Maxine Palit de Jongh – The Tuner Speaks
Eighteen young authors have brought nineteenth-century artefacts from the Rijksmuseum to life. They have taken inspiration from the question: what do you see when you look at these objects with an eye for invisible labour? Maxine Palit de Jongh presents us with an Erard Frères pianoforte from 1808. ‘I dream /of dust flakes shaping themselves into fingers.’
© Rijksmuseum Collection, Amsterdam
the tuner speaks
tuner: you’re hearing a B-flat chord
grand piano:
I’m here for aesthetic purposes only
a teenager preparing
for a first kiss leaving the party early
sticky with beer the Bacardi-coke lips
untouched ego bruised
tuner: you’re hearing an F major
grand piano:
I’m silent much of the time
at my foot four pedals that alter my voice
my keys have strings that ought to vibrate
there’s nobody who touches me
startles me just so
tuner: you’re hearing a D minor
grand piano:
I’m not with her
hortense de beauharnais
who never received me
I know which wall her portrait is on
her fingertips are unknown to me
tuner: a long rest
grand piano:
Never have I seen her search for evenness in tone
dissonance is unknown to me
as is harmony
all my notes are wrapped in copper wire
so the aether can’t detune me with a sigh
tuner: hear
me
play
grand piano:
hear me
play
tuner: I dream
of rhapsody in blue no Beethoven
grand piano:
I dream
of dust flakes shaping themselves into fingers
tuner: my solo can be heard, the listener an empty case, empty plates, empty faces
grand piano:
four bars’ rest
six months’ rest
two
three
centuries’
rest
tuner: only me
grand piano:
I alone
feel the clarity slide
I want a story not a history
how long does it keep moving is it correct
I feel it slide
tuner: the other pianos are rubbish
I shouldn’t think this
a voice must be heard
my reluctance to leave this instrument
ricochets in this room 1.12
1-1-2 the piano is in crisis
it’s no joking matter’ the watery coffee
snaps at me in the houses I visit
I’m soothed by the correct temperature
shocked by the chill of shattered dreams
my equipment polished in my briefcase
my fingers wrapped in gloves
ivory is delicate
ivory remains delicate
tuning fingers sing too
gershwin bach beethoven and pop
don’t underestimate it
making sounds whole
in my head I hear a top C
it sounds like