Last weekend, when I was sickity-sick-sick, I attended my son’s piano teacher’s choral concert. She directs a local choir and is always encouraging her piano students to attend any and all such concerts, in order to broaden their musical worldview. Another friend of mine is in the choir and she asked me to help “work the back of the house” for the concert. Since she’s my friend and since I had asked her to be the concierge/cashier/brag-on-me-gal at my recent art show, I unhesitatingly told her that yes, of course I would work the back of the house for the concert. I had no idea what I was supposed to do, but I showed up smiling, with my late stage emphysema-like cough, my black pants and my white blouse.

As it turns out, working the back of the house is easy. I had merely to smile (cough) and hand each attendee a (cough) program (cough) and remind them to (cough) fill out the little card (cough, cough) inside in order to be (cough) in the drawing (cough) for a lunch for (cough) two. (Which of course was really so the choir would have their contact info and could send them email about upcoming concerts.) I tried to not cough on the programs as I handed them out. Then I tried to not cough as a I quietly closed the doors before the program began as the choir director looked sternly around the room with that look that we all know means “If your cell phone rings during my concert, I have a gun in the pocket of this choir robe with which I will unhesitatingly shoot you.” I tried to not cough as I juggled my four-year-old and his broadening musical worldview throughout the entire concert and I especially tried to not cough (and curse) as I spied the doctor who had told me a week early that my endless hacking was “just allergies” singing as a member of the choir.

Before the concert began, I had noted that my son’s piano teacher had her hair up, her nails done, heels on and was wearing all black. As she directed the choir through some warmups, I noted the lovely neckline of her blouse and her suprisingly small waist. At piano lessons, she’s always in comfy, loose-fitting clothing and Uggs, Keens or sensible European walking shoes. (And can ya blame her? If I had to sit in a small, dark church coaxing musicality into and out of sweaty little brats I’d be wearing a mumu and a morphine drip!) Observing piano teacher’s gussied-uppedness, I thought, unhesitatingly, that she looked very pretty. Then, right before the (cough, cough, cough, cough, COUGH!) concert began, she donned a formless, drapey, royal blue, apparently all rayon (ergh) jacket thingy that matched the blouses that the female choir members wore. Sigh. The transformation was amazing: up until that moment, her bare neck and arms had been a visual draw in the room, but once the blue ugliness was applied, she was rendered all but invisible. My worldview, if you will, of the scene, was dramatically altered. I momentarily thought this a pity, but then realized that her being invisible was surely helpful to directing the concert-goers attention to listening to the concert vs. looking at the director. Which got me to thinking about something I’ve thought of during almost every concert I’ve ever gone to…

…Is there any face better than the face of a choir director (or conductor) when they are directing?! (No June, there is not! I say so unhesitatingly!) I know, I so agree! If you ask me, (I know you didn’t…blogs aren’t always like that. Shut up.) the choir director/conductor face falls in the same camp as the baby spying their just-returned-home-mother face and the groom-sees-his-bride-come-down-the-aisle face. As appealing as it is to listen to a choir or orchestra, visual me sometimes finds equal joy in watching the face of the director during a concert. The range of emotion, nuance and directives that are capable of being communciated via a human face is perhaps never greater than in the face of a director when they are leading a detailed piece of music. I think it would be rather fabulous if someone would do a film project that shows only a close-up of a director’s face for the length of an entire piece, with no soundtrack at all. Then maybe the same footage could play again with the piece being heard…or something like that…I don’t know…I make paintings, not movies. Ya gotta love that face though, don’tcha think?!