OR: What Happens When the Suburban Soliloquist Searches for a Moment of Peace and Quiet.
Every December when asked what he wanted for Christmas, her father would, without fail, respond: Peace and quiet! He'd say it so fast and severely that she thought it was one word. Peacenquiet. In the colonial house in which they lived, on a street perpendicular to the fire station, within two blocks from the elementary school, in a city of fifty thousand, quiet was found only in the thick, Black Japan lacquer of night when the next day's clothing folded gracefully over wood chest at bed's foot, school books heaped in their rubber straps, the French horn and piano intermissionized, batted and clawed Teen Beat magazines softened, Hummel-murdering footballs idled in the toy box, and six children, boys in one room, girls in the other, slept soundly while parents exhaled conciliatory snores.
Peacenquiet is the night's oasis.
On a mid-April morning, half-way through an active week-long vacation, in a cold, wet Washington, D.C., the Suburban Soliloquist, roaming the halls of an enormous Greek Revival building set back from the rumpus of stretched streets, and stocked with American art, thirsted for peace and quiet (why she expected it there still baffles her). Hours earlier she had enthusiastically entered the Museum, children in tow, and set forth purposefully through its wide halls, vaulted galleries and curved stairways. Her rambunctious young teens, not to be slowed by portraits or sculptures or old mousetraps or mothers, quickly set out on their own path. But in the chamber that housed the Annie Leibovitz exhibition, and at de Kooning's frenzied pastel sketch of JFK, and by John Quidor's Headless Horseman Pursuing Ichabod Crane, and near Albert Bierstadt's fantastical paintings of the nation's frontiers, the children conspired to descend upon their mother, robbing her of peace and quiet.
Go see The Art of Video Games! she finally suggested (or demanded?). Third floor. Text me when you're done. And they were off without a question, the hall and stairwell echoing the notes of their laughter and heavy feet. She was certain to not be disturbed for a long while.
Later, she made her way back to the third floor, where she stumbled upon the black box of David Hockney's Snails Space. Inside: a long leather bench on which to sit, silence and aloneness, not one other museum goer in the box. She sat. She stared at, and listened to, the illuminated, multicolored canvases of a world within a world—a moving, breathing model of streams and mountains, valleys and woodland which changed as the light by which it was illuminated altered; a shy bleating of activity emitting from the landscape. It made her think of a pop-out book. For several moments she sat alone. Five minutes? Ten minutes? Alone. Could it be? It was beautiful. An oasis. Peaceful. Quiet. Snails. Space. The world within the world. Just as Hockney had intended.*
And what happens when the Suburban Soliloquist finds a moment of peace and quiet?
Two young teens tend to find her. (Often, when she is trying to digitally capture worlds within worlds.) And decide to sit and stay. Look and listen. They speak in whispers. (And ratcheted-up whispers.)
Max: What's happening?
Lulu: Are the snails moving?
SS: Living.
Max (surprised): Wh-what?
(Pause. Room darkens and lightens.)
Lulu: The snails are moving!
Max: Where are the snails?
(Pause)
Max: Really, where are the snails?
(Pause. Bleating heard.)
Max: Where's the sound coming from?
(Pause. Room darkens.)
Lu: What happened?
SS (into Lu's ear): Hold on, it's not done yet.
Max: I seriously don't get it.
Max (surprised): Wh-what?
(Pause. Room darkens and lightens.)
Lulu: The snails are moving!
Max: Where are the snails?
(Pause)
Max: Really, where are the snails?
(Pause. Bleating heard.)
Max: Where's the sound coming from?
(Pause. Room darkens.)
Lu: What happened?
SS (into Lu's ear): Hold on, it's not done yet.
Max: I seriously don't get it.
(Pause.)
Lu (annoyed): Mom, what's going on?
(Inaudible whispers.)
(Kids, mildly agitated, exit. Camera out. Suburban Soliloquist: stands and exits.)
She made her way out of the black box, following the children toward the neon lights of Nam June Paik's Electronic Superhighway, wishing she could have lingered longer in the blackness of the box. But she would not leave Hockney and the snails entirely behind. She was to carry the bleat and tinct of them with her throughout their Capitol excursion, and far beyond.
The space of a snail is the day's oasis.
(Kids, mildly agitated, exit. Camera out. Suburban Soliloquist: stands and exits.)
She made her way out of the black box, following the children toward the neon lights of Nam June Paik's Electronic Superhighway, wishing she could have lingered longer in the blackness of the box. But she would not leave Hockney and the snails entirely behind. She was to carry the bleat and tinct of them with her throughout their Capitol excursion, and far beyond.
The space of a snail is the day's oasis.
Peacenquiet.
