loneliness
It is not the first time I hear the phrase “Music is an elite art.” My first reaction was always that of aversion, even though it has been said by some of my most respected mentors.
I don’t know about you, but the word “elite” is not a commendatory word in my world. It embodies the subtle kind of social segregation, an attitude of the superior, the stance of an arrogant. After all the equality in artistic expression as well as the status of a musician’s intellectual output Beethoven had fought for with his life and music, to hear that music is the art of the elite is almost blasphemous.
In my recent stay in this silence yet magnificent snow land, I have come to arrive at the polar side of my earlier feelings about this phrase. I have come to understand that the word “elite” signifies rather a conflicting state of being for a musician, rather than that of an arrogant attitude. To say that music is an “elite” art, it really means that whoever decides to serve it must bear the burden of being lonely.
Loneliness has been my companion ever since I moved to Canada about eleven years ago. I was a child, I did not speak the language, and did not wish to speak my mother tongue with other children just because I needed friends. So it was loneliness that became my good friend, when music was not around. As I finally came to understand what piano playing is really about (that is, not related to any technical display of competence, not for the pleasing of others, and certainly not for fame or honour; but for the love for music and the need for artistic expression), loneliness accompanies from dawn until dusk, often presses its hand on my heart, seizes my breath.
Undoubtedly, I do have some of the best friends I could ever ask for, the most wonderful companion for life, and a few dearly loved mentors who always supported and encouraged me. They, too, know that such loneliness is what comes with the “profession” (if we can even call that) we chose, because the great population is not capable of understanding and appreciating this kind of art.
There, that last sentence sounded exactly like how I thought “elite” meant before.
In all actuality, I think that it’s really not that classical musicians are anymore well-educated or artistically endowed than the rest of the population. I think that “elite” means a state of being, but anyone potentially can achieve this state – that is, to fulfill and culture oneself to become capable of appreciating and understanding this “elite art”. It is only a sad reality that not very many people have the urge to do that.
Why do you do what you do? If what you do is understood by so few, would you still continue doing that for the rest of your life? If you lose a physical ability that is instrumental in doing what you do – like losing hearing for a musician – would you continue to do what you do?
Beethoven did. And as I was reminded by a true musician just very recently, we live in that tradition of artistic integrity. I would say that I will do the same, even though the burden of serving such elite art is that of loneliness and constant dissatisfaction.
Beethoven composed some of the most glorious music in his complete lonesome world. In this superficial world, perhaps it is rather a blessing.
