Showing posts with label WH Auden. Show all posts
Showing posts with label WH Auden. Show all posts

“I have no idea what is actually going to happen …”




I think a great many of us are haunted by the feeling that our society, and by ours I don’t mean just the United States or Europe, but our whole world-wide technological civilisation, whether officially labelled capitalist, socialist, or communist, is going to smash and probably deserves to.

Like the third century, [ours] is an age of stress and anxiety. In our case, it is not that our techniques are too primitive to cope with new problems, but the very fantastic success of our technology is creating a hideous, noisy, over-crowded world in which it is increasingly difficult to lead a human life.  […] as for our public entertainments, the fare offered by television [and internet]  is still a shade less brutal and vulgar than that provided by the amphitheatre, but only a shade, and maybe not for long.

I have no idea what is actually going to happen before I die except that I am not going to like it.” (1)

All I did was adding a mention of internet and deleting “the twentieth” – so as not to spoil the startling illusion of topicality.   Because this is actually a piece written in 1966, drawing parallels between the 3rd Century Roman empire and the 20th Century.  To complete the comparison, following topics could of course have been added : migrations, shifting identities, religious fermentation – to name but a few.





(1)     from  “The Fall of Rome” by W. H. Auden. (written in 1966, published  in Bowersock’s “From Gibbon to Auden -  Essays on the Classical Tradition”)


"before leaving Brussels"





The poet W.H. Auden lived for a while in Brussels, during the ill-omened late thirties of the past century.  So small wonder that his Brussels poems are mostly sombre urban winter tales, evoking “a city whose terrible future may have just arrived”.  They are suffused with the apprehension of an uncertain future and the anticipation of momentous events by "the sleepless guests of Europe" . (Somehow, at each refugee-crisis in Brussels, I'm reminded of Auden's poems evoking late thirties Brussels).   

And there’s of course his famous Musée des Beaux Arts poem in which, looking at Brueghel’s Icarus, he concludes “About suffering they were never wrong, the The Old Masters”.  

While reading Marguerite Yourcenar’s “Souvenirs Pieux” I’m struck by pages that strangely echo these Auden poems.  It’s not just a confluence of subject matter (fateful current affairs linked to a visit to the Brueghel paintings in the Musée des Beaux Arts) – it’s also the ominous tone of voice.  ("l’inévitable a déjà commencé").  Maybe Yourcenar knew the Auden poems and had them in mind while writing? 

Anyway, when relating a visit to her native city, Brussels, in 1956, she first evokes the tense political climate of the time (Indochina, the Suez crisis, Russian tanks besieging Budapest). Then she describes her visit to the Musée des Beaux arts, on a “gloomy november afternoon”  “in order to pay her respects” to the Brueghel paintings.  
Her ensuing meditations on human folly and suffering are of all times, as are the Brueghels. 
(But alas, she doesn’t mention the the beautiful archangel Michael…)



« Avant de quitter Bruxelles, j’étais allée rendre mes respects aux Breughels du Musée d’Art Ancien. La pénombre d’une grise après-midi de novembre noyait déjà Le Dénombrement à Bethléem et ses manants dociles éparpillés sur la neige, La lutte des bons et des mauvais Anges, ces derniers avec leurs gueules subhumaines, La chute d’Icare tombant du ciel pendant qu’un rustique que ce premier accident d’avion n’intéresse pas continue ses semailles.
D’autres peintures dans d’autres musées semblaient surgir derrière celles-là : Greete l’Idiote hurlant sa juste et vaine fureur au milieu d’un village en cendres ; Le Massacre des Innocents, lugubre pendant du Dénombrement ; La Tour de Babel et son chef d’Etat reçu respectueusement par les ouvriers qui édifient pour lui cet amas d’erreurs ; Le Triomphe de la Mort avec ses régiments de squelettes ; et la plus pertinente peut- être de toutes ces allégories, Les Aveugles conduits par des Aveugles. La brutalité, l’avidité, l’indifférence aux maux d’autrui, la folie et la bêtise régnaient plus que jamais sur le monde, multipliées par la prolifération de l’espèce humaine, et munies pour la première fois des outils de la destruction finale.
La présente crise se résoudrait peut-être après n’avoir sévi que pour un nombre limité d’êtres humains ; d’autres viendraient, chacune aggravée par les séquelles des crises précédentes : l’inévitable a déjà commencé. Les gardes arpentant d’un pas militaire les salles du musée pour annoncer qu’on ferme semblaient annoncer la fermeture de tout. »


Marguerite Yourcenar, Souvenirs Pieux, pp55-56      

[ Note for English speakers : The New Yorker on Yourcenar] 



About (not) putting music into words




Describing  

Lovers  of art history books  of course know the exquisite sensation of reading insightful words that match the pictorial evidence.  The exhilarating interplay of seeing and understanding.  Describing paintings, there’s a whole  body of literary texts and poems devoted to it , and a venerable word to consecrate the habit:   ekphrasis.
And how about describing what we hear?  For sure, there are lovely poems built entirely around  onomatopoeia’s.  And language is sound of course.  Clattering rain – thundering thunder – twittering birds (1).   So yes, obviously,  we can describe what we hear – but can we describe music? 
  
