Happiness and Bad Acoustics at the National Gallery

I have to say that I have never been unhappy for one moment at the National Gallery. Never. I could sit in the rotunda for 30 minutes, and months of career cares float out of my body and across the street to the East Building where they belong. I'm Holly Golightly at the NGA, and I can usually make it fun for those around me, too. My husband J., however, is capable of having a bad time there, which I confess I can't understand. Perhaps it's one of those things that will form the mystery that keeps our relationship interesting.

Last night, after viewing some pieces from the permanent collection (our emphasis this time was finding paintings with really pale people) and then having mediocre dessert and decent wine and coffee at the overpriced but darling cafe, we lined up with what felt like half the inhabitants of the District of Columbia to hear the weekly free chamber music concert in the West Garden Court.

Why this was so fabulously attended last night I can't be sure. The National Gallery String Quartet, with the addition of ancient pianist Menahem Pressler, was, well, nice. They played Mozart's Piano Quartet in G Minor and Schumann's Piano Quintet in E-flat Major in one of the worst places for acoustics I've ever encountered since my high school gym. I confess that I love coming here for concerts, but the room is so "live" that every note bounces from one granite pillar to the next and then back again until it sounds like a big, muddy mess. Nevertheless, the mess was Mozart and Schumann, and that can only be so bad. What's weird is my preferring the Schumann, but stranger things have happened.

Because of this unusual acoustical predicament--as well as the fact that I know squat about muscians' abilities--it's hard to break down the quality of the performances. J. tells me that the violist had some problems and was the cause of my unease in the Allegro. I could hear for myself that the cellist played lyrically, but I'm partial to the cello. As J. says, violinists are two for one on every street corner, but he tells me the two violinists we heard for the price of $0.00 were fine.

But I'm not really sure it's about the quality of the music. You can't beat looking at masterpieces, then eating or drinking them, and then listening to them. You're surrounded by marble, granite, lush plants, velvet drapes, and really old people who could actually afford to pay for a concert. And young people! At a free classical concert, there are always plenty of young people. This gladdens my heart, as I grow weary of always being, in my mid-forties, the third youngest person in the audience.