Good nighttime, my beloved friends and readers, and a happy All Hallow's Eve to you all. I attended a cultural event this evening. It was a piano recital performed by Robert Weirich, who played for us Beethoven's Op. 10 no. 3 piano sonata, Elliott Carter's piano sonata, and a host of etudes by Chopin and Debussy. It was greatly delightful, to be contrasted to the misery that will be the percussion ensemble I do not wish to see tomorrow. Interestingly enough, as the good Mr. Weirich explained, the theme of his recital was contrast: Beethoven vs. Carter, Chopin vs. Debussy, Beethoven vs. Beethoven, Carter vs. Carter, and so on. Thus it is very appropriate that I should contrast the high cultural value of Weirich's performance with the vulgarity of such a vile group as a percussion ensemble.
All the same, I shall treat the percussion ensemble's performance as a cultural event, and I shall dress accordingly. I shall wear black and a tie and all that sort of thing. Today I wore a tie and khaki and all that sort of thing, including my trenchcoat (not the black one, the other one). Generally, the other attendees had donned whatever dirty, ill-fitting rags they had put on in the morning. I did not do this! I removed my dirty, ill-fitting rags and replaced them with pure formality. This is my way with cultural events, because somewhere inside me, there is a part that still links high culture with formality. That is, it is something to be taken seriously, so we ought to dress accordingly, and accordingly I dressed.
Now, on to the important part of my tale. Upon the completion of the recital, I was walking back to my dwelling, when a vile person with vile eyebrows and greasy hair asked me what I am. My first thought, of course, was, "What vile eyebrows and greasy hair! I do not like him!" My second thought, however, was, "What?" so "What?" is what I said. Only then did I understand, with a bit of explanation, so then I explained right back at this individual with the vile eyebrows and the greasy hair that I am myself, and that I am merely dressed as I am. That showed him and all his greasy friends with their vulgar, ill-fitting rags.
Hear me now, O dominant culture of vulgarity and grease and ill-fitting rags! One day you will die a slow and agonizing death, and a new dominant culture will take your place, and you will be despised both by that dominant culture and those had the good sense to loathe you all along. I look forward to watching the crows peck out your eyes and liver, even if the new dominant culture is more vulgar and greasier and even more ill-fitting!
31 October 2007
30 October 2007
Everything Hangs in the Balance
Happy afternoon, my friends. Today we are going to visit the past. You may do so by clicking here. I do not doubt that you remember this excruciatingly painful story, but now the matter is changed. A strange due date for a strange thing appeared recently with little explanation. This strange thing was at some point transfigured into an essay. With necessary revisions, I was able to recycle my previous work and allow it to fulfill its original purpose. The fates have smiled upon me, O friends. Without further ado, here is the second edition of that miserable piece of work:
On the Mythos and Dianoia of the Bildungsroman in Moretti’s The Way of the World as it relates to Goethe’s Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship
In his The Way of the World, Franco Moretti approaches the Bildungsroman first by qualifying it as a “symbolic form,” representative of and peculiar to modernity (5), and then proceeding in an attempt to qualify the aspects of this form themselves. In these proceeding analyses, touching greatly upon history, philosophy, and literature, Moretti establishes a certain mythos, the content as a matter of plot, and a certain dianoia, the content as a matter of structure, for the form of the Bildungsroman. In essence, he divides the mythos into two principles or “plot differences:” that of classification and that of transformation, which differ in terms of how the plot communicates meaning (Moretti 7). He then portrays the dianoia fundamentally as an imbalance between “autonomy and socialization” (Moretti 28). The mythos and dianoia taken together in this sense, then, illustrate the approximate form of the Bildungsroman as it progresses linearly to a conclusion or lack thereof though its structure of interconnection and imbalance. Using Goethe’s Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship as a focus as Moretti does in his description of the “classical Bildungsroman,” these points might be given context.
Beginning with the Bildungsroman’s mythos, Moretti defines the classification aspect thereof as a plot sequence in which “the meaning of events lies in their finality” (7). That is, the inevitable conclusion of events is the most important thematic aspect of such a plot. This idea is elaborated upon by dealing with the classical Bildungsroman and by setting up a conflict between meaning and time: “[I]n the classical Bildungsroman the ending and the aim of narration coincide. The story ends as soon as an intentional design has been realized” (Moretti 55). This emphasis on time as the vehicle of plot and as the defeated adversary of meaning is very characteristic of this classification principle of the mythos of the Bildungsroman. In Wilhelm Meister, Wilhelm’s beloved Mariana faces a struggle that is illustrative of this very point, saying “‘I love him, and he loves me; yet I see that I must part with him...Norberg comes, to whom we owe our whole subsistence, whom we cannot live without” (Goethe; I, XII, 46). With the destined approach of Norberg, all that she develops with Wilhelm shall come to nothing; all shall be meaningless; however, in this conflict the narrative itself gains meaning. Thus the passage of time, though potentially destructive of meaning, is in fact the only way for a plot to create meaning. This then brings about the opposed “plot difference,” transformation.
The transformation aspect of the Bildungsroman’s mythos is summed up in Moretti’s statement, “what makes a story meaningful is its narrativity, its being an open-ended process” (7). As stated before, plot is driven by the passage of time, and it is the transformation principle’s treatment of this passage in the creation of meaning that creates its antithesis with the classification principle, for where classification concerns itself with ends, transformation concerns itself with process, as their names rightly suggest: “[Events] become meaningful….It becomes so because someone…gives it meaning” (Moretti 45). Whereas it has been shown that the classification principle dominates the age of the classical Bildungsroman, it is the transformation principle that rules the post-Napoleonic Bildungsroman: “Reality then—such is the plain but disturbing discovery of this [post-Napoleonic] age—is characterized by mere existence, independent of any symbolic legitimacy” (Moretti 95), that is, teleology is not much of a concern. Again, Wilhelm Meister shall give a small embodiment of both plot differences when Wilhelm and Werner discuss Wilhelm’s abundance of unfinished theatrical works. Wilhelm says, “‘To finish is not the scholar’s care; it is enough if he improves himself by practice,’” to which Werner responds “‘But also completes according to his best ability’” (Goethe; I, X, 38). Wilhelm here cares only for the process, transformation, and Werner cares only for the end result, classification.
Now, the stratification of classification and transformation into separate classes of Bildungsroman should be a simple and consequently attractive idea, but the Bildungsroman thrives on paradox and conflict. Moretti explicitly states that “while both are always present in a narrative work, these two principles usually carry an uneven weight, and are actually inversely proportional” (7). This “uneven weight” is essential; without it, Moretti explains, either both principles balance and cancel one another, or their conflict is not present, which is clearly evident in Wilhelm and Werner’s conversation cited earlier. In any event, in both these eventualities the Bildungsroman fails to exist: “[T]his symbolic form could indeed exist, not despite but by virtue of its contradictory nature” (Moretti 9). Thus both eras’ Bildungsromans contain both these principles; it is merely that classification rules the classical period and transformation dominates the post-Napoleonic period. An imbalance in the form of paradox, therefore, is essential for the existence of the Bildungsroman’s mythos, but it goes further by being the very essence of its dianoia.
