My son's hands when they play the drums look fluid and relaxed, as if they're only accidentally involved in the percussive process. The sticks hit the drums crisply, intensely, with incredible precision, but his hands could be waving away a pesky fly.
If you want to see intensity, you have to look at his face: he grimaces, glares, twists and untwists his facial muscles as if they were physically attached to the dancing drumsticks. Most of the time it's an impassive face--unless he's laughing. He laughs often, but his face rarely reveals any other emotion. We all recall the time four years ago when we were driving to the airport for a long-awaited trip and the boy turned to me and said, in a totally deadpan tone, "Mom, it may not be easy to tell, but I'm really excited about this trip." He was right on both counts: he was really excited, but he hadn't taken the trouble to inform his face.
How can a face that is motionless most of the time become so mobile when he plays the drums? The hands look like innocent bystanders, but the face is intensely present, intimately connected to the sounds being beaten from the drums.
And what do those sounds say? His face won't tell--and his hands don't know.
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