Pearls Before Breakfast, by Gene Weingarten, Washington Post
HE EMERGED FROM THE METRO AT THE L'ENFANT PLAZA STATION AND POSITIONED HIMSELF AGAINST A WALL BESIDE A TRASH BASKET. By most measures, he was nondescript: a youngish white man in jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt and a Washington Nationals baseball cap. From a small case, he removed a violin. Placing the open case at his feet, he shrewdly threw in a few dollars and pocket change as seed money, swiveled it to face pedestrian traffic, and began to play.
It was 7:51 a.m. on Friday, January 12, the middle of the morning rush hour. In the next 43 minutes, as the violinist performed six classical pieces, 1,097 people passed by. Almost all of them were on the way to work, which meant, for almost all of them, a government job. L'Enfant Plaza is at the nucleus of federal Washington, and these were mostly mid-level bureaucrats with those indeterminate, oddly fungible titles: policy analyst, project manager, budget officer, specialist, facilitator, consultant.
Each passerby had a quick choice to make, one familiar to commuters in any urban area where the occasional street performer is part of the cityscape: Do you stop and listen? Do you hurry past with a blend of guilt and irritation, aware of your cupidity but annoyed by the unbidden demand on your time and your wallet? Do you throw in a buck, just to be polite? Does your decision change if he's really bad? What if he's really good? Do you have time for beauty? Shouldn't you? What's the moral mathematics of the moment?
On that Friday in January, those private questions would be answered in an unusually public way. No one knew it, but the fiddler standing against a bare wall outside the Metro in an indoor arcade at the top of the escalators was one of the finest classical musicians in the world, playing some of the most elegant music ever written on one of the most valuable violins ever made. His performance was arranged by The Washington Post as an experiment in context, perception and priorities -- as well as an unblinking assessment of public taste: In a banal setting at an inconvenient time, would beauty transcend?
I like to think I would have stopped and listened. It's hard to be certain, though. I remember the feeling of walking out of the Metro- rush hour is so crowded, I always walked out of the train somewhat dazed. The stations are so dark and the fluorescent train lighting so dim and green, the sunlight can easily stun one's senses. And because the train and the city itself are so crowded and busy, people retreat into their own minds and create privacy with their own thoughts. It doesn't lend toward an appreciation of external stimuli.
And if I had noticed, would I have been able to get past the setting and the context? People get asked for money so often, they learn to, once again, create barriers. Block it out. They develop an attitude of non-approachability. People get asked for money so often, sometimes it is hard to admit to oneself that the people asking are people. If you start to feel for every one of them, you'll soon be giving beyond your means. So you do everything in your power not to notice.
Ken and I talked about how the reaction to Joshua Bell playing at L'Enfant Plaza, and this article itself, made us feel. Disappointed in our society, its prejudices, its priorities? Maybe somewhat. Relieved not to be in the D.C. environment anymore? Maybe somewhat. Sad not to have the opportunity to hear Joshua Bell play at L'Enfant Plaza? Yeah, maybe somewhat. Overall, it left me with a feeling of dissatisfaction. It makes me feel like something has to change. It's worth reading.
From now on, when I'm asked why I left Washington, D.C. to move to Fairbanks, Alaska, I will think of this article. It confirms my choice, but it also forces me to question my choice. Also, I am reminded what good journalism is. Maybe it's time to consider a subscription to the Washington Post.