As previously noted, Moretti seems to put a great deal of weight on imbalance in defining the dianoia of the Bildungsroman. Chief among these imbalances is the imbalance between autonomy and socialization. Like the conflicting nature of the two aspects of the mythos, these play much the same role for the dianoia. In terms of autonomy, Moretti chooses to discuss the personality, saying that “it would…prefer that each activity lose its autonomy and objective consistency to become a mere instrument of its own development” (40). The personality, being the essence of the individual, seeks to subjugate action to itself, rather than to be subjugated by action. Assuming that the socialization of the individual entails the socialization of the personality, it is evident why autonomy and socialization should be in conflict. With the further development of the Bildungsroman in the post-Napoleonic age, however, a new variety of protagonist finds autonomy the dominant factor of the dianoia’s imbalance to the end: “the individual’s formation is not identified here with the hero’s insertion within the rules of society, but with his attempt to undermine them” (Moretti 106). Wilhelm Meister gravitates in this direction with the example of the harper, a relic of an age long past but one that touches Wilhelm with great immediacy: “he brought feelings near and distant, emotions sleeping and awake, pleasant and painful, into a circulation, from which, in Wilhelm’s actual state, the best effects might be anticipated” (Goethe; II, XIV, 124). Wilhelm uses the communication of days long dead, as opposed to his world’s favor the written word. This, in turn, demonstrates the importance of the dianoia of the Bildungsroman, which “creates a continuity between external and internal” (Moretti 30). How does it achieve this, though? How does the nature of the Bildungsroman allow the internal being, desiring autonomy, coexist with the external factors that would limit such autonomy?
Socialization in the Bildungsroman is classically the result of an autonomous decision. Such is the great synthesis of these two oppositions of the dianoia. Moretti details the classic model for such an occurrence, marriage, which is the necessary ending of many a Bildungsroman. He refers to marriage as “that ‘pact’ between the individual and the world, that reciprocal consent…” (Moretti 22). By way of marriage, two individuals surrender freedoms to one another, and together surrender freedoms upon entering the social institution. This, interestingly, is very much a compromise, to freely will the loss of a degree of free will. Moretti also addresses this issue directly in discussing the final line of Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship, “‘I know I have attained a happiness which I have not deserved, and which I would not change with anything in life” (Goethe; IV, X, 508). Moretti summarizes Wilhelm’s position saying, “I exist, and I exist happily, only because I have been allowed access to the plot patiently weaved ‘around me’….I exist ‘for myself,’ because I have willingly agreed to be determined from without” (21). Freely does the protagonist choose socialization, leaving both autonomy and normalcy to some degree intact. Without such a conclusion, though, socialization cannot complete, and the protagonists of the post-Napoleonic Bildungsromans always seem to find themselves facing unhappy endings: “[Happy endings] portray the harmony of values and events, while the new image of reality is based on their division” (Moretti 120). In the Bildungsroman, the shaping of the individual is largely defined by his or her surroundings and all the other individuals therein, whether in socializing the individual or in effecting the individual’s rejection of socialized values. This then begs the question, can autonomy exist without socialization, or at least attempts at such? Again imbalance and conflict become essential in understanding the Bildungsroman.
On the whole, Moretti appears to view the mythos and dianoia of the Bildungsroman as, taken together, yet another conflicting dichotomy that arises among the many paradoxes involved in defining the genre. By their very definitions, they discern meaning by opposed methods, but together and only together can they effectively describe the Bildungsroman. Thus, through the conflict of the two, the Bildungsroman can be defined neither by plot nor structure, but by both of them related and conflicting. As Moretti notes, “it is as if the structure of the classical Bildungsroman consisted of two large planes partially superimposed. The common area is the domain of synthesis…” (17). Looking at Goethe’s Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship, one observes clearly many of the ideas to which Moretti refers, especially when one consideres the prominence with which it is cited in his description of the classical Bildungsroman. From that alone, the strong leanings of the mythos and dianoia toward classification and ultimately socialization might be discerned, but its nuances require analysis. At the last, it is only by synthesizing the contradictions of mythos and dianoia and determining just how they might compare in balance can one find their vast importance in defining the Bildungsroman as a genre.
Bibliography
Goethe, Johann. Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship. Aegypan, 1917.
Moretti, Franco. The Way of the World: The Bildungsroman in European Culutre. New Edition. Verso, London: 2000.
29 October 2007
It is dangerous business, ignoring a faerie.
"Hey, listen!"
-Up C- -B- -B- -B- -B- -B- -B-
"Watch your sword, sir!"
-Up C- -B- -B- -B- -B- -B- -B-
"Watch your sword, sir!"
24 October 2007
On Socks, Bipedism, Flirtations, the Animation of Inanimate Objects, and Bloodlust
Good evening, my friends. I say this because it is the evening. There have been many strange happenings of late, the epitome of which involves none other than my left sock. As a biped, my primary means of locomotion consists of walking. Some cyborg-bipeds have forsaken such in favor of the locomotive, but I do not get out much. Instead I say to Out, "Come to me," and it obeys. Thus I bring that which is without within, and I grow ever stronger for it.
At this time I shall speak of my socks. Having two feet (for I am a biped), I wear two socks; that is one sock for each of my feet. If violence had driven me to possess a wooden leg, then I would wear only one sock, and I would be a uniped, having only one foot, unless of course my wooden leg would have a foot carved on its end, in which case I might choose to obscure the fact that my leg is made of wood by wearing two socks. Then I would be a pseudo-biped. I would do no such thing; however, for a wooden peg leg is far more fashionable!
On the subject of fashion, I once read in a book that it behooves the females among us to compliment the socks of the males in order to make more effective flirtations. I heartily agree. Imagine it:
"Is that...argyle there?"
"Indeed, it is."
"There is nothing more attractive than an argyle pattern on a man's socks."
My own socks do not make use of patterns, but they do make use of at least several fine colors: blue, another shade of blue, yet another shade of blue, gray, and on special occasions black. Oh yes, and white for sport, but I do not engage in a great deal of sport. All the same, I think that my colors stand up just fine next to argyle.
Now lately, as I have walked about (as I earlier explained that I do), a bizarre phenomenon has been producing sensations of discomfort on my left foot. Upon returning to my dwelling, I investigated the matter to find that, despite my distinct recollection of properly applying the offending sock to the aforesaid foot in the morning, it had managed to become upside down. For those who are not aware, upside down is not generally the way things ought to be. Thus I remedied the ailment (of course it was an ailment!) and proceeded about my business. Later on, when I was obliged to go out once again, my troubles returned, for when I entered my dwelling upon the conclusion of this business (luncheon), I found that the same sock had committed the same offense once more. This had been twice in one day, you see. This has caused me great distress, for my garments have never betrayed me before.
What if...what if other garments would begin mysteriously move about as I walk about? Could I one day find my pants on backwards or my coat inside my shirt? And what if my clothing acquires a taste for human flesh, a possibility that has not gone without consideration before? Let us pray that none of these things come to pass.
At this time I shall speak of my socks. Having two feet (for I am a biped), I wear two socks; that is one sock for each of my feet. If violence had driven me to possess a wooden leg, then I would wear only one sock, and I would be a uniped, having only one foot, unless of course my wooden leg would have a foot carved on its end, in which case I might choose to obscure the fact that my leg is made of wood by wearing two socks. Then I would be a pseudo-biped. I would do no such thing; however, for a wooden peg leg is far more fashionable!
On the subject of fashion, I once read in a book that it behooves the females among us to compliment the socks of the males in order to make more effective flirtations. I heartily agree. Imagine it:
"Is that...argyle there?"
"Indeed, it is."
"There is nothing more attractive than an argyle pattern on a man's socks."
