There are some things I don’t want to understand. “Hoppipolla” by Sigur Ros, “re: stacks” by Bon Iver, whatever e.e. cummings is getting at with his stupid poems, or Chopin’s piano compositions are a few immediate examples at first thought, but in a grander sense, I don’t want to understand the essence of musical and physical writing in general. I don’t want to boil them down to a mathematical formula, for then, where’s the great mystery? Part of the enjoyment I get out of writing music is the fact that I don’t in the slightest way understand music. I know basic aspects of theory, but for the most part I’m blindly forcing my hand into a vast mystery and trying to somehow pull out and shape something relatable and beautiful. To me it’s only beautiful because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I can sort of learn about myself through my unconscious stream.
The problem I see with a formulaic breakdown of art is that, although it helps establish the focus and discipline required to create it, it also really ironically takes a little passion out of the artist. There’s no passion in a calculation when art becomes a job or an obligation, which I’ve learned through many, many classes and lectures on prose writing. If a film major and a preteen girl step into a theater to see a new movie, one of them might marvel at the love between the characters, or the sentiment of a scene, but will spend a lot of time mentally disassembling the lighting, stage design, acting, dialogue, plot development, shot angles, soundtrack, editing, camera quality, and other aspects I’m not even aware of. The other will be swept up and away by the emotions of the moments. It seems like the only people who can’t be moved by great art are the ones who truly understand how the parts make up the whole.
There’s joy in discovery. For an innocent or ignorant person creating art is a new and revelational experience. It’s a venture into the unknown, a step into darkness, and a manifestation of the secret channels of the subconscious. Creation is a birth; art is. Without innocence there’s no growing. Without ignorance there’s no learning. That (at least to me) is the quintessential climax of art: when it’s done without any great pre-understanding. To be moved is to be in awe, and to be in awe of something is to be in the presence of something greater than yourself. I’d rather feel awe than see why I do. It’s a mystery I don’t particularly need to have solved. I don’t want to understand, not right now anyway. Maybe I’ll be dumb forever. I guess we'll see.
This worries me occasionally.
ReplyDelete- Conor
Counterpoint:
ReplyDeleteI have been being trained in music for 14 years, and I have a pretty solid understanding of what I'm hearing when I listen to it. I can analyze the chord changes, I understand the form, I know pretty much what the performer himself is doing to get the sound. But there are still songs that when I hear them, fill me with such emotion that I will involuntarily laugh out loud, or cry. When a piece of music is good enough, it will speak to people on an emotional level. Perhaps when you’re informed, that emotional level is harder to reach, but great music will get there.
I also do theater, and to see a show (or film) is, as you said, to pick apart the lighting, sound, sets, costumes, blocking, and especially the performances. If I see a mediocre show, I don’t connect to it at all. But if I see a great show, I sit there, amazed by every aspect of it. Not just the story and characters, but by the elements you’d prefer not to notice. I know how they’re trying to make me feel with certain lights and blocking, and if they succeed in making me feel it, I feel it HARD. Same goes for the performer. I can see them emoting as hard as they can, and in a great performance, I’m empathizing with the actor AND the character. It’s an overwhelming feeling.
There is still awe. Artists and musicians become artists and musicians because of their love for their craft. That love does not go away. There is ALWAYS the feeling of being in presence of something greater than yourself.
Basically my point is that an understanding of art DOES make an audience jaded. However, it makes it so much more incredible when something succeeds in moving you. You get to connect with not only the art, but the artist, and be reminded why you do what you do. It is gratifying and --no matter how informed you are-- moving.
-Allegra