Henry had found this place through a few friends, one of his fellow jazz pianists from school he liked to jam with now and then. It's been a few years since he started coming, so he was pretty well known in The Blank Canvas by now, though he's never gone out of his way to play like he owns the place or anything. It was just a good place to hang out, a nice, chill environment to help him relax.
Usually, when he came, Henry would be lounging in one of the chairs, sprawled out with a bowl as he listened to the medley of sound. Today was a different story, however, and he was seated at one of the pianos, high as a kite as he played, but enjoying himself. It wasn't about sounding perfect, after all; it's about creating.
Maya kept writing notes on her new song, trying her best to take in the creativity of the atmosphere without being drawn to anything specific that wasn't her's. Which worked mostly, there were only a few people playing. Most of tonight's crowd were visual artists, there was a painter working on a nude model, which was both painting designs on him and oh-so-subtly fondling him. And while Sitars sounded cool she never really took inspiration from it directly.
But some of the stuff Henry was doing to the poor Piano did sound good, with a little polish anyway. She jotted it down before realizing that, well, stealing soemone else's work was a bit rude. "Hey Henry, okay if I use some of that? You had some good progressions in there I like. I'll buy you a drink or something?"
He didn't even pause, just kept on playing as he looked over at her with a grin, leaning slightly in her direction as he spoke. "Yeah, sure. I don't mind."
Henry had never been stingy about it. As far as he was concerned, music was for everyone. Anyone could enjoy it; they just needed to be in the right frame of mind. That was why he liked this place, though - everyone could appreciate what you did, in one way or another, and the effort (or lack thereof) that went into it. For him, it was all about the freedom to create and enjoy art, in whatever form it took.
And maybe the marijuana helped with that, but hey. No one here was judging.
"I want to hear it when you're done," was the only price he named, though he wouldn't be against a drink or two later. He was just curious how she'd make it work on the strings.
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arrays2013-12-22 03:33 pm
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Usually, when he came, Henry would be lounging in one of the chairs, sprawled out with a bowl as he listened to the medley of sound. Today was a different story, however, and he was seated at one of the pianos, high as a kite as he played, but enjoying himself. It wasn't about sounding perfect, after all; it's about creating.
no subject
But some of the stuff Henry was doing to the poor Piano did sound good, with a little polish anyway. She jotted it down before realizing that, well, stealing soemone else's work was a bit rude. "Hey Henry, okay if I use some of that? You had some good progressions in there I like. I'll buy you a drink or something?"
no subject
Henry had never been stingy about it. As far as he was concerned, music was for everyone. Anyone could enjoy it; they just needed to be in the right frame of mind. That was why he liked this place, though - everyone could appreciate what you did, in one way or another, and the effort (or lack thereof) that went into it. For him, it was all about the freedom to create and enjoy art, in whatever form it took.
And maybe the marijuana helped with that, but hey. No one here was judging.
"I want to hear it when you're done," was the only price he named, though he wouldn't be against a drink or two later. He was just curious how she'd make it work on the strings.