My own socks do not make use of patterns, but they do make use of at least several fine colors: blue, another shade of blue, yet another shade of blue, gray, and on special occasions black. Oh yes, and white for sport, but I do not engage in a great deal of sport. All the same, I think that my colors stand up just fine next to argyle.
Now lately, as I have walked about (as I earlier explained that I do), a bizarre phenomenon has been producing sensations of discomfort on my left foot. Upon returning to my dwelling, I investigated the matter to find that, despite my distinct recollection of properly applying the offending sock to the aforesaid foot in the morning, it had managed to become upside down. For those who are not aware, upside down is not generally the way things ought to be. Thus I remedied the ailment (of course it was an ailment!) and proceeded about my business. Later on, when I was obliged to go out once again, my troubles returned, for when I entered my dwelling upon the conclusion of this business (luncheon), I found that the same sock had committed the same offense once more. This had been twice in one day, you see. This has caused me great distress, for my garments have never betrayed me before.
What if...what if other garments would begin mysteriously move about as I walk about? Could I one day find my pants on backwards or my coat inside my shirt? And what if my clothing acquires a taste for human flesh, a possibility that has not gone without consideration before? Let us pray that none of these things come to pass.
23 October 2007
Give me the hat of an Archheretic!
Consider grapes' testimony of the covenant beard.
His Hilkaih the priest heart and the LORD behold
following instruments of his children.
And Saul went up and it came to pass, as the appearance of a man
which was the son of Melchi,
white horses all we received for every one shall be salted with fire;
every one that goeth by it shall be astonished,
saying in the speech of Lycaonia,
"And I will spread my net upon him as it is written
and were destroyed of serpents."
Therefore if thy hand or thy foot offend thee,
death shall feed on them
and the upright shall have dominion over them in the morning.
His Hilkaih the priest heart and the LORD behold
following instruments of his children.
And Saul went up and it came to pass, as the appearance of a man
which was the son of Melchi,
white horses all we received for every one shall be salted with fire;
every one that goeth by it shall be astonished,
saying in the speech of Lycaonia,
"And I will spread my net upon him as it is written
and were destroyed of serpents."
Therefore if thy hand or thy foot offend thee,
death shall feed on them
and the upright shall have dominion over them in the morning.
17 October 2007
Autonomy and Socialization
Today we are going to stray from the beaten path. This is a perfectly acceptable thing to do, for we are not trying to walk through Mirkwood. In a world where autonomy and socialization are in ever tightening tension, a short straying should serve as a proper assertion of my autonomy, as long as I return shortly after to the beaten path, ensuring my socialization. The presence of both, in conflict, is essential to the existence of the Bildungsroman, you see, but they must be unbalanced, for they are inversely proportional, but more on this later.
...
Have we been followed? Excellent. Now that we have strayed into the woods, I am going to discuss my actual existence. This is not something I ordinarily do here, though I have several times. Today is different, for today I shall address it directly and stare it down until it stands unshrouded before me, at which point I shall say, "Put your shroud back on! What on earth were you thinking?"
The Man has gotten me down again, as he often does. The problem with partial socialization is that it allows the Man to hold authority, but my remaining autonomy hates it. Let me tell you what the Man did to me. Are you ready?
The Man's servant told me that I have to write a paper. Not only that, the Man's servant told me that I have to write a paper with another human. This caused problems from the start because this is inherently absurd. The Man does not care; however, he believes that it is absolutely necessary that we all "engage other learners." All the same, despite great resistance (from lack of friendship in these parts) I found someone to write with me. As it turned out, I would not hear from this individual again. The Man knows that this sort of thing happens more often than it does not. He merely seeks to torment me. He will feel my autonomy!
Following this episode, the Man's servant was faced with tragedy, and he disappeared for a short while. In the meantime, I recalled the paper, wondering whether I would ever hear from my fellow paper writer again. Because of the dramatic irony I set up before, you (the audience) know that I would not. Eventually I lost hope and, not knowing how to contact this individual, I set out to work on my own. Firmly I believed that this paper was due on Tuesday 16 October 2007, or possibly Thursday 18 October 2007. Having grown extraordinarily weary of bearing the weight of the paper's impending due date, I assumed Tuesday under the assumption that if Thursday was, in fact, the date, I would have my abhorred task out of the way.
On Monday 15 October 2007 in the early afternoon I set out with the aim of completing this paper before the morning of Tuesday 16 October 2007. Already I had begun to work, having decided upon the organization and having written the introduction, therein outlining the aforesaid organization so as to prepare the audience for the wonders to come. So I worked from there, and I did so for the next twelve hours or so. Now mind you, my version of working on a paper involves a great deal of pacing around, meandering here and there, and excessive consumption of fluids. It also entails that every couple of hours I will run through my internet procedure, wherein I cycle through all the internet sites I make a point of visiting each day, but that is another matter for another time. So as you can see, I have mastered thoroughly the art of distracting myself. I even went to a cultural event for about two hours that particular evening. In the end, though, I still spent many hours with the task of completing this paper before me.
I finished it at last in the wee hours of the night, as is my way. These hours, though, were considerably more wee than most, that is, they were greater in value than my ordinary way would dictate. I do not know what the Man thinks of my sleeping habits, but I would like to think that they are more autonomous than socialized. Ideally, there would be twenty-eight hours in a day, you know. I have considered these matters before.
I awoke the next morning at 8:45 am following an unacceptably short sleep. Ordinarily I can better plan to awake at 8:45, but this day the Man and his paper prevented it. Looking out the window, "The world is wet!" I observed. I got to use my umbrella that day, much to my satisfaction. I use an autonomous umbrella, you know. Socialized umbrellas are convenient to carry, but mine can be used as a walking stick, except that it would break under even a smallish person's weight. There were behind me certain persons discussing how so much as holding an umbrella was a socialized act, but they were wrong. I assure you this is true.
Eventually I found my way to the class wherein this paper had been assigned. I was much pleased with myself, for I had completed the task, and I had even divined the name of the individual with whom I was supposed to write the accursed thing, thereby allowing me to complete the assignment in full by giving the false pretense that he had something to do with the writing process. After all, his name was next to mine on the first page...
As my fellow "learners" assembled in the room, they began to discuss the paper assignment.
"Did you start your paper?" one asked another.
"I don't think anyone has," this other one responded.
I did not say anything. So it seemed the due date would be Thursday. Fine. Perhaps then I can create the illusion of having actually done this with my fellow "learner." Perhaps I could comb the paper for errors and improve it by editing! This was not a bad thing at all.
About ten minutes after class was supposed to have begun, the Man's servant found his way to the room. This is what he always does, enter ten minutes late. He is a fine fellow. I only call him the Man's servant in the sense that he serves the Man. He gave us a new syllabus to cover the remainder of the semester; the old one had become confused, babbling on about things that are quite simply untrue and nonsensical. Noting the absence of the previous paper assignment, some "learners" inquired as to its due date. The answer: Never.
Do you see what the Man did? He put me through much pain and grief and effort only to mock me in the end! He will feel my autonomy! I will put my incredibly dull work on the internet! I warn you, good readers, in the name of sense and sanity, you ought to stop reading here. My story is over. Please, I beg you, spare yourselves the suffering.
...
I congratulate those of you who have read on. You have truly shown your autonomy. "I will not listen to him," you said. "I want to feel this pain for myself." This is a fine sentiment, but pain still hurts, if I may say so.
...
