stumped
You may have already gathered that I am using my blog a bit to practice dialogue and develop character, so don't believe all you read! Here is a FICTIONALISED version of a discussion Julian and I had last night. I should have explained this when I first put it up as, within seconds, my beloved husband has been called a ‘dunderhead’ on a comment. Good news for the character as at least someone felt strongly about him! Actually I think the character has a pretty good point! (So, of course, does the other one, and you know who she is based upon.) Maybe the truth lies somewhere in the middle of the two points of view? (What do YOU think?)
“You know, sometimes I miss you when I walk off stage and you are not there. It can be a pretty vulnerable moment you know. “
“Don’t be silly. It’s just a thing, like fixing a pipe. It’s not real you know. Would you miss me if you were a plumber and you’d just finished fixing a pipe? It might feel real but it’s a drug. It’s no more real than the smoking a joint.”
“No! I don’t think it is an illusion. It feels to me like it is the best of me, and it’s a part of me you never see.”
“But I’ve got the best of you here in front of me.”
“No you don’t. You have the woman with the huge arse who’s just joined weight watchers, who nags you about money and work, who trips every five steps, who forgets to turn the lights off and who can’t give you a child.”
“Well, that’s human, isn’t it? That’s you.”
“But because of a skill I have developed over forty years – and I’ve only got one of them – sometimes, very rarely, I can express my higher self, something which is beyond my personality, and I consider that to be the best of me.”
“Well, if it’s beyond yourself, surely it is not you?”
“Look, how do you think you would feel if no-one you cared about ever saw your paintings? Surely you would feel that they are missing a part of you?”
“Not at all. My paintings are not me. They are what I do. Anyway, if it’s about the music, then surely I would be just as well staying at home listening to Bach on my ipod? Your point is that it IS about you. You think it isn’t, but it is.”
“But that’s not true, it’s about meeting in the middle and sharing something. When you finish a painting you are pleased with, you rush down the ladder squealing ‘I’ve done a cracker!’ and I, because I know that it is that moment, not later, that is important, drop whatever I am doing, even if I’m in the middle of a crap (so to speak) and rush down to meet you and share in your moment, not because I can’t wait to see the painting but because I know you want to share it NOWBABYNOW. If that moment of joy and of wanting to share isn’t a part of you, what is?”
“Well mostly you are on tour and I manage that moment pretty well alone.”
“Well, all I’m saying is that it’s better when that moment is shared.”
“But what you do is completely different. You are performing.”
“Yes, exactly. That’s why, because it is not something I can hold in my hand later and show you or email you the next day, the moment just afterwards is so important, because the thing no longer exists, like the sand mandala blown away.”
“Yeah and part of your job is to learn to get off that place in which you are the powerful bountiful goddess of music and climb back into the real world.”
“No, it’s not about me being a Goddess. It’s about them. It’s about the audience. And it’s about the music.”
“Bollocks. When I paint it is about how I see an object and transfer it onto canvas. When you play it is about how you interpret the music; how you craft a phrase and if your G sharp is in tune.”
“It used to be, but isn’t any longer. Well, of course it is most of the time, but I’m talking about two or three times a year here, not every bleeding concert. When it is flowing I become the music, and the audience. Don’t you ever become the object? It all becomes one and that is a spiritual experience because it is beyond the ego.”
“Well you must be bloody Mother Theresa then.”
“You know, sometimes I miss you when I walk off stage and you are not there. It can be a pretty vulnerable moment you know. “
“Don’t be silly. It’s just a thing, like fixing a pipe. It’s not real you know. Would you miss me if you were a plumber and you’d just finished fixing a pipe? It might feel real but it’s a drug. It’s no more real than the smoking a joint.”
“No! I don’t think it is an illusion. It feels to me like it is the best of me, and it’s a part of me you never see.”
“But I’ve got the best of you here in front of me.”
“No you don’t. You have the woman with the huge arse who’s just joined weight watchers, who nags you about money and work, who trips every five steps, who forgets to turn the lights off and who can’t give you a child.”
“Well, that’s human, isn’t it? That’s you.”
