Imagine a snowglobe. Inside is the sturdy, baroque Mozarteum alongside the delicate, tree-lined Mirabell Gardens. This is Salzburg, Austria, 1958. But it could just as well be 1858.
Now give the globe a shake.
The snow falls gently on a young couple, newly married, sitting on a park bench quite smitten with each other and with what they have stumbled upon. A solo violinist has come out to play from a third floor balcony of the Mozarteum. Then, a few balconies away, a cellist emerges and picks up the tune. Eventually the plaintive tones of a clarinet make it a trio. Already enthralled the newlyweds are not expecting that serendipity still has a trump card to play: a mezzo soprano, from another building, adds an aria that drifts down as if carried on the snowflakes.
Whatever we call it we seem fascinated by the magic that occurs when serendipity meets music where we least expect it.
They are enchanted. They are my parents. And it is a story that has been retold in our family many times; usually with them editing one another and auto-filling each other鈥檚 sentences. Such are shared narratives after nearly 60 years of marriage.
They remember applauding. They remember how they felt. But they still struggle in finding words that capture the moment. 鈥淚t was spontaneous and inspiring,鈥� recalls my dad. My mother throws in 鈥渂eautiful and impressive鈥�. It鈥檚 not that they are at a loss for words, it鈥檚 that we really don鈥檛 have a vocabulary adequate to capture moments such as these.
Whatever we call it we seem fascinated by the magic that occurs when serendipity meets music where we least expect it. It is ineffable. It is delightful. And, like my parents before me, I鈥檝e just found it.
Of Wine, Faux Leather, And Some Delight 鈥�
Blue Lake, California鈥攋ust 15 miles northeast of Eureka鈥攊s a bit of an enigma. It鈥檚 a sleepy, former logging town of just over a thousand people, yet it has a bustling casino. There actually is no lake鈥攂lue or otherwise鈥攂ut the Mad River passes nearby. And downtown鈥攊f you can call 2 or 3 intersections 鈥榙owntown鈥欌�攈as a piano鈥n the sidewalk鈥or anyone to play. It was put there by longtime resident Barbara Russell. I meet her bottling wine a half block from the piano at the Blue Lake Winery. She鈥檚 being paid in wine and she reads a Shakespeare quote on the wine label for me:
鈥淗ow shall we beguile the lazy time if not with some delight鈥�
Makes sense for a wine label. I like that it is written in the form of a rhetorical question. I ask Barbara if she thinks the quote applies to the piano outside her kitchen window. 鈥淵es. Entirely,鈥� she says without hesitating. 鈥淲hen we have the time to relax, to listen, and pluck away and make music that is why the piano is outside. Just hoping that something magical will happen.鈥�
After the wine is bottled a group meanders over to the corner of G Street and Railroad Avenue where magic is about to happen. A piano-playing plumber who goes by 鈥楲izard鈥� has skooched the bench up to play. Both the piano and Lizard have a look: Lizard with a braided beard and the piano mostly encased in faux leather. 鈥淚 love to play piano,鈥� says Lizard. 鈥淎nd I was so happy to find this piano on the street. And I鈥檓 going to play this song called 鈥極phelia鈥� by The Band.鈥�
As the Dixie riff fills the street I can see what happens to people when they hear unexpected, impromptu, live music outside an established musical venue. First, comes a mixed look of disorientation and curiosity. This is quickly followed by a smile (it helps if the music is good and, let me tell you, Lizard can play). Finally鈥攁nd this is the part I love鈥攜ou see people revert to a childlike joy right before your eyes. It could have been the wine but I don鈥檛 think so.
The Art of Stopping, Listening & Interacting
This past summer had you been in Minneapolis, Paris, New York, Vancouver, Des Moines, Golden Gate Park, Hong Kong, Florence, or Perth鈥攖o name just a few places鈥攜ou might have heard a public piano being played. Many may have been part of the 7-year-old 鈥淐ome Play Me, I鈥檓 Yours鈥� project which was started by British artist Luke Jerram as a 鈥渃atalyst for conversation and changing the dynamics of space鈥�.
I've been to the Center of the Universe and it's a sewer cover.
Or you may have been closer to home. Four years ago, while still a music student, Megan McGeorge started rescuing old upright pianos in Portland and placing them in public spaces. Her motivation was straight forward: potential music should not end up in a dump, the pianos should be rehabilitated, painted by artists, shared publicly, and once rainy season kicked in they should be donated to organizations that needed them. Now 鈥淧iano Push Play鈥� as it is known, has over a dozen pianos scattered around the city and even an App to locate them.
鈥淚t鈥檚 a sentimental thing,鈥� says Megan, who now scores music and continues to play both the piano and French horn. 鈥淪o many people have a connection to this instrument somehow or someway. And a lot of people play but don鈥檛 have access to a piano. But one of my favorite things is watching the audience. Seeing them take a moment. You see the music getting people to interact with some song or person they usually wouldn鈥檛 interact with.鈥�
The Center Of The Universe
The Blue Lake piano has me thinking about interaction. It鈥檚 a small town, after all. I wonder what the town thinks about the piano. I鈥檓 betting it can easily be heard by half the town. I鈥檓 also betting the local bar is where I will find answers. But I find more than I bargained for. I should have known.
One block down from Barbara鈥檚 piano are two venerated Blue Lake institutions: The Dell鈥橝rte School of Physical Theater and The Logger Bar. The former is world famous. The latter is world famous in Humboldt County.
