I don't know much about classical music and I've never attempted to expand on that. I know that I like piano music and I know the greats like Beethoven and Mozart but, in the Western world, you'd have to have been living under a rock not to know those people. I don't know their music, though. My one and only true classical love affair has been with Claude Debussy's Clair de Lune. It is my definition of beauty. When we talk about such things we often refer to the tangible, but I believe that this is the sound beauty makes. The first time I heard it I imagined water, water from a brooke approaching new territory, nimbly finding it's way through a trial of jagged rocks. It slowly and tirelessly made those rocks into supple stones. It did so elegantly but with tenacity, never yielding. In the subsequent times I've listen to this piece I've discovered the wild through my mind's eye; a dense, overwhelmingly green forest that dazzles the eyes while humming the tunes of trickling freshwater into your ears.
I just finished watching Tokyo Sonata... I wasn't in love. The parents where morons, the elder brother was a flake, I only truly empathised with the youngest son who had to live in that lunacy. I once had a dream of playing the piano but I knew my parents couldn't afford it so I never brought it up, but this kid did. When they said 'no' he found a way to have his opportunity regardless. I admire his courage. The kid turns out to be a prodigy according to his teacher but it is not until the very last scene that we experience this. He was the films saving grace.
He performed Clair de Lune by Debussy, he played it perfectly. Exactly like my Francois-Joel Thiollier copy. He commanded my attention as well as his audience's. Not only was he beautiful, in that moment, but he created beauty with his tiny adolescent hands. He made me see that forest. Now, at 01:49 am, I'm wondering if I should let go and start creating my beauty...
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