There is something about the piano and cello in the hands of musicians that makes the individual timbres of the instruments twine and meld into something amazingly beautiful that delights me every time I hear them. This particular cover is only one of several different cello/piano duets that I frequently listen to.
A friend recently mentioned to me that he is always amazed by how people can make their instruments speak volumes more than the people might ever say themselves. And I think part of it because when you play an instrument for the music…it allows you to open up. To be vulnerable and to express emotions even when you aren’t intentionally doing so. When a musician plays for the beauty of the music, and not just to give a public performance, the instrument becomes almost an extension of himself or herself.
Sort of like how a true warrior doesn’t just master a weapon. The weapon isn’t just a tool for that person. It becomes like a part of that person, a way for him or her to envelop himself or herself in the beauty that comes from the knowledge and art of that weapon’s use. There’s a reason that we call certain styles of fighting “martial arts.” They aren’t just processes and procedures. They are expressions of the warrior’s inner person.
Or how a true poet doesn’t just write words to make them rhyme and fall in certain patterns. In the hands and mind of a poet, the words become vessels of meaning. Packages of beauty, almost. Little quanticized bits of the poet’s vision of the world.
And that’s to say nothing of the artist. There is a reason that even the chaos and mediocrity of certain pieces of “modern art” deserves some respect. Not in the sense that we must all look at them and say, “This is beautiful.” We can respect them in the sense of understanding that some of these artists are not just seeking to throw random objects together to create something that sells. Some of them are truly giving us a snapshot of how they see the world around them. I used to dislike modern art. I still do in many cases. But I’ve learned that I can respect modern art without compromising my views on what is and is not pleasing. Because art doesn’t have to be beautiful or uplifting. It can be full of pain and grittily realistic. It can remind us that the world is not what it could have been. A true artist is open about how he or she sees the world. Whether that is seeing a world that is dark and implanting seeds of light into it, like Van Gogh did, or seeing a world that is crying and broken and that needs our attention, like so many artists and modern iconographers all over the world do.
The point of that entire exposition is that artists speak through their instruments and art because art isn’t just a performance. It is an exposition, a revelation. It can cut, and it can heal. It can laugh, and it can weep. It can sweep one into a world of beautiful hope, and it can remind one of a world of stark realism. And it can do all of these at the same time. Because beauty is like that. It is joy and pain, hope and suffering, wounding and healing, all at the same time. Beauty can be found wherever you look, because God created this world fundamentally beautiful and nothing that man or Satan can do will ever change that.