The Essence of Excellence

Once in a great while, if we’re fortunate enough, we get to experience excellence in a way that evokes some sort of indescribable resonant feeling in us. It's not something that's easily explained; you have to be "tuned in," in a sense, and you know it when you see it. Or hear it.

Enjoying the exhibits at New York's Museum of Modern Art many years ago, I came upon Dali's The Persistence of Memory. Struck by how small the actual painting was against the white walls of the museum (I had only previously seen it rendered in poster-sized prints), and connecting with the composition in that indescribable way, the hair on the back of my neck actually stood on end. I felt a tingling sensation. I was, in a way, awestruck. The painting was, in its very essence, the embodiment of the surrealist movement. By itself, it was iconic - an archetypal rendering; the perfectly captured essence of something. Melting clocks painted on a 9 1/2 X 13 inch canvas. What made it so?

Mahler's Ninth Symphony also comes to mind. The Adagio, the final movement, has been called "one of the most perfect artistic renderings of death ever created." Listen and it becomes apparent what the artist was intent on communicating as the violins slowly fade, the final note a sort of perfect last breath. Oddly hopeful in its finality. Goosebumps. Why?

And then there's Lyle Mays. I've been fortunate to have seen him play many times. At the Beacon Theater in New York (several times). Radio City Music Hall. The old pier on the west side of Manhattan. And while the main attraction was Pat Metheny, Lyle both provided the background on which Pat could display his virtuosity (a team of musicians unrivaled since Lennon & McCartney), and offered improvisations of his own that unfailingly captivated his audience. When Lyle "spoke," you could hear a pin drop, regardless of the venue. Excellence personified. Every time. Goosebumps. Every time. Why?

Dali. Mahler. Mays. They left no part of themselves unexamined or unexpressed in their work. You feel as if you know them through their creative expressions, and each being famously enigmatic in their own way, the only way to know them is through their art. So they’re still with us. They’re always with us.

As essential as a sunrise, their works are evocative because of the utter lack of disconnection between themselves and their art, like the sun against a clear blue sky; perfect extensions rather than contrived portrayals. Nothing left on the table. Look: Listen: This is who I am.

Goosebumps. Every time.