A different instrument of choice

Today, I was feeling so disillusioned by my own set of moral and instinctive codes. No amount of face book stalking, drinking or house mate banter could relieve my anguish. I could not even let myself loose with a paint brush with the ominous thought of the repair I would have to perform later. So I decided to let an instrument do the talking, perhaps, I thought, it would offer some solace. I strapped my violin onto my bicycle and set of to the studio, my anticipation growing for the wonderful acoustic space that awaited.
The vaulted ceilings of the warehouse welcomed the long moans that the bow pulled from the violin, lifting them high so that they vibrated off the walls. The concrete floor repelled each harsh dig that the bow ripped from the strings, as if the chords were deliberately jumping and smacking theme selves onto the ground. The space offered the sound of the instrument a heightened intensity. But interestingly, I recognised that the state of being, from which I was producing such sounds was unusual. I was both present and absent, performing yet listening. There was an intuitive sense of control. If you were to ask me what I played now, I couldn't tell you, and I can't quite reconcile how something that struck me so much can not be remembered, nor attributed from a state of knowing.
I value a number of things from this experience with music today. One: A voice was given to my building state of incommunicable angst. It simply took an expression, was released yet not contained to a form or permanency.
Secondly: The experience was my own. Unlike my art, which as I pursue a career with, increasingly becomes about others; viewed by others, judged by others, propelled or stalled by others. This is not to place publicly viewed art in a negative light, I do believe that art can be like happiness, not known until shared. However, it does raise a challenge, working between private and public spaces. Challenges of trust, control and intimacy with one's practice. There was a trust with the violin today, a fleeting moment, where I wasn't performing. I was living. And whilst this does not always happen when painting, it's what makes me do it.