The Piano Room is The Studio
My grandpa was an artist, but we called him a musician.
I think I’ve mentioned him before, his name was Paul Moer
We tend to give people titles according to what they get paid to do.
This is an odd practice, but often serves as a social nicety rather than just internalized capitalism.
My thought this morning wasn’t so much about work you get paid for versus work you don’t get paid for, except to point out - that for artists, it seems, that wrapped up in the whole tradition of making art is essentially this: You do work that you get paid for, and you do work that you don’t get paid for. It’s all work. And you can use all of it in your work.
My grandpa was a studio artist. He played piano. He worked on his own music in his studio. Then he would go out and perform it. He had a piano room in their house. He didn’t perform in the house.
The really odd thing about being a parent is the relationship your kids have to your work as an artist.
Because when you are a professional artist, it is actually your job. It’s not a hobby. It’s work.
But I never saw my Grandpa work. Not only becuase he was mostly retired by the time I came along, but also because he played at night clubs. My Mom and her siblings barely saw him play live.
It was his job.
And honestly, it’s a weird thing to say - but kids really really really don’t give a shit about what their parents do for work. My kids don’t. So maybe that’s an anecdote. But most kids I talk to, have no idea what their parents do all day when they are at work.
We might know what they contribute to some larger project, or make specific things, or work at a specific place -but what they actually do all day - we don’t see. We don’t know.
I’ve been listening to my Grandpa’s music for years. I have his recordings on my Ipods - that I loaded up 20 years ago. I still listen all the time in my studio. But I didn’t live with him. I only had a relationship to him as my grandpa, not as an artist.
When I was a kid, on Sunday’s we’d often go to my grandparents house. I remember my Grandpa ALWAYS going into the piano room after dinner to “warm up” or “practice his scales.” It was confusing to me as an 8 year old. Why does my 80 year old grandpa need to “practice his scales?” Of course, if he were an athlete it would make sense.
Grandpa has a game tonight, he’s stretching. Same thing.
What prompted my thoughts about my Grandpa this week, was meeting with artist Daniel Callis, in his studio. His studio is a converted garage - something I’ve done before, and will do again!
Dan has grandchildren - and when they come to visit, they are aware that there is a “studio” in the house. Just like for me growing up - “That is Grandpa’s Piano Room.” And this isn’t to say it was off limits. But just that, this is like a home office. It is not a playroom (for kids). Serious work is being done.
I never heard my Grandpa play any of his own music live. I wasn’t alive. And when I was alive, I was too young.
We did see him play at suburban mall in the early 1990’s though.
Now when I listen to his music, I imagine what was going on at home - how old was he? Were the kids (my mom and her siblings) born? Toddlers? Teenagers?
In 1962, there was a documentary series on TV called “Profile Of” - in 1962 they did “Profile of a Jazz Musician” featuring Paul Horn.
My Grandpa, Paul Moer, played in Paul Horn’s quintet. And he is in this documentary playing piano.
He would’ve been about 45/46 years old here. My mom wouldn’t been in Kindergarten.
Paul Horn is the main subject of the story - he would’ve been in his early 30’s here.
There are some gems in here. But the main thing I like is that they really tried to capture a “day in the life” of a working artist.