Emerging from covid confinement has been, in some strange way, like being reborn. Perception of the passage of time, reactions when seeing friends’ smiling eyes (even with masks on), seeing works of art, returning to old haunts, walking in the countryside: all have been heightened experiences and delights for me, and, I understand, for others as well.

Another refound joy was attending a live classical music concert. Every summer, one of my delights is attending concerts of the Symphony Orchestra of the Baleares in the circular, golden-stoned Gothic keep of Bellver Castle, here in Palma de Mallorca. This year, of course, covid complications delayed and changed everything. However, to their great credit, the large orchestra has broken up into small chamber music groups and has fanned out all over the Balearic Islands to offer concerts live in churches, cloisters, gardens and now in Bellver Castle.

How better to enhance the joy of hearing live music again than to play mostly little-known classical music. Flute, violin and harpsichord or piano - their sounds have never been so memorable and joyous for me. We were less than 100 people, spaced 2 meters apart, and the acoustics brightened and improved without so many bodies to absorb the sound. As I sat listening to music by Johann Ludwig Krebs, Mel (Melanie) Bonis, Jacques Ibert and others, I realised that I was experiencing the same deep excitement I feel when I see a famous painting in real life that I had hitherto only seen in reproductions. Not surprising, in a way, because during the two month strict confinement, friends and I had shared innumerable digital renderings of music which were indeed wonderful, but without that impact of the visceral immediacy of live music. My joy was complete when the encore played was a deeply moving and elegiac version of Debussy’s Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune. Beneath a deep sapphire blue sky and half full moon, framed by the Gothic arched colonnades of the circular keep, I kept feeling I needed to pinch myself to be sure I was really there.

In the same way, I still vividly recall the same sensations when, as a very young girl, I walked into the Jeu de Paume - Musee de l’Orangerie for the first time and came face to face with the almost mystical Claude Monet paintings, Les Nymphéas, which he had donated to the French State.

I remember sitting for hours, alone, in the cool, quietly-lit, curved rooms and just marvelling, conscious that this was a very special and memorable moment. It was one of my introductions to the impact and transcendence of paintings (and indeed, also the same applies to drawings) that one views in real life. Each brush stroke, each movement of the human body as the work of art is created, each nuance and change of perception, thought and result invites the viewer to experience a little of what the artist was living whilst creating the work.

Nothing in the digital reproductions, marvellous as they are, can convey that same complex and rich impact of an original work of art.

In just the same way, sitting listening to each limpid, heartfelt and expressive note of music played last night in Bellver, remembering back to the many amazing paintings that have signposted my life, I felt such gratitude - and in a strange way - recognition that despite the incredibly negative, destructive and life-changing impacts of this coronavirus, covid-19, it has allowed some of us fortunate ones to glimpse shining silver linings.