Thursday, March 26, 2009

The True Meaning of Art

A big idea to ponder….


What follows arrived in my inbox today.  I was going to say some things….but nothing I can say is better than what’s already here:

Welcome address to freshman parents at Boston Conservatory, given by Karl Paulnack, pianist and director of music division at Boston Conservatory.

One of my parents’ deepest fears, I suspect, is that society would not properly value me as a musician, that I wouldn’t be appreciated.  I had very good grades in high school, I was good in science and math, and they imagined that as a doctor or a research chemist or an engineer, I might be more appreciated than I would be as a musician. I still remember my mother’s remark when I announced my decision to apply to music school—she said, “You’re WASTING your SAT scores.” On some level, I think, my parents were not sure themselves what the value of music was, what its purpose was. And they LOVED music, they listened to classical music all the time. They just weren’t really clear about its function. So let me talk about that a little bit, because we live in a society that puts music in the “arts and entertainment” section of the newspaper, and serious music, the kind your kids are about to engage in, has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with entertainment, in fact it’s the opposite of entertainment. Let me talk a little bit about music, and how it works.

The first people to understand how music really works were the ancient Greeks. And this is going to fascinate you: the Greeks said that music and astronomy were two sides of the same coin. Astronomy was seen as the study of relationships between observable, permanent, external objects, and music was seen as the study of relationships between invisible, internal, hidden objects. Music has a way of finding the big, invisible moving pieces inside our hearts and souls and helping us figure out the position of things inside us. Let me give you some examples of how this works.

One of the most profound musical compositions of all time is the “Quartet for the End of Time” written by French composer Olivier Messiaen in 1940. Messiaen was 31 years old when France entered the war against Nazi Germany. He was captured by the Germans in June of 1940, sent across Germany in a cattle car and imprisoned in a concentration camp.

He was fortunate to find a sympathetic prison guard who gave him paper and a place to compose. There were three other musicians in the camp, a cellist, a violinist, and a clarinetist, and Messiaen wrote his quartet with these specific players in mind. It was performed in January 1941 for four thousand prisoners and guards in the prison camp. Today it is one of the most famous masterworks in the repertoire.

Given what we have since learned about life in the concentration camps, why would anyone in his right mind waste time and energy writing or playing music? There was barely enough energy on a good day to find food and water, to avoid a beating, to stay warm, to escape torture—why would anyone bother with music? And yet—from the camps, we have poetry, we have music, we have visual art. It wasn’t just this one fanatic Messiaen; many, many people created art. Why? Well, in a place where people are only focused on survival, on the bare necessities, the obvious conclusion is that art must be, somehow, essential for life. The camps were without money, without hope, without commerce, without recreation, without basic respect, but they were not without art. Art is part of survival; art is part of the human spirit, an unquenchable expression of who we are. Art is one of the ways in which we say, “I am alive, and my life has meaning.”

On September 12, 2001, I was a resident of Manhattan. That morning I reached a new understanding of my art and its relationship to the world. I sat down at the piano that morning at 10 AM to practice as was my daily routine; I did it by force of habit, without thinking about it. I lifted the cover on the keyboard, and opened my music, and put my hands on the keys and took my hands off the keys. And I sat there and thought, does this even matter? Isn’t this completely irrelevant? Playing the piano right now, given what happened in this city yesterday, seems silly, absurd, irreverent, pointless. Why am I here? What place has a musician in this moment in time? Who needs a piano player right now? I was completely lost.

And then I, along with the rest of New York, went through the journey of getting through that week. I did not play the piano that day, and in fact I contemplated briefly whether I would ever want to play the piano again. And then I observed how we got through the day.

At least in my neighborhood, we didn’t shoot hoops or play Scrabble. We didn’t play cards to pass the time, we didn’t watch TV, we didn’t shop, we most certainly did not go to the mall. The first organized activity that I saw in New York, that same day, was singing. People sang. People sang around fire houses, people sang “We Shall Overcome.” Lots of people sang “America, the Beautiful.” The first organized public event that I remember was the Brahms Requiem, later that week, at Lincoln Center, with the New York Philharmonic. The first organized public expression of grief, our first communal response to that historic event, was a concert. That was the beginning of a sense that life might go on. The US Military secured the airspace, but recovery was led by the arts, and by music in particular, that very night.

