A level of art not understood

I encountered an interesting pianist during a TEDx event I attended back during my first year of college.

He began his story saying that the tones of the piano - the sounds he heard - weren't enough for him after decades of mastery. He wanted more from between the notes, from between the C and C#, the A and Ab.

So he manipulated the piano.

The piano I saw was so strange - contraptions inside, padding here and there - it seemed like a violation of the strings of the piano. The strings were altered such that he got what he wanted - a variety of new sounds. A new world of art to explore.

It was stimulating hearing about his feelings toward the piano, toward music, but I felt bothered when he played his own songs on his modified piano. What he called music sounded like noise to me.

I realized later that he reached a level of art that he alone grasped and that stimulated him but not others. Most others could not understand or appreciate his music. I've played piano for over a decade, and I couldn't find any sense of awe or wonder in his music. It was just noise to me.

I write because I wonder about this level of art - and its implications. To reach something as this man did must have felt fulfilling for him, but it led him down a path of intrinsic value, where few others could appreciate what he was doing. Some might call it insanity. Situations like this create this divide between practical enjoyment and aesthetic value... his work became a pursuit for him, but not to the benefit of many others. His work became a pursuit that only someone who was truly dedicated to the art could follow. A pioneer in his field, I guess - one that might not be appreciated immediately.

It reminds me of a quote... "To be great is to be misunderstood." -Ralph Waldo Emerson

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