Friday, January 10, 2003
It’s March, and winter has finally hit Chicago; but gargoyles do not mind cold weather. They don’t seem to mind many things at all. We had managed to run from its frozen grasp for months, including Christmas and New Year’s, but we could not hide from the foot of slushy, dense snow that fell over the weekend – and the Carvel ice-cream-like substance clogging sidewalks, driveways, and auto windshields after Sunday night’s subzero cold snap. So, what does this frigid weather have to do with music?
First, it’s a scientific fact that sound waves travel differently depending on the temperature of the air; cold air can ‘bend’ sound like a lens refracts light, and make it travel farther and more clearly. As I walked a few blocks east down 59th street to run an errand at Judd Hall, I was blinded by the intense noonday sun reflecting off the fresh white expanse of snow – a rare thing to experience in a major city, for sure – I squinted hard to make my way, walking gingerly between slippery patches of ice. Then, I heard them. The bells.
I had grown accustomed to the sweet, darkly Baroque clang of melodies radiating from the chapel and the ancient mood they evoke; but today something was different. Rockefeller Chapel is a large Gothic cathedral of sorts, located 2 buildings down from my office, its structure dominated by a square tower that houses a genuine carillon - not the imitation electrically-rung or tape-recorded bells so often heard on churches, as our founder, John D. Rockefeller, would never have stood for anything so unsophisticated. My ears, cheeks, and fingers were growing increasingly numb despite my hat and gloves and the mug of fresh gourmet coffee I gulped en route; and the combination of sensory experiences ended up producing a rather transcendent effect.
Something about the sound was altered, or bent, if you will: it reflected sharply off the flat granite and marble fascia of the buildings, unhindered by the usual softening effect of summer foliage, and the clangor could be heard clearly bouncing off the front of Judd Hall some 2 blocks away. Even stranger - if I turned my head northwards, with my right ear hearing the reflected music, and my left ear listening to the Chapel, an odd delay effect made it seem as though the sound were passing directly through my brain.
Suddenly, I was strolling the pathways of some forgotten European street, as a much older person feeling the chill and recognizing the pangs of passing time…I knew no century, and I felt connected to some previous lifetime spent in the stone halls of academia, or perhaps a monastery where glowing fires and echoing plainsong awaited me. Looking up at the white-caked heads and shoulders of the University’s gargoyles, I felt attuned with their eternal nature, and at once the strange timeflow I felt as a child came to me easily – and I had the revelation that as I grow older, unchanging truths grow closer to my reach.
I walk past and disappear like the sun’s transit, my mortal footsteps barely grazing the snow…but the warmth of spring will again soon arrive and melt the snow from their stony faces; forever craned to hear the ringing bells.