Have we been followed? Excellent. Now that we have strayed into the woods, I am going to discuss my actual existence. This is not something I ordinarily do here, though I have several times. Today is different, for today I shall address it directly and stare it down until it stands unshrouded before me, at which point I shall say, "Put your shroud back on! What on earth were you thinking?"
The Man has gotten me down again, as he often does. The problem with partial socialization is that it allows the Man to hold authority, but my remaining autonomy hates it. Let me tell you what the Man did to me. Are you ready?
The Man's servant told me that I have to write a paper. Not only that, the Man's servant told me that I have to write a paper with another human. This caused problems from the start because this is inherently absurd. The Man does not care; however, he believes that it is absolutely necessary that we all "engage other learners." All the same, despite great resistance (from lack of friendship in these parts) I found someone to write with me. As it turned out, I would not hear from this individual again. The Man knows that this sort of thing happens more often than it does not. He merely seeks to torment me. He will feel my autonomy!
Following this episode, the Man's servant was faced with tragedy, and he disappeared for a short while. In the meantime, I recalled the paper, wondering whether I would ever hear from my fellow paper writer again. Because of the dramatic irony I set up before, you (the audience) know that I would not. Eventually I lost hope and, not knowing how to contact this individual, I set out to work on my own. Firmly I believed that this paper was due on Tuesday 16 October 2007, or possibly Thursday 18 October 2007. Having grown extraordinarily weary of bearing the weight of the paper's impending due date, I assumed Tuesday under the assumption that if Thursday was, in fact, the date, I would have my abhorred task out of the way.
On Monday 15 October 2007 in the early afternoon I set out with the aim of completing this paper before the morning of Tuesday 16 October 2007. Already I had begun to work, having decided upon the organization and having written the introduction, therein outlining the aforesaid organization so as to prepare the audience for the wonders to come. So I worked from there, and I did so for the next twelve hours or so. Now mind you, my version of working on a paper involves a great deal of pacing around, meandering here and there, and excessive consumption of fluids. It also entails that every couple of hours I will run through my internet procedure, wherein I cycle through all the internet sites I make a point of visiting each day, but that is another matter for another time. So as you can see, I have mastered thoroughly the art of distracting myself. I even went to a cultural event for about two hours that particular evening. In the end, though, I still spent many hours with the task of completing this paper before me.
I finished it at last in the wee hours of the night, as is my way. These hours, though, were considerably more wee than most, that is, they were greater in value than my ordinary way would dictate. I do not know what the Man thinks of my sleeping habits, but I would like to think that they are more autonomous than socialized. Ideally, there would be twenty-eight hours in a day, you know. I have considered these matters before.
I awoke the next morning at 8:45 am following an unacceptably short sleep. Ordinarily I can better plan to awake at 8:45, but this day the Man and his paper prevented it. Looking out the window, "The world is wet!" I observed. I got to use my umbrella that day, much to my satisfaction. I use an autonomous umbrella, you know. Socialized umbrellas are convenient to carry, but mine can be used as a walking stick, except that it would break under even a smallish person's weight. There were behind me certain persons discussing how so much as holding an umbrella was a socialized act, but they were wrong. I assure you this is true.
Eventually I found my way to the class wherein this paper had been assigned. I was much pleased with myself, for I had completed the task, and I had even divined the name of the individual with whom I was supposed to write the accursed thing, thereby allowing me to complete the assignment in full by giving the false pretense that he had something to do with the writing process. After all, his name was next to mine on the first page...
As my fellow "learners" assembled in the room, they began to discuss the paper assignment.
"Did you start your paper?" one asked another.
"I don't think anyone has," this other one responded.
I did not say anything. So it seemed the due date would be Thursday. Fine. Perhaps then I can create the illusion of having actually done this with my fellow "learner." Perhaps I could comb the paper for errors and improve it by editing! This was not a bad thing at all.
About ten minutes after class was supposed to have begun, the Man's servant found his way to the room. This is what he always does, enter ten minutes late. He is a fine fellow. I only call him the Man's servant in the sense that he serves the Man. He gave us a new syllabus to cover the remainder of the semester; the old one had become confused, babbling on about things that are quite simply untrue and nonsensical. Noting the absence of the previous paper assignment, some "learners" inquired as to its due date. The answer: Never.
Do you see what the Man did? He put me through much pain and grief and effort only to mock me in the end! He will feel my autonomy! I will put my incredibly dull work on the internet! I warn you, good readers, in the name of sense and sanity, you ought to stop reading here. My story is over. Please, I beg you, spare yourselves the suffering.
...
I congratulate those of you who have read on. You have truly shown your autonomy. "I will not listen to him," you said. "I want to feel this pain for myself." This is a fine sentiment, but pain still hurts, if I may say so.
On the Mythos and Dianoia of the Classical Bildungsroman in Franco Moretti’s The Way of the World
In his The Way of the World, Franco Moretti approaches the Bildungsroman first by qualifying it as a “symbolic form,” representative of and peculiar to modernity (5), and then proceeding in an attempt to qualify the aspects of this form themselves. In these proceeding analyses, touching greatly upon history, philosophy, and literature, Moretti establishes a certain mythos, the content as a matter of plot, and a certain dianoia, the content as a matter of structure, for the form of the Bildungsroman. In essence, he divides the mythos into two principles or “plot differences:” that of classification and that of transformation, which differ in terms of how the plot communicates meaning (7). He then portrays the dianoia fundamentally as a synthesis rooted in “autonomy and socialization” (28). The mythos and dianoia taken together in this sense, then, illustrate the approximate form of the Bildungsroman as it progresses linearly to a conclusion or lack thereof though its structure of interconnection and synthesis.
Beginning with the Bildungsroman’s mythos, Moretti defines the classification aspect thereof as a plot sequence in which “the meaning of events lies in their finality” (7). That is, the inevitable conclusion of events is the most important thematic aspect of such a plot. This idea is elaborated upon by dealing with the classical Bildungsroman and by setting up a conflict between meaning and time: “[I]n the classical Bildungsroman the ending and the aim of narration coincide. The story ends as soon as an intentional design has been realized” (55). This emphasis on time as the vehicle of plot and as the defeated adversary of meaning is very characteristic of this classification principle of the mythos of the Bildungsroman. Thus the passage of time, though potentially destructive of meaning, is in fact the only way for a plot to create meaning. This then brings about the opposed “plot difference,” transformation.
The transformation aspect of the Bildungsroman’s mythos is summed up in Moretti’s statement, “what makes a story meaningful is its narrativity, its being an open-ended process” (7). As stated before, plot is driven by the passage of time, and it is the transformation principle’s treatment of this passage in the creation of meaning creates its antithesis with the classification principle, for where classification concerns itself with ends, transformation concerns itself with process, as their names rightly suggest: “[Events] become meaningful….It becomes so because someone…gives it meaning” (45). Now, the stratification of classification and transformation into separate classes of Bildungsroman should be a simple and consequently attractive idea, but the Bildungsroman thrives on paradox and conflict. Moretti explicitly states that “while both are always present in a narrative work, these two principles usually carry an uneven weight, and are actually inversely proportional” (7). This “uneven weight” is essential; without it, Moretti explains, either both principles balance and cancel one another, or their conflict is not present. In both these eventualities the Bildungsroman fails to exist: “[T]his symbolic form could indeed exist, not despite but by virtue of its contradictory nature” (9). Thus a synthesis of conflicting paradox is essential for the existence of the Bildungsroman’s mythos, but it goes further by being the very essence of its dianoia.
