He emerges from the Washington Metro and positions himself against a bare wall. Joshua Bell is one of the finest classical musicians in the world, playing some of the most elegant music ever written on one of the most valuable violins ever made. A onetime child prodigy, 39-year-old Bell usually plays for standing-room-only audiences so respectful of his artistry that they stifle their coughs until the silence between movements. But what would happen if Bell played for spare change, incognito, outside a bustling Metro stop in Washington; would anyone notice? In a banal setting at an inconvenient time, would beauty transcend?
