[-empyre-] relational objects
Marc Lafia
marclafia2 at gmail.com
Wed Jun 10 02:15:17 EST 2009
Great post Norah, here is an excellent essay on modes of composition,
authorship, the
event of music which can open up this thread.
found here
http://www.artandculture.com/feature/631
posted on 06.08.09
The Continuum Of Indeterminacy In Music [edit] [delete]
by Adam Scott Neal
This entry is adapted from my MA thesis at Queen's University Belfast.
The complete thesis and bibliography is available here: http://www.adamscottneal.com/laptop_paper.pdf
Pictured: excerpt from Morton Feldman's Projection IV (Behrman, 1965,
p.62)
2.1 The continuum of determinacy
In Silence, Cage (1968) mentions Bach’s The Art of Fugue as an example
of music which is indeterminate in performance; the rhythm and pitch
structures are determined but dynamics and timbre are not. In any
composition, the performer ‘fills in color where outlines are given;’
in other words, they must interpret the outlines presented by the
composer. Each composition contains a different amount of determinacy,
and therefore allows a different amount of interpretation.
Eco’s (1989) conception of the composer-performer relationship was
that a composer offers the performer a work ‘to be completed.’
According to Reynolds (1965), the composer’s job is to propose an
‘occasion for experience.’ The complexity of the conditions which the
composer proposes varies from composer to composer and from work to
work. The less determined the proposal, the closer the experience
resembles improvisation. Composition and improvisation are closely
related, and many have said that composition is “slow-motion
improvisation.” Since his process is relatively slow, the composer can
reflect on what has passed and what will come, while the improviser
must always concentrate on the moment. As opposed to a fully
improvised performance, in a performance of a composed or “closed”
work, the composer can reinforce the temporal and aural relationships
between events (Sarath, 1996). Between the extremes of determinate
composition (especially fixed-media) and free improvisation is a
continuum that includes pieces in which a rigid structure allows some
improvisation, and pieces in which a basic structure reinforces the
relationships of improvised events.
2.2 What constitutes a work?
Where on this continuum does a piece cease to be a “work” and instead
become an “improvisation?” Dahlhaus (paraphrased in Lewis, 1996) wrote
of several characteristics that must be present for a piece of music
to be considered a composition (or “work”): a fully worked-out
structure, fixed in written form, with the intention of performance,
which contains the essential identity of the piece. The term
‘identity’ is also noted by Benson (2003) and Levinson (1980), both
explaining that a work has an ideal quality which is recognizable in
each performance but is never fully realized. Borrowing from the work
of Charles Peirce, Benson notes that a work is a type and that all
performances of that work are tokens, or incomplete realizations. The
score can help judge the correctness of a performance, but due to the
nature of notation itself, performances are destined to be incomplete
or incorrect. The performer must interpret how to execute a set of
instructions encoded ‘more or less completely’ by the composer
(Alperson, 1984).
Since the 1950s, many more works have fallen into the ‘less
completely’ category. In the ‘open works’ cited by Eco (Stockhausen’s
Klavierstück XI, Boulez’s Third Piano Sonata, and Pousseur’s
Scambi),structures are not completely determined, yet these are still
considered ‘works.’ If it is not the structure which determines the
identity of a work, it must be some other factors. Perhaps it is the
decision to include and discard certain sounds (instruments, for
example). Emmerson (2000) writes about the ‘fixity of personnel,’ a
concept unique to Western music (as is the nature of a ‘work’ in the
first place). Despite this concept, some works are written
deliberately for open or indeterminate instrumentation. Perhaps the
identity of the work is merely the directions for its realization.
Arthur Danto considers the current period of art to be ‘post-
historical’ and writes that art is now concerned primarily with
concepts and the methods used to present these concepts. Thus, a
composition is no longer limited simply to its sound or its structure;
the idea of a compositional work could include rule-based
improvisation frameworks, computer interface design, or other means
for directing the creation of sound (Hamman, 2000).
2.3 Increase of determinism in music: Notation
Western Art music is unique among the world’s musics primarily because
of its use of written notation. Originally simply a mnemonic device to
aid performers, notation has gradually become more specific, enabling
composers to demand more or less specific actions (Bailey 1993).
Notation allowed composers to determine vertical sonorities (McLean,
1982) and gave composers time to reflect on the local and global
relationships between these sonorities. By virtue of being able to
reflect on all events in a piece, composers have been able to create
complex harmonic and temporal structures. This contrasts greatly with
other music; for example, Indian music emphasizes improvisation and
therefore emphasizes the present over the relationships between past
and future (Sarath, 1996).