From these two experiences, I have come to understand that music is not part of “arts and entertainment” as the newspaper section would have us believe. It’s not a luxury, a lavish thing that we fund from leftovers of our budgets, not a plaything or an amusement or a pass time. Music is a basic need of human survival. Music is one of the ways we make sense of our lives, one of the ways in which we express feelings when we have no words, a way for us to understand things with our hearts when we can’t with our minds.

Some of you may know Samuel Barber’s heart wrenchingly beautiful piece “Adagio for Strings.” If you don’t know it by that name, then some of you may know it as the background music which accompanied the Oliver Stone movie “Platoon,” a film about the Vietnam War. If you know that piece of music either way, you know it has the ability to crack your heart open like a walnut; it can make you cry over sadness you didn’t know you had. Music can slip beneath our conscious reality to get at what’s really going on inside us the way a good therapist does.

I bet that you have never been to a wedding where there was absolutely no music. There might have been only a little music, there might have been some really bad music, but I bet you there was some music. And something very predictable happens at weddings —people get all pent up with all kinds of emotions, and then there’s some musical moment where the action of the wedding stops and someone sings or plays the flute or something. And even if the music is lame, even if the quality isn’t good, predictably 30 or 40 percent of the people who are going to cry at a wedding cry a couple of moments after the music starts. Why? The Greeks. Music allows us to move around those big invisible pieces of ourselves and rearrange our insides so that we can express what we feel even when we can’t talk about it. Can you imagine watching “Indiana Jones” or “Superman” or “Star Wars” with the dialogue but no music? What is it about the music swelling up at just the right moment in “ET” so that all the softies in the audience start crying at exactly the same moment? I guarantee you if you showed the movie with the music stripped out, it wouldn’t happen that way. The Greeks: Music is the understanding of the relationship between invisible internal objects.

I’ll give you one more example, the story of the most important concert of my life. I must tell you I have played a little less than a thousand concerts in my life so far. I have played in places that I thought were important. I like playing in Carnegie Hall; I enjoyed playing in Paris; it made me very happy to please the critics in St. Petersburg. I have played for people I thought were important: music critics of major newspapers, foreign heads of state. The most important concert of my entire life took place in a nursing home in Fargo, ND, about 4 years ago.

I was playing with a very dear friend of mine who is a violinist.  We began, as we often do, with Aaron Copland’s Sonata, which was written during World War II and dedicated to a young friend of Copland, a young pilot who was shot down during the war. Now we often talk to our audiences about the pieces we are going to play rather than providing them with written program notes. But in this case, because we began the concert with this piece, we decided to talk about the piece later in the program and to just come out and play the music without explanation.

Midway through the piece, an elderly man seated in a wheelchair near the front of the concert hall began to weep. This man, whom I later met, was clearly a soldier—even in his 70’s, it was clear from his buzz-cut hair, square jaw and general demeanor that he had spent a good deal of his life in the military. I thought it a little bit odd that someone would be moved to tears by that particular movement of that particular piece, but it wasn’t the first time I’ve heard crying in a concert and we went on with the concert and finished the piece.

When we came out to play the next piece on the program, we decided to talk about both the first and second pieces, and we described the circumstances in which the Copland Sonata was written and mentioned its dedication to a downed pilot. The man in the front of the audience became so disturbed that he had to leave the auditorium. I honestly figured that we would not see him again, but he did come backstage afterward, tears and all, to explain himself.

What he told us was this: “During World War II, I was a pilot, and I was in an aerial combat situation where one of my team’s planes was hit. I watched my friend bail out, and watched his parachute open, but the Japanese planes which had engaged us returned and machine gunned across the parachute chords so as to separate the parachute from the pilot, and I watched my friend drop away into the ocean, realizing that he was lost. I have not thought about this for many years, but during that first piece of music you played, this memory returned to me so vividly that it was as though I was reliving it. I didn’t understand why this was happening, why now, but then when you came out to explain that this piece of music was written to commemorate a lost pilot, it was a little more than I could handle. How does the music do that? How did it find those feelings and those memories in me?” Remember the Greeks: music is the study of invisible relationships between internal objects. This concert in Fargo was the most important work I have ever done. For me to play for this old soldier and help him connect, somehow, with Aaron Copland, and to connect their memories of their lost friends, to help him remember and mourn his friend, this is my work. This is why music matters.

