Violence: The Work of Zara Nelsova

I find it intriguing what the violin says. When it begins to speak one hears a tentative wail, an endless frustrating strangle, a meaningless... practice. And then one day one hears the smooth, seamless melody of a.. well, a well played tune. Perhaps Etudiante El Nehro, or even Vigilius Africanon. Then one goes to look at the prodigy. Instead of a sword, machette, or even stick, she wields a staff, a musical staff, and with it she dances with God, the Grand Architect, who smiles with whimsy as his delight descends, with precision, note after note, vibrating that left hand, like a tarantula in motion, each precise violence, in the province of a fretless guitar. And so, dancing with a tarantula, she makes music, for God... Europe is lovely...