Piano Man

Since hearing of the death of Maya Angelou, I’ve been spending time with her words, in gratitude for her full and fabulous life. Her official bio calls her a global renaissance woman, as she was a poet, memoirist, novelist, educator, dramatist, producer, actress, historian, filmmaker, and civil rights activist. I have a collection of her quotes on my desk, and I’m especially drawn to those that speak of music. Reminiscent of her early memoir, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, Angelou said, “A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.”

She also spoke of the role music played in her life. “Music,” she remembered, “was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness.” I’m not sure I could have articulated it as well, but even as a young girl, I found great joy in the gift of music, and still I often steal a few minutes away from the work of the day to sink my fingers into the piano’s keyboard and my heart into its song.

Unlike Angelou, I didn’t pursued music on a professional level, but the daily discipline of piano practice, although not always welcomed at the time, built a foundation of rhythm, melody and harmony into my life that has served me well for many years. We had a battered old upright in our Cleveland home for a while, but for most of our married life, I played on the church piano or an electronic keyboard, definitely not the real deal but easier to move. I was thrilled when we recently were able to get an older baby grand piano, now lovingly nestled in the curve of our bay window – finally, a piano of my own.

So when I read the notice about a new exhibition opening tomorrow in the Coburn Gallery at Ashland University, I was excited to learn more about “The Piano Man Project,” featuring more than 75 artworks by artists from Ohio, Illinois and West Virginia. I discovered that the project was created by Mansfield artist Ken Arthur from salvaged parts originating from a destroyed baby grand piano. According to the press release, “after making a series of them [marionette assemblages], Arthur wanted to collaborate with a fellow artist on the project. He gave him two piano men in boxes with instructions that the artist could do anything he wanted to them.” Thus, in the collaborative spirit of the visual arts, the Piano Man Project was born.

Wait a minute. I was somehow envisioning Billy Joel singing a song for those of us in the mood for a melody as we viewed images of pianos in a variety of artistic expressions. Instead, the exhibit will feature doll-like creatures dancing on legs scavenged from a discarded piano. Ouch!

OK, I’ll admit that was a low blow. There is a life cycle for all things in our world, including beloved pianos. They’re heavy to move, take up a lot of space, and restoration is pricey. Who needs a heavy piece of junk in their living room, especially one better suited for a honky-tonk club? As much as I love the music of a piano, its notes bring little pleasure if it’s been neglected for twenty years.

Enter Ken Arthur and friends. Instead of mourning the demise of the rejected piano, they’ve given new life to the bits and pieces destined to be strewn carelessly across Ohio’s landfills. If the piano’s got to go, theirs is a noble endeavor, fulfilling the axiom that one person’s trash is another’s treasure.

Despite my initial reservations, I’m committed to viewing the exhibit with an open mind. Again, Maya Angelou helps me see life beyond the grief of an abandoned piano, when she reminds us, “Everything in the universe has a rhythm. Everything dances.” Sometimes, life dances in the chords of a piano. Sometimes, life dances to the rhythm of reclaimed pieces, of a new spirit breathed into the detritus of time. And in the space that connects the two, I’ll be listening for the sad and sweet memory of what’s been, and the new melodies of creative voice.