Support
Looper's Delight
|
Support |
|
|
great story... so was all that playing on a million dollar stradavarious.... monk on 8/15/01 10:03 AM, Tom Ritchford at tom@swirly.com wrote: > Here's a "gear" story. > > "On November 18, 1995, Itzhak Perlman, the violinist, came on > stage for a concert at Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center in New > York City. If you've ever been to a Perlman concert, you know that > getting on stage is no small achievement for him. He was stricken > with polio as a child, and so he has braces on both legs and walks > with the aid of two crutches. To see him walk across the stage, one > step at a time, very deliberately and slowly, is an event. He walks > painfully, yet majestically, until he reaches his chair. Then he sits > down, slowly puts his crutches on the floor, undoes the clasps on > his legs, tucks one foot back and extends the other foot forward. > Then he bends down and picks up the violin, puts it under his chin, > nods to the conductor, and proceeds to play. > > "By now the audience is used to the ritual. They sit quietly while > he makes his way across the stage to his chair; they remain > reverently silent while he undoes his clasps on his legs; they wait > until he is ready to play. > > "But this time something went wrong. Just as he finished the first > few bars, one of the strings on his violin broke. You could hear it > snap--it went off like gunfire across the room. There was no > mistaking what that sound meant. There was no mistaking what he > had to do. The people who were there that night thought to > themselves, 'We figured that he would have to get up, put on the > clasps again, pick up the crutches and amble his way offstage to > either find another violin or else find another string for this one.' > > "But he didn't. Instead, he waited a moment, closed his eyes, and > then signaled the conductor to begin again. The orchestra began, > and he played from where he had left off. And he played with such > passion and such power and such purity as they had never heard > before. Of course, anyone knows that it is impossible to play a > symphonic work with just three strings; I know that, and you know > that. But that night, Itzhak Perlman refused to know that. You > could see him modulating, changing, recomposing the piece in his > head. At one point it sounded like he was detuning the strings to > get new sounds from them that they had never made before. > > "And when he was finished, there was an awesome silence in the > room. And then people rose and cheered. There was an > extraordinary outburst of applause from every corner of the > auditorium. We were all on our feet, screaming and cheering, doing > everything we could to show how much we appreciated what he > had done. He smiled, wiped the sweat from his brow, raised his > bow to quiet us, and then he said--not boastfully, but in a quiet, > pensive, reverent tone-- 'You know, sometimes it is the artist's task > to find out how much music you can still make with what you have > left.' > > "What a powerful line that is! It has stayed in my mind ever > since I heard it. And who knows? Perhaps that's the way of life, not > just for artists, but for all of us. Here is a man who has prepared all > his life to make music on a violin of four strings, who all of a > sudden, in the middle of a concert, finds himself with only three > strings. So he makes music with three strings. And the music he > made that night with just three strings was more beautiful, more > sacred, more memorable than any that he had ever made before > when he had four strings. > > "So perhaps our task in this shaky, fast-changing, bewildering > world in which we live, is to make music--at first with all that we > have, and then, when that's no longer possible, to make music with > what we have left." > > Jack Riemer of the Houston Chronicle > > <http://ax.to/fortune>.........a new fortune every minute. > <http://FortNY.com>..................Forteans of New York. >