Bare walls bother me – especially when I know we have more paintings and knickknacks than wall space or shelves. To what we have collected, I have added my own.
Where to put them? Where to hide others? Some must be kept out of direct sun – others probably shouldn’t see the light of day.
But the point is art calms, inspires, and delights me. Seeing how others interpret their world; remembering what it took me to get a little paint spread about, and anticipating seeing more and doing more art is like dark chocolate and a cup of black hot coffee; indescribably delicious.
The same goes for classical music.
I know little about its definitions; I only know its tranquilizing properties. The stations that broadcast a selection of its composers and musicians afford a tonic in these dark days. Too much news, and too many opinions about the news, and forecasts of doom! So, I listen to melodies that are three centuries young, and wonder about the person whose heart heard the music before it was written.
What was going on in Bach’s world, or Vivaldi’s life, or Debussy’s home? Europe had its wars and rumors of wars, earthquakes, and dreaded diseases; its own news about political incompetency and corruptions. What composer, or artist, didn’t know personal frustration and regret?
Yet they heard music – they created music — music that relaxes stimulates and revitalizes.
It has been said that art is a tryst, for in the joy of it maker and beholder meet. ~Tomita Kojiro
How much more worship and prayers?
Michael Torke, asked: “Why waste money on psychotherapy when you can listen to the B Minor Mass?” (Or, “The Four Seasons?”) So with my music on, hammer in hand, hopeful to avoid a fall, I will position old friends in new places – and begin reconnecting memories, emotions, and ambitions.
I pray you have a song, reader – a piece of music or art that comforts you deeply and refreshes you. To that end, may I share this piece, the peace of which delights me? (Sheep May Safely Graze)
Fill thy mind with useful knowledge and thou shalt avoid empty words. ~James Lendall Basford (19th Century Philosopher)