Category: Art


I wonder if there are out there, other people who fear inspiration. I do.

The problem is that I am, artistically, horribly ambitious. I would love to play the piano like Leif Ove Andsnes and direct an orchestra, with the connection, sensitivity and artistic vision he has. I would love to sit at the piano and learn and practice for hours on end. I would like to be a painter, a dancer, an actress, an Opera singer, a clothes designer, and do all of those things to perfection. And it is impossible, unless you don’t do anything else! All of them, full time activities.

And I must write. I must, as you must give birth to a baby you love and want.

I wish I could create and give birth to the nearly limitless art-expression-children of my mind and my heart that I would dream of having.

Perhaps I will re-incarnate into a limitless being with limitless artistic possibilities and limitless time.

But, I do like earth, and my time here… what shall I do?

Write!http://www.theguardian.com/music/tomserviceblog/2015/jul/28/beethoven-leif-ove-andsnes-concertos-mahler-chamber-orchestra#img-1

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  1. The Fly in the Soup of Perfection

Yes, music matters a great deal to me. It has been an addiction.

On a good day, I will tell you it has given me great joy and heavenly pleasure. But don’t ask me on a bad day, or I will tell you about the enormous trials, tribulations and frustration of considering myself an unsuccessful, failed musician.

Unsuccessful and failed, not only, because it looks as if I never made it – at my age I’m not very likely to get anywhere with it, – but more importantly, because of the impossibly elusive nature of achieving musical perfection, even as a passer-by.

Unfortunately, when you sing or play an instrument, a wrong note, a note produced without the right musicality, the right tone, the perfect tuning, the perfect rhythm, can leave a feeling similar to having found a pebble in your pie or a fly in your soup. You can crack a teeth or feel nauseous.

Sadly, music happens in time, at a particular instant. Once done, it seems you can’t change the fate of it. Of course, I know you can practice and correct, but that moment, that opportunity to reaching perfection, has gone for ever.

So often, the hundreds of hours of practice are ruined by a second of fear. In my case, as soon as I know someone is listening, I become self-conscious and that is the end of the game: the end of pleasure, elation and of course the end of the possibility of achieving the perfect sound, the perfect expression.

Our brain, like an unconscious fly, stops for a millisecond on the dangerous tightrope of a whiff of air, to ponder on the soup, on its possible dangers, rewards and delights … and falls into the soup! to a certain death: artistic death.

In a way, I am very grateful for my failure as a musician. Certainly, if I had been successful as an opera singer or a pianist, which would have been my two main ambition as a musician, I might not be writing.

Thank God, a writer is something I am. Music is just an addiction.

So, today I’ll try to celebrate with a smile, the fly in my soup and my failure as a musician.

But as I often say… if you have to try, you are not doing it!!