Make, Good, Art;

***Make, Good, Art;*** (#StorytellingSalemStory #999,989 out of 1mil:)

🎶So I’ve been travelling across the country—
town to town/city to city/State to State;
sitting down in random locations—
across this Nation— with a whiteboard in my haaand;
I’ve been asking pplllll:
“What’s Yor Story?”🎶

And when I was up in Burlington, Vermont; a young woman carrying a violin case and a bag of groceries looked and read what was written upon my whiteboard.
She paused a moment, & sat down in the bench chair next to mine. She placed her case on the ground, opened it up; removed her violin; placed her groceries inside the case; then started to singlehandedly play a symphony/a concerto/a-poem-in-music 🎶🎶🎶. No words for a bit 🎶🎶. Just music 🎶🎶🎶. Slow and vibratious 🎶🎶, mixed with tone 🎶 that got louder 🎶🎶 like she was sharing a story through strings that sung 🎶🎶🎶🎶; before bringing it back down to a lovely lil melody where she started to speak, and let her violin -now- be the ‘background sound:’

⸻

🎶🎶🎶
“I used to play first chair violin in Boston. Big halls, tuxedoed conductors, rooms where the sooooooouuuuuuund- would reeeeeeveeeeeeerb. Applaaaauseee, like waterfaaaalls.
That was my world—pages of sheet music and perfect posture, endless hours of practice that made the world feel like it had rules. Like if you just played your part right, everything would come together. & for the most part? In those rooms where we orchestrated the ocean of sound that our audience would sit and swim in? Everything, did, come together; in perfect harmony.
It didn’t just happen.
It came together because we practiced it.
Worked on it. Curated it. Perfected it.
Put in the hours to PERFECT our show.
SO WHEN THE CURTAINS WOULD OPEN!?
From beginning to end-
the audience was given something -made- just for them.

🎶🎶
🎶🎶🎶
🎶🎶

Then my mom got sick. Real sick. So I left it all. Came back up here—back to the apartment I grew up in, above the bookstore with the crooked stairs. I started working at the co-op during the day and playing in restaurants or lil cafés. But not daily or nightly; just once or twice a month on a random Tuesday. Didn’t have time for orchestras. Just… “life.”

🎶🎶

I resented it.
Deep down: “I hated it.”
I was working my whole life to finally “make it.”
To the big halls;
and then someone in my family got sick to the point that I had to make a choice between them or my future?
It felt like a robbery.
It felt like betrayal.
It felt like a backstab cause:
I hated it.
I hated it.
I hated what happened to me.
Cause I did it.
I got the grades.
I did the time.
I put in the hours-
and crafted my sound.
I struck my goals. I was Violin First Chair- in: THE.
BOSTON,
ORCHESTRA!
I-
MADE-
IT!

Do you know how hard it is to be FIRST CHAIR!?

It requires/
it demands,
missing dates/skipping meals/choosing ‘practice’ over ‘life events.’

I- put in- the work!
I- put in- the hours!
I followed my dreams-
& made the right choices!

So why did fate make me choose between my mother
and my future?
That’s not right.
That’s not right.
I’ll always choose my mother- but why is that one of my life’s options?
I- put in- the hours.
I- put in- the work.

I did it all- right.
I took the time.
“I struck first chair.”

It’s such an easy sentence to say-
but there’s years of work that- went behind that phrase.
I was,
Violin- First Chair;
of THE
Boston Orchestra.

I made it.

I made it.

High-End-Celebrities- & Chandelier-Necklace-Wearing-Patrons;
Representatives-Senators-Presidents- & Royalty alike,
came to MYYY orchestra’s shows- each night!
They sat in the audience, in the front row.
They looked up at us, in wait, for us to
BEGIN- THE- SHOW!!!

🎶
🎶🎶
🎶

Do you know who gets to start the orchestra off in almost every song/rhythm/piece n dance?
🎶
The violinist my friend.
🎶🎶
First chair- starts us off;
🎶🎶🎶
second chair adds to
myyyyyyyyyyy:
“Soouundd.”

🎶🎶
🎶🎶🎶
🎶🎶🎶🎶
🎶🎶🎶
🎶🎶

I did it.

I made it.

I put in the hours and struck first chair.

I did it.

I made it.

I put in the hours and I struck my dreams.

So why; why; whyyYYYYYYY;
did fate make me choose between ‘my scared-alzheimerzed-mother-‘ and ‘my future’ less than one month into hitting my peak?

It’s not fair.
It’s not fair.

I don’t want to accept this.
I don’t want to pick the prouder path.
I’m mad🎶
I’m angry🎶
I feel robbed🎶
I put in the hours!
I put in the work!
WHY DID FATE MAKE ME CHOOSE BETWEEN MY ALZHEIMERZED MOTHER- AND MY FIRST CHAIR VIOLIN FUTURE!?

I spoke about it my whole life.
I told the universe- this is exactly- what I want!
From childhood I shared loudly my goals & dreams.
How dare it be removed from me- when achieved!

