I´m busy now, and every story gets its birth in the past time. The most favourite word now is yesterday. Still fresh to remember and recollect, and still alive and topical - to share. Though sometimes some events and occasions in my life remain so bright and significant, as if they always exist in the close Yeterday. One of such things was yesterday.
Yesterday I went to some nice piano concert. Nice - is an unpropper word. Better to say - brilliant and touching, though it was very modest, with a few people in the hall and only one pianist on the small stage. Russian Academy of Music named after Gnesiny sometimes holds free-admission concerts of their students. Before going to some international contest or taking part in a crucial concert students need to revise their programme, try it in front of public for one more time and make sure they are ready to go ahead.
Yesterday was about it.
A young pianist man, a winner of some big international contests, was playing in front of near-empty hall.
But it was great. We waited for him about 10-15 minutes, when he suddenly appeared in the doorway. Like a soldier, decisively and bravely, he went quickly - straight to the stage and after a two-seconds sitting rush to the attack. It was a storm. He was performimg List and Shopen, downpouring a small hall with sounds of desperate rainfalls, thunderstorms and heavy winds. At once He swept all the calmness and sleepy state of the site and began to fill the place with a presence of life, struggle and harmony.And then - with rainbows and sounds of blooming Spring. And then - with sadness, disbelief, nostalgia and beauty. And then - again this an army of sounds.The sounds sparkled like brilliants, jumped out of his fingers running in every which way. And this racing and immediate stops of rage were like a real never-known behaviour of raging sea. And trying to cope the uncertain waves. It was beautifully done.
I'm not a very good expert in music and performance. But it seems that every real professionalism is an art. When you feel that the work is done at the very edge of possibility, at the highest level of quality, with the tiniest polishing of its every movement and step, even breath. That's the art, no matter where it's perpormed. Music, painting, Olympic Records or surgery operation. This is an art - at the edge of possible. And yesterday we heard an art like this. Ever-living classical music with a great performance of it.
And we were sunk into it for 1,5 hour. After that real touch of Art many things seem different when you go back to real life. I usually don't want to see TV or read some yellow newespaper for a while - not to poison and destroy that unreal castle of beauty, that is still inside after touching of real art.
I went back home, to the metro, watching dirtyness at the rainy Moscow and two drunk men coming back home. Everything, everywhere were totally mixed in this world.
Yesterday I went to some nice piano concert. Nice - is an unpropper word. Better to say - brilliant and touching, though it was very modest, with a few people in the hall and only one pianist on the small stage. Russian Academy of Music named after Gnesiny sometimes holds free-admission concerts of their students. Before going to some international contest or taking part in a crucial concert students need to revise their programme, try it in front of public for one more time and make sure they are ready to go ahead.
Yesterday was about it.
A young pianist man, a winner of some big international contests, was playing in front of near-empty hall.
But it was great. We waited for him about 10-15 minutes, when he suddenly appeared in the doorway. Like a soldier, decisively and bravely, he went quickly - straight to the stage and after a two-seconds sitting rush to the attack. It was a storm. He was performimg List and Shopen, downpouring a small hall with sounds of desperate rainfalls, thunderstorms and heavy winds. At once He swept all the calmness and sleepy state of the site and began to fill the place with a presence of life, struggle and harmony.And then - with rainbows and sounds of blooming Spring. And then - with sadness, disbelief, nostalgia and beauty. And then - again this an army of sounds.The sounds sparkled like brilliants, jumped out of his fingers running in every which way. And this racing and immediate stops of rage were like a real never-known behaviour of raging sea. And trying to cope the uncertain waves. It was beautifully done.
I'm not a very good expert in music and performance. But it seems that every real professionalism is an art. When you feel that the work is done at the very edge of possibility, at the highest level of quality, with the tiniest polishing of its every movement and step, even breath. That's the art, no matter where it's perpormed. Music, painting, Olympic Records or surgery operation. This is an art - at the edge of possible. And yesterday we heard an art like this. Ever-living classical music with a great performance of it.
And we were sunk into it for 1,5 hour. After that real touch of Art many things seem different when you go back to real life. I usually don't want to see TV or read some yellow newespaper for a while - not to poison and destroy that unreal castle of beauty, that is still inside after touching of real art.
I went back home, to the metro, watching dirtyness at the rainy Moscow and two drunk men coming back home. Everything, everywhere were totally mixed in this world.
First! YES! huhuhu ))
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