Art To Action

THE PIANO

I was quite amazed to see the piano on the beach. The tide's foamy fingers had already lapped around its legs which were slightly sunk into the soft, grainy sand. From where I was standing I could see that it was a baby grand. Its top was open, as if to embrace the warm, sea breeze, ready and waiting for the pianist. I could see him; tall, bronzed, with teeth gleaming in the last of the sun’s rays. He is barefooted but has not bothered to roll up the trousers of his evening suit. His bow tie is undone and nestles on his crisp, open necked, white shirt. The sudden breeze lifts the quiff of his blond hair and he smooths it down with long, tapered, fingers. He seductively smiles as he passes me, sits down on the piano stool and starts to play ‘Love Changes Everything’. I sigh. My favourite song.
I start to sway with the music. My long gossamer dress flows and caresses my legs. I am nearing the piano. I put my hand on the back of his neck. He looks up at me, takes one hand from the ivory keys and…..
“Absolute rubbish!” The words cut across my daydreaming.
“What?” I asked “Sorry. What did you say?”
A rather large lady was standing next to me.
“This picture of the piano. Rubbish. Why, the legs would rot in no time and how would it get there?”
“It’s only a picture.” I managed to say before she started again.
“And they call it art!” Her voice went up an octave. “My six year old grandson would have more sense than to paint a picture of a piano standing in the sea. Where are the vases of flowers and the country cottages? That’s what I came to see.”
I looked again at the picture. It was beautiful. I looked at the woman again. I wanted to ask her why she couldn’t see or feel the beauty and the calmness that it portrayed but, she was already moving on to the next room. I looked at my brochure. Oh dear. It was the abstract section. I wondered what she would make of that.
“How ridiculous!” came the cry.
I had not had to wait long.