Mrs GMJ Entertains
February 2019. She is born with the gift. Clearly. Mrs GMJ. Her father tells her she is and insists she play piano rather than milk cows. And so she does. Takes lessons. Practises. Teaches. Performs whenever she has the opportunity. On ocean liners, in hotels, churches.
All this I learn from her autobiographical writings. Her journals. I see pictures of her at the piano surrounded by smiling people. There is no need to question her skill. And why would I? But I do. Much later. After listening to a story told by the current organist of a local church: “I went to church one Sunday morning and the organist at the time asked me to fill in for him as he had a migraine. I replied that I would love to help but as I’d not rehearsed I simply couldn’t. The migraine sufferer then approached Mrs GMJ who agreed to play.” At this point, the story-teller shakes his head. “It was so bad. So very bad. But, I have to say that after hearing Mrs GMJ, I never again hesitated when asked to fill in.”
Whether or not Mrs GMJ is a skilled musician is questionable. What’s certain? That she is an entertaining musician. A frequent house guest tells me: “We used to go to her house. After tea she’d often entertain us with a few tunes, some from Mendelssohn, or as she called him, Mendelhosen. She’d gallop through two pages. Stop. Turn the page and start in again.” He demonstrates.
I suspect the thing Mrs GMJ really loves is the performance itself. Being in front of an audience. Proficiency, perhaps not so much. This is common. The love, I mean. I read an article about performance artists in a Canadian Art magazine where the writer talks in terms of an “unbridled desire for public exhibitionism”. (Summer 2005 The New Exhibitionists) My actors might not go that far but would certainly testify to something of a lesser degree. As for their proficiency, I won’t comment but do admit to questioning their loyalty in regard to this particular project. Only one shows up for Mrs GMJ Entertains and I reward her by giving her the starring role. Happily a few music teachers, students and parents volunteer to sit in. It’s easy work.
Am I wrong to wish for proficiency in the first place? Here I quote the actor Isabelle Huppert who says something interesting to writer Simon Critchley: “Of course, what theatre is about is aliveness, a certain experience of aliveness. That’s all that matters.” (Tragedy, the Greeks and Us). Could it be that simple? But I am without a context at the moment and dare not assume a phrase like “that’s all that matters” to be a narrowing or eliminating sort of thing. There may still be some room for proficiency. At any rate, I will stop. The play is about to begin. Lights dimming, piano music fading in. Nice. A bit of Mendelhosen for you.