Notation is not particularly deterministic, and over the past few
centuries, composers have sought to make notation more deterministic.
Notation can fix some elements of performance, primarily pitches and
rhythms, but other factors, such as tempi and dynamics, are often left
to “musicianship.” Traditionally, the mark of a good musician was his
ability to “breathe life” into the music, but over this development of
increasingly deterministic notation, the mark of a good player became
his ability to execute the notation accurately, and nothing more
(Behrman, 1965). This romantic-modernist view stems from the increase
of determinacy in notation, which in turn stems from the increasingly
higher status given to composers in the 19th century. Composers
created works which had ideal existences; thus, composers were deemed
more important than the musicians who merely performed the works
(Benson, 2003).
2.4 Composer-as-god: Beethoven through modernism
The romantic idea of an artist or composer is that he is a genius, or
a god. Benson (2003) traces the idea of the artist-genius to Immanuel
Kant, but names Beethoven as the idea’s first proponent in music.
Benson compares Beethoven with his contemporary, Rossini, who had a
different opinion about the nature of a “work.” Beethoven viewed his
works as ‘inviolatable texts’ which were to be interpreted exactly.
Rossini viewed his works as simply ‘recipes for performance’ which
only truly came to life during a performance. It is unsurprising that
Beethoven’s scores are more detailed than Rossini’s scores, but as
Benson notes, performers are no more obligated to accurately follow
Beethoven’s score.
Since the traditional view of composing is “a godlike activity in
which the artist brings into being what did not exist beforehand –
much as a demiurge forms a world out of inchoate matter” (Levinson,
1980), a certain level of authority is bestowed upon composers, rather
than the musicians who bring their works to life. After Beethoven, the
perception of a composer’s work changed from acting as a recipe for
experience to acting as an arbiter of correctness in that experience.
At the same time, conservatory musical education began to emphasize
correctness over creative interpretation, causing many future
musicians to be quite self-conscious about their interpretations and
performances (Moore, 1992).
Playing incorrectly would violate the intentions of the composer-god.
After all, the work belongs not to the players, but to the composer,
its creator. This attitude is perhaps inevitable in Western capitalist
society. As Emmerson (2000, p.125) explains:
“Our western world is obsessed with ownership; copyright and royalties
are a central plank of the system of remuneration for composers. This
was made easy through notation (the score – an object) and, later,
recording (initially an object but now, problematically, simply ‘a
stream of binary information’). Performances were more important as
purveyors of these objects, than they were valued uniquely in
themselves.”
The goal of composers was to notate so accurately that performers
would have no questions (or freedom). The trend toward complete
determinism, or complete composer control, reached its apex in the
20th century.
2.5 The Apex: Electroacoustic music
The most indeterminate aspects of music notation are timbre, dynamics,
and tempi. These elements of music have traditionally be interpreted
by performers, but with the advent of electroacoustic music,
composers could control all of these aspects of a work without the
intervening medium of a performer. The piece could simply exist,
exactly as the composer had imagined and created it. For some,
recording technology supplanted the need to notate for a future
performance. The composer could take the sounds themselves and stitch
them together exactly as he would like. Although the earliest
recordings were representations of past performances, after the
development of musique concrète in the 1940s, the recording became
compositional material. In the end, the recording became the music
itself; the music existed in a fixed form (Grossman, 2008).
One might suppose that electroacoustic music (and much pop music,
which also uses sampling and synthesis extensively) could lead to the
death of the performer. Earle Brown (1986) dismisses this idea,
writing that electronic music exists because of an unlimited world of
timbre, space, and density, not super-human accuracy; humans are not
obsolete. Truax (1998) justifies the practice of electroacoustic
music, saying that the use of technology simply gives a composer “new
perceptual experiences and new compositional ideas, things that could
not be achieved in any other way.” Still, tools such as the computer
allow composers to create sounds which will be, as Varèse said,
‘obedient to [their] thoughts’ (Varèse 1967).
2.6 Reaction: Indeterminate works
In the 1950s, while highly deterministic music was in vogue (notably
total serialism), a small group of composers was interested in
indeterminacy. Their aim was to leave some of the decision-making
process to the performers (or to chance) in hopes of creating a more
collaborative work (Lewis, 1996). This idea was radical at the time,
since indeterminacy and chance “invade some of the most tender areas
of the artistic ego: craft, expressiveness, and
individuality” (Reynolds, 1965, p. 136). Indeterminacy did not fit
with the prevailing Kantian view of the composer as a god-like creator
of ideal objects. However, as Eco (1989) points out, these musical
objects have always been, to some degree, open to interpretation by
the performers or by the audience. These indeterminate, “open” works
more accurately reflected the modern aesthetic of visual arts, in
which the ideal is to view a work from multiple perspectives. Eco
compares music which enforces one viewpoint to medieval paintings,
which similarly enforce a particular perspective.