As previously noted, Moretti seems to put a great deal of weight on synthesis in defining the dianoia of the Bildungsroman. Chief among these syntheses is that of autonomy and socialization. Like the conflicting nature of the two aspects of the mythos, these play much the same role for the dianoia. In terms of autonomy, Moretti chooses to discuss the personality, saying that “[the personality] would…prefer that each activity lose its autonomy and objective consistency to become a mere instrument of its own development” (40). The personality, being the essence of the individual, seeks to subjugate action to itself, rather than to be subjugated by action. Assuming that the socialization of the individual entails the socialization of the personality, it is evident why autonomy and socialization should be in conflict. This, in turn, demonstrates the importance of the Bildungsroman, which “creates a continuity between external and internal” (30). How does it achieve this, though? How does the nature of the Bildungsroman allow the internal being, desiring autonomy, coexist with the external factors that would limit such autonomy?
Socialization in the Bildungsroman is ideally the result of an autonomous decision. Such is the great synthesis of these two oppositions of the dianoia. Moretti details the classic model for such an occurrence, marriage, which is the necessary ending of many a Bildungsroman. He refers to marriage as “that ‘pact’ between the individual and the world, that reciprocal consent…” (22). By way of marriage, two individuals surrender freedoms to one another, and together surrender freedoms upon entering the social institution. This, interestingly, is very much a compromise, to freely will the loss of a degree of free will. Moretti also addresses this issue directly in discussing the final line of Goethe’s The Apprenticeship of Wilhelm Meister, summarizing Wilhelm’s position saying, “I exist, and I exist happily, only because I have been allowed access to the plot patiently weaved ‘around me’….I exist ‘for myself,’ because I have willingly agreed to be determined from without” (21). Freely does the protagonist choose socialization, leaving both autonomy and normalcy to some degree intact. Thus in the Bildungsroman, even shaping of the individual is largely defined by his or her surroundings and all the other individuals therein. This then begs the question, can autonomy exist without socialization? Again synthesis and conflict become essential in understanding the Bildungsroman.
On the whole, Moretti appears to view the mythos and dianoia of the Bildungsroman as, taken together, yet another conflicting dichotomy that arises in defining the genre. By their very definitions, they discern meaning by opposed methods, but together and only together can they effectively describe the Bildungsroman. Thus, through the conflict of the two, the Bildungsroman can be defined neither by plot nor structure, but by both of them related. As Moretti notes, “it is as if the structure of the classical Bildungsroman consisted of two large planes partially superimposed. The common area is the domain of synthesis…” (17). Only by synthesizing in their contradictions mythos anddianoia can one find their vast importance of in defining the Bildungsroman as a genre.
Bibliography
Moretti, Franco. The Way of the World: The Bildungsroman in European Culutre. New Edition. Verso, London: 2000.
15 October 2007
Nice and Shiny New Things
When one acquires nice and shiny new things one must either purge one's possessions of old and dull things or find more storage. Despite the fact that I have more storage, in my cleaning of my weblog I have purged some clearly inactive persons from my friendship list. If these persons resume activity, I will put them back, but until then, it is to be assumed they do not exist.
On the other side of the proverbial coin, I have added some other friends to my friendship list. If you are still missing, I have forgotten you. Do not worry, though! I think no less of you, just not very much to begin with! Also, I have added a poll. If it amuses me, I shall keep it around. If not, then you, O readers, shall be polled no more. Please vote only once. I do not know the rules, but I thought I'd say so anyway.
Lastly, I am now the proud owner of a new black trenchcoat. Someday soon I will wear it to a cultural event, for I attend many cultural events these days, and it is the same color as my black pants.
Now you know, and I hear talk that knowing is half the battle.
On the other side of the proverbial coin, I have added some other friends to my friendship list. If you are still missing, I have forgotten you. Do not worry, though! I think no less of you, just not very much to begin with! Also, I have added a poll. If it amuses me, I shall keep it around. If not, then you, O readers, shall be polled no more. Please vote only once. I do not know the rules, but I thought I'd say so anyway.
Lastly, I am now the proud owner of a new black trenchcoat. Someday soon I will wear it to a cultural event, for I attend many cultural events these days, and it is the same color as my black pants.
Now you know, and I hear talk that knowing is half the battle.
13 October 2007
The Music of the Future Strikes Back
Greetings, my most beloved friends! I embrace you warmly and tightly until you need to breathe once again!
Today I am going to speak of music, specifically the music that I can call my own. I am allowed to do this, you see, because I took the liberty of writing it. I have indeed made numerous (not at all alphabetical, mind you, but numerous) musical works. Most of them do not exist. Some may say to me, "But I hear it right now! Look, I listen to it!" or, "Behold, there are sheets of music here with your name on them!" With all due respect, these people are hallucinating things that I simply choose not to believe in. Here today I clarify everything that I will acknowledge, and I detail facts about these works.
Oscillations:
There exist three Oscillations. They are called Oscillation the First, Oscillation the Second, and Oscillation the Third. These Oscillations were composed following basically Arnold Schoenberg's twelve tone system for atonal writing, with notable deviations in the name of aesthetics. The basic form of an Oscillation consists essentially of an A theme based on a series of the twelve tones, followed by a B theme based on the inverse retrograde of those twelve tones. The starting tone is irrelevant. Following the B theme, the A theme may be restated or not, then the whole of the music is to be rearranged backwards, ending where it began. Oscillation the First is scored for solo pianoforte and solo violin. Oscillation the Second is scored for solo pianoforte, solo violin, and solo violincello. Oscillation the Third, my favorite Oscillation, is scored for solo pianoforte and solo violin.
For Great Dishonor
This is a terribly dull and disinteresting work for solo pianoforte and not a terribly pleasing one, either. If nothing else, it should evoke immense boredom (or as the artist says, ennui) in the listener. Furthermore, the dishonor that it was meant to commemorate never took place, for honor took its place. The notes are altogether symbolic and full of esoteric meaning.
Untitled
I pondered and pondered about many things ranging from whales to unicorns to mountaintops to the sea to come up with a title for this one, a piece for solo pianoforte, but I came up with nothing. This is the second-oldest work of mine that I will admit exists. It is based on the whole tone and chromatic scales, and it contains faint instances of polytonality. I rather like it myself.
Adagio
This work for solo pianoforte is not actually titled Adagio. I refuse at present to disclose the true title of this one. Also, you may recall my writings on it here.
It is probably my favorite piece (of my own making, that is), both musically and otherwise. Also, I am able to play it myself, which entertains me greatly.
My Friend the Knight
This work is scored for two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets in Bb, two bassoons, four horns in F, two trumpets in Bb, three trombones, and strings in the number generally associated with an orchestra of this size, which I do not recall at the moment. It consists of thematic material dating from the year 2003, rearranged in a coherent and much more pleasing fashion. I shall speak no more of the original from 2003, except stating that the themes pertained to knighthood even then. It is, I think, a pleasing work, full of heroics and diatonic predictability, but in a good way. There is chromaticism here and there, and I say this to comfort myself. On the whole, I enjoy very much to listen to these medieval escapades (though they do not in any way sound medieval, despite some parallel fifths and parallel octaves), and my heart is filled with joy. Often I wish I had a sword...and a horse...and a suit of armor. Well, I know where to find one of these things...
