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M. C. Richards went to see the Bolshoi
Ballet. She was delighted with the
dancing. She said, “It’s
not what they do; it’s the ardor
with which they do it.” I said,
“Yes: composition, performance,
and audition or observation are really
different things. They have next
to nothing to do with one another.” Once,
I told her, I was at a house on
Riverside Drive where people were invited to
be present at a Zen service conducted by a
Japanese Roshi. He did the
ritual, rose petals and all.
Afterwards tea was served with rice
cookies. And then the hostess
and her husband, employing an
out-of-tune piano and a cracked voice,
gave a wretched performance of an excerpt
from a third-rate Italian opera.
I was embarrassed and glanced
towards the Roshi to see how he was
taking it. The expression on
his face was absolutely beatific.
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