Music is the catalytic element in the work of Proust. It asserts to his unbelief the permanence of personality and the reality of art. / … the invariable world and beauty of Vinteuil, expressed timidly, as a prayer in the Sontata, imploringly, as an inspiration, in the Septuor, the ‘invisible reality’ that damns the life of the body on earth as a pensum and reveals the meaning of the word: ‘defunctus.’ (Proust, pp. 92 – 93, Beckett)
These were the ending thoughts of Beckett on “Proust”, read last night whilst summoning a tired sleep that would not materialize. The brain slogged whilst the body raced the mind; I must have reread Beckett’s words three or four times. Many things came to mind, but synthesis of words to mind remained illusionary. Instead, a daydream, a crude pencil sketch, imagining a peacock feather into a white tattoo across my arm — I turn forty only once, you see. We shall see, on both accounts, if a level of meaning materializes with Time.
One thing that did come to fruition - an exploration of how music influences the mind. A visit to the local art museum allowed a brief interlude ~
Today’s venture to see the new acquisition of Ai WeiWei’s, Sunflower Seeds*, chanced an opportunity to see, Untitled (Structures), by artist Leslie Hewitt and cinematographer Bradford Young. Untitled (Structures) is a duel channel video projection that lasts about 17 minutes. The piece, partly inspired by an archive of civil rights photos recently gifted to Menil Collection in Houston, was filmed in Memphis and Chicago.
In a darkened area of the first gallery, I stood before two projections (stills and not stills of film — I was never quite certain even after reading interviews about how the piece was shot). First, rather self-consciousness, I stood in a vast empty space, my body forming a triangulation between two large screens. Space of room verses where body stood rather rigid and conscious: aware of the young guard who greeted me with his hardbound book; loud footfalls echoing off the oak boards behind me; a clatter of cutlery from the dining area next door and the voices that trailed in and out of focus.
It faded, these distractions and space became non-existent as a still of a woman spoke to me in its quiet beauty – typing this hours later, I see the perfectly round pearl earring, its image crisp as others fade. It was a tight shot, just a partial of this woman in fading twilight that invoked a warmth despite the bleak narrative — it must have been the lights, tiny honeycomb specs filling the background. It ‘read’ vintage – her small, round hat, the demur earring – it made me think Chicago, it made me envision jazz mingling with busy streets .Voices shook me back to reality. I moved back so that they could move in. I turned slightly; they were young, though, and moved on two stills later.
Deep as I was trying to figure the poetics of this art without words, I longed for music. Music would have allowed me to focus more. Music would have allowed me to better infer the story.
I stayed until the screens became familiar. Many people passed through during those silent minutes. No one really stopped to ‘read’ the projected story. There was something toward the end (the end for me for I’ve no idea what was the beginning) where the man in the projection is a still on both screens – carbon copy, so to speak, and then, in a flash he turns his face toward me on only one screen — it is quick — then it is his still again on both screens – I see it still, his eyes, his mouth. (curiously, this recall makes me see snippets of last nights dream I’ve been trying to recall – someone died, I think)
What would have happened had this been set to music? Does music allow us to see more clearly, or does it distort certain realities. Samuel Beckett seems to believe that Proust believed reality was music.
Do we lose too much by too many vibrations? Do we stop to hear if we are too busy listening? I’m beginning to understand a bit more about what John Cage meant when he spoke of Silence opening us up to hearing.
Despite these contemplations, I have provided a bit of music – one is (according to YouTube link) the musical piece that Beckett alludes to in the quote; the other is my interpretation of reality – music that has you holding your breath, even when you really wish to sing along because you know, you know, it is This art that gives your own life meaning ~
*more on Ai WeiWei – local art center has purchased a piece of this amazing installation first shown at the Tate.
peculiaritiesandreticences
/ 2013/01/27“What would have happened had this been set to music? Does music allow us to see more clearly, or does it distort certain realities?”
