Arts in New York City

Last night was the first time I had ever been at Carnegie Hall, and it was an experience. Even after climbing up all those stairs, I didn’t completely comprehend how high up I was until I looked down. I realized that if one were to trip and fall onto the row in front one’s self, one would end up rolling off the balcony. This thought, along with intense contemplation about exactly how high we were, and how close the ceiling was, brought back a paralyzing fear of heights for a few seconds. I got rid of the acrophobia (fear of heights) by looking around at my fellow audience, and after some time discovered that it was a prime location for people watching. However, before my overactive imagination could get the best of me, the orchestra began. It was then that I noticed the microphones hanging from the ceiling. Those must have been some strong wires. If someone positioned herself right, she could swing herself, Tarzan-style, from one balcony to another. They must need very tall ladders to reach the ceiling to set up and fix the microphones. The lights also caught my attention. I noticed that not a single bulb was out, and that the giant circle of lights in the middle of the ceiling wasn’t reachable by balcony. I hope that the person who changes the light bulbs has good life insurance.

When I finally glanced down at the musicians, their all-black dress code caused my nomadic thoughts to wander even further away from the galaxy where they had originated. If Sir John Eliot Gardiner was trying to imitate how the pieces were performed in Beethoven’s time, why are the musicians not dressed in breeches and corsets? Accidental anachronisms only discredit a performance. Although, I will concede that it would be hard for the female cellists to hold their instruments in giant poufy dresses.