These composers became interested in creating musical works which
potentially had radically different realizations from performance to
performance. For Earle Brown (1986, pp. 192-3),
“the most fascinating aspect [of composition] was the ambiguous
relationship existing between the artist and the work, and the
delicate balances one had to deal with between subjective-objective
contact with the work; between freedom and control; explicit-implicit
notations; and between compositional necessity and performance reality
as an intimate collaborative process. I wanted (and still want) very
much for the work to have a ‘reality’ of its own in addition to the
specific controls imposed by myself and by the performer.”
Brown’s artistic ego was not diminished by allowing performers to
inject decisions into his works. The instructions and suggestions he
makes form the identity of the works, for they elicit certain
reactions and decisions from the performers.
Earle Brown, Morton Feldman, and Christian Wolff are often unfairly
grouped with John Cage (Thomas, 2007; Welsh, 1967). Cage was the most
prominent proponent of indeterminate music, but his methods differed
greatly from the other three composers. The works of Cage are
indeterminate in their composition, while the works of the other three
composers are indeterminate in performance (O’Grady, 1981; Thomas,
2007). In Music of Changes, Cage used the I Ching to create the score,
but intended for the performer to realize the score faithfully, in the
traditional manner. Cage enjoyed unique performances with unique
sounds, and some of his works required creativity on the part of the
performer, such as choosing instruments or choosing how to interpret
the notation. Interestingly, Cage generally rejected outright
improvisation, especially when it was similar to the improvisation
found in ‘hot jazz’ (Kutschke, 1999; Lewis, 1996).
Hoogerwerf (1976) contrasts traditional determinate music with
indeterminate music by comparing the thoughts of Stravinsky with Cage.
In contrast to Stravinsky, Cage hoped to relinquish control when
selecting sounds, and saw that the uncontrollability of chance
reflected and affirmed the uncontrollability of everyday life.
Stravinsky believed in the composer’s individual expression; by
choosing and controlling elements, a composer deliberately sets a work
of art apart from everyday life. By choosing not to set his work
apart from life, Cage’s approach reflects a modern view that is
observational, experimental, and scientific (Kutschke, 1999).
The other composers mentioned above shared an interest in
indeterminacy but approached it in different ways. Like Cage, Feldman
did not favor improvisation. After experimenting with open “graph”
scores in which he gave only minimal directions for tessitura, Feldman
decided to dictate the pitches he desired (Thomas, 2007). Still, he
left rhythm free, allowing flux within the ensemble and performances
which would always be unique compared to each other, yet still share a
‘family resemblance’ (O’Grady, 1981).
The works of Earle Brown and Christian Wolff emphasize the
interactions of performers over matters of time and pitch. Brown
compares his music to mobiles, and he allows musicians to reassemble
his materials as they please. In Available Forms and Mobiles I and II,
the decisions are made by the conductor, but in other pieces, such as
December 1952 from Folio, performers see a graphic score which can be
interpreted in various ways (Welsh, 1967). Similarly, much of Wolff’s
music is based on a system of visual cues which help players determine
how to coordinate attacks and releases (Behrman, 1965). The focus of
the piece is social rather than musical, and has a much more
democratic point of view than traditional, dictatorial composition
(Nelson, 1989). Still, the composer’s voice is not lost, since the
types of interactions used by the composer become recognizable as his
‘signature moves’ (Behrman, 1965). Also, listeners can perceive the
structures he has created in traditional terms, such as contrast,
balance, and repetition (O’Grady, 1981).
2.7 Indeterminacy in electroacoustic music
For much of the history of electroacoustic music, composers have
sought ways to enliven the listening experience – essentially adding
indeterminacy. Two notable manners for accomplishing this were to
create pieces for an instrument accompanied by a recording, or to
actively diffuse the sound in the space during a concert (Chadabe
1997). In 1957, Belgian composer Henri Pousseur composed Scambi, a
tape piece in which the form could be rearranged like the Boulez Third
Piano Sonata and the StockhausenKlavierstück XI (Lansdown Centre,
2008). Performance (instrumental or diffusion) and open forms add
indeterminacy, interest, and life to otherwise fixed works.
