I guess this photo could easily be construed as on of those 'Why do you spend so much money on kit?' images. Or maybe even, 'Hey, Steve, it's about time you got your vision checked again...'
I've been in Cordoba for the last few days and this violinist had a regular pitch under the Puerte del Puente, at the end of El Puente Romano, the Roman bridge. She drew a good crowd and would play their requests if anyone asked, though mostly folk were content to just kick back and silently enjoy her music.
Moments like this make me realise the complete inability of language to capture much of the magic of our experience. Remember Isadora Duncan's phrase, when asked what one of her dances meant; 'If I could tell you that, I wouldn't have to dance it.'
There is a great moment of realisation in dialogic work when listeners begin to deeply engage with what is being voiced - but then it becomes clear that they can never completely understand what is going on for the other person. However, as they continue to hold each other in respect, they can transcend enough of the difference for shared meaning to emerge.
Of all the images I made of the violinist, this is the one that captures most of how it felt to hear her. A kind of movement and golden luminescence, if you will....
OK, I will never be a classical music critic and I certainly won't be a dancer... But that's not the point, I don't think that many of the spellbound audience on the Roman Bridge routinely listened to many violin solos either.
But I do hold to the idea that showing others deep respect and developing the capacity for trust enables magic to emerge. And, especially when we are faced with difference or even paradigmatically different views, these are key qualities for enabling the dialogic shift that permits a new vision to emerge.