* “The installation unfolds as a kind of silent performance that evokes Hockney's experience of designing sets and costumes for operas even as he lost his hearing. In the absence of sound, pure visual experience compensates and suggests a different narrative to every viewer. The title offers a pun and a suggestion from the artist. To sit in this installation through the entire cycle of light shifts is to take time for what Hockney called "the pleasure of looking" that leads us to understand "how beautiful the world is.” - From Snails Space with Vari-Lites, "Painting as Performance" at the American Art Museum.
* * *
From
the website of Providence's Veteran's Memorial Auditorium, where Bobby McFerrin
will be performing on May 10, 2012:
With a four-octave range and vast array of vocal techniques, McFerrin is not a mere singer; he is music’s last true Renaissance man, a vocal explorer who combines jazz, folk and a multitude of world music influences. As one of the foremost guardians of music’s rich heritage, he remains at the vanguard with his natural, beautiful and timeless music that transcends all borders and embraces all cultures.
McFerrin
takes his audience through demonstrations that continually illustrate how music
interacts with brain and emotion, such as the video above from the World
Science Fesitival, 2009 (more on the topic of sound
perception can be found at PBS's The Music Instinct—Science and Song). He charms,
delights, unites—with a common chorus—and even transforms his admirers by creating his own oasis, engaging others in his improvisational
forays.
From
his website:
Listening to Bobby McFerrin sing may be hazardous to your preconceptions. Side effects may include unparalleled joy, a new perspective on creativity, rejection of the predictable, and a sudden, irreversible urge to lead a more spontaneous existence.
Here, the emotional spectrum of crying until you laugh and laughing until you cry:
This is what's happening: the pleasure and wonder of looking and listening, new perspectives, spontaneity, a common chorus. How beautiful the world is.
There were nine of us and my dad's pat answer was "tools," which were torture for me to pick out and buy so I probably got him after shave.
ReplyDeleteI found myself craving to be in the box with the mother in me answering Max, or not.
Tools! I don't think there was on tool may dad didn't have! What do you give the man who has all the tools? I think I probably gave my dad after shave, as well. I sure as hell didn't give him any peace and quiet. ;)
DeleteWell, if your video of the snails hasn't gone viral yet, it certainly ought to. As for BOTH the Ferrin videos, wonderful! Last, not least, did I ever tell you how much I love your writing? Even if I have, worth saying again, eh? Last, for a bit of (prefaced) silence from John Cage, click here.
ReplyDeleteHa! Susan--I showed to vid to my husband last night and he had a good life. Max and Lu going on as usual, Mother trying her best to ignore them.
DeleteThe silence of Cage's piece is crazy! Hadn't seen it before. The silence in musical pieces can be quite powerful. Silence as music, even more so. Either that, or frustrating! That would definitely elicit an "I seriously don't get it" response from my son. ;)
Thanks for saying it. :)
Your son would not be alone, though, in the end, Cage really opened folks' ears about how to listen, for sounds and silences both, in a wholly new way. The original performance was in Woodstock, and I gather what one heard during this piece were the sounds of nature, wind, birds, and such, filtering into the room.
DeleteSusan- I just realized that first sentence in my first response is all whacked out. Sloppy typing or a Freudian slip. Of course, it should be "the video," and at the end "good laugh."
DeleteAnyhoo--as the girl would say--brave of Cage to debut this piece at Woodstock. Then again, it was all cool there, wasn't it? The fact that it was outside certainly changes the experience, too. Lovely. Glad you came back to let us know this. Thanx much! :)
Wow, I love that first Bobby McFerrin video. Didn't watch the second all the way through, though. Won't make it to the shop on time if I stay here reading blogs all day.
ReplyDeleteI should start thinking about taking things at a snail's pace, too. Maybe I'll find a museum or two...
Snail's pace-- you got it, Nessa. Love that little pun in the piece. If you have time, try to see the whole Wizard of Oz Medley--it's very funny. :)
DeleteLoved the snail video...and the commentary. lol!
ReplyDeleteSometimes that few minutes of peacenquiet sustains us for hours.
When my kids were younger, they would ask why does Mom takes such a long shower?...Ha! They didn't know that I was in there for the peace and quiet! lol.
My water bill has skyrocketed since having kids. Or was that the sprinkler system? Nope. It's the kids. ;)
DeleteThe snail and McFerrin videos were great. And you do have to laugh at the kids' take on Hockney. Don't you?
ReplyDeleteI love black boxes and I don't even have kids to contend with, just regular people who seem to be everywhere. The last time I went to D.C. was with a friend who had to spend the majority of his time in conference and so I had 4 days alone with the Smithsonian. It was great!
This is a wonderful post Jayne, and your writing is so wonderful.
Rubye- I wanted to spend some time explaining the exhibit to them, but they were too impatient. I think they preferred to just not get it. Children are not interested in slowing down to a snail's pace. At least not mine.