In the mid-1970s, The League of Automatic Music Composers began a
different approach by using computers to create music during a
performance. According to Gresham-Lancastre (a member of the League’s
offspring, The Hub), their music grew out of the experimental
tradition of Cage and others who used or created new instruments and
thus were forced to devise new notation or instructions for using
these instruments. For the League/Hub performances, the players
generally adapted “solo” compositions for the group performance; they
determined whose data could be sent to whom in order to make
interesting results. Bischoff and Brown (2008) describe a typical
performance situation:
“Gold’s station executed circular readings at audio rate of a virtual
3-D landscape that resulted in looping patterns of tuned noise . . .
Horton’s algorithm spun a thread of continuous melodic invention built
from just-intoned pitch relations, and Bischoff’s machine played a
punctuating role as it looked for chance tunings between Horton’s
melodies and Gold’s timbres, beeping in agreement when it detected
them.”
Gresham-Lancastre (1998) considers the most important contribution of
these groups to be the idea of a machine that invites participation
but allows for intricate algorithms. Computers were super-instruments
with which a performer could interact but with which a performer could
create a higher level of complexity than he could with other
instruments. The way of working started by the League and the Hub
continues today with laptop performance; it brings together
algorithmic computer music and improvisation.
As stated in the introduction, free improvisation and manipulations of
algorithms do not have to be the only possibilities for live computer
music. Works could be composed in which the performers recreate a
score, in the manner expected by late romantic and modernist acoustic
composers. Due to the precision of computers, these pieces could be
realized exactly as intended, basically eliminating the need for
performers. However, imprecise human interpretation can add interest
to the work, both to the performance and to the piece’s overall
identity. According to Garnett, by performing a piece many times, the
identity of a work becomes clouded and unfixed. Because it is unfixed,
the work can adapt to changing contexts and therefore have a longer
life. He cites this adaptability as the primary reason for the
longevity of Western classical music (Garnett, 2001). Likewise,
Alperson writes that when a performer interprets a work, he comments
on the work; the work is imbued with new possibilities, but retains
the essence of the original (Alperson, 1984).
On Jun 9, 2009, at 9:36 AM, Norah Zuniga Shaw wrote:
> This is a fantastic discussion this month. Thank you to all the
> contributors. I'm thinking about two things that may be relevant.
>
> First, in relation to the idea of a trace, in our work we've been
> interested
> in the idea of a generative trace (meaning that the trace generates
> creativity more than preserves a past present). Davin and others
> speak of
> the idea of an original and of the "gap of difference between the
> event and
> the representation." Perhaps the decoupling of trace and original is
> of use
> here. This also decouples the idea of a trace from the idea of
> document.
> Even more traditional dance scholars who work on reconstruction of
> historically important pieces have begun to question the existence
> of "an
> original." What is the essence (yikes, not a great work) or better
> said,
> what within a moment, a dance, an experience can be traced and
> represented
> and created a new with change being a central value, not stasis?
>
> Others note a desire for a "moment without feedback, without a
> document,
> without a traceable trace." I understand and would say that this
> constitutes
> the majority of my experience as a dancer. For those of us in dance,
> this
> moment with out a traceable trace is the norm and while there is
> beauty in
> it, it also holds our field in perpetual obscurity. But, in our
> field, the
> endless, perhaps even Sissyphean effort to recreate past moments,
> while
> important, has limited the scope of our inquiry. What has been
> liberating
> for us in our work on Synchronous Objects has been the decoupling of
> the
> ideas of trace and document. What if we do not try to recreate the
> experience of the live performance but instead trace the principles,
> events,
> ideas, and possibilities inside the event and re-present these
> principles
> with the intent not of documenting but of sharing (creating
> relationships)?
> This also relates to the issue of "the object" that is flying around
> a bit
> this month and last. We in western cultures tend to think primarily of
> objects as commodities but they are of course also generators of
> relationships. Perhaps some of this is useful.
>
> Secondly, I'd love to hear from this month's contributors and others
> on the
> list about relationships between participatory art and participatory
> pedagogy and perhaps even some of the rhetoric around cyberlearning
> these
> days. I'm finding really productive connections between my research
> in this
> area and my teaching and I'd love to hear from others about this as
> well.
>
> Thanks
> Norah
>
>
>
>
> --
> Norah Zuniga Shaw
> Director for Dance and Technology
> Department of Dance and
> The Advanced Computing Center for the Arts and Design
> The Ohio State University
> T: 614.247.7379 Dance
> T: 614.292.5996 ACCAD
> http://synchronousobjects.osu.edu
>
>
> _______________________________________________
> empyre forum
> empyre at lists.cofa.unsw.edu.au
> http://www.subtle.net/empyre
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