Something about Beauty

I've been reading various things relating to Japanese aesthetics and came across a rather lovely essay by Donald Keene in Japanese Aesthetics and Culture: A Reader in which he discusses four key elements which he believes reflect something of the Japanese sense of beauty.  One of the main sources for Keene's approach is book called Essays in Idleness  by a 14th century Buddhist priest, Kenko.

Suggestion
"In all things, it is the beginnings and ends that are interesting."

Irregularity
"In everything, no matter what it may be, uniformity is undesirable.  Leaving something incomplete makes it interesting, and gives one the feeling that there is room for growth."

Simplicity

image from 'Tea and Zen' at the NGV

Perishability
The cherry blossom falls from the tree after only three days but this impermanence is part of its aesthetic significance in Japanese culture.

These four elements are not necessarily equally prized in a Western sense of aesthetic taste.  Keene discusses how Irregularity and Perishability in particular are qualities that fly in the face of much of Western art tradition.  Versaille or Ryoan-ji.  Marble or Cherry Blossom.

But how beautiful they are.  For me they sum up that intangible, indescribable thing that I aspire to in my own work and that I am drawn to in the work of others.

Things that make me a better composer

#1

'Teaching'* other people how to compose

I’ve been back teaching composition since the start of semester and am really enjoying the process.  My classes range from one-on-one composition lessons to group classes focusing on writing cross-media work. 

I love teaching one-on-one; trying to find out what someone is trying to create and helping them clarify their creative intentions and develop the skills to realize their work.  Sometimes there are issues of confidence (lack of) or focus (lack of) that need to be dealt with.  Sometimes my job is to suggest possibilities,  a different way of approaching a compositional problem or just to play some music they might not have heard before.  I love the occasional ‘light bulb’ moments and the enthusiasm that the students have (most of the time) for the process of writing music.  And there are the really interesting conversations about music, different composers, different ideas that make me re-think my own views or re-visit music that I haven’t listened to for a while or discover music that I have never heard before. 

I love working with groups of students because the sum is always greater than the parts.  Sometimes things go off on tangents but the range of ideas that a group can bring to the table is usually surprising.  One of my favourite classes is a group of composers working with a group of choreographers to develop new work.  My job (and that of my choreographer co-teacher) is to bring these two groups of students together, to dissolve some of the cross-media barriers and hopefully encourage a shared creative language.  There have been some very beautiful moments of work to emerge so far, one in particular  that was extremely moving – watching as a group of people from different arts backgrounds, who had only recently met, let go of their reservations and preconceptions and apprehensions and made some work that was neither music nor dance but something else rather lovely.

 My Inner Critic has been quite vocal of late and one of her pet subjects is 'why can’t I find more time to write my own music?'.  Why am I spending valuable child-free time teaching when I should be writing? (never mind the obvious financial reasons).  Then there is the old saying, one of IC’s favourites, which goes something like… “those who can, do; those who can’t, teach".  I think I can now categorically blow this one out of the water.  There are some VERY good reasons for teaching, not just the desperation of failed artists.  There are the obvious altruistic aspects of teaching – fostering and encouraging young creative minds, contributing to the future cultural life of our society etc etc.  And then there are the very clear benefits to ME as a composer (and a human being).  I learn things – about music and about myself.  I find new ways of looking at problems.  I am enriched by the beautiful things that are created.  I feel like I may have done something useful. And I am reminded again and again why what I do (writing music) is important and not to be abandoned the next time the Inner Critic lets fly.

* I’ve never actually thought that anyone can teach anyone else how to ‘write music’ – only to give them some tools to realise and organise their compositional ideas.

