This morning I read the postings of my friends and “friends” on Facebook. One link led to another, which eventually led to a recent 2013 performance of “Vestida de Nit” by Silvia Pérez Cruz, found at https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10151506514191850.
I loved it, I cried.
Then I had a look around the web, and found this performance of the same song, again by Silvia Pérez Cruz, but in a private venue.
I was struck by the difference in the performances. As different as “chalk and cheese”. Both wonderful in their own way.
The public performance in 2013 was a large concert venue. Ms. Cruz was dressed in a very “feminine” dress, and seemed very aware of her image as a very beautiful, and somewhat provocative, female. Her body language spoke of an awareness of formal image, she was very aware of her clothing, her posture, and body stance; all were iconically female. Her presence was diaphanous. Her performance was a joy given.
The private performance in 2012 was a small “cafe” venue. She is dressed in less iconic clothing, in which she seemed comfortable enough to ignore completely. She was totally present, in herself, with her fellow performer, with the audience. She was an organic presence in the room, she connected to her fellow performer with eye contact, facial gestures, and body language. She sang with joy, a child like joy that filled the room, and made everyone in it a part of the experience, in a personal way. It was a joy shared, rather than a joy given.
And then, there is this singing, in a class by itself:
The artist is communicating with the universe, making love to life. An honour and joy to witness, and the highest form that art can take, in my view.
My first experiences with live music was of the third nature. After that, ego, image, and fame seem such cheap tricks!
I will say that house concerts, in my experience to date, have not been good experiences. I am not sure why, it has something to do with the private home location, the awareness of “ownership” in the venue, and the pecking order of private social groups. Performers seem under a lot of pressure to make the gig worthwhile financially. Money and sharing joy make poor bedfellows. This is the fault of neither the performer nor the host.
I would not call myself a “fan” of any public figure or performer. There are people I love to “listen” to, whose talent and skill I admire and respect. There are many kinds of talents and skills that I admire and respect, including the talents and skills that I possess. I do not put myself, or anyone else, on a pedestal. Appreciation is not worship. What I admire most in others is an open mind and soul, with a willingness to listen and share; that is what I find beautiful in our species. As James Taylor wrote, “any fool can do it”; but most don’t.
This is what I have been thinking about before 7:00 a.m. on a Monday morning. It takes much longer to cohesively (I hope) describe these thoughts on the page, than it does to organically experience them. What I experience in ten minutes can take hours to write.
Once written, I am committed to the words on the page. I have expressed myself, as humans have done for thousands of years. When we are all stardust, it will still matter. We are all written in the stars.
Date: 9:00 AM EDT Monday 19 August 2013
Pressure: 101.9 kPa
Visibility: 16 km
Wind: SSE 5 km/h
“”Love is wise — Hatred is foolish.” In this world, which is getting more and more closely interconnected, we have to learn to tolerate each other. We have to learn to put up with the fact, that some people say things we don’t like. We can only live together in that way. But if we are to live together, and not die together, we must learn a kind of charity and a kind of tolerance which is absolutely vital, to the continuation of human life on this planet.”
If the formal and/or public media is correct, it seems the species is busy learning to die together. %#^&%&# the media, all of it, news, Facebook, Twitter… love thy neighbour. Or at least acknowledge and tolerate thy neighbour with good grace.
I really wanted to put a swear word instead of %#^&%&#, but opted for %#^&%&# because I do not write profanity. However, if you interact with me face to face, when talking about things that bring me to the brink of despair, I will cuss with the best of them. This seems to shock some people, who are accustomed to my quiet, carefully spoken, and somewhat reserved demeanor. Yes, the contrast between my usual tolerant and accepting social self, and the me who is enraged by human greed, unkindness, and hatred, is quite shocking. The world is not a balanced place, I react accordingly. We are who we are.
Having said all that, I think it time to find some breakfast.