The Bog of Despair
This work was originally written to play with My Friend the Knight, but I have since split them and refused to acknowledge the existence of their third conspirator. As such, it is scored for the same orchestra. It is written in 3/4 time, and I firmly believe that there are bits of it that might be waltzed. I tend to say this when 3/4 time signatures are involved in my music, except when it is blatantly untrue. The Bog of Despair deals with many of the same images as The Forest, but these shall be detailed later. Suffice it to say for now, The Bog of Despair is written in G minor, the greenest of all the key signatures, and The Forest lurks around (and often modulates to) G minor, the dominant of its C minor. Please note that this association of G minor with green is not synesthetic. In conclusion, The Bog of Despair is about a bog I like to imagine, and it is full of despair.
Ballooning
This is an absurd piece that lasts for precisely thirty-two seconds. Furthermore, half of it is a repeat. It is about balloons, and I have a short film to prove it. Playing Ballooning for tens of times on end seems to me to be an excellent idea, as long as the listener is of sound mind and virtuous in the way of patience.
The Gnome's Grand Adventure
The Gnome's Grand Adventure for strings is based on a theme that was originally composed about dwarves, until I realized that the theme was far too light to possibly portray a dwarf. Gnomes served it perfectly. Thus I added another work to the proud musical tradition of writing about gnomes, which includes such names as Modest Mussorgsky and Syd Barrett. This work was in fact performed once by real, living persons at one point, much to my pleasure. The Gnome's Grand Adventure is supposed to evoke the archetypal images of the adventuring gnome. You know the ones.
The Forest
The Forest is a work for strings about a fictional forest in the early morningtime. A careful hearing should remind the listener of the universal experience of being lost in an ancient forest at night. In this forest, the moon and the morningstar shine overhead through a pale mist of cloud and fog hangs on the forest floor below. The faint flow of a stream is audible in the distance, as is the dripping of raindrops and dew off the leaves of the trees. Hints of light flicker in the East, waking all the daytime forest critters, though certainly the nighttime critters are still on the prowl. The massive trees and dense foliage in the center of the forest stand as a testament to its enduring age. I chose this one for the end because I love it dearly. As I said, it is very much like The Bog of Despair, except that it contains far more mystery and tension and far less despair. If I say so, it must be true!
Rhapsody in Ab Minor
"Wait!" says the informed reader, "I have never heard of this." How perceptive of you, O informed reader. Good work, indeed! I only ever play this on the pianoforte with my own hands, and even then I do not ever say so. It far exceeds the age of all these other pieces, for it came into being in April of 2005. Most of it was composed when there was no pope, by the way. This has no significance, but I think it is interesting. Also, The Forest was completed simultaneously with Saddam Hussein's hanging. If ever you are on Jeopardy!, you may be certain that these questions will not be asked. At any rate, Rhapsody in Ab Minor is not technically very interesting, but it is pleasing to the ear and the eye, as far as I can tell. As such, I will acknowledge its existence. Also, I am not altogether certain where the music is (it was handwritten, you see), so it lives most vibrantly in my head.
So there you have a list of all of my compositions that do, in fact, exist. Unlike some composers, though, especially Jean Sibelius (with whom I am not worthy of mention), I will not burn anything that does not exist to make it really that way. I do not have the heart for it... The cries of a dying C# are too tough to bear. There then it stands. Happy listening, or wishing you could do so, or rejoicing that you listen not! I do not care which!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If, O reader, I know you personally (I assume this is all of you) and you do have some bizarre (or perhaps wise) interest in hearing these things, I can provide them freely. The codeword is "Fish Heads and Rice."
Today I am going to speak of music, specifically the music that I can call my own. I am allowed to do this, you see, because I took the liberty of writing it. I have indeed made numerous (not at all alphabetical, mind you, but numerous) musical works. Most of them do not exist. Some may say to me, "But I hear it right now! Look, I listen to it!" or, "Behold, there are sheets of music here with your name on them!" With all due respect, these people are hallucinating things that I simply choose not to believe in. Here today I clarify everything that I will acknowledge, and I detail facts about these works.
Oscillations:
There exist three Oscillations. They are called Oscillation the First, Oscillation the Second, and Oscillation the Third. These Oscillations were composed following basically Arnold Schoenberg's twelve tone system for atonal writing, with notable deviations in the name of aesthetics. The basic form of an Oscillation consists essentially of an A theme based on a series of the twelve tones, followed by a B theme based on the inverse retrograde of those twelve tones. The starting tone is irrelevant. Following the B theme, the A theme may be restated or not, then the whole of the music is to be rearranged backwards, ending where it began. Oscillation the First is scored for solo pianoforte and solo violin. Oscillation the Second is scored for solo pianoforte, solo violin, and solo violincello. Oscillation the Third, my favorite Oscillation, is scored for solo pianoforte and solo violin.
For Great Dishonor
This is a terribly dull and disinteresting work for solo pianoforte and not a terribly pleasing one, either. If nothing else, it should evoke immense boredom (or as the artist says, ennui) in the listener. Furthermore, the dishonor that it was meant to commemorate never took place, for honor took its place. The notes are altogether symbolic and full of esoteric meaning.
Untitled
I pondered and pondered about many things ranging from whales to unicorns to mountaintops to the sea to come up with a title for this one, a piece for solo pianoforte, but I came up with nothing. This is the second-oldest work of mine that I will admit exists. It is based on the whole tone and chromatic scales, and it contains faint instances of polytonality. I rather like it myself.
Adagio
This work for solo pianoforte is not actually titled Adagio. I refuse at present to disclose the true title of this one. Also, you may recall my writings on it here.
It is probably my favorite piece (of my own making, that is), both musically and otherwise. Also, I am able to play it myself, which entertains me greatly.
My Friend the Knight
This work is scored for two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets in Bb, two bassoons, four horns in F, two trumpets in Bb, three trombones, and strings in the number generally associated with an orchestra of this size, which I do not recall at the moment. It consists of thematic material dating from the year 2003, rearranged in a coherent and much more pleasing fashion. I shall speak no more of the original from 2003, except stating that the themes pertained to knighthood even then. It is, I think, a pleasing work, full of heroics and diatonic predictability, but in a good way. There is chromaticism here and there, and I say this to comfort myself. On the whole, I enjoy very much to listen to these medieval escapades (though they do not in any way sound medieval, despite some parallel fifths and parallel octaves), and my heart is filled with joy. Often I wish I had a sword...and a horse...and a suit of armor. Well, I know where to find one of these things...
The Bog of Despair
This work was originally written to play with My Friend the Knight, but I have since split them and refused to acknowledge the existence of their third conspirator. As such, it is scored for the same orchestra. It is written in 3/4 time, and I firmly believe that there are bits of it that might be waltzed. I tend to say this when 3/4 time signatures are involved in my music, except when it is blatantly untrue. The Bog of Despair deals with many of the same images as The Forest, but these shall be detailed later. Suffice it to say for now, The Bog of Despair is written in G minor, the greenest of all the key signatures, and The Forest lurks around (and often modulates to) G minor, the dominant of its C minor. Please note that this association of G minor with green is not synesthetic. In conclusion, The Bog of Despair is about a bog I like to imagine, and it is full of despair.
Ballooning
This is an absurd piece that lasts for precisely thirty-two seconds. Furthermore, half of it is a repeat. It is about balloons, and I have a short film to prove it. Playing Ballooning for tens of times on end seems to me to be an excellent idea, as long as the listener is of sound mind and virtuous in the way of patience.