#2

A fresh pair of ears

I was inspired by a recent post by Cath in Musings in Mayhem where she mentioned handing her work over to her writers’ group for critical feedback and how useful this was.  I have long thought that composing music can be one of the most isolated and introverted of creative pastimes.  Lots of time alone at a desk, creating a piece of work with very little consultation or ‘testing out’.   Generally speaking, there are no music editors to give constructive criticism and feedback.  Once the work is finished it usually goes to the performers and then there is often little opportunity to tweak or refine or edit anything other than the surface details of the work.  In its written form, it is difficult to really get a sense of what the sounded work will be like unless you have a highly developed inner ear.  I realized that what I need is a writers’ group, of composers.  So I have made a small start and asked two composer friends if we could set up our own ‘composer self help group’ where we can show each other our work for critical feedback as well as support and encouragement. I have happily sent my recent piece to them for a fresh perspective and their comments and encouragement have been invaluable (many thanks to K and L).  I’m looking forward to casting an eye and ear over some of their work and responding in the same generous and constructive way.  On a purely personal level, this process also has a quite significant side effect as it cancels out a very negative tendency I have noticed in myself to be highly competitive with those I consider to be my peers.  So rather than comparing myself  (usually unfavourably) with my peers, it feels much better to open myself up, offer my work for scrutiny and benefit from their feedback and generosity.

A love of stones

C'est fini.  I think I have finished my piece - more or less - pending further refinements and editing - unless I change my mind again.  This piece has been driving me round the bend for a while now.  Things would go swimmingly and then I would lose the thread and the vision would start to unravel.  It started off being about one thing and now it is about something else, but also still about the first thing, kind of.  I wanted the piece to be about moments but the moments became bloated and over-written.  And then they were pruned into something different again, and again.
There was one notable evening when I very nearly gave up on the whole project - 'I can't write music, I've forgotten how, I am pathetic and talentless and clearly deluded' - that kind of thing.  I vented at my partner, the air was blue, then after a cup of milo and some calming words several helpful realisation were reached.  (i) There is no point giving up now because it [writing music] will only get harder if you don't keep doing it.  (ii) It wont seem so bad in the morning.  How true.
I knew I wanted the piece to be in small sections, with the spaces between (notice a recurring theme?) being significant.  I also wanted the piece to be about a process of de-cluttering and simplifying, each smaller section reflecting stages in the process.  The image of a path of stepping stones came to mind - each stone with a shape and character of its own but part of a larger function.  I scribbled in my note book
"... idea that transformation, change, growth, happens in the spaces between... kids grow in their sleep; the mind/subconscious at work when we sleep.  The spaces are significant because this is where thought / reflection / awareness happens and this enables growth..."
And again I am drawn to the Japanese concept of 'Ma', particularly as it is reflected in Japanese stone gardens, such as Ryoanji in Kyoto , where the placement of stones is carefully judged, with equal attention to the spaces between the stones as well as the qualities of the stones themselves.  I love this idea.  So I think the piece is about the careful placing of musical moments in stillness and time.  Which is what I wanted it to be all along.

something like a holiday

There has been a lot of frustration in the air recently, most graphically brought into focus by the appalling tantrums of our two year old.  These are becoming a daily occurrence.  Her expression of pure rage and frustration is something to behold, and beholding it is about all one can do.  Like any force of nature, they just have to run their course.  Watching these tantrums is like seeing an intensified and physicalised manifestation of what I’ve been feeling for the last month or so.  At least I have the words (occasionally) to articulate what I’m feeling and can see lack of progress within a larger context.  My darling daughter is instead buffeted by waves of utter frustration that have no way of dissipating other than through crazy tsunamis of rage.

That I am actually sitting and writing something is a step forward and is largely due to the fact that we have had something approximating an Easter holiday – ie we went somewhere else (my mother’s house) and did things together as a family (some time at the beach) and mind numbing domestic tasks were minimalised.  And although it was only four days it was a much-needed circuit breaker.  So the work (music) is progressing slowly, so I have failed to meet my self-set (and completely arbitrary) deadline, so my teaching load is messily and inefficiently spread over days when I could be doing my own work at home… oh well.  It is not ideal (things rarely are) and I feel a bit frustrated (less than I did a couple of weeks ago) but my life has many facets and they don’t necessarily fit together neatly.  I haven’t got the ‘child-rearing / paid work / MY work /  miscellaneous-personal-stuff’ balance right yet and it will probably never be perfect but then things rarely are.   Yet again, I have to be reminded by my nearest and dearest that maybe my expectations need to be reviewed.  OK.  I’ll adjust (and re-adjust) my sights accordingly and remember that the only one that has these expectations of me is ME and not some imaginary panel of peer assessors ready to mark me down if I don’t come up with the goods in time.

