Last weekend, I heard the broadcast of a segment of the radio program This American Life, titled "Batman". My ears perked up when I realized that the content has to do with blind people.
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The premise of the show is that the blind are capable of doing far more than they are typically allowed to, and their abilities are inadvertently constrained by the low expectations of (well-meaning) sighted people. The program features Daniel Kish (the "batman"), whom I had written about in a previous posting ( Echo location, Mr. Tsujii? ). Mr. Kish cannot see, but, growing up unencumbered by his blindness, he has developed an impressive ability to use echo location for his mobility, to the point that he can -- entirely on his own -- navigate city streets, ride a bicycle and hike in wilderness. These days, he is offering lessons to other blind people to help them attain unassisted mobility.
I have not met Mr. Kitsch, but I have met Rosemary Mahoney, an American author who wrote a book published last year, "For the Benefit of those who see". The book has a similar theme: blind people would thrive when they are placed in an environment where they have free rein of their abilities. I met Ms. Mahoney in New York city in January 2014, at the premiere of "Touching the Sound". Afterward, I wrote to contact her to ask her about her opinion of Nobu, but she never replied.
One of the most moving things about going to a concert of Nobu is the riveting sight of him being led on stage by a conductor or by his manager. Invariably, the audience would come to a hush -- some blinking back tears -- before breaking into an enthusiastic applause. But I suppose if I were to ask Mr. Kish and Ms. Mahoney about that, they would shake their heads in disapproval. Nobu should be able to walk out on stage on his own -- they would probably argue -- unassisted.
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Personally, I cannot envision Nobu coming on stage by himself, clicking his tongue as he threads his way through the clutter of musicians and instruments to reach the piano. Nor can I imagine him navigate, unassisted, through the crowds in unfamiliar airports or on city streets.
But I do see the point of Daniel Kish and Rosemary Mahoney. Those of us who are sighted are perhaps guilty as charged. Which of us would not step out to stop a blind person from seemingly stepping into the path of traffic? We instinctively want to protect the sightless. Whenever I see Nobu in person, I have to stifle an urge to embrace him -- to shield him from harm and from the evils of the world, I suppose. When Nobu performed with the BBC Philharmonic and Yutak Sado in Japan in 2013, bloggers wrote about the concert master who stepped up when Nobu got too close to the edge of the stage. We care. Some of us perhaps a little too much.
Nobu is surrounded in his daily life by caring people -- his family, his business managers, his teachers, musicians, his admirers. Although it does not bother him now, it is perhaps the case that Nobu is being over-protected. It is not easy to resist that urge to embrace him, but I do hope that Nobu will, in time, find opportunities to explore the world on his own -- beyond concert halls and practice rooms -- without clinging to the sleeve or the belt of someone else.
This American Life, image via Internet link
The premise of the show is that the blind are capable of doing far more than they are typically allowed to, and their abilities are inadvertently constrained by the low expectations of (well-meaning) sighted people. The program features Daniel Kish (the "batman"), whom I had written about in a previous posting ( Echo location, Mr. Tsujii? ). Mr. Kish cannot see, but, growing up unencumbered by his blindness, he has developed an impressive ability to use echo location for his mobility, to the point that he can -- entirely on his own -- navigate city streets, ride a bicycle and hike in wilderness. These days, he is offering lessons to other blind people to help them attain unassisted mobility.
I have not met Mr. Kitsch, but I have met Rosemary Mahoney, an American author who wrote a book published last year, "For the Benefit of those who see". The book has a similar theme: blind people would thrive when they are placed in an environment where they have free rein of their abilities. I met Ms. Mahoney in New York city in January 2014, at the premiere of "Touching the Sound". Afterward, I wrote to contact her to ask her about her opinion of Nobu, but she never replied.
One of the most moving things about going to a concert of Nobu is the riveting sight of him being led on stage by a conductor or by his manager. Invariably, the audience would come to a hush -- some blinking back tears -- before breaking into an enthusiastic applause. But I suppose if I were to ask Mr. Kish and Ms. Mahoney about that, they would shake their heads in disapproval. Nobu should be able to walk out on stage on his own -- they would probably argue -- unassisted.
Nobu being led on stage by conductor John Farrer in Bakersfield, California, 2011.
I love the idea of Nobu being able to go about unassisted, without having to hang onto the arm or elbow or the belt of an escort. And yet I suspect that Nobu would place little emphasis on such mobility. For now at least, Nobu's world is the world of music -- of sonority, tonality and rhythm. Physical mobility, I suspect, means little to him. The mobility that Nobu cares about is that of notes dancing in his head or movements of his fingers on the keyboard. Instead of honing his senses to the matter of mobility, Nobu has chosen to focus on the piano. In his own unique way, Nobu is making history, blazing trails in a performing art (classical piano) on a level previously unimaginable for the blind.
Vasily Petrenko guides Nobu's hand to the piano top, Liverpool, U.K., November 2014
Personally, I cannot envision Nobu coming on stage by himself, clicking his tongue as he threads his way through the clutter of musicians and instruments to reach the piano. Nor can I imagine him navigate, unassisted, through the crowds in unfamiliar airports or on city streets.
But I do see the point of Daniel Kish and Rosemary Mahoney. Those of us who are sighted are perhaps guilty as charged. Which of us would not step out to stop a blind person from seemingly stepping into the path of traffic? We instinctively want to protect the sightless. Whenever I see Nobu in person, I have to stifle an urge to embrace him -- to shield him from harm and from the evils of the world, I suppose. When Nobu performed with the BBC Philharmonic and Yutak Sado in Japan in 2013, bloggers wrote about the concert master who stepped up when Nobu got too close to the edge of the stage. We care. Some of us perhaps a little too much.
Nobu is surrounded in his daily life by caring people -- his family, his business managers, his teachers, musicians, his admirers. Although it does not bother him now, it is perhaps the case that Nobu is being over-protected. It is not easy to resist that urge to embrace him, but I do hope that Nobu will, in time, find opportunities to explore the world on his own -- beyond concert halls and practice rooms -- without clinging to the sleeve or the belt of someone else.