Piano Forte

Jul 28, 2009 at 2:17 AM
Aurora's skill with the piano has been improving dramatically lately.

I love to hear her improvising, gaining certainty, skill, playing Fur Elise or her favorite Rondino.

She even taught a few pieces to Harley while he was visiting.

I am glad. Also glad that it was without any poking or prodding. I hate it when parents try to turn their kids into something inappropriate, something totally unlike them. It just makes me happy when the girls do something artistic and from the heart.

So my cockles are all warmed up today from that. Very sweet.

It inspired me to sit and play for a minute. I did so, I played Bach and Handel, and a little Chopin. I forget, when I get all wrapped up in work, how much a simple 20 minutes of piano or drawing means to me.

How very much I need that moment of certain beauty that occurs just after the accomplishment of a piece and before the resonating strings within the wooden heart of the beast have ceased humming.

To me, every piano is a body suspended in sharp lack of a soul, achingly empty and waiting unknowningly to be brought to life by a practiced hand, for that delicate, aesthetic touch to bring forth what was always waiting to be born from within.

So when I must visit any place where a piano sits unmanned, unattended, and unavailable for playing, it brings a sense of loss, or futility and waste that hurts me in an urgent, foolishly strong way.

Last time I was at a fancy new hotel, I wandered into the marble lobby, with beautiful cornices, polished brass workings, and a lovely sitting area. And as I turned to look up the steps to the mezzanine, I saw the piano was there, a gorgeous baby grand, black, sleek, obviously in perfect condition and new. It was in the perfect spot for acoustically itting every part of that brilliant room.

A hush fell over my world and all outside noise drifted away. I knew exactly what piece I would play on this beauty.

And when I walked over to it, and began to lift the cover from the keys, I saw I could not budge it. There was a lock literally closing it like a vice to keep people like me from playing it.

You might as well place a canvas and brushes in your lobby - behind steel bars.

I was horribly dissappointed.

Does it seem as horribly rude to you as it does to me? Why provide a piano and refuse its beauty to the people who would play?

4 comments

  1. Mr.Pete. Says:

    that's just f'd up.

  2. Maybe to keep people with no talent like me from smacking the keys, but I'm sure for you they would have unlocked it :)

  3. Kat Says:

    I loved the song Aurora wrote. So beautiful. Even more beautiful was the way she beamed, truly happy, thoroughly proud of herself, when she finished it. It was a pleasure moment by contagion. I won't forget it.

  4. Mr.Pete. Says:

    In my last comment, I responded to the last things posted. I would now like to take the time to respond to the other earlier part of the post: Bravo!! Bellisimo!