Monday, January 14, 2013

Movies

Motion Pictures

I feel almost at a loss for words when it comes to discussing movies, the newest art form and one which seems to incorporate so many others. It is truly awesome in every way, both in its power to hold an audience's attention and in the potential for a work to be seen by everyone in the world, even at the same time! Everything on TV and much of what one sees on a computer or phone — as well as in stores, taxis, billboards, and almost everywhere you look — is also a kind of movie, in that it is a moving picture of something real or imagined. And all this has developed in just the past hundred years or so, completely transforming the world and to such an extent that it seems almost too obvious to mention.

At the same time, i feel overwhelmed by it all and spend most of my days without looking at any movies or videos or TV. And when i do feel the need for it as entertainment and look at what's offered on over a thousand channels, more often than not none of them are worth watching. 

Still, it is impossible to deny what an incredible achievement a Hollywood blockbuster really is, involving the collaboration of hundreds of people and hundreds of millions of dollars to create what is essentially a collective dream, so for about two hours people can totally forget who and where they are and experience anything the human mind can imagine: beautiful, fantastic, horrifying — and utterly convincing, vividly real.

And like dreams, movies are completely passive experiences that take over the imagination rather than requiring it, like theater does or — perhaps an even better example — radio plays. It's the opposite of reading, an act entirely done in one's imagination, as one's eyes scan markings like these on a page and turn them into images and feelings in the virtual reality of one's brain. To me that's even more miraculous.







Monday, January 7, 2013

On Directing

I just finished directing Gian Carlo Menotti's "Amahl and the Night Visitors," which was performed yesterday at the Church of the Transfiguration in New York, and in two days we begin rehearsals for Benjamin Britten's "Curlew River," to be performed there in March. Both are chamber operas with religious themes by composers born two years apart, but they are quite different in style. 

Directing is a very indirect art form. The director is not actually creating the work like a choreographer or controlling it the way a conductor does. The director's job is more like a president's, having a vision of what needs to be done and then coordinating the work of all the other people involved in the production, in this case singers, instrumentalists, costume designer, set designer, and stage manager. Even before rehearsing, choosing these people — especially the performers — are the most important decisions the director will make, although sometimes there is a producer who does that, in which case a director just has to work as best as possible with whoever they are.

For directing is, again like a president, also very much about "handling" people, and of course that is very much a reflection of the director's personality and how he or she relates to people in general. Some directors are very authoritarian, others more "democratic," but all become parent figures on some level, at least to the performers, who often project their own mother or father onto the director and react accordingly. Some get very upset when criticized and argue with the director about everything, but others have a need for it and then work hard to gain the director's approval. The director then has the same problem as any parent in exercising the right amount of control, letting the performers come up with their own ideas and then selecting which ones to keep. 

Baroque opera house at Royal Palace in Sweden: July, 2012

On a practical level, sometimes the best thing a director can do is simply let everybody practice, without interfering too much, because the more actors or singers know their parts, the easier it is to make changes in, for example, how and where they move, or how a line is delivered. Then too, as they get their parts memorized, they often come up with good ideas on their own, which a wise director will recognize and incorporate. Ultimately, the director has to be the imagined audience, witnessing the production as it unfolds as if for the first time, and be honest about what that imagined audience is experiencing. Is it clear what's going on? Is it interesting and emotionally engaging, or is it confusing and boring? In the end, the audience's reaction means everything, as all politicians instinctively know.

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

New Forms

Central Park at Midnight: January 1, 2013


I begin this post not knowing where it will go, like the new year itself, like an improvisation, one thing leading to another, ideas unfolding, a sail waiting for the wind, in search of the new.

Why do artists seek new forms? Not all do, of course, but at some point a new form can stimulate the imagination, like traveling to a new place, hearing a new language.

Randomness can be a powerful strategy. One time i was writing lines of dialogue but didn't know who was saying what, so i drew the letters A, B, C, and D out of a hat, one at a time, and assigned them to the lines. This made for unexpected and interesting combinations. What one is trying to do is open up the unconscious by blocking the usual associations of the conscious mind, which tends to suppress it. Such was the liberating energy of atonality, a kind of escape from gravity for the composer, who was no longer inevitably falling back down to the tonic but instead was now weightless or perhaps landing on new planets equally tugging at the tonal masses.

Years ago i started imagining choreography in a weightless environment — how that would change everything about dance! (It even occurred to me that the choreographer might get a grant from NASA.) But what kind of theater space would that require, and how removed would be the audience? Still it's an intriguing thought. Actually, we already have something like that in aquatic dancing, where one views the swimming dancers underwater through a window. I wonder if any serious contemporary choreographer has worked in that form? Hmmm.

I remember an old maxim that goes something like this: "The tighter the structure, the stronger the imagination." If you give yourself very little room to work in, it really does force you to be creative, like a dance in a box or a musical composition that uses only four notes. I think people have written stories using words that have only certain letters in them. Tweets, with their limited number of characters, also come to mind. Or think of the Josef Albers squares.