I think the experiences would be fundamentally different if the work was paired with music, depending on the piece of music (even if the music is John Cage’s “music” of the crowd and the air vents). It would also depend on the tastes and openness of the listener.
You can try this effect out yourself:
Choose a work of art- any piece. Maybe a poster or print you have on the wall, maybe something you have in a coffee table book or something you found in a Google search. Then spend about 10 minutes each with that artwork, playing the following:
- No sound at all (John Cage’s soundtrack)
- Movement 2 from Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto
- Movement 2 from Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 4
- Prelude d’Apres Midi d’un Faune from Debussy
- “So What” by Miles Davis”
- “Revolution 9″ by the Beatles
- “I Wanna Be Sedated” by the Ramones
Notice how your interaction with and experience of the artwork changes with each soundtrack.
angela
/ 2013/01/29I shall try this sometime, but, I already know the outcome. Music very much influences me, to the point that sometimes I cannot write without lyrics infusing themselves into my work. If I wish to write something macabre, there is no way I can be listening to hard bop or pop, etc..
peculiaritiesandreticences
/ 2013/01/30Me too.
Andra Watkins
/ 2013/01/27So much of my writing is informed by music. But, I cannot write while listening to music for some reason. It distracts me.
angela
/ 2013/01/29Andra, that IS most interesting… I wonder if you read to music.
Moiz Billah
/ 2013/01/27Congratulations on turning 40!
I recently discovered Music by Hemi Sync- if you have an iPod / iPad you can purchase the sleep Hemi Sync 2. It is really great- and has worked with more than just myself in putting you in a meditative set/ sleep state. Try it out. Just a thought resulting from your writing, though very unrelated!!!
angela
/ 2013/01/29thank you…I actually don’t have problems falling to sleep if I ‘allow’ it — I hate to sleep, it is a necessary evil that takes too much time…oy! (I write this with a smile, btw)
Mark Kerstetter
/ 2013/01/27I’ll reserve commentary on the Beckett quote at least until I can read the whole text and think on it (there’s also the hurdle that I’ve only read a fraction of Proust). But I suspect its meaning should be seen in the context that listening to music for Beckett when he wrote this – and certainly for Proust – was always a “live”, unique experience. This, combined with the fact that much of the pleasure of listening to complex orchestral works is in the memory of having heard them before – anticipating little moments – and one can understand why music would be special to the author of ‘Remembrance of Things Past’.
I do know that music was very important for Beckett. He played piano, his partner was a pianist and his brother composed music. A lot of his short dramatic works are extremely musical; by that I mean they have very strong, intricate formal patterns and the language of ‘Rockaby’, for example, is, to my ear, the closest literature has come to resembling the art of music.
Your post sends off sparks in many directions. You ask if music facilitates clarity of vision. I would say yes in the sense that it evokes strong feelings and in the sense that it inspires. But I think it can cloud thinking or at least distract it if one is trying to meditate on a problem, read or make art. It depends on the music, the person and the problem, of course. Personally, I generally prefer silence when I read or make visual art. If I do listen to music while making art it has to be wordless and have relatively long lines – fast or highly syncopated music is too distracting. I latch on to your word “vibrations” here. My body has to be in a very relaxed state to make art. But then I find that I either zone out the music or lose focus on the art and just listen. While writing I can listen to lots of different things, but, again, music with words is usually too distracting. I don’t feel, in these situations, that the music helps clarify my thought. It’s more of an energy booster or mood enhancer.
angela
/ 2013/01/29Thank you for the background on Beckett and music, Mark. You are so darn well read – I love it! If you ever have the time, please send me a list –a Beckett list (sorry, find it so fun to say) of your faves, in order. I was on Amazon and am amazed at all that was listed– bit overwhelmed where to go next! (Reading through Disjecta now which even has a short play in it!)
Vibrations was the word of the day because that was another exhibit at the art center. Some wonderful lithos/screenprints – there was even a cutout from Duchamp (I actually thought it was a joke…it seriously looks like a child made it that day – very fresh construction paper of a heart on top of another one – It is real, though, under plexi box – no touch!)