Last year Dell鈥橝rte helped the city secure a public arts grant which, amongst other things, helped designate a sewer cover on Railroad Avenue as the 鈥楥enter of the Universe鈥�. It鈥檚 one block down from Barbara Russell鈥檚 public piano, and between the Odd Fellows Hall were Dell鈥橝rte is based, and The Logger Bar, one of California鈥檚 oldest continuously running saloons.
I鈥檓 on a barstool looking out the front door of The Logger with owner Kate Martin. We can almost see the piano from where we are sitting and I鈥檓 hoping she鈥檒l give me her two cents worth. But Blue Lake doesn鈥檛 seem to work that way.
鈥淭hat IS the center of the universe,鈥� she says, pointing out to the town鈥檚 empty main intersection. 鈥淚 think it鈥檚 just the magnetic vortex of the world. It actually ends up right there in the middle of that sewage cover 鈥� (a cat jumps up on a nearby barstool and meows) 鈥nd this is Kevin. Kevin the Cat. He just showed up here and hasn鈥檛 left. I think he鈥檚 a reincarnated customer because he likes to be on the barstools.鈥�
Down the bar I find actor Cooper Lee Smith who just graduated with his Master of Fine Arts from Dell鈥橝rte. He鈥檚 what locals call a 鈥淒ell鈥橝rtian鈥�, and I ask him if he doesn鈥檛 think the whole 鈥榗enter of the universe鈥� thing is a touch pretentious.
鈥淚鈥檝e never seen it as pretentious,鈥� he says without pause, as if questions about the umbilicus of the universe were as blas茅 as a Budweiser.
鈥淎nd I think part of it is I know it鈥檚 not saying that we are the most important or that Blue Lake is the be-all-end-all. First of all it has a spirit of humor and of joy. And so immediately I love that I can look at that and laugh. But also, once again it ties back to community for me. It鈥檚 less the location and more the spirit of this place that gives it the ability to call itself the 鈥楥enter of the Universe鈥�.鈥�
Spirit Is Something That No One Destroys
So now I can say this: 鈥淚鈥檝e been to the Center of the Universe and it鈥檚 a sewer cover. There are actors and adult beverages there. The cats are reincarnated barflies. A block away there is a piano: 88 black and white keys that can shine with a multitude of colors.鈥�
( I know the Fremont neighborhood in Seattle also claims to be the Center of the Universe. They proudly feature a Troll and Lenin and even a signpost. But no sewer cover. So their claim lacks gravitas doesn鈥檛 it?)
I walk the one block from the Center of the Universe back to the piano. Lizard is now playing Traffic鈥檚 鈥淭he Low Spark of High-Heeled Boys鈥�. The smiling faces gathered around the piano, Lizard鈥檚 passionate playing, and the lyrics convince me this probably IS the center of the universe; at least the one I鈥檓 faced with today.
If I gave you everything that I owned and asked for nothing in return
Would you do the same for me as I would for you?
Or take me for a ride, and strip me of everything including my pride
But spirit is something that no one destroys
And the sound that I鈥檓 hearing is only the sound
The low spark of high-heeled boys
I almost miss the line鈥� 鈥渂ut spirit is something that no one destroys鈥� 鈥� and ask Lizard to repeat it. I ask what it means to him. He says this:
鈥溾�業 think of Martin Luther King as the spirit of something that no one destroys and music is something that can keep the spirit coming back. And there are echoes from long ago. People that are long gone return. 老夫子传媒 is part of the echoing of the spirit of people long gone.鈥�
Coda
老夫子传媒 does echo. We have songs stuck in our head from this morning and songs that link us directly to distant memories. Usually we seek out music on our own terms 鈥� choosing the time, place and style. But sometimes music finds us, and when it is unexpected鈥攍ike a piano on a sidewalk鈥攊t seems to affect us in a very unique way. What exactly that is I can only say for myself: for me unexpected public music is a shared beauty. A brief bloom rendered all the more precious because it is fleeting. For that moment we truly are at the center of our own little universe.
I try to communicate this ethereal appeal to Barbara Russell but fail miserably. I ask her what the public piano means to her. Why she put it out there in the first place. How she thinks it affects the extemporaneous artists and the fortuitous audience. She sees it like this:
鈥淲hat does the piano do? I just think the piano brings good energy. It brings the possibility of song. And I think that music is something that cuts right through any differences and barriers and just makes people鈥檚 hearts sing. And that鈥檚 got to be a great thing right?鈥�
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A Universe Of Public Pianos
鈥俌ou can see the named pianos and the variety of ways they are decorated by Portland artists. There are some sweet stories in the link to Megan鈥檚 blog. With the featured App you can not only find the pianos but they will introduce themselves!
鈥侲ight million people, 1,400 pianos, and 47 countries later, this project started by Luke Jerram in 2008 could be considered the grand daddy of public piano programs. This site is full of fun videos and an equally fascinating 鈥榮tories鈥� section.
鈥侺ike many public piano programs this one out of the Midwest focuses on 鈥榓rtistically transformed鈥� pianos and reaching out to children. Don鈥檛 miss the very inspiring photo section!
(11 minutes)鈥俉hen the 鈥淧lay Me, I鈥檓 Yours鈥� project came to Boston in 2013 and intrepid pianist decided he would play a song at all 75 pianos. This short film does well in capturing the unique atmosphere that makes public pianos so compelling.
Michael Joyce is a multimedia journalist based in Humboldt County, California. It鈥檚 unclear which he prefers more: boogie-woogie piano or Mozart. Michael can鈥檛 even play chopsticks but he can eat with them.