Virtuosi di Venezia

I must admit that I was unsure of what to write a blog about for this week, until tonight when we saw the performance by the Virtuosi di Venezia. I must also admit that I was not necessarily looking forward to the concert. With an essay due this week, plus the readings for tomorrow, I felt as if I was too busy to sit and enjoy a concert, especially when I was unsure how long it would last. However, by the end of the first song, I had completely forgotten my homework and was simply sitting, wishing that the performance could go on all night. Somewhere along the line, I had forgotten that I actually enjoy classical music. And this performance, I felt, was stunning.

I used to play the violin myself, I took lessons about nine or ten years ago now, but I haven’t played in at least seven years. Watching the two violinists tonight, not only was I awed by seeing their masterful playing, I also felt an ache in my chest from remembering how it felt to hold the instrument, and the simple joy that comes from standing in a room, just playing for your own pleasure. I especially love to play Christmas music, and because the season is coming up, that made the ache all the more pronounced. For the first song (I almost don’t like using the word “song” because it seems insufficient to describe the music we heard tonight, but I can’t think of another), I couldn’t take my eyes off the violinists’ hands, jumping easily from first to second position, drawing the bow in long, slow strokes to draw the notes out, then shorter, faster jabs for quicker notes. To be honest, the only times I took my eyes off the violins were when the two singers were on stage.

Until tonight, I had never heard opera and I had the same aversion to it that I think pretty much everyone does, that it would be boring and slightly strange. Instead, I thought that it was beautiful. The songs were amazing and what the singers could do with their voices blew me away. The lady, the soprano, was fantastic, but the gentleman, the tenor, had the kind of stage presence that makes you unable to take your eyes off of him. He was so expressive that even though I couldn’t understand the Italian they were singing in, I still knew what was going on, just from his face.

The thing that struck me the most, though, was just the joy that all the performers seemed to have. Even though it must have been quite stressful, because the music was clearly difficult to play, each and every one of them, the two violinists, the viola player, the cellist, the pianist, and the two singers, all looked so happy to be on that stage and playing their music. The faces of the musicians as they went through the songs not only had a look of joy on them, but also of peace, as if there was nowhere they would rather be than there making music. The faces of the singers were nearly elated, even during the sad scenes, as they stood there and I’m pretty sure that the cellist had a smile on his face throughout most of the performance. I think the fact that they were enjoying the performance so much made it all the more enjoyable, definitely for myself, but also for the audience in general.

It is an amazing thing about music, that, like a good book, it can lift us out of ourselves and carry us away, it can make us forget our present problems and simply exist somewhere else, even if only for a short time. I think that can be said of any true art, though, whether it is a painting, a sculpture, a piece of music, or a book. The best art, of any kind, transforms us, and the greatest paintings, sculptures, songs, and stories stay with us long after we have listened to the final note, closed the book, and walked away.