Friends and lovers try to console me,
they tell me:
‘sometimes, this is: ‘Life.”

But I tell them:
“no! No! NO! I did my PART!”

Friends and lovers try to console me,
they tell me:
“sometimes ‘Life,’ isn’t: fair.”

But I tell them:
“no! No! NO! Then make it FAIR!
I did my PART!
GIVE ME BACK MY MOTHER!
GIVE ME BACK MY LIFE!
MAKE MY MOTHER REMEMBER ME!!
THAT SHE SAW ME AT THAT STAGE THAT NIGHT!
MAKE ME FIRST CHAIR!!
I DID MY PART!!
I DID MY PART!!!
WHY IS IT ALL-
FALLING APART!!?
WHYYYY
WHYYYYYYY
WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY”

(*She stopped playing music all together on her violin;
and just kept screaming & repeating ‘WHYYYY- WHYYYYYYY- WHYYYYYYYYYYYY’ at the top of her lungs. Tears fully rushing down her face like she lost all control; and every lil breath she took; would be overfilled with a desire to shriek ‘WHYYYYYYY- WHYYYYYY- WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY’ at max vocal capacity.
A crowd would gather,
and she paid no attention to them.*)

(*She screamed & screamed & screamed & -when she gave her final shriek, she paused in the silence for a bit; looking down at her groceries- in her violin case.*)
…
…….
….
(*She placed her violin back on her shoulder-blade- and continued to plaaayyyyyy one long n LOOOOOUUUUD NOOOOOOTEEEEEE 🎶 like she was comMAnding the staaaaAAAAaage- to: 🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶No words- just sound. 🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶 Sound that echoed throughout the street; 🎶🎶🎶 like the whole world was silently eavesdropping; to this violinist playing her music 🎶🎶🎶*)

(*The violin carried her tale, 🎶without a word. 🎶🎶
Sharing her fortunes & pain 🎶; in each strung chord. 🎶🎶
After some time- 🎶she opened her mouth- 🎶 & continued to verbalize: 🎶🎶*)

When I was in Berkley,
I found this lovely website called: zenpencils.com
It was real cute. Had over 250 different comics of nice quotes- totes recommend.
But one of the comics that I remembered reading,
involved the phrase:
“Make, Good, Art.”

🎶🎶🎶

(*She played her violin for a bit; as the crowds grew larger around us*)

🎶
🎶🎶
🎶🎶🎶
🎶🎶
🎶

I don’t remember how the comic went. 🎶
But, if I remember it correctly, it went something like: 🎶
“Broke your leg? 🎶 Make Good Art, my friend. 🎶🎶🎶
Husband ran off with his secretary? 🎶 Make Good Art, my friend. 🎶🎶🎶
Corruption in Politics leading to War? 🎶🎶 Make, Good, Art- my friend. 🎶🎶🎶Make- Good Art- All-Day- Long; till the war Ends!”

🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶

(*She ‘soloed’ her violin, in a way to show off her expertise & skill. She would stretch her fingers to make elaborate chords, beat on her violin for that extra drum; ripsawed her bow while putting on a concentrated face like she was imagining the most advanced music sheet she could- and then added extra notes that fit- everywhere she could.
The crowd, grew.*)

🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶
🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶
🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶
🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶
🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶
🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶

I don’t remember how the comic went, 🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶
But it had a slew of different artists: “Making, Good, Art.” 🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶
It had filmmakers 🎶🎶🎶 making Good Movies involving Monsters. 🎶🎶🎶🎶
It had Painters 🎶🎶🎶 making Good Paintings using Buildings-as-their-Canvi. 🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶
It had Screenwriters 🎶🎶🎶🎶 watching their Actors play their-in-Costume-Characters. 🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶
It had:

(*She played one note- 🎶 and held it out almost as long as she could. She made the note vibrate in the air by how she played that string with her bow.
She made the city, vibrate/sing/echo the note, back to her.
Aside from her- the street we were on- was now silent.
No cars passing by; they were pulled over listening.
No people walking or talking; from kids to adults- they were all sitting & listening.
The only music happening; was coming from her-
& her note; reverberating through the air. Like the whole city was her room- and she would tune the note to watch- how it would dance off walls. Like she was reading the open-aired-room- trying to find how each note bounced. She would play three quick succession tones before another long one- just to keep the audience captivated by her sound. There was a crowd as large as the street could fill with people. She paid no attention to them- but controlled every one of them- by the notes she played for them. No one walked. No one jogged on. Everyone was silent- watching her play slow notes; that echoed off the city of Burlington. The birds were watching- & there was no-one- skateboarding. Anybody and everybody- was watching out their windows/ standing on their balconies/ chilling by the doorways; watching this violinist hold the stage; as she tuned her string- to the echo of the city’s walls.*)

🎶🎶
One day,
🎶🎶🎶
(*music from her violin would pick up the tempo just a bit as she’d just play. Like she shared the rest of her story in her music; but caught me up with a:*)

One daaaay, 🎶🎶
on a random tuesdaaay; 🎶🎶
I was on my way to play violin at the local cafeee. 🎶🎶🎶

(*She abruptly stopped*)

But I couldn’t make it.

