Dear Friends,
About a month ago, along with many people throughout the northern hemisphere, I witnessed a full solar eclipse. It's been a while since it happened, but I have been so swamped with end-of-semester activity that I have fallen behind on my normal newsletter schedule, so I'm finally getting around to writing about it today!
For the eclipse, classes were canceled at my university, and we were all encouraged not to come to campus because they were opening up the campus to people to view the eclipse.
Seeing as we were "banned" from campus, we went up to our friends’ farm north of Indianapolis and spent a decadent afternoon visiting, eating food, and watching the eclipse. It was a rare day of rest during the busiest part of the academic year, and in some ways, it felt slightly transgressive; there was something about our "Eclipse Holiday" that made it feel like it was already summer.
If you were in the path of totality, or if you have witnessed a total solar eclipse in the past, you’ll know what I’m talking about when I say there are truly no words to describe the sight and experience of a total solar eclipse.
Now, how does this relate to music? Well, when John Cage wrote his famous silent piece, 4’33”- where the pianist sits at the piano in silence for four minutes and thirty-three seconds- he was being as much a philosopher as he was a composer. Cage was interrogating the very nature of what we describe to be “music.”
We think of 4’33” as a "silent" piece, but in fact, it premiered at an outdoor festival, where the audience would have heard birds, trees, and other ambient sounds, including each other! And the performer's silence turns the experience inside out, thereby allowing all the rest of the sounds to become the piece.
Cage believed that all sound was music, and questioned our decision to elevate some sounds, call it "music" and play it on the stage, declaring it worthy of our attention, while ignoring the other sounds that surround us all day. The hum of the air conditioner, the sound of that car going past: all of the sounds that we routinely tune out, were sounds that Cage wanted us to notice, and to find beautiful.
Last month, on an Indiana farm in the countryside, on a warm April afternoon, the sunlight became anemic as the shadow of the moon passed over the sun. Ten minutes before the sun was completely blotted out, the spring peepers started singing in their ponds, the birds started chirping their nighttime calls, and the wind started rushing through the trees. During the breathtaking, awe-inspiring 4+ minutes of totality, when the moon’s shadow obscured the sun completely, all of the creatures fell silent. And then when the sun re-emerged, the birds started singing again, and soon we were back to a normal afternoon in Indiana.
My question for you this week is: if you stop reading this right now and pay attention to the sounds around you, what do you hear? What sounds are you routinely tuning out? And when you practice the piano, how can you bring that awareness of and sensitivity to sound with you, so that you are really listening to the sound of each note?
Happy Practicing! 🎹
-Kate