Bach Suites in the Dark

Window details at the Dia:Beacon museum

This weekend saw us at the Goethe Institut on 3rd Street for a somewhat uncommon event. The cellist Augustin Maurs played for several hours, interleaved by small breaks here and there between couple of suites, in complete darkness. The public would enter through multi-layered black curtains, hold their hands to the wall to avoid bumping into people, the cellist, or the benches that made the length of a room of unknown size. When you bumped someone's sitting knees front of you ("sorry… no problem…") you could just sit down as well and wait to be immersed into complete auditory sensation.

The main impression is an extreme proximity with the music. As the only thing you can feel outside of your body, it permeates, infiltrates and conquers every space. The cello is probably a keenly appropriate instrument, as its vibrating tones and its clear notes combine together to fill the musical spectrum with warm, intense energy. At the same time you feel your body sitting on a bench and relaxing. The absence of a visible and observing audience allows you to relax to an extent that is usually the prerogative of your most intimate moments of quiet and calm.

After a week of appreciable, amusing and avidly ambulatory viewing, visiting, discovering, discussing, exploring, encountering, galloping and gawking through the city with Marion's family, this moment of complete egress from the present to an extemporal and remote realm of sensory gratification by a master of a beautiful instrument was a rare treat for the senses and a balm for the spirit.

The past week has been full of experiences and we will need some time to sort our impression on all we have seen and heard and learned. The Suites in the Dark were something that, in its simplicity and elegance, provided unfiltered and unfettered pleasure that can, to some extent, be described in simple terms.