One day I found an ad on Artsjob.com. It said: we’re looking for cellists, no professional required; you just have to be able to play a D note. It’s for a performance made by Yves Klein in 1960 that we want to present again.
I thought it was a divine sign. I have the cello here in London and I use it very seldom. And also, I always loved Yves Klein and his blue. I didn’t know about the performance. Basically, it was a forty-minutes long show, with an orchestra playing the Monothone Symphonie (just an extended D note) and in the middle a pause of twenty minutes of complete silence, where the audience should contemplate the shapes left by the body of naked models painted with blue paint.
Being part of this was magical. I felt like the note and the color were all in one, on the same shade, the same tonality. I felt music was coming out from my body, from all bodies of musicians, and from our body it was going to the naked models’ bodies, to cover them with its blue vibration. Then silence. At the beginning it was embarrassing. But then I concentrated on the canvas on the stage, with shapes of blue body on them.
At one point I was so focused that I didn’t even notice that, in the silence, I started hearing the note D.
Gorgeous poetry ... thanks ...
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