The intimacy of the bridal chamber.
When a solo violinist or flautist fails to acknowledge his or her dependence on, say, the supporting pianist performing with him or her a violin or flute sonata, so named because the flute or violin is given prominence, collaboration may be reduced to a mere caricature and the "accompaniment" not understood in its proper light. Omitting the soloist's dependence on the "accompaniment", what appears to be artistry might be, then, more puppetry, a mere reproduction of the soloist's narrow inclinations more than a spontaneous conversation between performers which constitutes an authentic realization of the score. Of course, some pieces are written with technically very simple "accompaniment" and lavish solo parts. Those compositions might be judged differently than compositions which are written in a manner that allows both performers to share fairly in a dialogue. However, simplicity of gesture or part is not license to ignore the nuances of expression—time or pacing, dynamics, phrase shape, timbre, etc.—which are part of every great presentation. If anything, simplicity and silence require even more attention than flashy or extravagant compositions which can tease listeners past subtler aspects of music.
Beauty in the making, pain in the process and the birth of beauty.
A helpful word to overcome unnecessary division between musical forces while retaining harmonious distinctions is the word collaboration, i.e., to labour together. An expectant mother about to give birth to her child knows labour pain. Musicians labour together to produce a musical offspring. Both encounters, baby making and music making, require intimacy: physical intimacy in the case of the former; psychological and spiritual intimacy united to physical effort in the case of the latter. Of course, the loving union of a man and woman, if it be a true communion, is a sign of spiritual, psychological and physical union in Christ. When musicians bring artistry and honesty to rehearsal, the result is the birth of beauty.
«The Church will have to initiate everyone—priests, religious and laity—into this “art of accompaniment” which teaches us to remove our sandals before the sacred ground of the other (cf. Ex 3:5). The pace of this accompaniment must be steady and reassuring, reflecting our closeness and our compassionate gaze which also heals, liberates and encourages growth in the Christian life», we read in No. 169 of Pope Francis’ Apostolic Exhortation of “Evangelii Gaudium.” And No. 171 says: «Today more than ever we need men and women who, on the basis of their experience of accompanying others, are familiar with processes which call for prudence, understanding, patience and docility to the Spirit, so that they can protect the sheep from wolves who would scatter the flock. We need to practice the art of listening, which is more than simply hearing. Listening, in communication, is an openness of heart which makes possible that closeness without which genuine spiritual encounter cannot occur».—The Art of Accompaniment [source/link]
Sometimes we can give a poor witness to the Gospel. God, however, can make perfect use of our imperfect witness. An imperfect performance of Samuel Barber's Adagio (from the Quartet or the string orchestra arrangement) will still reach deeply into the searching soul. A few wrong notes or rhythms do not have to hinder the journey of another. We must strive to be credible witnesses, but we must ultimate admit that our witness depends wholly upon the grace of God.