What fun!

Dancers At The Train Station

Where were all those appreciative people when Joshua Bell needed them?

In Belgium, that's where!

The Situation

At a Washington, DC Metro Station on a cold January morning in 2007, this man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about forty-five minutes.  During that time, approximately two thousand people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.

After about three minutes, a middle-aged man noticed that there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds, and then hurried on to meet his schedule.

About four minutes later:

The violinist received his first dollar. A woman threw money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.

At six minutes:

A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.

At ten minutes:

A three-year-old boy stopped, but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. This action was repeated by several other children, but every parent, without exception, forced their children to move on quickly.

At forty-five minutes:

The musician played continuously. Only six people stopped and listened for a short while. About twenty gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32.

After one hour:

He finished playing and silence took over. 

There was no recognition at all. 

No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3-5 million. Two days before, Joshua Bell had sold out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100 each to sit and listen to him play the very same music.

This is a true story. 

Joshua Bell, playing incognito in the DC Metro Station was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities.  

The experiment raised several questions:

• In a commonplace environment, at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty?
• If so, do we stop to appreciate it?
• Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?

One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this: 

If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made . . . how many other things are we missing as we rush through life?

I received the preceding story via email and it seems of profound significance to me. 

Not only is it good to count the blessings that we have lying in piles around us, but it would be good, too, to keep an eye out for the unexpected gift of beauty . . . when and where we least expect it.

Suh-WEET Baby James!

Husband said, this morning, something about "sailing away," and James Taylor started singing "Riding on a Railroad" in my head. From there I went on, in my head, to other James Taylor songs from my youth.  Now I'm stuck in an early '70s James Taylor mood. Dangerous mood, this: I was not a happy young woman. So I'll focus on the videos.

Good lord, was there ever a better-looking man than James Taylor? Maybe my father . . . the proportions of their faces are very similar.

Look at that Sweet Baby James album cover. Those sensitive lips, those deep-set penetrating eyes. The eyelashes! Even the unibrow...     

He's grooming out those between-the-brows extra hairs now, or maybe that's been a benefit of his general hair loss.

I read a J.T. biography and the author kept referring to his "nasal voice." He doesn't sound nasal to me. He sounds mellow and velvet. 

'Ceptin' when he sing blues. Then he soun' dif'rent, mm-hmm...

I don't think there's anything he could sing that wouldn't mesmerize me.

I saw him perform, years ago, in a local historic theater. One of the first comments he made was that it was nice to be playing in a place that was built for the playing of music. As he spoke, he glanced here and there, up to the ceiling. He didn't move his head much, moved not much more than his lips and his eyebrows. With that prominent occipital ridge and nose, and the controlled movement, he has a hawkish look. 

Look at those cheek and lip muscles when he sings, "Oh, Mexico..."

As the music grew more lively during the concert, he began to tap his foot and bounce at his knees. His loose trousers hanging and flowing from his butt to his heels...  

By the time we all got to Steamroller Blues . . . oh my...

I would like to see him again in concert, but I'm not sure I can do the concert thing anymore. On the other hand . . . something small and private...