Jeff Tritel, Sculptor, Meets Malcolm Watson, Violinist
Summary
Jeff expresses his response to Malcolm with these words,” After driving 45 minutes over and around nauseating hairpin mountain curves to get to a tiny restaurant lost 40 years in time, I was wondering if this invitation was going to be worth the trouble.We were funneled past an order window into a funky hippie-esque reading and game room and led into an unlevel, mostly weed strewn garden.There, dressed in white evening attire and bare feet stood Malcolm, smoking from a small clay pipe and sporting an expression straight out of a fairy tale.There, dressed in white evening attire and bare feet stood Malcolm, smoking from a small clay pipe and sporting an expression straight out of a fairy tale.As he made final adjustments to his violin and amplification system there was only a hint of what was yet to come.The garden bloomed, the breeze came to listen and the trees beyond the fence danced in delight.Two hours passed as mere minutes and as I came out of enchantment I felt as though I’d come as close to the magical fairie realms as I was ever to be.