Page 33 - The Gluckman Occasional Number Four

“
Ah,” replied the rodent, “you have missed the point, my young
friend. What we do on stage—you as a musician, I as an actor—is
much more than humans do in the same situation. You see, who
they are becomes lost in their performance, which thereby is more
easily judged purely on its own merits. We cannot hope to achieve
that level of transparency; I will always be a rat who acts, and you an
elephant who conducts an orchestra. Because of that, many people
will come to see us merely as curiosities or freaks. But inside, in our
inner selves where it really counts, we know we are artists. And
artists must produce their art regardless of public reaction, be it
undeserved rejection or inappropriate adulation.”
Arturo thought about the
actor’s words. Yes, it made
sense: he had been selfish,
wanting praise only on his
own terms. If he were to
express himself musically,
then he had to go his own
way regardless of what
others said or did. And he
knew there was a lot of
music in his head that
needed to come out. If he
died now, it would be lost