Analogy

If I had to compare fatherhood, thus far, to a single piece of music, what might I choose?

Glad you asked.

One composition that seems analagous, in a very abstract manner, is Yves Klein's iconoclastic Symphonie Monotone. An ensemble plays a single held note for - well, for at least a minute, and in some performances considerably longer. And then they maintain a held silence for a roughly equal time.

Life with an infant is hectic, unpredictable, and sloppy. But it's also characterized by a certain amount of rote repetition. Lift block, drop block. What does the cow say? The cow says, Moo. Sip from sippy cup. Lift block. Why are you crying? Are you hungry? Drop block. The cow says, Moo. Crawl to next room. Are you hungry? Lift block. And so on. Hold for an hour or two.

And then, suddenly, silence. Cleo, presumably full of thoughts of falling blocks and cows, sleeps. She sleeps on her belly, rump in the air; she sleeps on her side, arms akimbo; she sleeps wedged into the corner of her crib. The house ticks as the wood planks of the stairs expand. A dog, in the distance, barks. An unmuffled motorcycle roars on the road above. Otherwise, silence, throwing ambient noise into the foreground.

Klein's music might seem, in written form, boring. But, performed, it is surprising, suspenseful, whimsical, and even, perhaps, sublime. Much as mimicking a cow, for more than two months, can become something more than mere repetition. Instead, it becomes parenthood.