The Gnome's Grand Adventure
The Gnome's Grand Adventure for strings is based on a theme that was originally composed about dwarves, until I realized that the theme was far too light to possibly portray a dwarf. Gnomes served it perfectly. Thus I added another work to the proud musical tradition of writing about gnomes, which includes such names as Modest Mussorgsky and Syd Barrett. This work was in fact performed once by real, living persons at one point, much to my pleasure. The Gnome's Grand Adventure is supposed to evoke the archetypal images of the adventuring gnome. You know the ones.
The Forest
The Forest is a work for strings about a fictional forest in the early morningtime. A careful hearing should remind the listener of the universal experience of being lost in an ancient forest at night. In this forest, the moon and the morningstar shine overhead through a pale mist of cloud and fog hangs on the forest floor below. The faint flow of a stream is audible in the distance, as is the dripping of raindrops and dew off the leaves of the trees. Hints of light flicker in the East, waking all the daytime forest critters, though certainly the nighttime critters are still on the prowl. The massive trees and dense foliage in the center of the forest stand as a testament to its enduring age. I chose this one for the end because I love it dearly. As I said, it is very much like The Bog of Despair, except that it contains far more mystery and tension and far less despair. If I say so, it must be true!
Rhapsody in Ab Minor
"Wait!" says the informed reader, "I have never heard of this." How perceptive of you, O informed reader. Good work, indeed! I only ever play this on the pianoforte with my own hands, and even then I do not ever say so. It far exceeds the age of all these other pieces, for it came into being in April of 2005. Most of it was composed when there was no pope, by the way. This has no significance, but I think it is interesting. Also, The Forest was completed simultaneously with Saddam Hussein's hanging. If ever you are on Jeopardy!, you may be certain that these questions will not be asked. At any rate, Rhapsody in Ab Minor is not technically very interesting, but it is pleasing to the ear and the eye, as far as I can tell. As such, I will acknowledge its existence. Also, I am not altogether certain where the music is (it was handwritten, you see), so it lives most vibrantly in my head.
So there you have a list of all of my compositions that do, in fact, exist. Unlike some composers, though, especially Jean Sibelius (with whom I am not worthy of mention), I will not burn anything that does not exist to make it really that way. I do not have the heart for it... The cries of a dying C# are too tough to bear. There then it stands. Happy listening, or wishing you could do so, or rejoicing that you listen not! I do not care which!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If, O reader, I know you personally (I assume this is all of you) and you do have some bizarre (or perhaps wise) interest in hearing these things, I can provide them freely. The codeword is "Fish Heads and Rice."
08 October 2007
Cristobal Colón
Merry Columbus Day, O philoi, or as they might tell you in England, good day, chaps! What better way to commemorate the celebration of the man known in most of Spain and other Spanish speaking regions as Cristobal Colón than to make writings of him? As the naturalist says, "It cannot be any other way!"
Columbus is one of those poor individuals who has been so cruelly defiled by History that most have little idea of what sorts of things he was actually involved in doing. Mozart is much the same, in part thanks to the infamous inaccuracy that pervades popular music history and in another part thanks to the wonderful 1984 film Amadeus starring F. Murray Abraham as Antonio Salieri and Tom Hulce as Mozart. Many of us may also remember Tom Hulce for his role in the 1978 film Animal House starring John Belushi, the aforesaid Tom Hulce, and a whole host of others. Indeed, it is a similar situation in popular American history, even popular history in general, that the popular folk who believe they know facts in fact know fiction, and that is a fact.
This is a problem, and I have no patience for it. It is as Ben Rand is quoted as having said in another fine film from about the same time, the 1979 film Being There starring Peter Sellers, Melvyn Douglas, and Shirley MacLaine, "I have no use for those on welfare, no patience whatsoever, but if I am to be honest with myself, I must admit that they have no use for me either." Actually, it is nothing like that at all, but no matter.
So Christopher Columbus is a terribly confused character, or rather the populace is altogether confused about him. I suspect this is the same populace that believes the American Revolution to be more historically significant than the French Revolution, or that Roosevelt should be deified for his achievements as president, but when asked what is meant by "Roosevelt" will not be able to distinguish among Franklin Roosevelt (the right answer), Theodore Roosevelt (the wrong answer), and Eleanor Roosevelt (the even more wrong answer). I have no patience for this whatsoever. When you place a Roosevelt's picture next to one of his quotes, please choose a photograph of the right Roosevelt. Otherwise everyone will feel embarrassment and shame, and no one wants that, except perhaps those who thrive on embarrassment and shame.
This concludes our Columbus Day lesson on the life of its namesake. I hope that now your knowledge of these intimate details will be put to good use, correcting and rebuking the foolish and wicked ones who may not agree with me. Peace be upon you all, for a thousand and one generations.
Columbus is one of those poor individuals who has been so cruelly defiled by History that most have little idea of what sorts of things he was actually involved in doing. Mozart is much the same, in part thanks to the infamous inaccuracy that pervades popular music history and in another part thanks to the wonderful 1984 film Amadeus starring F. Murray Abraham as Antonio Salieri and Tom Hulce as Mozart. Many of us may also remember Tom Hulce for his role in the 1978 film Animal House starring John Belushi, the aforesaid Tom Hulce, and a whole host of others. Indeed, it is a similar situation in popular American history, even popular history in general, that the popular folk who believe they know facts in fact know fiction, and that is a fact.
This is a problem, and I have no patience for it. It is as Ben Rand is quoted as having said in another fine film from about the same time, the 1979 film Being There starring Peter Sellers, Melvyn Douglas, and Shirley MacLaine, "I have no use for those on welfare, no patience whatsoever, but if I am to be honest with myself, I must admit that they have no use for me either." Actually, it is nothing like that at all, but no matter.
So Christopher Columbus is a terribly confused character, or rather the populace is altogether confused about him. I suspect this is the same populace that believes the American Revolution to be more historically significant than the French Revolution, or that Roosevelt should be deified for his achievements as president, but when asked what is meant by "Roosevelt" will not be able to distinguish among Franklin Roosevelt (the right answer), Theodore Roosevelt (the wrong answer), and Eleanor Roosevelt (the even more wrong answer). I have no patience for this whatsoever. When you place a Roosevelt's picture next to one of his quotes, please choose a photograph of the right Roosevelt. Otherwise everyone will feel embarrassment and shame, and no one wants that, except perhaps those who thrive on embarrassment and shame.
This concludes our Columbus Day lesson on the life of its namesake. I hope that now your knowledge of these intimate details will be put to good use, correcting and rebuking the foolish and wicked ones who may not agree with me. Peace be upon you all, for a thousand and one generations.
06 October 2007
Psychedelic Music and Synesthesia
Good evening, O readers. Recently I have learned some things about LSD, some of which I shall reiterate to you. LSD can temporarily allow the eyes to taste or the ears to see. That is, it has been known to induce for a time synesthesia, a blurring of the senses. This is the origin of the user's tendency to find fascination in apparently disinteresting things, as this individual is perceiving illusions that exist only in the mind, sort of echoes of a particular sensory experience in the other senses. I will not go into the biochemistry of this, for I do not know what it is.
Now, synesthesia very much interests me, particularly because I think that perceiving, in particular, color with sound is fascinating, though I am not at all interested in tasting with my eyes, I must admit. Of course there are some born with synesthetic abilities or disabilities; call them what you will, and this is where the matter becomes interesting.
In the long-ago days of the 1960s, our artists created what we call "psychedelic art." Included, of course was "psychedelic music." Supposedly, this is intended to convey the sensations that follow the use of LSD. Syd Barrett, the founder of Pink Floyd, is said to have written much of his music immediately following the return of his mental functions after his daily dosage of the substance. For those of you who are aware of the history of Pink Floyd, you also should be aware that Barrett's behavior became exceeding erratic and even psychotic to the point that he was removed from the band in 1968. For the full story of Syd Barrett, listen to the album Wish You Were Here.
