Classical Celebration

 

 (Vermeer, "Young Woman Seated at a Virginal.")

When I was a kid I think I used to pretend to resent classical music because one of my first piano teachers was a hard-ass, an intense and fiery Philippine woman who instructed me to play almost nothing but the classics. Let’s face it, what fourth or fifth grader really wants to admit that they appreciate practicing the works of guys who died in the 1700’s? But, in reality, I really did enjoy the music, not necessarily when I played it, but the beauty and simplicity of Bach, Beethoven and Mozart have always been lovely to my ears. I find this especially true as an adult, particularly when used in movies. If there is a lovely scene set to a perfectly matched classical tune or set of tunes, I will automatically give that film an extra star and enjoy it simply for that pairing.

Today I was able to spend the morning tuning out my usual routine of morning news while reading the paper and listened to the "English Patient" soundtrack, one of my favorites and then later had the film “Amadeus” on in the background. This is actually one of the first movie-going experiences I remember ever attending in person, in 1984. I went with my mom and Nana and I think one or two other relatives or ladies included in Nana’s lunch group. But I remember it vividly because it was such a stunningly beautiful movie, especially to listen to and it was the first time I had ever seen a dead body on screen—rather than having the celebrated burial Mozart probably deserved, he died in near financial ruin and had a pauper’s burial in real life—and even in this fictional film his dead body was simply emptied from a box into the freshly dug grave. For a seven year old this was pretty cool stuff.

Today’s two poems celebrate my deep appreciation for the artists of long ago, Mozart himself and Vermeer, written after viewing an exhibit of his paintings at the Smithsonian Gallery here in D.C.

Mozart

By Nicole Speulda

From the tempests of your ears
you give others peace of mind.
Is one’s punishment
another’s pleasure?

An earthquake production
of notes shifting terrain
meaning fossilized
in the amber of your hands.

Vermeer
By Nicole Speulda

Painting lateen sails white
and sea-foam gray,
a sameness in difference:
wind ripplets calm and fade
then all your angles make haste,
for the harbor, an arid canvass,
and while the pattern is left to dry
those outbound ships desist,
hault the expedition and resist
the upturned wrist, carefully mapped trip,
maybe they frame a return to the bay.