What follows is part of the talk I will give to this year’s freshman class when I welcome them a few days from now. The responsibility I will charge your sons and daughters with is this: “If we were a medical school, and you were here as a med student practicing appendectomies, you’d take your work very seriously because you would imagine that some night at two AM someone is going to waltz into your emergency room and you’re going to have to save their life. Well, my friends, someday at 8 PM someone is going to walk into your concert hall and bring you a mind that is confused, a heart that is overwhelmed, a soul that is weary. Whether they go out whole again will depend partly on how well you do your craft.

You’re not here to become an entertainer, and you don’t have to sell yourself. The truth is you don’t have anything to sell; being a musician isn’t about dispensing a product, like selling used Chevies. I’m not an entertainer; I’m a lot closer to a paramedic, a firefighter, a rescue worker. You’re here to become a sort of therapist for the human soul, a spiritual version of a chiropractor, physical therapist, someone who works with our insides to see if they get things to line up, to see if we can come into harmony with ourselves and be healthy and happy and well.

Frankly, ladies and gentlemen, I expect you not only to master music; I expect you to save the planet. If there is a future wave of wellness on this planet, of harmony, of peace, of an end to war, of mutual understanding, of equality, of fairness, I don’t expect it will come from a government, a military force or a corporation. I no longer even expect it to come from the religions of the world, which together seem to have brought us as much war as they have peace. If there is a future of peace for humankind, if there is to be an understanding of how these invisible, internal things should fit together, I expect it will come from the artists, because that’s what we do. As in the concentration camp and the evening of 9/11, the artists are the ones who might be able to help us with our internal, invisible lives.”

Monday, March 23, 2009

‘Arwen Cardi’ gone awry, run amok….

I’m not going to talk about the ‘Arwen Cardi’ just yet…. First I want to talk about positive things!

My husband (Bob) and I just spent four days in Portland, Maine, which was a first for both of us. What a pretty city! We both thoroughly loved the Art Museum, and Bob enjoyed the Maine Boat Builders’ Show while I happily visited three yarn shops and a weaving shop! What a wonderful surprise for me to find that Tess’ Yarn has moved into a retail space in Portland. I was actually alone with owner and mother of Tess, Melinda, in the shop on Saturday afternoon after years of not being able to get anywhere near her wares in her booth at the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival! And what did I do with that whole shop to myself??? I freaked….I completely shut down and could not choose a color. There was no way I was leaving that shop empty handed though, so I finally chose three skeins of neutral colored yarn as well as a pattern.portland shopping 3.09 007 In spite of my resolution not to buy any yarn or fiber this year, I felt I was contributing in the smallest way to keeping these wonderful local yarn shops in business by purchasing just a bit of yarn and some patterns and needles. Am I not a master of justification?

At Knitting Central I bought sock yarn, needles and a pattern for a moebius (“Omega Wrap” by Christina Bylsma). I actually left on this trip without a knitting project! I had just finished the most recent Swallowtail and the Arwen Cardi (more on that shortly) so I actually didn’t have anything quite handy, although I do have more UFOs than I can count in one lifetime…portland shopping 3.09 005

I am already beginning the toe decreases on this sock, and it feels like this sock materialized out of thin air because I did all the knitting during times when I don’t normally knit! I started it while walking around the Boat Builders’ Show. I continued while having coffee in a coffee shop, and I continued through the whole ride home on Sunday. I wasn’t as fast as when I’m not walking around, but I still accomplished most of a sock during times when I normally do nothing at all!

At KnitWits I bought two skeins of sock yarn: Regia’s Design Line Kaffe Fassett in color 4454 and Louet’s ‘Gems’ in eggplant. I will use these yarns to make the cover socks from The Eclectic Sole by Jane Laidman.Eclectic Sole portland shopping 3.09 006

I also bought two skeins of Louet sport weight linen in a lovely green that will someday become a shawl, probably the Icarus shawl by Miriam Felton.

Well, now I’ve shared all that good news, and I should begin to talk about my Arwen Cardi debacle. But I’m out of time! Until next time, suffice it to say that I wanted to wear it in Portland so I stayed up well after midnight into the wee hours of the day of departure to finish the collar I had designed and sew on the zipper. A quick trip to the large bathroom mirror at 2 am gave me a horrible shock! I need to photograph the Arwen nightmare in order for anyone to fully comprehend the problem, so I’ll do that shortly and report back!

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Spring Clean-up

This is what I found when I began raking out the gardens yesterday!
(It's a clump of celandine poppies!)