(*She played a loud note 🎶*)

I had to stop

(*She played another note 🎶*)

the feelings of ‘why- it’s all unfair’ got too much.

(*🎶she played three-notes; like a build-up:🎶🎶*)

So I pulled out my violin- on some random street corner- and just let it all out:

(*like she took the time, earlier, to learn how her city sounded in her long notes; she brought them back in a different melody- 🎶🎶(like she masterfully knew which tone to play to echo with the right walls around her that day. 🎶🎶🎶& then knew which note to play next- 🎶that would dance with the sound that was still echoing in the air.🎶🎶) She played her violin for roughly 2-3 minutes straight now 🎶🎶🎶🎶; sharing a story where the whole audience was listening🎶🎶🎶. The city was alive with her music, 🎶🎶as her sound echoed throughout the town-🎶 like she was casting a fishing rod’s line of music 🎶🎶🎶🎶as far as she could- in every direction in town 🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶*)

When I stopped

(*The violin stopped; as she got up and gave a bow to the audience. The audience erupted into applause- and folks in the dozens started approaching her open violin case & throwing in dollar-dollar-bills. Continuing on with their day again- now that she was done playing her violin.*)

When I stopped

(*she continued to say, as she sat back down and watched people keep approaching her with thanks and donations*)

I was lost in my thoughts.
Expressing them the only way I knew how.
Through this 300year old violin.
Through this music that I trained my whole life on.

(*people kept approaching her and giving her compliments on her music while throwing in change and bills that ranged from Washingtons to Benjamins.*)

& so when I stopped, and looked in front of me?
I saw this kid—maybe eight or nine—just watching me.
Stopped whatever he was doing, like the world hit pause; and took in my sound- for however long I was out.

(*She put the violin on her shoulder blade again; and played one long note. 🎶
The hustle n bustle of Burlington was briefly picking up again; until the note echoed off the wallllllllllllllls- putting everyone into silence againnnnnnnnn. Those who walked away from their windows/balconies/& door frames; hurried back- to see if she was going to play more notes againnnnnnnnn.*)

He said:
‘I didn’t know real people could sound like the movies.’

(*🎶She teased playing more music again🎶. With only a few sounds coming off her violin 🎶🎶; that convinced the hundreds of strangers in in her audience to find a place to hurry back n sit down again- & see how long the free show was going to go on -again.*)

That one sentence?

(*🎶She would pluck a string, and make its vibration sing with her bow.
The city, hungry for her music, replayed each note 🎶, louder than before 🎶; almost like all the walls of the entire city- were now eavesdropping/replaying/and megaphoning her tones🎶*)

It was louder than any ovation I ever got in Boston.

(*She started to play again with the city. 🎶🎶🎶 The music coursed throughout the air; 🎶🎶🎶🎶 the cafes and restaurants were all flooded out into the streets 🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶. People were just sitting, watching, and listening 🎶🎶; as she’d play her music 🎶🎶🎶🎶. She controlled everybody 🎶🎶🎶. If she stopped playing music; 🎶the world of Burlington, Vermont- would have continued on with their day. 🎶🎶But if she played her sound? 🎶🎶🎶🎶 They would marionettingly stay 🎶🎶. She had full control over her audience 🎶🎶🎶. & was just playing with them 🎶🎶*)

Now I play my music every Tuesday somewhere in Burlington.

🎶

Find a spot where I can’t bother anyone; then draw a crowd

🎶🎶

flex my muscles.

🎶🎶🎶

my violin muscles;

🎶🎶
🎶🎶🎶🎶
🎶🎶

& make the world experience what that lil boy did;

🎶🎶

every Tuesday around this time.

🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶

(*& like cutting a cord, she abruptly stopped playing her violin, moved her flow into packing it away with all the dollar bills in her case. Got up while grabbing her groceries in almost one full motion & said:*)
“Thanks for listening”
(*& walked away.*)

⸻

In that time, as she packed her violin and put it away. When the crowds knew it was over, from her packing her violin away & getting up & leaving in such a few seconds; after holding their attention for the past half hour? They all, at once, like a collective explosion of noise coming back; erupted as they dispersed. Continued with their day; like almost nothing interrupted it. The balconies got slightly empty; those chilling by the windows re-entered their homes. Cars started honking and picking up again; door frames were letting customers in and out again. The people started walking, jogging, laughing & skating- in between the couple-dozens that started clapping again- wondering if something musical really just happened.

And iii?
I stayed—sitting beneath the maple trees turning red too early this year—with my whiteboard still asking:

“What’s Yor Story?”
Waiting for the next stranger to stop my waaaaaay~

(#StorytellingSalemStory #999,989)