these moments.
I've already sent this story to most of this blog's readership, but I have been so affected by it since being tipped off by a coworker yesterday, that I thought I should share.
The Washington Post conducted a "social experiment" in Washington D.C. this week, planting a world-renowned violinist in the lobby of a heavily trafficked government building during rush hour
to see if anyone would stop to listen. He was playing a Stradivarius.
Over the course of 43 minutes, some one thousand people walked by. Around 30 gave the violinist (who isn't hard on the eyes, classically speaking) money, for a total of 32 bucks and 17 cents. 9 stopped to watch. Only 1 person recognized him.
The article is a really lovely discourse on how we choose to spend our moments. At the end of the piece -- which is lengthy, mind you -- I was on the verge of tears. There's something awfully moving about so many aspects of this story: the classical music, so melancholy echoing off the marble walls of the lobby; the indifferent trenchcoats rounding corners and ascending escalators; the dead air in between each song that the violinist plays.
Perhaps it strikes me most because I know I would have been one of the people who tossed in a buck, and walked on. And while I am happy to say that I've always made it a rule of mine to put money in the hat, or instrument case, of a musician that had obviously worked at his craft (most often it is a "he"), I'm not so sure I would have realized that world-class musician was hanging out in a baseball cap and khakis in the lobby of my office building.
Fittingly, as I was coming home on the F train last night, an older man boarded with a saxophone and played 30 seconds of a bluesy tune to which he only knew the chorus. I gave him a dollar, and thought about going to the next Joshua Bell concert in New York City.
The Washington Post conducted a "social experiment" in Washington D.C. this week, planting a world-renowned violinist in the lobby of a heavily trafficked government building during rush hourto see if anyone would stop to listen. He was playing a Stradivarius.
Over the course of 43 minutes, some one thousand people walked by. Around 30 gave the violinist (who isn't hard on the eyes, classically speaking) money, for a total of 32 bucks and 17 cents. 9 stopped to watch. Only 1 person recognized him.
The article is a really lovely discourse on how we choose to spend our moments. At the end of the piece -- which is lengthy, mind you -- I was on the verge of tears. There's something awfully moving about so many aspects of this story: the classical music, so melancholy echoing off the marble walls of the lobby; the indifferent trenchcoats rounding corners and ascending escalators; the dead air in between each song that the violinist plays.
Perhaps it strikes me most because I know I would have been one of the people who tossed in a buck, and walked on. And while I am happy to say that I've always made it a rule of mine to put money in the hat, or instrument case, of a musician that had obviously worked at his craft (most often it is a "he"), I'm not so sure I would have realized that world-class musician was hanging out in a baseball cap and khakis in the lobby of my office building.
Fittingly, as I was coming home on the F train last night, an older man boarded with a saxophone and played 30 seconds of a bluesy tune to which he only knew the chorus. I gave him a dollar, and thought about going to the next Joshua Bell concert in New York City.
Labels: classical music, Joshua Bell, newspapers, subway
posted by brad board babe at 8:09 PM
1 Comments:
I think that is part of the role of artists, and our appreciation of them. They tend to stop and focus on something, outside of the regular social and cultural constructs around us. When we go to a museum, read a book, go to a concert - we are reserving time to appreciate something. While we can bemoan our inability to recognize passion and brilliance in the lobby of an office building - it is hard to diminish that these people were going somewhere to better their careers, their own craft, and to diligently work to support their families.
That is the culture we live in. What if everyone who had walked by the violinst stopped and listened for an hour. What if that was common? What kind of culture would we live in?
-Dan Blank
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