Snow Day

Providence had a snow day today, and the piano welcomed a few visitors! It had stopped snowing by the time I arrived in the late afternoon, and the slightly-above-freezing temperatures meant that the snow had become slushy and was starting to melt off the edges of the piano's lid.

Just four days away from its anniversary date of installation, the piano has both deteriorated and sustained in unexpected ways. All of the key covers and black keys have fallen off, and layers of wood that make up the lid have warped, cracked, and peeled. At the same time, I'm always impressed when I find that some of the keys still sound in the more extreme weather conditions - like today -  and the strings inside still retain some resemblance of their original tuning. How might they sound in another year? Or two?

Though decomposition has continually changed the instrument since day 1, it is still recognizable as a piano. As its case, strings, keys, hammers, and other components gradually break down, they move further and further away from its original form. At what point does the instrument lose its identity as "piano"? At what point do we no longer conceive of it as a musical instrument? How do we listen to the sounds it makes - when do we hear "music" vs.  just "sound"? Of course, there are no clear-cut answers to these questions, but I find that the piano reveals and challenges assumptions about and expectations for music and musical instruments.

Days in place: 362

Weather: overcast and snowy, 33°F