Women Listening To Men Play Music At Them In Western Art History

John, you’ll conduct

Percy, you’ll be on violin

what’s my instrument, Papa?

your instrument is listening, Mary

the greatest instrument of all

you don’t have to point that so close to me

well you keep backing away, silly

how are you supposed to really hear it if you keep backing away into corners

oh

i manage

keep playing, i’m still looking

dont you mean listening

sure

i don’t think you really need me for this

of course we need you

you’re the page turner

but there’s only one page of music

yes but soon we’ll be able to play more than one sheet

we’ll need you to be ready then

also you’re not looking at the page

i really need you to be looking at the page right now

his harp’s not so great

maybe if enough of us crowd onto the piano

it will collapse

and i’ll get to go home

oh

oh that’s

this is good, that’s good

i was just thinking that this rare moment of quiet solitude with a book could really use a fuck ton of lutes to improve it

and Lord

if you can see your way towards denting or in some way rendering this clarinet unplayable

at least until we reach Seville

I promise I will make a pilgrimage on my knees to Rome Herself

Mummy

Mummy there’s men at the door that want to play music at us

you might as well let them in, darling

it’s time you learned that when men want to play music at you

there’s simply no stopping them

and the sooner you get it over with the sooner they leave

bring that bow an inch closer to that vile scratchbox and I’ll see to it that hat of yours goes so far inside you they’ll be picking feathers out of your grave

Maria

Maria we can’t read the music when you hold it up like that

oh

what a shame

this is actually the only way I can hold music, so

oh wow

a shepherd with a lute

a shepherd who wants to play us his music on a lute what a fucking surprise to me

please let me guess

is it a song about your reluctant mistress?

because i swear to fucking God in Shit Heaven I haven’t heard a shepherd sing about his reluctant mistress in at least six Christing hours

i could bash him in the back of the head before he even noticed i was moving

i could say a peddler did it

we could bury him with his harp

“He loved that harp,” i’d say at the service

“it’s only right that we bury him with it”

“damn that peddler”

this book doesn’t even have any words in it

i just want him to think i’m busy

let me play you another one in the Apollonian style and you tell me if you can hear the difference

oh

i’d love to

but just

i need you to keep holding me

that’s so sweet

yes i just can’t get enough of this holding

i’d love to listen to another version of your mountain hymnal but i’m just too in love with you to let go of this arm

well i can play it one-handed

that’s the Corinthian fashion

no i’m going to need you to hold me with all of your hands

maybe

if i am very very lucky

the chandelier will break and kill everyone

and then i can go home

you just keep that little guitar strapped to the back of you

and keep your hands where i can see them, friend

no one’s playing their guitar at me tonight

just keep walking, pal

i could almost reach the gun from here

the deer was lucky

the deer was dead

[Images via Wikimedia Commons]