I chose this image for a few reasons: (1) the man looked more American, to me, than anyone else I've come in contact with since we left the States; (2) I keep the piano in a shoebox under my bed; (3) I hear a language more honest and reliable than any other when the piano speaks; (4) I'm too attached, emotionally, to write about my great-grandfather (without being overly cliché and sentimental); (5) so this was a triggering opportunity (to address a personal memory without all the baggage).
Saturday, May 11, 2013
Image Junkyard, #1 (Week 1)
It's 9:30. Morning. A man, full-suited, comes into caffe il Vencenzo. Unlike the others I've seen, he is not Italian except for his tongue. Bald, nearly clean-shaven. And I wonder why he chose today to speak without words. He sits down at the piano, looks over me. Even in Italy the keys, too distracted to notice their own heaviness, sound to me as static on the railway of my childhood. How my grandfather's back wilts next to mine on the piano bench, though the photo still remains young in its frame. Through the window, another man, with a holla hoop ringed round his shoulder laughs at a child figuring the cobblestone under her feet. And she seems rhythmed to the man's fingers sliding from key-to-key, a universal song--music more colorless hues of ocean grey than anything. When he is tired of himself, the man orders two cappuccino shakatri, toasts me the world, and goes to welcome today from the patio.
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Fairly lovely, as always. I'm particularly impressed by the way you took a moment in the morning and connected it to something else you want to write about--I understand that perfectly, given that I'm dedicated to figuring out a way to talk about my aunt while on this trip.
ReplyDeleteThat said, a few specifics, in case you continue this. I'd like to see a little more depth in your interaction with him. It might just be my experience with your work, but I immediately went to a romantic/intimate place when you said "he is not Italian except for his tongue." Your intent--that he speaks Italian--is entirely clear. However, it momentarily sexualizes him, which is obviously problematic when you then use him as a springboard to talk about your grandfather (you and the grandparent sex).
I would also say that, other than the detail that he is Italian and looks American to you, I don't really see why this needs to be in Italy. It could occur anywhere. Given the reason we're here is to write, I would suggest you try to root images a little more in Italy and the way that you see it. Describe the cafe more, or what you're eating, or even the Italian literature you're reading.
"And I wonder why he chose today to speak without words." -- Beautiful. Expand on this. This is a piece all about sound (language, music, piano, etc.). Use your semiotic skills and tell us why he chose to speak without words today.