I checked out a strings competition at the University of Washington School of Music. The students performed to get a chance to join the UW Symphony Orchestra as a concert soloist.

I followed with total attention (easy to do when you just puffed on a potent cannabis vape pen) as the individual violinists and violists spun a web of charm. They each stepped up and to piano accompaniment sailed the small audience through wave after wave of emotion.

All were very good

The five students were very talented. They looked good in their subdued black and gray, with an occasional flash of color. Each had a close harmony and dynamic connection with the accompanist that seems faster than is really possible, as if it extends beyond real-time interaction and reflects the pairing of two minds through a long course of training that led them to inhabit a shared nonverbal sphere of the intellect, a state of mind the two can enter together at will and produce something amazing for we, the observers on the outside of this sphere, to enjoy and marvel at.

One of my personal favorite demonstrations of skill and sympathetic energies is the way the performer fluidly lowers the bow from a raised finishing position in the air after it is lifted from the strings for the final note to cede to the piano accompanist. In this moment the performer slows the arm there without quite stopping and then gently lowers it and collects him or herself for the next bout.

One performer heightened the effect because of the style she brought

The last performer, a violist, stepped up and walked to the front of the stage while her piano accompanist took his seat. She paused in position with her head slightly bowed, just as the others had. Then she allowed several seconds to pass while all eyes were on her, waiting for her to begin. Just at the moment when I began to think something was wrong, that perhaps she was going to choke or ask for some kind of delay or alteration to the plan, she waited three beats more. And then, instead of turning her head around to the accompanist to make eye contact and give him the go-ahead as the other performers had, she turned her head only 30 degrees to the right, and nodded slightly. He began.

Her style heightened the effect of the clever, complex concerto movement. Midway through, one of her bowstrings broke in the clash of gentle and forceful strokes playing out on the instrument and in the hearts of the audience. The loose string caught the light and waved about conspicuously above and in front of her for a couple of minutes. The flailing white fiber seemed to highlight the skill involved and helped me see the quick, precise movements of the bow that are hard for my untrained eye to catch.

At the next piano interlude, she plucked off the broken string and let it fall to the floor.

I love Seattle

After two years of covid and three years of living in a certain large Oregon city, with its relative impoverishment in fine arts, I was deeply susceptible to these works of skill, passion and intellect, and I was eager and ready to get some culture in Seattle. I’ve been visiting the UW School of Music regularly and I look forward to the next symphony performance in the big hall.

About the photo

It is a colorful crab carapace fragment from Alki Beach.