I wonder how your art would change if you were not in a relaxed state. As I delve into trying to do a bit more art, there is this nagging in the head, ‘do I go with an objective, do I paint my thoughts as they arise…do I let the music carry me…” Just having watched the Basquiat documentary, I realized I very much relate to his mode of painting – very much all over the place, music bopping him around whilst he has a book in his hand and the thoughts are just flying. Don’t control the monster, project it.
Mark Kerstetter
/ 2013/01/30On Beckett books, just cut to the chase and get this:
The Selected Works of Samuel Beckett
If I were to recommend an introduction to Beckett, it would be Godot. If I were forced to recommend one volume, it would be ‘The Collected Shorter Plays’. If I had to name a top five favorite Beckett texts, they would be: ‘Molloy’ (novel), ‘Rockaby’ (play), ‘Embers’ (radio play), ‘Rough for Theatre 2′ (play) and ‘Ill Seen Ill Said’ (short novel). -3 of these can be found in The Collected Shorter Plays, along with many of my other favorites, like ‘Play’ and ‘Not I’. If you look at a list of the titles of his short plays and then do a search on youtube, you’ll find a lot of gems. 3 of my faves are Billie Whitelaw’s performance of ‘Not I’, Jeremy Irons in ‘Ohio Impromptu’ and this one
…if I were to draw & paint in a non-relaxed state… I’ve tried it. Over the years I’ve tried drawing & painting while: hungry, agitated, drunk, surrounded by flowers, naked, while listening to all sorts of music, including hard & fast rock and jazz. I have found that what works best for me is to have a clear head, to be adequately fed and not over-caffeinated, to be completely relaxed and all alone in a very quiet place. If I create a mess within myself and my surroundings I just project a mess. But you’re right, over-control is a potent danger, definitely to be avoided! And I am very jealous of the way Basquiat worked.
angela
/ 2013/01/30Your contribution to my Beckett obsession is most appreciated, Mark!
On art (art as writing too) it is interesting that all of us respond differently. Right now, for example, I am trying to put together a mess of thoughts conjured throughout today’s ADD reading fest. I subsist most days on very litte (fruit, coffee) until evening when I eat quite a lot, but still Very healthy whole foods. Today was my bday and a snow day, ergo, I am swimming in overindulgences and my mind is threatening to shut off. I truly cannot function creatively if fed — odd, huh? (I hate to admit, but some of my best writing has been after two glasses of wine and an empty stomach – oh, and usually some fave music on the stereo!)
Adding book to cart…many thanks ~ a
C.B. Wentworth
/ 2013/01/28Ai Weiwei is one of my favorite artists – his sunflower seed exhibit is so moving and thought provoking.
angela
/ 2013/01/29Hi C.B., I do believe you are near the Tate, right? It must have been amazing to see 100 million- wow! Does the Tate still have part of the installation as its permanent collection?
C.B. Wentworth
/ 2013/01/31I wish I was near the the Tate! Only when I’m lucky enough to be in London.
I believe the Tate still has a smaller version of Sunflower Seeds on display.
Susan Scheid
/ 2013/01/28Much more to say & I see others have already. I have bookmarked to come back, am just settling in to read Beckett on Proust, but wanted to come by & wish you a happy 40th & re your post, give you this: http://prufrocksdilemma.blogspot.com/2012/08/will-real-vinteuil-sonata-please-stand.html, which is further about the mystery of the Vinteuil Sonata. Enjoy!
angela
/ 2013/01/29Susan! Brilliant you! I was going to comment at your blog until I realized that it was an old blog, not wp…(such a hassle to remember my old blogger id).. anyhoo, I am going to now have to visit Bard’s page. (I do not care for Spotify that much) I had no idea that this was so contested!!
Thank you for the wishes. You need some wishes too, for you seem to not only be a kindred literary spirit, but one of the stars — a fellow Aquarius, I should have known – Enjoy your birthday as well! Cheers!!
