Somewhere There's Music

Something happened this past weekend that is a rare event in my life: tears came to my eyes. It wasn't the beauty of Florence (which was the city I spent my weekend in) that brought them on, nor was it any human interaction. It wasn't from a sad sight, or from an tragic ending to a book or film. It was simply a series of pictures of some guys playing musical instruments. Strange, eh?

Larry Fink, an American photographer who focuses on social commentary and certain people groups, has an exhibit titled "Somewhere There's Music" on display at Florence's photography museum. The pieces were black-and-white shots taken between 1950 and the early 70's of American jazz artists, ranging from the legends like Leroy Jenkins to guys at the local bar. This body of work left me stunned; it is the perfect example of an artist connecting with their subject, and having the skill and talent to display this connection in a way that no other person could and no other medium could. This quote greeted us as we entered the exhibit, and I don't think I could explain what he did with a million of my own words:

"Jazz players were my heroes. I idolized and was awed by them. As a young boyish man, I stood in line at the clubs unknown to most so that I could experience first hand the inner pleasure of beauty, the linear intelligence, the liquidity, the release. Music, foul and growing, dark, round, and tranquil, long and clear...it is for me the river of life. It fuels me on the deepest level. I wish to share with all the majesty of being witness...to sound."

The prints caught that moment where a jazz musician loses himself in the music, where he becomes one with his instrument, where he transforms into a different animal. Fink understood the music, the moment, and captured it in a fashion that took my breath away. I felt I could relate with this subject; while I have yet to find my own medium of expression (photography might be it, but I still have a ways to go), I am blessed with the ability to lose myself in a someone else's body of art, be it a film, song, photo, or occassionally a painting or sculpture. That moment when a piece of art takes over, when the world becomes secondary to the experience at hand, is magical to me. It has happened numerous times this summer, and from a plethora of inputs ranging from Ryan Adams to a short film to Bernini's sculptures to some of my classmates' work to God's own paintings in the sky. Thus, it was fitting that a medium I care so much about, with a subject that has been so key to me this summer, was the one that finally got me, that finally made me just stop and take it in, stirring my heart and losing me within it. It was beautiful. I wish that I could write an entry that would do the experience justice, as corny as that sounds, but writing is most definitely not my medium.

I guess I'll leave with a quote from the legendary Roswell Rudd, and one of the pictures from the show. They might do a bit better.

"...So I would be dancing around and doing my scat, singing along with what they were doing. And just watching those guys go into another world, with their sounds, you know, and the expressions on their faces changed and their behavior was different...something comes over them, some kind of extraordinary force comes over them...moves them, you know, a strange feeling, or maybe just a huge kind of epiphany...suddenly, skies open up and you see eternity..."




Ciao,

-msr