The Violin
It’s been years since I touched it, the violin that is.
I can remember the days when I became so excited just thinking about, the way it felt in my fingers, in my hands, on my skin. It was like a hollow box, only I had thought of it as so much more. It may have been smaller than most instruments and most wouldn’t have given it as much as a second glance. But, to me, it was far more glorified - you just had to take time to look at it, play it. It was glossed mahogany, rounded to perfection and cut so definite - it had no flaws.
Every time I held it, it felt so precious to me like I had been washed away by its overpowering presence, just holding it close to me felt like more than enough. I could’ve spent time just complimenting the way it looked when I held it by my face, and how it felt like it was meant to be there. There was no other violin like mine, well - no other violin like it to me and that made me feel special when I had it.
How it sounded when I played was a completely different story, people around me sounded in tune and precise, more skilful than I could have ever been back then. I envied their experience. My violin paled in comparison to theirs, I wasn’t able to make sweet sounds with it. I wasn’t able to put all my strength into its hold.
I wasn’t skilled and it infuriated me greatly not being able to understand it, being unable to make it sound beautiful. My sound was always wrong in one place or another, the sound I played was never perfect. My positioning was all wrong, my fingers always moved too slow and I was never able to keep up with the others because of that. I felt like I had insulted such a wonderful work of art.
I wanted desperately to be able to play it well as soon as I laid fingers on it, but of course things are never that simple. I was young and naive to think so carelessly of it - foolish to think that if I didn’t practice I would still be able to become great.
I didn’t realise how much commitment it would’ve took to play the violin, I didn’t realise that I was never going to get far with the way I went around it. I couldn’t have learnt a thing if I just sat back and did nothing and I was oblivious to that realisation...
Every time I didn’t practice, I became guilty, another step away from my ‘impossible’ goal. I became a little less experienced every time I stayed away from it, a little less skilled when I didn’t go over my practice sheets. I forgot how to do the basics.
Of course it became a habit not to practice - distancing myself away from it little by little. Saying that I would do it tomorrow only became the same excuse everyday and before I knew it was time for my lessons and I would know nothing.
I became afraid to touch it... afraid that my incapable hands would break the gentle instrument I had. I stayed away from it so much, I forgot that I still had it, or more like suppressed the memories so I wouldn’t have to play it. I began to think it was clever; to pretend to forget bringing it with me so I didn’t have to practice.
Lessons became more of a burden than joy. I feared being taught how to play it more than excited to finally learn. I lost interest in the instrument I had thought so fondly of and somewhere inside it pained me.
I knew full well I simply wasn’t ready for the discipline, I wasn’t prepared for the difficult technique and I definitely was not planning to commit my spare time to it. I wasn’t ready for dedication. I didn’t pay attention to things more difficult to handle, stuff that other people might have thought wasn’t fun.
I had thought I loved the violin, but I was wrong... if I had, I wouldn’t have let it go on such a whim. I wouldn’t have given it up for such silly reasons as in disliking the teacher. It may have been true, but that was no reason to let it go and I knew that, but that seemed to be the only reason I could think of... The only reason that didn’t spit in the face of the beauty which was the violin.
In the end people make mistakes, ones that cannot be undone and thinking so childishly of the violin was a mistake I made. I was young, too young to understand music and that made me blind to not notice I gave up on something I could, no, should have excelled in.
I lost time that I am unable to get back... time that should have been spent being able to learn such a wonderful instrument, time where I could have let myself learn the beauty of the item but decided to do insignificant things instead. I could’ve made an achievement; I could’ve learnt to play it.
Maybe, if I try, one day I will be able to fulfil my wilted dream. I might be late if I start now, and it will take time to pick up the basics, but...
If I pick the violin up again... and start anew...
Learn to play it all over again...
Maybe something good would come of me.
Info on the performing arts in Cardiff
IMAGE: Daniel Y. Go
3 Comments – Post a comment
Sambow
Commented 22 months ago - 29th July 2010 - 15:41pm
Great piece, love the launguage used ;)
ilovegingers
Commented 22 months ago - 29th July 2010 - 19:27pm
wow.
you write so well, you kept my concentration throughout, you didn't give up the violin, you simply put it down for a minute, you should play again. :)
fattigalupo333
Commented 21 months ago - 5th August 2010 - 20:58pm
Really and truly i love this. It's sad that you gave up the violin. When i play the flute i just let my self go. Sure it's hard work, and it can be really infuriating when someone is better than you. But its so satisfiying when you can play with no flaws. I can play the flute when i'm mad (most of my life ;) when i'm happy and most importantly when i'm sad. I'ts like a shoulder to cry on that never says the wrong thing. But you don't have to play to get that feeling. I wish you saw your work (art) in other people's eyes. You's understand you have that in art.
anyway back to the point i love this piece. Really good ;)