Susan Scheid
/ 2013/01/28“What would have happened had this been set to music?
I agree with much that has already been stated, but will try to give my own “take.” I think if a piece like that you describe were set to music, then it’s not the same piece. It may be a better, richer piece, but it’s just not the same. A new element has been added, a musical sardine (couldn’t resist).
Does music allow us to see more clearly, or does it distort certain realities?
Perhaps we need first to ask what we’re doing when listening: is music an accompaniment to something else, or is it in the foreground of our attention? If music is my foreground, it is a distraction to hear the refrigerator hum (our fridge is unaccountably loud) or to hear conversation. It is, in those moments, my reality, and the only reality I desire. The only accompaniments I want at those moments are those that will help me hear better: if not listening live, a video of a performance or a copy of the score. (Of course great live performance is best of all.)
More often, as it goes in life, music is accompaniment. I miss a lot of its gifts that way, but at least it’s present. When reading something challenging (like Howe’s work and the critical commentaries), let alone writing about it, the music that will “work” as accompaniment can be particularly hard to choose. Music can propel my thinking, but it can also take my attention away from the task at hand. (I wouldn’t, for example, choose Mahler’s Ninth to accompany reading a Perloff essay about Howe.)
I confront this difficulty in choosing music to accompany posts. Some have written that they can’t listen while they read, and I quite understand how that would be the case. The same can be true for me–I’m quite oftenunequal to the task of dividing my attention in that way. I like, though, to introduce music to readers of my posts and try to pick selections that somehow fit. With the Howe post, I thought at first to choose more experimental contemporary classical music. I took a listen to George Crumb’s Quest and some pieces by Harry Partch. What I decided was that Howe was challenging enough, without piling it on (and I,too, needed respite), so I chose music, mostly for solo piano, that was fairly tonal and not too insistent in its rhythmic pulse. (Whether anyone listens, anyway, is another matter, of course.)
I often marvel that music can reach us so deeply without the need for words; how sometimes, words, those great communicative tools, can also be barriers, and music can move past that. So what am I saying? Where do I come out? Music is a reality, among many. It distorts nothing, it just is. “Part of the res itself and not about it,” as Stevens has written of poetry.
angela
/ 2013/01/30I enjoy that you include the music with your posts, Susan. Music can help me focus with a difficult read, but it can also hinder – a fine balance. I am a white noise person, though, and cannot really function well without a background, especially with sleep. Whilst writing, another dilemma for I have even found my rhythm imitating the rhythm of the music – if there are lyrics that I like, watch out!, they end up in my writing, oy!
As an aside, I know that you are not going to sign on to the MOOC about sound design for focus via self study. I weigh this as well, but figure I can disband at any time without too much worry – juggling blog read/blog writing and general creativity does get a bit tabled -that is what I hate (must I have a job too ). I did my research and was quite impressed with his credentials, here is one of his compositions found on his Vimeo site
[vimeo http://www.vimeo.com/8788339 w=500&h=281]
Warrior Woman Pantoum from Steve Everett on Vimeo.
Susan Scheid
/ 2013/01/31Angela; I’m woefully behind over here–it’s been quite an action-packed week, tonight Filreis and Kelly Writer’s House was in New York, so Monica Saviron (fellow ModPo person) and I went. There were LOTS of ModPo people there. Monica told me about a one-day seminar at NYU that I can’t resist passing on to you, as it’s so a propos to the questions you raise here: “Celestial Twins?
Conversations, performances, and readings on the relationship between music and poetry.” http://gallatin.nyu.edu/utilities/events/2013/02/celestial_twins.html
angela
/ 2013/02/01No worries, Susan. Filreis actually commented on ModPo group’s Philosophy board re: ModPo crew at the reading and that you guys lead the close read of WCW! I just read the CT link, oh…if only, hailing from the midwest, that would be a stretch! Please go and take good notes, then blog?