Tchaikovsky, Inspiration, and Silky Dresses

I find my inspiration in music, particularly piano. I loved the piano as long as I can remember. While I’m not that good of a player myself, my youngest sister Dina happens to be an amazing one. On Tuesday, Dina rushed into my room with an excitement extremely unusual for someone in the midst of their finals week. I can’t recall all that she said, but at the end of the conversation I remember: concerto, Tchaikovsky and the fact that it was happening tonight. I will hardly pass an opportunity to listen to live orchestra and for five dollars! A few hours later we were at the concert.

Instead of writing down about my experience, I wrote this time about my sister’s. I didn’t officially interview her, I just hope I know her well enough to write down what she might of thought. Well and I did do some homework. Awhile back Dina wrote a report about a similar concert she attended, so it was partly inspired by her thoughts in the paper. So, sit back and enjoy, oh and don’t forget to play some Tchaikovsky in the background, it’s so much better that way. Happy Friday!

“The clock read twenty minutes till eight. Once the doors sprung open students rushed to the window to buy their tickets, last minutes as usual. Like so many others, I tried to find the best seat in the house, but either because it was the last concert of the season, or the once in a life time performance of Tchaikovsky’s piano concerto, the only seat left was up in the front and slightly to the right. While my view was narrowed to the string players, I did not mind the close up view of the cellists. As I sat down I listened to the sounds of different movements in the room. The rushing steps of performers up to the stage. The playing of scales of several musicians. The flipping of pages of those musicians that sat with their instrument besides them waiting. And it wouldn’t be complete without the voices and the footsteps of the many concert attendees anxiously looking for seats. Ah, the beauty of a music performance. The voices and the steps quieted down as the Concert master appeared on the stage. Applause followed and with a single movement of a string every musician followed in tuning their instruments. Conductor entered and as always shook the hand of the Concert master. While I used to wonder at the handshake before and after each performance, now it’s part of the flow of the concert that I’m accustomed to.

Piece by piece was magnificently performed, but I still awaited the last one with great anticipation. Piano concertos are rare, but absolutely beautiful. If there was one dream that I could have come true, it would be to play the piano along with an orchestra. Except I don’t like the silky gowns that the pianists always wear, black and simple is more of my type. As the hall quieted again, a young girl in silky peach dress walked onto the stage, I told you that I wasn’t in favor of those gowns. As the concert grand was moved to the center of the stage, the pianist took a seat and the pure delight began. Chords after chords accompanied by the orchestra flowed from the piano. Truly grandiose. The piece was long, but I didn’t mind a bit, actually I wished it was longer. I couldn’t see the pianist’s hands, because of my seat location, but I could feel every note she played. It was an experience worth the two extra hours I missed to study for my finals. As I glanced at my friend and sister, who came along with me to the concert, I knew they too enjoyed the concerto among all else. As the concert ended my friend said, “That could be you,” and maybe one day that will be, but until then I will go on practicing.”

And because posts are always better with a photo, here is one of my lovely sister. (I almost put a picture of her in a long silky gown she wore for her last piano recital, but then I really don’t want her to disown me.)


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