VTMBH Article: Body
When world-renowned Chinese artist and collector C.C. Wang stepped out of Carnegie Hall, his smiling face told all. It was great, said the 96-year-old painter, whose works are collected by the Metropolitan Museum. I have lived in New York for several decades. This is one of the most impressive Carnegie Hall concerts I have attended.
Wangs feeling was shared by the 268 audience members, including both Chinese and Westerners, who attended the concert presented by Bao An Chinese Traditional Music Group on June 30. The group of 12 Chinese musicians, who have immigrated to New York, received a standing ovation of more than 10 minutes, as well as repeated requests for encores.
Although this is not the first time Carnegie Hall featured Chinese traditional music, it was the first time for the members of the Bao An Group. Carnegie Hall was the international music stage they dreamed of performing on when they were in China. And, as most of them had to live from subway station performances when they first came to the United Statesor even nowthe road to Carnegie Hall was not an easy one.
The group was founded by Chinese professional musician Bao An Cao in 1997. But when Cao arrived in the United States in 1994 as a visiting scholar, he never dreamed of founding a music group. The only thing on my mind was how to survive, said Cao. At first I thought I could live teaching Chinese fiddle, which is at least a decent job in our Chinese opinion, and a job I could tell my family and friends about. However, after searching almost all the professional agents in Chinatown, he disappointedly learned that the agents can only find him jobs at Chinese restaurants.
Cao, the former Chinese fiddle soloist of Tianjin Music and Dance Company, had been used to ovations and flowers. He tried various jobs for making a living in New York, including washing plates at Chinese restaurants and even babysitting, a vocation considered exclusively for women in traditional Chinese opinion.
Although Cao always dreamed of living on his music, he had never thought of performing at subway stations. That is even worse than doing babysitting, in terms of face, Cao said. In traditional Chinese opinion, playing instruments on the streets is called selling. It is almost as embarrassing as being a prostitute. Like most Chinese people, Cao deems face as important as his life. Thats why Cao would never forget the date he did the first selling of his life. That was July 14, 1994, thanks to his habit of always bringing his instrument with him.
I transferred at the 34th St. station that day, and happened to see two western guys playing guitar together. I then stopped to listen. They saw the Chinese fiddle I brought, and invited me to join them. I knew some western music as well. For curiosity, I played with them for a while, Cao recalled. To his surprised, his Chinese instrument plus the western guitars generated some special sounding music, which attracted the subway passengers from all ethnic backgrounds. Within three hours, Cao shared $60 from the money they collected. I worked as a full time baby-sitter at that time and earned only $150 per week. $60 for three hours was so attractive that I decided to give up face and started my selling life.
Since that day, the subway passengers can hear Caos Chinese fiddle music at the subway station almost every day. Although there had been some Chinese musicians playing at New York subway stations in 1994, Cao was one of the first to play Chinese traditional music. The music flowing from his fiddle, including the popular Reflection of the Moon on Lake Erquan, which is said to have been composed by a poor blind Chinese musician, always attracted crowds.
Sometimes, the Chinese passengers who were familiar with the tragic life of the composer were torn by Caos music. Therefore, they were particularly generous with donations. Within the three years subway of performing, Cao had won the name the Subway King from his regular audience.
Since his financial situation improved, Cao had spare money to send to his wife in China. Having a husband who earned money in New York made her proud. However, Cao never told his wife how he made the money. If the money could make her proud, the way I make it would humiliate her, Cao said. And I knew that people would laugh at her if they knew what I was doing in New York.
Although he himself gradually accepted the Western philosophy that one should be proud of whatever profession one has, Cao stopped playing at subway station in 1997 when he saved enough money to start his music group. I appreciate the experience of subway performing, said Cao, who even quit smoking because of the days he spent working in the stations, which are non-smoking. But the subway station is not Carnegie Hall after all.
Since he started his music group, Cao and other members set performing at Carnegie Hall as their primary goal. In China, all the musicians were first class, the highest ranking possible. When they fulfilled their long-time dream in Carnegie Hall on June 30, some of them asked reporters to give them a copy of the stories, which they said they would send back to their families in China.
