flutters of evening moon, a sliver.
Chagall Paris juggler. 1969. Oil on canvas. 115,5 x 89. Sotheby\'s. 05.05.09. Lot
this is stokowski/philadelphia version of clair de lune. kinda cheesy but nostalgically beautiful i think. apparently clair de lune made it huge by being part of the recent vampire saga, twilights or something. anyways.
last night was another friday concert in rolston hall, banff centre, alberta. funny enough, collaborative monkey was playing a solo piece, suite bergamasque by debussy. if you are wondering what it is about- well, i am sure you have heard at least a part of it at a certain point- that would be clair de lune.
mr. banffmagic has been here for two weeks now, and he is staying for another week. hooray. there are several different aspects of banff magic, but i say this man is the core of the magic for me. an amazing musician and a human being, i think his best gift is that he could make anyone feel hopeful about the next phase of- well, whatever it is, whether it be a personal challenges or musical obstacles, fill in your blank really. technically, he is still my boss, but whenever i see him i think im looking at a source of inspiration. he makes things so easy and so concise. everyone leave his session feeling enabled. now, that's proper magic.
so whenever i get a chance, i play for mr. banffmagic. whatevers in my hands. whether ready or not, it doesnt matter, as i realize that with his incredible understanding of humanism, there is always going to be an amazing discovery or two in that short span of an hour. no wonder he's always pulled to all directions. that happens when you are good i hear! so this week, it has been mr. debussy.
suite bergamasque, a homage piece to the great french baroque tradition and a nod to the british tradition of the masques, now stirred with the atmosphere of lovely bergamo, becomes pure magic. unlike some of the larger scale works, it's music so light and precise, as my now edited score is all covered with pps and more ppps. as if they were being sold by buckets at walmart or something! opening with prelude, then a minuet, then famous clair de lune followed by passpied, it's music that is deceivingly simple but in my opinion, incredibly difficult.
because it is small and light. it is almost impossible to make something dance when there is no rebound. and rebound wont happen without a steady pulse and the want and the ability to control the smallest details. and well, monkey tends to be loud, noisy and messy at the best, so it is actually quite funny that she was drawn to the piece to begin with. but here it was. with mr. banffmagic. and it was on last night. the big friday night concert opener. a week earlier than planned. gulp.
surprisingly enough it wasnt full of jitters or worries. it wasnt full of self-doubts or need to prove. it was a pleasant experience. with all the supports from my colleagues in recent months- commanding horse lady, mr. guru, mr. bearcub, ms. precocious rabbit, occasional notes from mr. bookbomber, far away friends such as lady L, mr. salamander and yes, lovely julie (i still need the right tag for her...) and mr. banffmagic, i realized it will all be alright. recalling the recent night walk from the last full moon, where the forest and the mountains were turned into a bright high contrast black/white magic, the light that is cool and everclear, i dared to summon the night. all shades of p, pp, ppp, even to pppp and to niente.. to nothing.
banffmagic. it was. i still have to go listen to the recording i am sure, but there's that real sense of magic when you listen the silence, a collective silence of the audience and the stage, to listen to the very last resonance of... light that is just a thin sliver, a piece of night. like the thinnest ice on the edge of the late autumnal river. glistening.
recording will have some sort of reflection of what really happened, i am sure. and i am certain when i go listen to it, there will be some laugher moments with a bit of sheepishness. however, all i could say is that at certain point last night, during the debussy, there it was. nothing to do with me, the audience, friends, strangers, halls, instruments, microphones, whatevers-
silenced awe for communal appreciation of real beauty was there.
and i was happy to resonate with it. from the smallest flutters of my own heart. delicate, like the wings of the newly molted butterflies, stretching out, as the blood start to flow through the new veins. to set it free to the big open space of oblivion and warmth. ebbs and flow of life. and i also know that it wasnt just a flutter in my mind. as the other sensitive souls also have resonated with me. enchanted.