Diabelli Variations, reflections, art

I am listening to Piotr Anderszewski play Beethoven's Diabelli Variations. Or, as Beethoven termed it, Diabelli Transformations.

I am reflecting on why yesterday's meeting at work had such an impact on me.

The reason is, it felt like theatre.

We walked into a high-ceilinged room, with dusk falling, and lights turned low. The room was especially clean, with neat rows of chairs. A soft light glowed from the project screen, ready for the demos. Along the left side sat narrow tables with billows of white cloth, humous, olives, carrots, red peppers, sandwiches, and cheese -- my group has a lot of vegetarians, including our leader -- and brilliant small Christmas lights twinkling among the feast.

What felt like theatre to me was the

cleanliness
intention
light
beauty
spirit-nourishment

Someone had created, out of space and shadow, a glowing emptiness for us to walk into. It was the space that made us beautiful. And the steady accomplishments listed in our slides.

Work has seemed long and charcoal-grey the last two months. I needed that beauty.

Piotr, this pianist, was born in Warsaw, speaks fluent French, decent English. He is now playing Variation 18, Poco Moderato. He was 29 in this recording. He has a touch like Horowitz -- unbelievably delicate. I believe he hears Beethoven as if it were Chopin -- as if every note had that much meaning, that much sorrow against the joy, that much tenderness. I hear Beethoven newly, through his ears.

Where have I gotten the idea that art is not an acceptable way to spend my life?