Thus psychedelic music is inspired by synesthetic experiences, but what of those who experience synesthesia without the use of LSD or any such substance? Furthermore, what of composers whose music was influenced by their synesthetic associations, such as Nikolay Rimsky-Korsakov or Franz Liszt? Rimsky-Korsakov associated colors with musical key signatures and Liszt appears to have associated colors with particular notes. Furthermore, Rimsky-Korsakov writes a great deal on the analogy between orchestration and coloring in his Principles of Orchestration. At any rate, these men along with many others were not thinking only in terms of music when they wrote. The color was a factor, and without doubt a considerable one. Who wants to write a trumpet fanfare and see it in a dull color? This is not terribly different from expressing artificially and, of course, dangerously induced sensations of the same variety.
I conclude that psychedelic art has been around for much longer that it has been called such and long before anyone with a few chemicals wreaking havoc on the brain could produce it.
Now, synesthesia very much interests me, particularly because I think that perceiving, in particular, color with sound is fascinating, though I am not at all interested in tasting with my eyes, I must admit. Of course there are some born with synesthetic abilities or disabilities; call them what you will, and this is where the matter becomes interesting.
In the long-ago days of the 1960s, our artists created what we call "psychedelic art." Included, of course was "psychedelic music." Supposedly, this is intended to convey the sensations that follow the use of LSD. Syd Barrett, the founder of Pink Floyd, is said to have written much of his music immediately following the return of his mental functions after his daily dosage of the substance. For those of you who are aware of the history of Pink Floyd, you also should be aware that Barrett's behavior became exceeding erratic and even psychotic to the point that he was removed from the band in 1968. For the full story of Syd Barrett, listen to the album Wish You Were Here.
Thus psychedelic music is inspired by synesthetic experiences, but what of those who experience synesthesia without the use of LSD or any such substance? Furthermore, what of composers whose music was influenced by their synesthetic associations, such as Nikolay Rimsky-Korsakov or Franz Liszt? Rimsky-Korsakov associated colors with musical key signatures and Liszt appears to have associated colors with particular notes. Furthermore, Rimsky-Korsakov writes a great deal on the analogy between orchestration and coloring in his Principles of Orchestration. At any rate, these men along with many others were not thinking only in terms of music when they wrote. The color was a factor, and without doubt a considerable one. Who wants to write a trumpet fanfare and see it in a dull color? This is not terribly different from expressing artificially and, of course, dangerously induced sensations of the same variety.
I conclude that psychedelic art has been around for much longer that it has been called such and long before anyone with a few chemicals wreaking havoc on the brain could produce it.
04 October 2007
For this corpse is heavy.
Well, you should not have fed it so much! Had it been up to me, we would have built a pyre and that would have been the end of it. Watch that it does not take your heart. I have seen it happen before, and a very nasty business it is. If it takes your heart, then you will be a corpse, and who would be left carry the both of you, I ask? Certainly not I! No, you would have to carry both corpses yourself, for death is no excuse for failing to complete your duty.
Quickly, slave! We must keep moving!
Quickly, slave! We must keep moving!
03 October 2007
Photography
Photography is a fine art pursued by many fine people. You can often tell the fineness of an art by the extent to which it can be abused, and by that merit, photography is a very fine art, as are music and poetry and painting and cooking. I am not a photographer, but I did make a photograph. It is a poor photograph, for photographs often turn out poor when they are exposed to magic. Notice that there is no 'k' in magic. That means it is not real, but do not tell; that would ruin my illusion. This photograph consists of myself casting a divine spell. You can see the magic in the form of a ball of light in the grasp of my hands. It was an extraordinarily potent spell that I cast, so let me tell you what it did. It created the illusion of darkness in the room and reversed the directions right and left! Then everything resumed as before. For clarity, this very photograph may be observed here:
Beware of any latent magic that may resonate from its image.
Beware of any latent magic that may resonate from its image.
01 October 2007
In Which I Laud the CSO's Performance of "The Lord of the Rings Symphony" as a Flawless Expression of the Divine
Truly, the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra, the May Festival Chorus, and the Cincinnati Children’s Choir put on an excellent performance of Howard Shore’s The Lord of the Rings Symphony on Saturday 29 September 2007 under the direction of conductor Markus Huber. This six movement work, more of a tone poem, as Shore himself acknowledges, consists of a bit over two hours of the music from The Lord of the Rings film trilogy. This, of course, does not cover all the music in the nine hours of film, but it is a laudable selection, covering the gamut of thematic material and demonstrating the brilliant orchestration that is consistent throughout the score. Thus while any selection from the film score would have served very well, the carefully considered choices were even better.
Music Hall was quite crowded for the event, with a massive majority of its seats filled. This particular concert attracted a more colorful bunch than most, including a great many children, thanks to the popular appeal of the films. Indeed, this audience attested even more to the genius of the music. Looking around me from the beginning to the end of the concert two and one-half hours later, I saw the utmost attention (except the sleeping child in the row in front of me) and the complete metaphysical involvement from nearly everyone. Never have I observed so many moved to ecstatic tears drawn by music alone, and never have I myself so many times felt such rapturous reactions and compulsions to weep simply by considering the ideas represented by the music entering my ears. Of course, I had heard all these notes countless times before, but to be in the presence of their production was overwhelming. An excellent gentleman I once knew, a first-rate musician who died at the age of ninety-nine in January of the year 2006, expressed to me the his appreciation of the vast superiority of a live performance over a recording. This is proof that he was right.
The concert began, as one might logically suppose, on the first notes of the film score. Similarly, it ended on its final notes. Once the lights dimmed, there was nothing but euphony until intermission. Following intermission, the same applies until the final, endless applause. Apart from the music, there was a projection of concept art from the films on a screen hanging above the stage. Always, the image was relevant to the music, and it thus provided an interesting reminder of Middle Earth throughout. More subtly but still out of the ordinary were the lighting effects on the stage, illuminating the performers with colors evocative of the subjects of the music. Green light came with the light themes of the Shire. Red accompanied the dark pulsations of the Balrog’s steps across the bridge of Khazad-dûm. Gold shone on the stage in the melancholy peace of the Grey Havens. These effects well augmented the uniqueness of the event.
The soloists, too, were wisely chosen, for their voices were most pleasing, and brought yet another novelty to the performance, as the nuances of their particular styles of singing of course differ from the original performers of the music. That being said, they all portrayed their parts with great justice to the music, and thus it gained by their respective presences. In every language from both dialects of Elvish to English, and all the others, as well, the words remained excellently enunciated with fine timbre and tune; therefore, greatest of praise to them all.
When at last the concert reached its end, I must admit I could have remained to listen for several more hours. Indeed, I would not hesitate to attend the concert again, given the opportunity. If within reason I would be able to travel to Paris on November 3 or 4, I would certainly obtain tickets to The Lord of the Rings Symphony to see it conducted by Howard Shore himself. I can offer naught but praise for such an excellent performance of what is perhaps Shore’s masterpiece; without doubt one of the most important symphonic works of our time. It is not often that a film score creates such an enduring impact. It is even rarer that a film score can detach itself from the film and stand alone as its own art. If this is not a testament to the power of the score, I know not what is. I myself know that I am a happier and healthier person for having been there.
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