Portrait of an Artist and his Father - Part 4

In a 2011 radio interview, HKC described his approach to teaching students. "First of all, to be a musician is to be an artist. and to have an artistic life is unlike what some people might believe. Some people think being an artist means living a sloppy life, or perhaps an 'anything goes' type of life. No. Leading an artitistic life means being highly intelligent, highly alert, very discerning, and also very sensitive to the inner world and to the outer world. So it is, all in all, a spiritual experience... a spiritual life.. in other words an artistic life is a complex life. a very very complex life. An artist is a person who is not simply satisfied with the societal norms or dictates or following what one simply reads from the books. An artist has to live life to experience it. I teach my students that music is the byproduct of such a life.  Only when we have this kind of artistc will are we capable of seeing what great music can give us. An artist will find that a great piece of music say by beethoven, mozart, or schubert contains great wisdom."

Ten years prior, my grandfather picked up the phone. speaking on the other end of the line was a life insurance salesman.  I could imagine the conversation unfolding. "hi my name is Ed, may i talk to mr. c?" "yes, speaking" my grandfather was hard of hearing, so he spoke into the phone very loud. "thanks for taking my call. i'm here with prudential life insurance. do you have time to talk?" "yes" "we're here to help you create a legacy for your loved ones. have you thought about when you're gone, how your family will be provided for and survive financially?" "why are you calling?" "we provide life insurance policies mr.c" "oh... you know there are ways to live longer. i'm 85. do you know how?" most people would find these calls to be annoyances and would politlely make up some fake excuse to run like "i have to pick up my laundry, sorry" and hang up. for my grandfather, it was an opportunity to educate someone about his theories of longevity. pushing into his mid-eighties, my grandfather (agong) treated his life like an experimental artist. he was not satisified adhering to societal norms. he was tinkering with his diet and exercises to uncover the secrets to longevity.  in trying to understand his potential client and relation to loved ones, the insurance salesman unknowingly committed to a lengthy conversation he could not predict. "mr. c please tell me what the keys are to a long life..." 

over the next 30 minutes i heard snippets of my 85 year old grandfather's conversation about how lactose is broken down during fermentation to become digestible, how his daily dietary regimen consisting of home made yogurt, peanut butter straight from a jar, and saltines was life extending,  how he does 3000 sit-ups a day to avoid hereditary hernia problems, and how his new exercise of bouncing a sledgehammer on a tire in the backyard has kept his body very fit. agong hung up the phone and felt good that he had helped someone rethink the life insurance problem by showing him how one could live healthier and longer lives. 

a couple years later,  I came home to visit boston to find all the ivy that had grown in thick branches over our garage was dead. It was shocking to see all the vines withered away. i asked my sister what happened. she gave me an unexpected answer "agong thought urine was a good fertilizer and was 'watering' the plants every morning during the summer. the smell would wake me up in the morning! (we didn't have air conditioning so our windows were always left open)." 

i could imagine my grandfather concocting a theory of how his urine would be like miracle grow... probably reasoning to himself scientifically the urine had a lot of nitrogen and phosphorous in it. based on my sister's description of the smell, he probably 'sprayed' his super concentrated urine on the plants and inadvertently burned their roots off due to the high nitrogen content. since urine contains the mirocronutrients the body can't digest... his urine was probably infused with a deadly cocktail of yogurt, saltine and peanut butter molecules. maybe it could've worked in a 10:1 or 20:1 dilution.... but a concentrated 1:1 solution it overpowered the ivy and killed it.

my grandfather could not play or understand a single note of music or make a drawing to save life, yet somehow he provided his son with components for a distinctive artistic operating system. he passed on his powers of observation, dissatisfaction with societal norms, and experimental approach to life. it was hard to see the similarities between the two because agong was loud, tempestuous, half deaf, and opinionated, while my uncle sported long hair, a calm demeanor, and dialectic thought process.  While my grandfather was looking at gas particles, yogurt cultures, and sound waves, his son was looking at how notes and phrases ended, how to express rhythms, and how to convey wisdom of music ... the difference in their artistry was what they focused on.