Are you ready? I've been ruminating on this since my moment of spiritual clarity in Portugal. Following is a few questions I hope to turn into, with more reading, a few cogent abstracts.
1. How does ornament operate as a coercive force in art? What are the implications of ornament in various contexts? Specifically, what is the phenomenology of ornament? How does one quantify the visual experience of ornament? What occurs within the body when completely overwhelmed by visual stimuli and how does this contribute to the formation of a malleable mental state? Furthermore, if one accepts the premise that ornament overwhelms the body thus priming the same body for suggestion, could one then discuss the phenomenology of ornament with rhetoric similar to that which surrounds the femme fatale?
2. If ornament is indeed a coercive mechanism, does the Catholic Reformation establishment knowingly utilize it? How does this deployment of ornament complement the theatricality of Catholic Reformation painting? Do we accept sixteenth century religious art as an intentional manipulation of reality, with more duplicitous, sinister overtones than other artistic contexts?
Caravaggio, The Crucifixion of St. Peter (1600-1601)
3. How do religious aural environments contribute to the coercive force of their visual complements? If we accept that sound initiates within the body physiological reactions similar to those that occur in response to violence and trauma, how then does the otherworldly quietude create a tranquility that fosters a malleable mental state? Is it the silence of religious spaces that makes us feel safe, and thus receptive to spiritual ideas?
I can't tell you the number of times I've sat down to record and subsequently relay my experiences at Performa. There was just so much. For now, the best strategy seems to be to go day-by-day, paper-by-paper.
So, Thursday and Taruskin's keynote. The morning began with the following words:
He who knows not and knows not he knows not: he is a fool - shun him. He who knows not and knows he knows not: he is simple - teach him. He who knows and knows not he knows: he is asleep - wake him. He who knows and knows he knows: he is wise - follow him.
Whether he realized it or not, Taruskin set a particularly inspiring tone for the entire conference. His keynote, entitled "Where we are now," addressed the all-too-often abstruse discourse surrounding Historically Informed Performance (HIP) and theorized methods for "performative rightness" in the present moment: Taruskin called for knowing, cognizance, awareness, wisdom. Noting HIP's 1920s progenitors, Taruskin pointed out that this obsession with how it ought to be is essentially, a modernist impulse. That historically informed performance practices sought to prescribe one way reeks of modernist ideologies; indeed Taruskin's observation (which to me, now, seems painfully obvious; a why didn't I think of that observation) can be clearly posited in rebellious and transformational twentieth-century epistemology. Looking back now on this modernist performance practice, and our current moment--wherein we seek to rebel against these musico-historical mores--one can easily see HIP as the musical equivalent to an Occidentalist view of history, complete with the generalized, monolithic and exclusively Western we.
With an unapologetically post-modern perspective, Taruskin suggested that "Historically Informed" encompasses a diversity of practices. He asked broad questions: historically informed by whom? for whom? and in what context? He offered these contrasting examples of ostensibly unorthodox HIP. The first was Furtwangler's Bach. Listen, if you will to the following clip, paying special attention to the oft-termed cadenza about nine minutes in.
To a listener bound by rigid (dare I say it, modernist) conceptions of HIP, Furtwangler's Bach is simply appalling. Taruskin pointed out that although--even to the wise ears of the Performa delegates--Furtwangler's playing is deeply romantic, slightly indulgent, and seriously Wagnerian, it creates a connection. That Furtwangler, even in recorded, digitized, and YouTubed disembodiment, was still able to form an ineffable relationship between composer, performer and listener is truly incredible. Furthermore, Taruskin argued that although the playing is indeed romantic, indulgent, and Wagnerian, this type of relationship is historically informed, thus positioning Furtwangler's singular Bach in the realm of HIP.
Moving on to a more contemporary performer, harpsichordist Kenneth Cooper, Taruskin noted that audience response--regardless of the performer's adherence to the often arbitrary rules of performance practice--can signify HIP. Sadly, the recording he shared with us is not available on the 'tube. In my notes, I wrote "rock and roll Bach"; sufficed to say, Cooper played the hell out Brandenberg 5. Cooper's performance, in its overwhelming virtuosity, physicality, and commitment, so mesmerized his audience that upon completion they burst into a chorus of spontaneous applause. Thus, although--like Furtwangler--Cooper's interpretation exists outside of generally accepted HIP dogma, it is indeed historically informed: spontaneous applause was common (and documented) practice for early eighteenth-century audiences.
Although he didn't say it outright, Taruskin intimated on numerous occasions the paucity of communication between contemporary performers and their audiences. One could offer a litany of causes for this phenomenon: recording technology, culmination of exoticized/sexualized/generally othered performing body, the conflation of genius and virtuoso that creates distance...the list goes on. However, given my recent reading I couldn't help but think of what Baudrillard and Virilio might have to say. More than merely the disembodiment resulting from and supported by digital recordings, technology itself participates in the detrimental deflation of our personal relationships. Obviously, this is nothing new. I have, however, become in recent months acutely aware of this detriment in my own life and relationships. I have witnessed, with helpless distance, once meaningful and important relationships crumble at the hands of gChat, Facebook and text messages. Operating under a veneer of concern, the virtual reality created by these devices of technological gossamer provided the illusion of closeness. Their inherent deception--the presumed collapsing of distances via instant communication (this is pure Baudrillard, by the way)--was revealed with the realization that the "intimacy" created through the repetition of disembodied communication only functioned to reinforce the separation and superficiality of virtual relationships. When the time and effort required to craft the friendship was repeatedly replaced by cavalier and careless communiques it was fated to exist solely at the surface, divorced from the depth and meaning it once possessed.