While in art history there is a well established, long standing relationship between evocative descriptions on the one hand and the visual  arts on the other , this seems  less so in the history of music where descriptions tend to be either technical (and reserved for the musically initiated) or limited to the review of a performance. (2)

Descriptions of works of visual art  are both very precise and very imaginative, immediately conjuring up a scene or an image while also evoking emotional and philosophical meanings & associations. 
But a description in words that effectively evokes a piece of music for the non-initiated?  Well, there are the CD-sleeve notes that give a  blow-by-blow account of the musical progression in terms of instruments, motives, rhythm, melody – sometimes mixed with indications of “emotional” pitch.(3)  And yes, there may be program music where even an accompanying story can be told.  

 However, in musical history there seems  to be no equivalent (at lease not on the same scale) of  the formidable tradition of  "written-out art history", be it in the form of those innumerable “Ecrits sur l’art”  (by many a  poetically inspired writer or artist), or as libraries full of lavishly illustrated and copiously written art history books. 

A quick Google search yielded an interesting article (“Some Thoughts Towards a Theory of Musical Ekphrasis “ ) about Musical Ekphrasis, but tellingly enough it dealt not with  the poetic  description of pieces of music, but rather with the opposite question, i.e. whether music can describe scenes.(4)



Moved to silence  

Perhaps music is indeed too abstract and “springing from [...] depths of the human psyche” that are too deep to fathom?(4)  Maybe we should really follow “Einstein’s summary advice” about Bach’s music (and about music in general) :  listen, play, love , revere – and keep your trap shut” (5) .  

Luckily,  John Eliot Gardiner, for one,  did not shut up but wrote a wonderful  600+ pages book on Bach.  With insights and formulations that nearly belie the impossibility of describing music.  How well he does justice to the intricate evidence of Bach’s music itself: its mystifying complexity, sure,  but also its “rhythmical elasticity and buoyancy”, its dancing qualities, its empathy and emotional depth, “so full of poignant emotion that we are moved to the very core of our being “. 

Each of us has experienced the shattering effect music can have,  musical reception is highly subjective and the sheer depth of the accompanying emotions could make us (us = uninitiated but sensitive souls)  believe that we each  have some personal,  special insight in “the truth” of the music. This is most likely not the case, the emotion may very well be  not at all relevant to the composer’s aims, let alone to other musiclovers, it is a secret garden not to be shared. (6) 

So, not being a distinguished musical connoisseur, I shall hereby “shut my trap” – and finish with Auden’s words (7)

All the others translate: the painter sketches
A visible world to love or reject;
Rummaging into his living, the poet fetches
The images out that hurt and connect.
From Life to Art by painstaking adaption
Relying on us to cover the rift;
Only your notes are pure contraption,
Only your song is an absolute gift.


Pour out your presence, O delight, cascading
The falls of the knee and the weirs of the spine,
Our climate of silence and doubt invading;
You, alone, alone, O imaginary song,
Are unable to say an existence is wrong,
And pour out your forgiveness like a wine.”



Non-musical notes

1) Word-examples inspired by the impressive electrical storm we had here at noon : first an oppressive stillness, then a bang and a flash, heaven’s floodgates opened, and the rain started pouring down: first aggressively clattering, then turning into a soothingly purring noise.  And soon a few courageous birds started signing again, while the first  sirens started wailing ( a medley of car alarms and fire engines).

2) of course there are many many reviews, of concerts, of CD's, songs and tunes , both classical and pop/contemporary - , just as there are private testimonials/love declarations to certain pieces of music : but they are not an imaginative, literary genre in their own right 


3)   There’s an  app from Touch Press editions that offers a “multi-media” guide to Beethoven’s 9th Symphony. Quite impressive – while the music plays you can follow the progress on the score, you get to see the instruments taking their turns to perform, and there’s a continuous written comment running on what exactly is happening. All very instructive and insightful – but not qualifying as ekphrasis ... 
 

4)  

As I understand it, what must be present in every case of ekphrasis is a three-tiered structure of reality and its artistic transformation:
A.      a scene or story--fictitious or real,
B.      a  representation of that scene or story in visual form (a painting or drawing, photograph, carving, or sculpture (or, for that matter, in film or dance; in any mode that reaches us primarily through our visual perception), and
C.      a rendering of that representation in poetic language.


The poetic rendering can and should do more than merely describe the visual image. Characteristically, it evokes interpretations or additional layers of meaning, changes the viewers' focus, or guides our eyes towards details and contexts we might otherwise overlook. Correspondingly, what must be present in every case of what I will refer to as "the musical equivalent to ekphrasis" is 
  A.      a scene or story--fictitious or real,
   B.      its representation in a visual or a verbal text, and
   C.      a rendering of that representation in musical language.



5) John Eliot Gardiner – Music in the Castle of Heaven   http://www.theguardian.com/books/2013/oct/30/music-castle-heaven-js-bach-john-eliot-gardiner


6)    Gardiner has this lovely habit of not only having copious references at the end of the book , but also plenty of illuminating quotes at the bottom of the page (it’s surely not an accident that he refers to Walter Benjamin’s  constellations), such as this one by Peter Williams: “ The exquisite world of imagination opened up by any powerful music is itself problematic, for it tempts listeners to put into words the feelings it arouses in them and so to visualize a composer’s priorities and even personality. There must be few people who have played, sung, listened to or written about Bach’s music who do not feel they have a special understanding of him, a private connection, unique to themselves, but ultimately coming from their idea of what music is and does. This might be quite different from the composer’s “


7)  Trust WH Auden to write as insightfully about paintings (Le Musée des Beaux Arts) as he does about music (The Composer).