If one considers relative incomes of Steve Wynn and mine, i can claim that I acquired my first Picasso. Which is simply a ticket to Paris bought 12 hours before the flight + a ticket to a concert which I saw the same day I arrived. A 26.06 3PM concert was by my new musical discovery, and the most precious discovery, a German experimental pianist Hauschka.
|Chiharu Shioto In Silence, 200|
It is highly intimate to write about art, because while describing your feeling about an art piece, you are simply giving your audience a chance for them to put you on the psychoanalyst's couch. There is actually a double psychoanalytic séance: first when you react to art (while listening to music or standing in front of the painting), second time when you share your reaction with the others. In the latter case the audience acts as a psychoanalyst, as I already wrote, but in the former case it's the artist himself standing as Doctor F. At Hauschka's concert I did feel pressed in the sofa of this not infamous doctor. Feeling, smiling, crying, reflecting, laughing, writing.
And while Hauschka was getting out new and new instruments that he uses to alter the sound (tennis balls, vibrators and tape to list a few), it seemed that these were put not inside of the piano, but inside of me to alter my inner voice.