DeleteThe kids have a Black Box Theater in their school. And Hockney's installation was on a stage that was almost as big as the BBT. I felt like I was back in the Theatre--only much quieter.
Four days to explore the Smithsonian! Lucky you. I'd like to plan a trip like that, myself. :)
Hi- Again, for me, the presentation talks. "What's happening?" A random background, interesting description of the experience, and then a sweet, succinct answer,like, this is what I see. And it was nice to know your pleased. Very engaging from a lot of different angles. As much as I admired the kids eagerly embracing the unknown, I also applaud the honesty of the installation review. I like your attitude. Taking the kids there. This great line,"The space of a snail in the days oasis". I'll keep that one with me for awhile. Thanks, Jayne.
ReplyDeleteScott- Ya, that random background I thought about for a while. And going back over the piece I feel like I didn't quite make the connection between the opening and the ending. It felt almost like a non-sequitur, or desultory, to me, but maybe the problem was that I could have spent a lot more time on the first paragraph--could have gone in several different directions, maybe to some places I don't care to go--and I was so distracted by the random background that it took me much too long to write the dang piece. Anyway, I'm glad you found it engaging. The American Art Museum, itself, is incredibly engaging.
DeleteWish I could take my kids to a snail's space (or pace) more often, but they're quite happy with their own pace (to which I've adjusted, for the most part). ;)
Jayne- I meant the comment to be supportive. Peace out.
DeleteLOL! Scott- I know you did!--that was just a little neurotic riff on my part. I have a nasty habit of questioning myself too much. And then I wonder: can one really question oneself too much? Ah YES! says my rational self. I need to encourage my rational self to put the hand down, and fear less. Thanks for your encouragement. :)
DeleteThey will eventually "get it". I'm looking forward to those exhibits and the peace and quiet of just experiencing snail space.
ReplyDeleteAntares- I think you're right. I think, even, they may get it now, but prefer not to admit it. ;)
DeleteJayne: What a magical post about the art of music and wondering! A trip the The Museum. I haven't heard from Bobby McFeron in many years. Glad I stopped by, as always!
ReplyDeleteHave a nice weekend!! :)
I have to admit, Michael, that I've never been a big McFerrin fan, but after really looking into what he's been up to lately (and also in years past), I'm amazed. I'm trying to fit his show in for 5/10, but Thursday nights are pretty hectic around here. :)
DeleteOh, how I have longed for peacenquiet, and then one day I had it. Now when the children are with us on the weekends, I revel in the chaos. We want what we don't have Jayne, and when we have it? we want the opposite.
ReplyDelete"Hummel-murdering footballs" I love that line!
Ha! Oh yes, always what we don't want. I'm sure when my nest is empty and too, too quiet, I'm going to crave the presence of those kids. But then, I'll be happy to have a little peacenquiet between visits. ;)
DeleteFor some reason, I'm afraid to click the 'Snails Space' video. Is that weird?
ReplyDeleteHa! Suze- it's safe. I assure you. All it (or you) needs is time. :)
Deletewhat fun! what a lovely little oasis you created for the reader. love the back and forth written and whispered dialogue with the kids. clever, clever. i miss school vacations with my kids now that they're grown.
ReplyDeletea beautiful life made even more so when we are able to play it out in peacenquiet (good one jayne) slow, slow motion.
M- The dialogue was unwanted at the time, but it's pretty funny now that I've got it recorded for all time. I do love vacationing with them--they're in the habit of keeping a getaway quite interesting, and always, amusing. ;)
Deletea few years ago when were we in the audience at a political rally my daughter had the opportunity to sing with bobby mcferrin. he definitely can get a crowd moving!
ReplyDeletei enjoyed following your foray through the museum with your kids and hearing their hushed questions about the snails.
thanks for visiting my blog and for your kind comment ;-)
What fun for your daughter, Amanda! (And you, too.) Bobby McFerrin at a political rally. Wow. No bullhorns needed there.
DeleteHappy to see you here at SS!
Jayne, what a lovely piece of writing. I love it when you go there—to that place that is wide open, and your words turn into the wind and carry the reader whithersoever it goest.
ReplyDeleteI love this line: "a shy bleating of activity emitting from the landscape."
David Hockney's Snails Space provided you a bit of peacenquiet until the kids discovered your getaway. "Mom. What's happening?!" LOL! Yeah, you should know by now that you are not allowed peacenquiet. You're a mom damnit!
Beautiful post sweet Jayne.
Hugs,
Leah
"[...] withersoever it goest. See! You are a poet! Those kids, oh my gosh, they could not deal with no answers from Mother. Drove them bonkers. I had my index finger to my lips the whole time, and they still wouldn't give me quiet! (And how the heck to I know what's happening?) But, yeah, I should know not to expect peacenquiet by now. Peacenquiet when they're off to college, maybe? Ha! Maybe. ;)
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