“But because of a skill I have developed over forty years – and I’ve only got one of them – sometimes, very rarely, I can express my higher self, something which is beyond my personality, and I consider that to be the best of me.”
“Well, if it’s beyond yourself, surely it is not you?”
“Look, how do you think you would feel if no-one you cared about ever saw your paintings? Surely you would feel that they are missing a part of you?”
“Not at all. My paintings are not me. They are what I do. Anyway, if it’s about the music, then surely I would be just as well staying at home listening to Bach on my ipod? Your point is that it IS about you. You think it isn’t, but it is.”
“But that’s not true, it’s about meeting in the middle and sharing something. When you finish a painting you are pleased with, you rush down the ladder squealing ‘I’ve done a cracker!’ and I, because I know that it is that moment, not later, that is important, drop whatever I am doing, even if I’m in the middle of a crap (so to speak) and rush down to meet you and share in your moment, not because I can’t wait to see the painting but because I know you want to share it NOWBABYNOW. If that moment of joy and of wanting to share isn’t a part of you, what is?”
“Well mostly you are on tour and I manage that moment pretty well alone.”
“Well, all I’m saying is that it’s better when that moment is shared.”
“But what you do is completely different. You are performing.”
“Yes, exactly. That’s why, because it is not something I can hold in my hand later and show you or email you the next day, the moment just afterwards is so important, because the thing no longer exists, like the sand mandala blown away.”
“Yeah and part of your job is to learn to get off that place in which you are the powerful bountiful goddess of music and climb back into the real world.”
“No, it’s not about me being a Goddess. It’s about them. It’s about the audience. And it’s about the music.”
“Bollocks. When I paint it is about how I see an object and transfer it onto canvas. When you play it is about how you interpret the music; how you craft a phrase and if your G sharp is in tune.”
“It used to be, but isn’t any longer. Well, of course it is most of the time, but I’m talking about two or three times a year here, not every bleeding concert. When it is flowing I become the music, and the audience. Don’t you ever become the object? It all becomes one and that is a spiritual experience because it is beyond the ego.”
“Well you must be bloody Mother Theresa then.”
posted by ruth at 2:16 PM
9 Comments:
The man loves the woman.
The woman should chill out.
ooooh-oohh... who'd live with a painter? Sometimes he sounds such a dunderhead, only forgiveable (as it were) by reason of his lovely paintings, but I don't envy you the living-with-Him bit. I was reminded of the Joyce Cary novel, was it 'The Horse's Mouth'?...I'm thinking the other end of the horse, actually.
sorry, jet lag is my only excuse. I didn't notice the slightly unusual construction of your post and took it all too literally.
Good writing, though...
I've been a lurker for a while now and love reading your posts. I've also purchased a few of Julian's gorgeous paintings (which is how I discovered your blog).
Fascinating discussion. I think I fall more heavily on the side of the musician. There are so many layers of a person that you must take into account every action, thought, emotion, etc. to grasp the full person -of course that would be impossible - but to ignore the "product" of the musician is to deny an essential portion of her being. As you say... I think I'm restating your point!
Hm. I've been thinking about just this sort of thing. I think it IS important to whichever person feels it's important, for whatever reason they may have for feeling it's important. It's too personal to dismiss lightly, potentially too much a part of the vibrancy of the soul. (Or not, if it's not!)
The trick with couples is to figure out how to share these things when for whatever reason they're not easily shared. It is a puzzle, unique to each couple and situation, and it is important to keep looking at it because the sharing and validation and appreciation is part of what one turns to the other for... yes? Sometimes the solution is clear, sometimes it involves compromise or best-efforts.
I feel like I've been clear as mud...
PS. Lovely stump. Especially in the top photo.
clear as a bell, as ever, mb.thank you
Hmmm, if you weren't discussing the things you're discussing one could be forgiven for thinking it sounds a bit like every other 'debate' had been husbands and wives where the essence of the matter is that he sees it one way and she sees it another and both think their perspective is important.
It's good to talk but, if that doesn't work, I've learned that sometimes it's best to accept they won't ever get it - whatever 'it' is - and to just get on and enjoy it for myself!
Just catching up with you after a very busy week. Terrific dialogue - fairly races along. Excellent contrast of perspective. Keep it coming!
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