A really fascinating article, Pearls before breakfast from the Washington Post Magazine. The paper set up a fly-on-the-wall experiment. Joshua Bell, one of the most celebrated violists in the world, is asked to busk at a metro station. You would have to pay hundreds to see him perform at close quarters. What do you think happened at the train station during peak hour?
Thanks to Terry Tao for pointing out the link.
Hi Joan,
I really enjoyed reading that article. I wonder what I would have done? I’d like to think I would have stopped, but I am often in a rush. I doubt if I would have put any money in his box, or, if I had, it would have been pennies at most!
I wonder how much beauty I miss each day? My motto is “In Search of Beauty”, but there are whole realms of beauty that I cannot see. I agree that it is much easier to appreciate beauty in a beautiful context (so beautiful sounds outside of a concert hall, and where the mind has not set itself the expectation of hearing beauty, are apt to be ignored). Hence most of my photos are of the quiet, underpopulated, uncluttered spaces in the colleges.
A week or two ago, I tried to take photos of the beautiful trees around Cambridge that were in blossom, but cars, people, houses, litter, noise, distractions prevented me from taking any photos that I consider beautiful. I’m sure the beauty is there, but I wasn’t able to find or capture it.
I add scents, sounds (or even the absence of sounds) and occasionally textures to my definition of beauty. Indeed, through the dancing, I have included “a beautiful memory”, and consider those who paint such memories in my mind to be “artists” – something as simple as “a flowing spin turn in quickstep”, or the reaction to a minor mistake.
On the flip-side, I also wonder how much ugliness I ignore, or the level of ugliness I put up with before I take any action, and even whether taking action is an ugliness.
I guess all such ponderings are a result of not having essays to hand in by 5p.m.!
Oh, flashbacks of first year architectural design, Haman (if you’re reading this)!