Maya was exceptional tonight. Her journey became our journey and the full house seemed to gladly follow towards, what I perceived as being, her exploration of place, migration and nomadism.
To watch Maya play a cello is somewhat similar to seeing the setting sun. It’s through movement that one gains a better understanding of the complexity and beauty. Her left hand working the fingerboard from top to bottom, alternating between a blurred furry to a slumbering vibrato, while her right hand works the bow seemingly cutting and stabbing into the strings.