THE distinctive sound of a violin is the result of interactions between its many parts. Drawing a bow across the strings causes them to vibrate. This vibration is transmitted through the bridge and sound post to the body of the violin (mainly the top and back), which allows the sound to effectively radiate into the air. The tension and type of strings, the bow, and the construction of the body all contribute to the loudness and tonal quality of the sound. - Wikipedia
That is what a vibration on a violin string can do - and the same (without the bow of course) with a bassoon, trumpet, clarinet or Steinway, went through my mind listening to a 4-year old girl playing on her violin. She played a long note and told me: This is a warm sound, like fire.
We were sitting in front of her parents fireplace and she looked at the orange flames twirling around the wet firewood, her tiny hands gently stroking her minute violin.
What sound then, does water make? said I and expected a verbal answer. The 4-year old played something squeaky and when I asked whether that is what water sounds like, she helped me right: ''No, this is what a frog sounds like.''
We looked at the fireplace again. A bit of blue was visible behind the orange flames. It vibrated in the heat.
I am not a violin player, but as someone who is passionate about music, I was fascinated by this musical intelligence. If you could get a 4-year old to think musically with words and she kept on responding to my questions until she made a colourful raindrop sound it would be possible to get fire and water playing together. Because that is what the girl wanted to know in that point of time, and I did not have an answer ready.
She asked if the wood in the fire had any water inside - and then she wanted to know if the water would be visible. A couple of questions followed and I answered all of them kind of correctly until she asked: If fire and water meet, will they play together?
Naturally, I wanted to say. By then I realised that it would be impossible to explain to her exactly how, but she did not ask. Instead she started playing the frog trying out red, orange or blue sounds. Yes, I knew then: fire and water will play together like frogs. The orange and blue ones will jump in unison and it would be a tonal impossibility with tiny fingers, but the concept is as clear as a 4-year old can understand.
Do you know how fire and water can play together, I asked in a soft tone. And then in an even softer voice: How?
She gave me a radiant look, her eyes rolling from the fireplace to the kitchen light and back to the fire again. She was playing my curiosity. Like me and my friend, she laughed and jumped up. I want to sing now, she said. She left the violin in front of the fireplace.
When she started singing I listened to the colour of her words, and the fire colours were pure violin pleasure.
Roux Wessels. July 2008
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