Few of them would talk about their experience playing in the subway stations, although some of them still must live on subway performance. I tried to be as proud of playing in the subways as Western musicians, but I still feel uncomfortable letting my family know, said a Bao An group member who wanted to remain anonymous. Even if I live in New York, I am still Chinese.
Wangs feeling was shared by the 268 audience members, including both Chinese and Westerners, who attended the concert presented by Bao An Chinese Traditional Music Group on June 30. The group of 12 Chinese musicians, who have immigrated to New York, received a standing ovation of more than 10 minutes, as well as repeated requests for encores.
Although this is not the first time Carnegie Hall featured Chinese traditional music, it was the first time for the members of the Bao An Group. Carnegie Hall was the international music stage they dreamed of performing on when they were in China. And, as most of them had to live from subway station performances when they first came to the United Statesor even nowthe road to Carnegie Hall was not an easy one.
The group was founded by Chinese professional musician Bao An Cao in 1997. But when Cao arrived in the United States in 1994 as a visiting scholar, he never dreamed of founding a music group. The only thing on my mind was how to survive, said Cao. At first I thought I could live teaching Chinese fiddle, which is at least a decent job in our Chinese opinion, and a job I could tell my family and friends about. However, after searching almost all the professional agents in Chinatown, he disappointedly learned that the agents can only find him jobs at Chinese restaurants.
Cao, the former Chinese fiddle soloist of Tianjin Music and Dance Company, had been used to ovations and flowers. He tried various jobs for making a living in New York, including washing plates at Chinese restaurants and even babysitting, a vocation considered exclusively for women in traditional Chinese opinion.
Although Cao always dreamed of living on his music, he had never thought of performing at subway stations. That is even worse than doing babysitting, in terms of face, Cao said. In traditional Chinese opinion, playing instruments on the streets is called selling. It is almost as embarrassing as being a prostitute. Like most Chinese people, Cao deems face as important as his life. Thats why Cao would never forget the date he did the first selling of his life. That was July 14, 1994, thanks to his habit of always bringing his instrument with him.
I transferred at the 34th St. station that day, and happened to see two western guys playing guitar together. I then stopped to listen. They saw the Chinese fiddle I brought, and invited me to join them. I knew some western music as well. For curiosity, I played with them for a while, Cao recalled. To his surprised, his Chinese instrument plus the western guitars generated some special sounding music, which attracted the subway passengers from all ethnic backgrounds. Within three hours, Cao shared $60 from the money they collected. I worked as a full time baby-sitter at that time and earned only $150 per week. $60 for three hours was so attractive that I decided to give up face and started my selling life.
Since that day, the subway passengers can hear Caos Chinese fiddle music at the subway station almost every day. Although there had been some Chinese musicians playing at New York subway stations in 1994, Cao was one of the first to play Chinese traditional music. The music flowing from his fiddle, including the popular Reflection of the Moon on Lake Erquan, which is said to have been composed by a poor blind Chinese musician, always attracted crowds.
Sometimes, the Chinese passengers who were familiar with the tragic life of the composer were torn by Caos music. Therefore, they were particularly generous with donations. Within the three years subway of performing, Cao had won the name the Subway King from his regular audience.
Since his financial situation improved, Cao had spare money to send to his wife in China. Having a husband who earned money in New York made her proud. However, Cao never told his wife how he made the money. If the money could make her proud, the way I make it would humiliate her, Cao said. And I knew that people would laugh at her if they knew what I was doing in New York.
Although he himself gradually accepted the Western philosophy that one should be proud of whatever profession one has, Cao stopped playing at subway station in 1997 when he saved enough money to start his music group. I appreciate the experience of subway performing, said Cao, who even quit smoking because of the days he spent working in the stations, which are non-smoking. But the subway station is not Carnegie Hall after all.
Since he started his music group, Cao and other members set performing at Carnegie Hall as their primary goal. In China, all the musicians were first class, the highest ranking possible. When they fulfilled their long-time dream in Carnegie Hall on June 30, some of them asked reporters to give them a copy of the stories, which they said they would send back to their families in China.
Few of them would talk about their experience playing in the subway stations, although some of them still must live on subway performance. I tried to be as proud of playing in the subways as Western musicians, but I still feel uncomfortable letting my family know, said a Bao An group member who wanted to remain anonymous. Even if I live in New York, I am still Chinese.