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I was once lucky enough to be a guest at a Metzger Ensemble Concert and my hosts had front row tickets. I was sat right in front of the players, which was a very intimate experience. There were four musicians, who sometimes played all together, and other times there were solo moments etc; through their playing they seemed to be conversing with each other.
The cellist’s solo moment was breath-taking. His eyes transformed the script into arm movements. He held his cello right into his body and the red, lacquered, elegant box vibrated and reverberated to the contact of the bow. That deep aching noise seemed to come right out of him: sounding like it came out from his own very depths, from his heart. I didn’t know where he ended and his instrument began.
oil on canvas