Sorry for the hiatus--I'm adjusting to my newfound freedom now that I don't have homework to grade.
I just finished Christopher Butler's Pleasure and the arts, which is an interesting look at how and why we enjoy the arts. I found two points in particular to be interesting.
First, what kinds of emotions does music evoke in us? Butler argues (and I agree with him) that music (and the arts in general) provide a much more subtle expressive palette than spoken or written language. But when I listen to a piece of music, am I actually feeling *the same* sadness that I would genuinely feel at, say, the loss of a loved one? Or, am I empathizing with a character, feeling what I imagine that person is feeling? What about in cases where there is no protagonist, per se--a piece of instrumental music, for example? Or, in the case of multiple characters present in an operatic ensemble (Butler discusses Der Rosenkavalier in detail at the outset of the book). Can I listen to (or watch) the scene several times, empathizing with a different character each time? I think this idea of musical empathy is quite interesting. The only reason we feel a particular way when we listen to a piece of music is not because the music makes us feel X, but because we're identifying with an imaginary character whose emotions are described in detail by this music.
The other thing that Butler discusses that I think is quite interesting and relates a bit to my earlier posts on Gladwell's book Blink has to do with interpretation. Is it enough to look at a painting or listen to a piece of music and say "Wow, that's really beautiful?" To what extent is our experience of a work shaped by our understanding of it and/or its historical/cultural contexts? I was listening to Shostakovich second piano concerto last night with this notion in mind. I like the piece, I've heard it many, many times, I have a very strong background in theory, especially post-tonal theory, etc., etc., etc., so I'm not the best test subject. I tried to put myself in the shoes of one of my non-musical friends (to empathize with them?) and to imagine hearing a piece like that for the first time.
Is it possible to enjoy Shostakovich's music without understanding the political climate in which it was written? Without understanding its relationship to the works he composed before and after it? Without understanding it with respect to Russian composers before and after him? Without understanding it in relation to the history of the piano concerto? Without understanding the rhythmic details? Without understanding the wry modulations? Without understanding the difficulties in the piano part?
I played in the Philadelphia Youth Orchestra under the inimitable Joseph Primavera. I recall him once telling the group of high school kids that he hated music. At the time, I thought this was a rather strange thing to tell a group of aspiring musicians. His rationale was that as a result of his training and career choice, he couldn't simply listen to music and enjoy it anymore--listening to and performing music in any context became work, whether he liked it or not. I suspect he was exaggerating, but this seems to be a fine example of interpretation's potential to destroy the simple pleasure of listening. (Don't get me wrong--I'm all for interpretation--it's what pays my bills!)
I just finished Christopher Butler's Pleasure and the arts, which is an interesting look at how and why we enjoy the arts. I found two points in particular to be interesting.
First, what kinds of emotions does music evoke in us? Butler argues (and I agree with him) that music (and the arts in general) provide a much more subtle expressive palette than spoken or written language. But when I listen to a piece of music, am I actually feeling *the same* sadness that I would genuinely feel at, say, the loss of a loved one? Or, am I empathizing with a character, feeling what I imagine that person is feeling? What about in cases where there is no protagonist, per se--a piece of instrumental music, for example? Or, in the case of multiple characters present in an operatic ensemble (Butler discusses Der Rosenkavalier in detail at the outset of the book). Can I listen to (or watch) the scene several times, empathizing with a different character each time? I think this idea of musical empathy is quite interesting. The only reason we feel a particular way when we listen to a piece of music is not because the music makes us feel X, but because we're identifying with an imaginary character whose emotions are described in detail by this music.
The other thing that Butler discusses that I think is quite interesting and relates a bit to my earlier posts on Gladwell's book Blink has to do with interpretation. Is it enough to look at a painting or listen to a piece of music and say "Wow, that's really beautiful?" To what extent is our experience of a work shaped by our understanding of it and/or its historical/cultural contexts? I was listening to Shostakovich second piano concerto last night with this notion in mind. I like the piece, I've heard it many, many times, I have a very strong background in theory, especially post-tonal theory, etc., etc., etc., so I'm not the best test subject. I tried to put myself in the shoes of one of my non-musical friends (to empathize with them?) and to imagine hearing a piece like that for the first time.
Is it possible to enjoy Shostakovich's music without understanding the political climate in which it was written? Without understanding its relationship to the works he composed before and after it? Without understanding it with respect to Russian composers before and after him? Without understanding it in relation to the history of the piano concerto? Without understanding the rhythmic details? Without understanding the wry modulations? Without understanding the difficulties in the piano part?
I played in the Philadelphia Youth Orchestra under the inimitable Joseph Primavera. I recall him once telling the group of high school kids that he hated music. At the time, I thought this was a rather strange thing to tell a group of aspiring musicians. His rationale was that as a result of his training and career choice, he couldn't simply listen to music and enjoy it anymore--listening to and performing music in any context became work, whether he liked it or not. I suspect he was exaggerating, but this seems to be a fine example of interpretation's potential to destroy the simple pleasure of listening. (Don't get me wrong--I'm all for interpretation--it's what pays my bills!)