That too can become exhausting — and then a new period begins: one of excess, release, multiplicity rather than simplicity, sensuality rather than austerity, an embrace of life's infinite variety and sumptuousness, the spring following winter, the new year's chick emerging from the old shell.


Sunday, December 30, 2012

Global Folk Music

It is often said that music is a language, and it's true that you can sometimes tell what country a piece of music comes from, especially with folk music, which by definition grows in a local context. One can almost hear a continuum from Eastern to Western Europe, with a dip down to North Africa, as the music evolved along the ancient trade routes.

In this sense rap is also a form of folk music, in this case growing out of the urban black community. And even commercial popular music can be understood as modern American folk music, but whose origins are not in a geographical locale but in the media: phonograph records, radio, TV, and now the Internet. One might even say this is global folk music, transcending ethnic groups and borders — virtually an international language.

And yet "language" is only a metaphor, an attempt to describe music in words; for music has no denotative meanings and does not record facts or describe the physical world. Music communicates, but it is the language of the soul, of feelings — the subjective world in which we all live, the virtual reality within every human being's brain. As such, it bypasses the restrictions of verbal language and communicates the secrets robots will never know.

Still many people cannot "understand" any music in the European classical tradition that has been written since the 19th Century. This probably has something to do with a lack of musical education and is perpetuated by such music not being heard by children at home or on the radio, despite its availability online. This may change, however, as composers around the world are using all kinds of music — classical, jazz, folk, etc. — in their work, and i think these incorporations will be heard more and more in popular music, the global folk music of the future and the one language that can unite all of humanity.

In front of the Nobel Museum: Old Town, Stockholm, 2012








Tuesday, December 18, 2012

On Blogging

It happened again yesterday: i just didn't have time to write a new blog entry. I had started out with the intention of doing one every day for a year, but somehow that never felt quite right, since that's what i had done eight years ago with a set of poems. I also didn't like the idea that i had to write something no matter what and then suddenly stop doing so. Anyway, it all became clear to me this morning, when i woke up with the liberating realization that i was now free from this self-imposed and unnecessary discipline.

It also struck me the other day that blogging is essentially the same as writing newspaper columns, and before the invention of writing there were probably people who would do the same thing orally. Humans don't change very much in a few thousand years; only the technology does. (Some say mankind is becoming more enlightened, but i see no evidence of this.)

If i wanted more attention for my blog, i would probably write something controversial, maybe with a strong opinion about something, like many widely read columns. This also works for artists, especially painters and performance artists; but music seems to have lost its power to shock, like it did with "The Rite of Spring." Movies can be extremely disturbing in their realistic portrayal of, say, torture, but then audiences just stay away. Even pornography is more like a joke now. Probably the most shocking images and stories these days come from life, not art.

Art seems to compensate for the culture, like a dream reveals the unconscious mind, so perhaps these days art's value is in revealing the beautiful and good in life amidst all the sorrow and sadness.

my granddaughter enjoying her iPad

Sunday, December 16, 2012

Decorative Arts

I just bought a Christmas tree and will start decorating it tomorrow, which makes me think about all the so-called "decorative arts." It also makes me think of "fashion," which could be described as decorating people. I then ask myself: is fashion design the same as costume design? And beyond that is the whole issue of design versus art, which i touched on here before and which i have to admit is a the distinction that really doesn't mean much. I mean, architecture has long been considered a "fine art," even though it also definitely has a practical function.

My mother won many awards in table setting contests, and i remember one of her winning efforts was displayed in the window of a fancy jewelry store. The elements of table setting include the tablecloth, silverware, glasses, and a flower arrangement, an art in itself, most notably in Japan, where the culture has great respect for all kinds of design arts like that, including the vases that hold the flowers. And as i mentioned in an earlier post, there is also, of course, the tea ceremony as art, which would include the table setting. One can also see the tea ceremony as a kind of group performance art, which might be fun to do as such here, say in an art gallery, with some twist to it (and i wouldn't be surprised if someone already has done that).

My Christmas tree, 2007


While we're at it, let's not forget the art of conversation — or the art of making love, which is also a form of tantric yoga. Some say too that friendship is an art, and it can include both of the just named arts, sex and conversation. What could be more friendly or more spiritual? Yes, almost any human activity can be an art, if artfully done; for art is as much a way of doing things, a process, as a product, whether sold or given away.  




Saturday, December 15, 2012

Art as Religion

Art is kind of like a religion to me, because i believe in it and try to live up to its ideals, which are basically spiritual:

O Art, i believe in you,
Have dedicated my life to you,
Without earthly reward.
You give me a sense of purpose in life,
As i offer my humble attempts
In your name, with hope they may live
In the hearts of those who survive me.

I just made that up and could probably continue the poem, but you get the idea.

Ironically, i'm actually going through a minor crisis of belief in art and sometimes wish i had just taken the commercial road and followed the money. And i had opportunities like that but, with the idealism of youth, turned them down. Still, i have no regrets and also understand that the decisions i made then — as now — are based on what seemed right at the time and, cumulatively, created my karma, my Self, for better or worse, until i die and, whatever it may or may not be worth to anyone else, the "body" of my work ascends to the iCloud.

Greece, 2006