Seven things that inspire me

Sandra Eterovic tagged me in this lovely cyber-parlour game – inviting people to reveal seven things about themselves.  I’ve thought of seven things that feed my soul.

Silence – no television, no radio, no telephone, just listening.  When I’m feeling stressed or tense it is often because there is too much noise.  My particular dislike is of multiple sound sources in the same space – tv / radio / talking – and when it stops I feel instantly calmer.

Clouds – for looking at and contemplating, lying on the ground and gazing upwards and just thinking.

Water – for looking at and being in and listening to.

Spaces – open spaces, enclosed spaces, hidden spaces, curious spaces; the sound of spaces and the memories held by spaces.

Old things – pre-owned, lived in, well loved, forgotten about; the patina and palimpsest of age.

(Asylum 1994 by James Casabere) 

Other People's Art – how other people distil their ideas into reality; a painting, a sculpture, an installation, a piece of music.

People – my friends, my family, my partner, my children.  People who create things/ make things/ do things/ write about things and people who have ideas. People I have known and people that I wish I had known.

Dear Reader - Please feel free to carry on the game and post your own 'seven things'.  (And let me know so I can read them!)

A change in the weather - in surround sound

For those who don’t live in Melbourne, we have been having a rather warm week.  Hot days, hot airless nights, grumpy children, grumpy naked children, grumpy not-asleep children and grumpy parents.  As mentioned in an earlier post, I find it hard to work in the heat and we have so far done without air-con.  I’ve been knuckling down today with an upright fan, lots of water to drink and minimal clothing… trying to keep the work going and not doing too badly.  Having done a morning’s worth of work I sat on the back step of our house and spent some time listening to the unfolding drama of the weather; lots of rumbling in the distance, panning from one side of the northern sky to the other. It was lovely to just sit and listen to the whole thing in amazing surround sound; low thudderings taking shape, moving and changing as they shift from west to east or east to west.  The gradual picking up of the wind as the change starts to come through, the leaves registering the moving air and then the birds getting excited at the prospect of a break from the heat and some waited for rain.  I could have sat out there for much longer, just listening and being in the midst of it all and experiencing the shear scope and scale of the sound and its aliveness and character and transformation through time.   But the desk calls, the piece needs me to write it while the ideas are there and the cool change is on its way.  

confidence

"I have confidence in confidence alone

Besides which you see I have confidence in me!"

My children are obsessed with The Sound of Music.  I am also obsessed with the sound of music but not so much the Julie Andrews / Rogers and Hammerstein version.  More the sound of sound as it relates to music, and how to make music with sound, and how to arrange the sound of music so that it makes sense to me and doesn’t sound too much like the sound of anyone else’s music.  Which brings me back to the very beginning – in this case the quote from The Sound of Music (lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein II).

I’ve been working on a new piece for a couple of weeks now (by weeks I mean two days in each of those weeks) and generally speaking it is going really well.  Ideas are flowing, notes are being written down and whole sections of the piece are emerging. There is no shortage of material, there are sheets of manuscript paper everywhere and it certainly gives the outward impression of a composer hard at work – which is the case.  But now I am getting to the stage where I need to refine and condense and structure all this material into a coherent piece of music.  This is usually one of my favourite parts of the compositional process but doubt has started to creep in.  Will this really work?  Will anyone want to perform it? Will anyone want to listen to it?  Is it going to be a ‘good’ piece? In short, I need to have more confidence in me.

I’m not sure whether I ever really thought about confidence as such an important part of the creative process before.  Of course you have to be confident in how you promote your work and how you project yourself to other people when it comes to getting work performed or commissioned.  Not that I’ve ever been that good at brimming with confidence in the cause of self promotion, but I know it is important.  But when I’m here alone at my desk, just writing and dealing with ideas, confidence is actually really crucial.  If I start listening to that voice of self-doubt I will lose my nerve, I will lose my focus and end up not writing the piece I want to write – or most importantly, the piece I know I can write.