Today, in a little coffee shop in East Vancouver, I was inspired.
My cousin’s partner Jeff is an extremely gifted and accomplished composer. He has written music for over 75 dance, theater and film productions in Canada and abroad, and is an integral member of the Vancouver theater community.
Being, of course, that his work is largely done behind the scenes, it has been over 20 years since Jeff has actually performed for an audience. So when a friend who was opening a coffee shop in his neighborhood asked if he would play the piano at their grand opening, Jeff was hesitant. But he agreed.
So as the rain poured down today, a small crowd of people gathered in this little coffee shop – some there for the music, and some just lucky enough to have chosen this spot for their afternoon coffee or tea. Jeff fumbled over his notes and equipment, did a little nervous rambling, and humbly revealed that he was quite anxious to be playing in front of people again.
I was so inspired in that moment by his courage to get up there and do something that challenged him, that made him sweat, that probably made his heart beat a little harder, a little faster in his chest.
Of course, his passion for music is so obvious and once he got playing, he was in another world, and he took us all there too.
I am grateful for the reminder of how good performance art is for the soul. How important it is to turn the electronics off, leave the smart phone at home for an afternoon and go see a play, go to the ballet, listen to live music, go to a museum or an art gallery, or a poetry slam (Those are fun!).
And I am grateful for Jeff and his reminder to do the things that make our palms sweat and our hearts thump a little louder.
Ros,
Beautiful thoughts Ros; thank you. I feel so touched -and honored- that you chose to articulate this; it is a real gift for me to read.
Yes, it IS another world; and I am so lucky to have the means to regularly venture into it. Improvising (music) is an experience so intensely personal -almost egocentric- wherein the soul is not only felt… but celebrated.
And yes, such playing takes courage… but not because there is a chance one may not achieve a predetermined ‘state of grace’ (i.e. a perfect performance) …but because playing what you ‘love’ is an emotional, personal act… (one could even say ‘self-indulgent’)…
But as such, the stakes are higher; the rewards and dangers impact with the same intensity. When I am playing, it is entirely ABOUT me. The VEHICLE may be Brahms (and for me it quite often IS) but I am using it to not only express- but to CELEBRATE -what I feel.
…to EVERYBODY.
And (deep down…) the question I ask is always the same:
How valuable is this to someone else?
My heart doesn’t care about the answer. It is alive only when it is celebrating itself.
But my brain says:
“What your heart feels is not very valuable or even USEFUL to anyone else… what would be MORE impressive is if you played this Brahms PERFECTLY.”
But finally, this is obviously a black and white distinction. I would submit that this kind of ‘Impression’ is not a particularly transformative experience (for either the giver or receiver), it you put your marbles in the ‘perfection basket, there are only 2 outcomes:
1. Perfect (white)
2. Not Perfect (black)
There is no room for any other unknown phenomena.
But playing what you LOVE should be like MAKING love.
It IS making love.
There is a symbiosis between the improvisor (the player, his or her mind, body, soul …experience / memory / identity)… and the music he/she is PLAYING. The music changes in response to what it ‘hears from the musician… and vise versa. It is truly an act of symbiotic love.
And what I learned that day is that the WHOLE BEING belongs in that act (not just the brain).
Because of my Faustian desire to make it perfect, I stayed up until 4:00 am the previous night, writing out everything I was going to play ( and even what I was going to SAY when I wasn’t playing). My brain wasn’t prepared to listen to my heart (or even the ROOM for that matter) until after most people had gone. Only then, during a second set, did my brain finally give my heart some permission to explore.
After that first set, my brain was convinced it was a disaster; (typical of a dictator, it seems only to be interested in achievements that it can measure and/or qualify), but your message has duly reminded it of the Latin root of the word courage:
Cor – the heart.
Cheers, Jeff