Seeing Jónsi

When I went to see Jónsi, I half-expected what I was going to experience. All I knew was that I would probably cry and that the entirety of the production was most likely something I wanted to do with my life someday.

I had no idea.

I can't imagine sitting anywhere but in the front row. The music engulfed me and ran through my veins like an electric current of vibrant creativity. The lingering of the bass shook my insides and took me to a place of unreality. As I sat watching the imagery interact with the set and react to the music, my jaw dropped, and I literally found myself laughing out of pure awe and enjoyment.

While watching these five performers, all these memories of my own music-making days flooded through my head. You would watch them, smiling and using their instruments as extensions of their own breath life. They were everything music should be: making something bigger than any one of them could have made by themselves.

The thing that struck me the most was that I didn't feel sad about it. Normally at a concert like this, a sense of jealousy would rage over me, and a dissatisfaction of my own choices to disregard music for art would tear me apart. But this performance showed me that the two really can collide into one massive orb of fantastical artistry. It inspired me, motivated me, and healed me.

If I could go back, I would have brought a sketch book.
It gave me so many ideas! And it was then that I knew my choice to be a Web and Multimedia major was the exact right choice. I want to do massive installations, using music and sound and interactive environments to encompass the visitor in my space. I want to recreate the feeling that I had last night. I want everyone to feel that.