And the next amaryllis is in bloom! I bought this bulb last year at the Philly Flower show because I loved the green and maroon striped flowers!

Today I've spent the morning working on the collar of Arwen, and after I do some errands I'll be back to work on the historic tapestry!

Friday, March 13, 2009

Unexpected Gifts!

Aren't unexpected gifts the best??

Well, this was actually expected, but I didn't know when it would arrive or what it would be! This is what I received from the gift exchange of the Traditional Knitting yahoo group. The rules were we had to knit something using yarn from our stash.This kitchen towel with the loop and button on top is a style that was quite prevalent when I was a kid! My mother had a few, and both my grandmothers had a lot of them! It brings back memories of wonderful times in the kitchen with my grandmothers, usually due to a special event like someone's birthday, so there was the anticipation of a freshly baked treat! I love the colors in this dishtowel and dish cloth set. Thank you to Stephanie, who made these for me!

My guild study group met at my house last night to look at some weaving sample books that are in our guild library. That was quite a treat. Some of the books were from the 1950s, and it was surprising to us that most of the samples had stood the test of time and were lovely fabrics we'd all love to weave!

The completely unexpected gift was this lovely bracelet from Elisa. It's loom woven, and she was experimenting with different ending finishes. Lucky me! It reminds me of Klimt paintings!

Today I am knuckling down on my Arwen cardi. The pieces are done so I will block them, then sew later today or tomorrow. Finally, I will work out the details of the collar I want to add: a sideways knitted version of the cable that is used on the center fronts and cuffs. I'm excited!

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Almost Spring

Even though I don't have any crocuses yet, I do have these houseplants that reward me every spring! This is a paphiopedilum, but I cannot read the name of the cross on the label.

And here is the first of about a dozen amaryllis coming into bloom. (I should have straightened up the kitchen table before taking this shot! Oh well....)

Today I will work on my Arwen Cardi and go to my tapestry class at Soyoo's, so I expect to make some progress on the Hudson River tapestry, and maybe Rob as well!

Just on the heels of finishing the Swallowtail comes the new issue of Knitty! I've printed the directions for the Aeolian Shawl. Lovely!

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Swallowtail and the Flower Show

At last, finished and blocked. Some projects just take a lot of fiddling, and sometimes I wonder how I stand it. First, buying only 2 oz of the handpainted silk top when I knew it would never be enough. How casual I was about that! 'Oh, I'll just whip up a little something to go with it!' That led to the miserable experience of trying to dye my own silk top which matted and made spinning a very un-zen experience, which put me off spinning for several months! Being put off spinning is not a healthy place to be! Then came the rewarding experience of dyeing some commerically spun silk in my own indigo vat. I did find that exhilarating, but wanted to scream when I ran out of the lovely blue before reaching the end of the lace border. Some projects just seem like one hurdle after another. And yet....I can see myself doing this all over again, ad infinitum!

And here are highlight from this year's Philadelphia Flower Show. The theme was Italy. At the tail end of a very cold winter, at the end of a week that started with a blizzard, I wanted to skip town and head straight for a warm coastline....I'm thinking Amalfi!

And shoes were big this year....

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Busy, busy....

I've wanted to post several times in the past two weeks, but didn't manage to squeeze it in! Now I have too much to say all at once!

I should be posting a photo of the finished Swallowtail shawl....but I'm not. When I attempted to block it I discovered my bind off was too tight to get the appropriate scallops. Rushing to finish made me forget to do the specified bind off, so it's rip, rip time for me. Hope to rip it today and get it blocked this evening.... I had to leave out the last pattern row in order not to run out of my handdyed indigo silk border!

Also, I've got a Hudson River design for my next tapestry! (Never mind that two tapestries are not finished yet, as I begin this one.) Soyoo photo shopped two images together for me so I could get what I wanted: a view of the Palisades with a Herreschoff NewYork 30 sailing by. I've warped up and started weaving. I will not weave the derelict pier and birds that are in the foreground.

Here are the two photos which were photo shopped together. As you can see, the Palisades image was flipped so that the light would be coming from the right direction.

That wonderful box of tapestry yarn was great to look at but quite a bear to wind into balls. The yarn is snarled and broken in many places, almost like it had been attacked by mice. It has been a horrible chore trying to wind it, and I've got 4 more skeins to go. I'd rather be weaving....