By contrast, I also participated in the creation a relationship completely divorced from virtual identities. The most I can say is that it was exhilarating to craft a friendship, slowly, without acceleration via information. For this reason--whether or not I ever see this person again--I believe the memories associated with the experience will resonate clearly and with more sentiment that those generated by the many years of friendship (mentioned above) rendered meaningless by gChat, Facebook, and the text message.
With my personal experience in mind, I cannot help but think that I am not the only one to whom this has happened. Furthermore, if we accept musical performance as heightened communication--an intimate (and often invasive) touch initiated from a distance but perceived as unsettlingly, and uncomfortably close--we must also accept the deep impact of the aforesaid social reality. More than anything else, this is what I wondered as I walked away from Taruskin's talk. Has HIP become such a formidable practice in our contemporary moment because the idea of relationships--musical or otherwise--is so totally elusive? Perhaps we are not looking to recreate the nuances of ornamental filigree but rather their effect on the listener. Perhaps we are not seeking a prescribed method of performative rightness but rather the freedom espoused and valorized in pre-Mahlerian performance.
So now you perhaps see why it has taken me so long to begin writing about my time in Portugal...
I'm currently sitting in a perfectly bizarre hotel in Porto. Positioned squarely between Ikea and Jumbo, Tryp Porto Expo reeks of newness and impermanence. Over the next couple of days, I hope to explain why this bothers me so, why I have come to find new construction--new things--aesthetically and philosophically offensive.
But Performa, and Aveiro, were wonderful.
figure wonderful: Aveiro city park
There are pages and pages to be written about my experience at Performa, but first, today, allow me offer you a litany of topics and thoughts provoked by the conference, the city, and new colleagues. 1. Taruskin is a total hipster, Turino is a total nerd. 2. More seriously, Turino offered the most lucid explanation of Peirce I have ever heard. I am waiting on bated breath for his newest book, but until then I'm looking forward to diving into his 1999 article, "Signs of Imagination, Identity, and Experience: A Peircian Theory for Music." 3. Iain Foreman presented a completely brilliant paper entitled "Performance as Resonant Listening." I have spent some time thinking about music as something intrinsically violent, but Foreman pointed out that indeed sound can be something violent in and of itself. The more I ruminated on this point, the more I agreed: sound is uninvited, unexpected, it violates our bodies in an intimate and invasive way. In a sense, we are powerless to protect our bodies from what I have been calling internal sonic micro-colonization. As I write about the presentation, all kinds of observations are coming to mind. Basically, it was brilliant. I can't wait until I can read his books. 4. At some level, almost all the papers I saw addressed the paucity of communicative relationships between audience and performer. While no one said it explicitly, it seemed that they were all getting at the following. We exist as plural entities comprised of numerous virtual, disembodied identities in combination with an embodied identity so coded and bogged down by tradition it can barely see straight (metaphorically speaking of course). Because music can be understood as a heightened form of intimate, physical communication--touch (in a very literal sense) initiated from a distance and experienced from the proverbial stem to proverbial stern--it is indeed, deeply effected in its perception, reception, and transmission by such a cultural context. 5. Speaking of disembodiment and Peirce, who has two thumbs, a scholar-crush on Turino and had a moment of firstness in the Church of Jesus? This girl.
figure firstness: Church of Jesus, Convent of Jesus Aveiro
But it didn't stop there. I went upstairs to the choir loft and was moved to tears.
figure secondness: Choir Loft, Church of Jesus, Convent of Jesus Aveiro
On the heals of Turino's laudable and if you'll forgive me, awesome, Peirce-a-thon, my experience at the convent brought up all kinds of questions regarding the phenomenology of religious architecture. I am not a Christian, but I have to admit the incredible coercive force of this space; was it a moment of spiritual awakening? Doubtful. Was it a moment of emptiness and openness that left my body and psyche vulnerable to suggestion, co-option, and unmitigated joy? Likely. Is my experience something that has been utilized by the institution of religion over time? Absolutely. However, I should note that despite using words like coercive, vulnerable, co-option, I did not feel violated by the experience--on the contrary, I am deeply grateful for my moment of firstness. 6. The American fetishization of that which is ancient. When I arrived in Portugal, I found myself attracted most to buildings in decay: missing walls and roof tops, proudly displaying elemental wear, these buildings fascinated me. As the week progressed I attempted to articulate my interest-turned-obsession: was it their aesthetic value? Was it the mystique and probable plurality of their history? It wasn't until last night when a colleague expressed a similar fascination. We discussed our American-ness hoping to come to some sort of conclusion, eventually realizing that the allure of these structures was generated by their perceived permanence. In a fundamental way, these buildings comforted us, "grounded" us. My colleague articulated it quite well by saying that in America, architecture is not only transient, but also apocalyptic.
I should probably be outside exploring this beautiful city but I have been up since, well, yesterday I am going to sleep until tomorrow. When I have had time to collect myself, I have a few things to say about Umberto Eco and being in Portugal. And of course, the big paper.
