Voices ResourcesA website for the worldwide community around the journal Voices: A World Forum for Music Therapy

This title is a paraphrase from something that Itzhak Perlman, the violinist, said to the audience after he finished playing a concerto with a violin that had only 3 strings instead of 4.

And here is the story. A few days ago I read an article by Jack Riemer from the Huston Chronicle about a concert that Itzhak Perlman gave at Lincoln Center in New York City in 1995. Just as he finished the first few bars of the concerto, one of the strings on his violin broke. Instead of finding another violin or another string for this one, he waited a moment, closed his eyes and then signaled the conductor to begin again. The orchestra began, and he played from where he had left off. The writer mentions that Perlman played with such passion, power and purity, as he had never heard before.

"Of course", he continues to write, "anyone knows that it is impossible to play a symphonic work with just three strings. I know that, and you know that, but that night Itzhak Perlman refused to know that. You could see him modulating, changing, and recomposing the piece in his head. At one point, it sounded like he was de-tuning the strings to get new sounds from them that they had never made before."

When he finished, there was silence in the room, and then there was an extraordinary outburst of applause. The audience were on their feet, screaming and cheering, showing how much they appreciated what he did. He then raised his bow to quiet the audience and said: "You know, sometimes it is the artist's task to find out how much music you can still make with what you have left."

Jack Riemer, the journalist, goes on and summarizes his article by saying: "And who knows? Perhaps that is the way of life - not just for artists but for all of us. So, perhaps our task in this shaky, fast-changing, bewildering world in which we live is to make music, at first with all that we have, and then, when that is no longer possible, to make music with what we have left."

I was very moved while and after reading the story. I know Itzhak Perlman well, he was born and raised in Israel and has become one of the most brilliant violinists in our time. He was stricken with polio as a child, and became paralyzed in his legs. Perlman has always been one of my main sources of inspirations. Since I was a young adolescent, I have been going to his concerts that he has given quite frequently in Israel with the Israeli Philharmonic Orchestra. I would watch him come slowly on stage, leaning on his crutches, his violin is carried by the conductor, until he reaches his chair, sits down, puts his crutches down, adjusts his legs, picks up the violin and is ready to play. And then I would close my eyes, and hear these unbelievable beautiful sounds start coming out and go directly to my heart, filling me with emotions, sensations, memories, associations, feelings, images..... I always feel moved by his playing. The sounds that come from his violin touches my soul, vibrates my core being.

Perlman is partially responsible for me becoming a music therapist. In 1971, I finished my service in the army and started working in a school for children with Cerebral Palsy. There was a young kid there, paralyzed in his legs, playing the recorder. I remember one day when he came to school, and told us what happened to him the day before. He was walking outside in his neighborhood, limping on his legs, and kids from his neighborhood passed by him and made fun of the way he walked. They teased him by saying: common, come play football with us! Let's see you! His answer to them was: "Maybe I can't play football with you, but I bet you can't play the recorder like me!" I remember how proud we all felt for him. I told the kid about Perlman and brought Perlman's music so we could listen to it together. It was then that I decided to become a music therapist.

This article contains a powerful message for us, music therapists. We work with emotionally, physically and mentally handicapped children and adults. Sometimes, they can get frustrated by not being able to play music "correctly", or the way they used to. Maybe we can help them find out how much music they can still make with what they have left. You might be handicapped in your body, mind and even your soul, but if you still have your music, the intention and will to make it, the experience can be no less and maybe even more powerful than you have ever played before.

Many of us who work with music therapy students see their frustration coming from feelings of inadequacy in terms of their musical or therapeutic skills, lack of knowledge, experience or basic working environment. Can we accept what there is and work with it, instead of looking and worrying about what is missing? Rough conditions can "force" you to be more creative and flexible. Sometimes, music that is improvised by body and room sounds can be as creative and even more playful than playing with "real" instruments.

And on a personal note, I have been avoiding playing the piano since I got back from my sabbatical year. Whenever I open the piano and try to play compositions that I used to play quite well, I feel rusty, frustrated, sad, and eventually close the piano. The message I take from this article is to find out how much music I can still make with what I have got left. Not to give up, to start with what's there, and to trust that there is music within me that will come out if I just let it.

How to cite this page

Amir, Dorit (2001) Sometimes, it is our task to find out how much music we can still make with what we have left. Voices Resources. Retrieved January 12, 2015, from http://testvoices.uib.no/community/?q=fortnightly-columns/2001-sometimes-it-our-task-find-out-how-much-music-we-can-still-make-what-we-hav