Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Thanksgiving




What is the price of experience? Do men buy it for a song?

Or wisdom for a dance in the street? No, it is bought with the price
Of all a man hath, his house, his wife, his children.
Wisdom is sold in the desolate market where none come to buy,
And in the wither’d field where the farmer plows for bread in vain.It is an easy thing to triumph in the summer’s sun
And in the vintage and to sing on the waggon loaded with corn.
It is an easy thing to talk of prudence to the afflicted,
To speak the laws of prudence to the houseless wanderer,
To listen to the hungry raven’s cry in wintry season
When the red blood is fill’d with wine and with the marrow of lambs.



It is an easy thing to laugh at wrathful elements,
To hear the dog howl at the wintry door, the ox in the slaughterhouse moan;
To see a god on every wind and a blessing on every blast;
To hear sounds of love in the thunder-storm and destroys our enemies’ house;
To rejoice in the blight that covers his field, and the sickness that cuts off his children,
While our olive and vine sing and laugh round our door, and our children bring fruits and flowers.


Then the groan and the dolour are quite forgotten, and the slave grinding at the mill,
And the captive in chains, and the poor in the prison, and the soldier in the field
When the shatter’d bone hath laid him groaning among the happier dead.
It is an easy thing to rejoice in the tents of prosperity:
Thus could I sing and thus rejoice: but it is not so with me.

William Blake "The For Zoas - Night the Second pages 32 and 33.




Sunday, November 14, 2010

Mind grown venerable in the unreal

Goodbye to summer. Blake, King James, Wallace Stevens, Bingham Hill, south east of La Porte, Colorado.






Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? declare, if thou hast understanding.
Who hath laid the measures thereof, if thou knowest? or who hath stretched the line upon it?
Whereupon are the foundations thereof fastened? or who laid the corner stone thereof;
When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy?

Job 38:7 - King James



The trumpet of morning blows in the clouds and through
The sky.  It is the visible announced,
It is the more than visible, the more
Than sharp, illustrious scene.  The trumpet cries
This is the successor of the invisible.

This is its substitute in stratagems
Of the spirit.  This, in sight and memory,
Must take its place, as what is possible
replaces what is not.  The resounding cry
Is like ten thousand tumblers, tumbling down

To share the day.  The Trumpet supposes that
A mind exists, aware of division, aware 
Of its cry as clarion, its diction's way 
As that of a personage in a multitude:
Man's mind grown venerable in the unreal.

Credences of Summer - Canto VII  Wallace Stevens

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Narcissist's America - The Divine Sarah




I was thinking about the former half-term governor of Alaska and for some reason the concept of narcissism came to mind. You can look it up!   Then I ran across Terry Castle's great essay on the long dead actress Sarah Berhnhardt.

Any discussion about "Hysterical Exhibitionism" and "Narcissistic Wish-Fulfillment" and "Sartorial Perversions" can't help but remind one of our Divine Sarah.  Alas, the essay is behind their pay wall, that is, it's for subscribers only.  However, you can read her great post about Georgia O'Keefe for free.  Since it's also about her mom, it might make good reading for holiday travels.

Monday, November 1, 2010

Beethoven, Takacs and the Genetic Fallacy







Sunday, October 31st the following took place at CU:


"Quartet
by David Lawrence Morse


In this exciting new drama, brought to the stage by the Takacs Quartet and Colorado Shakespeare Festival, Beethoven rises above illness and tortured relationships to compose his most sublime music.  The drama explores the circumstances surrounding Beethoven's composition of the late quartets, integrating musical examples performed by the Takács. Following the drama, the quartet performs Beethoven's 
& nbsp;
String Quartet in A-Minor, Op. 132."





What this meant in practice was that for almost an hour and a half four actors narrated the story of Beethoven's last years and the circumstances surrounding his final compositions.  This was done in excessive detail, including, for example, the composers arguments with his copyists.  Mainly, however, it concerned his unhappy relations with his nephew and his vexed business dealings.  Plus his deafness, health problems, general cantankerousness and apparently squalid hygiene.  At various points, snippets of the compositions being discussed were played.

The volume of biographical detail was numbing and, as far as I can remember, seemed accurate enough.   It became, alas, interminable.  The portrait that emerged was of a very unhappy man, incapable of taking care of himself,  desperately lonely, abandoned to live in filth, his music the expression of a kind of inspired mania verging on madness.   

Assuming that this was true -- and there are reasons to doubt it -- how does knowing these details help us "understand" his music?  It certainly doesn't constitute music criticism.  Rather, its voyeurism. 


In fact, it diminishes the music, turning it into a kind of soundtrack for pathologies or of some sort of aesthetic of triumph over the sufferings of life through art. 
But the outer circumstances tell us almost nothing about the work.  The late quartets are exceptional on every possible level, but I especially admire a craftsmanship which has very little to do with "inspiration" and "genius", much less "the sublime", and everything to do with knowledge and diligence and hard work.  The shear elegance and ease of the part writing is amazing.  Even watching it being played, it's hard to understand how so much could be brought of four instruments with sixteen strings and four bows.

For an artist like Beethoven, the work was the life.  We should no more look his diet (or anything else) to explain his music than we should look to Liebniz' arthritis to explain the calculus


This is of course not to say the music is the same as mathematics.   The A minor Quartet is personal and stunningly intimate, but it's also bardic and mythic.  There are many ways music conveys meaning.  It's capable of irony, e.g., the little minuet that stage band plays in Don Giovanni.  It's also capable of literal mimesis.  After all imitation is an essential formal tool and the essence of counterpoint.  But it's also capable of literal mimesis, as in the Pastoral Symphony with its bird calls and thunder storms.  


One could argue the the Molto Adagio, played with great restraint and delicacy the the Takscs, incarnates in it's simple ABABA form the an alternation between the timeless - the Lydian chorale - and personal historic time -- the D major second subject.


D major is of course the key of the 6th Symphony.  Maynard Solomon in his Late Beethoven: Music, Thought, Imagination, argues the the seeds of the late style are to be found in Beethoven's pastoral and rustic works, not in the major works of his heroic style.  He singles out the 7th Symphony, the Op 96 Violin Sonata and the Archduke Trio as examples  - one might also mention any number of the less famous piano sonatas.  The late works should be seen not as examples of some triumph of the will but as contemplations of musical expression, meditations on form, the animal delight of virtuosity, the joke, the dance, the elegy , ineluctable fate and the nature of time: human, divine and musical.