you too, can sing it."
Shelley Porter