The Artistry of… Holly Cole
Sometimes when I hear her sing, I feel like I can see clearly across a wide expanse of water. It’s as if horizon is the goal and everything else is out of the way. Other times, it is like running free across fields with close friends and others taking in a moment and the music is the accompaniment. Like a soundtrack, but just for me. A soundtrack that tells all the stories as plainly as the ear can hear and must hear them.
There is a play of light, like the light captured by the most sensitive of visual artists. Light that seems natural even in a recreated portrait of it. The intimacy is clean and as eye-teasingly bare as something Christopher Pratt might have done on canvas. A tug at the senses that makes you want to be able to touch and feel, but of course, only with your imagination; it’s the way you hear her. The senses switched up so that tactile becomes what is heard instead of what impresses the skin.
Storytellers act and impress the ears. The artistry is in the impression left. Her artistry is the impression left.