MUSIC & THE VISUAL ARTS

Last night we attended the Paducah Symphony Orchestra’s last concert of the season.  I have absolutely no knowledge or understanding of classical music, which puts me at a disadvantage when it comes to appreciating the scope and the nuances of the music.  But I can appreciate the passion it evokes in the listener and even more, the passion so clearly obvious in the musicians and the conductor, especially the conductor. 

The musicians were, for the most part, limited to facial expressions imposed upon them by their instruments of varying bulk.  But the conductor…his every emotion was betrayed by his body movements, and when visible, his face.  First he stood very still, and the orchestra was quiet, then his arms began to move gracefully in purposeful arcs and the music followed.  Suddenly the baton, an extension of his right hand began to bounce and gyrate, pulling his body along with them, and the music kept pace with every movement.   Here was an artist immersed in his work with such physical and emotional passion, and I was envious.

I can be engrossed in my work, sitting or standing; I may walk away momentarily and pace, which I do quite often.  But to be able to experience the sound and the physicality of my work… that is something else.  The best I can do is to have music blaring from a CD, Johnny Cash, Luciano Pavarotti, or maybe the Beatles.   OK…I have a confession to make.  On rare occasions when I am especially moved, I will actually dance (I insist on calling it dance) around the studio, but not until I have checked to see if Patience, or anyone else could see me.

That is the difference between a symphony conductor and a painter.  The conductor can let it all hang out in front of his audience.  The painter must be devious and sneaky.  That is my opinion and I’m sticking to it.

THINKING ABOUT MUSIC

Acrylic of violin

Music has the power to transport us to a different place, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.  Sometimes it is the lyrics and/or story, and other times the melody or the voice that takes us back in time by inciting vivid memories of people, places, and events.  But the results are the same; we am pulled into the world of the heart and soul and lifted above life’s daily fray.  I find comfort, inspiration, and encouragement when I allow the music to enter deep within me.

Music can transform loneliness into solitude, grief into sweet sadness, and hopelessness and despair into resolve and determination.  It can evoke memories, sad, and joyful; depending on the music and the circumstances, it can touch the entire range of our emotions.  It is now possible to arrange music into specific playlists to fit one’s current mood or circumstances.  I like to hear Pavarotti’s voice fill the room when I’m working in the studio or cooking pasta, even though I have no idea what he is saying.  Not only is he a silent (or not so silent) link to my mother, (she loved his music) but the sound of his voice seems to belong with my work.

I know nothing about the science of music and cannot discern or appreciate all the variations and nuances of the craft of making music.  My taste in music is very eclectic, determined almost entirely on the emotional response it evokes in me.  It is not unusual for me to be totally clueless regarding the lyrics in a song that I like, but this does not prevent me from enjoying the music by making up my own.

I have learned the value of taking the time to sit in the stillness of my room and allow myself = my soul – to bath in the music’s balm.

Uncle Tony and uncle Alfred

MUSIC & THE VISUAL ARTS

I don't usually do this but I have a 2nd post for today...

Last night we attended the Paducah Symphony Orchestra’s last concert of the season. I have absolutely no knowledge and/or understanding of classical music, which puts me at a disadvantage when it comes to appreciating the scope and the nuances of the music. But I can appreciate the passion it evokes in the listener and even more, the passion so clearly obvious in the musicians and the conductor, especially the conductor.

The musicians were of course limited to facial expressions imposed upon them by their instruments of varying bulk. But the conductor…his every emotion was betrayed by his body movements, and when visible, his face. First he stood very still, and the orchestra was quiet, then his arms began to move gracefully in purposeful arcs and the music followed. Suddenly the baton, an extension of his right hand began to bounce and gyrate, pulling his body along with them, and the music kept pace with every movement. Here was an artist immersed in his work with such physical and emotional passion, and I was envious.

I can be engrossed in my work, sitting or standing; I may walk away momentarily and pace, which I do quite often. But to be able to experience the sound and the physicality of my work… that is something else. The best I can do is to have music blaring from a CD, Johnny Cash, Luciano Pavarotti, or maybe the Beatles. OK…I have a confession to make. On rare occasions when I am especially moved, I will actually dance (I insist on calling it dance) around the studio, but not until I have checked to see if Patience, or anyone else could see me.

That is the difference between a symphony conductor and a painter. The conductor can let it all hang out in front of his audience. The painter must be devious and sneaky. That is my opinion and I’m sticking to it.