{"id":5119,"date":"2014-02-09T11:07:15","date_gmt":"2014-02-09T09:07:15","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/manofim.org\/harama\/?p=5119"},"modified":"2014-02-09T11:07:15","modified_gmt":"2014-02-09T09:07:15","slug":"the-imaginary-pieces","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/manofim.org\/harama\/the-imaginary-pieces\/","title":{"rendered":"The Imaginary Pieces, Two descriptions"},"content":{"rendered":"<p dir=\"ltr\">March 1998<\/p>\n<p dir=\"ltr\">I started writing the imaginary pieces in 1998.<br \/>\nThey are a long-reach outcome of a debate I had<br \/>\nwith John Cage the final time I consulted with him<br \/>\nin Evanston (in 1992) when I performed<br \/>\nEuropera5 with Yvar Mikhashoff. At the time one<br \/>\nof our students asked John the (transparent)<br \/>\nquestion: what is music? And John responded (after<br \/>\nthe well-versed theatrical pause and the small<br \/>\nwinning smile) it must have something to do with sound.<br \/>\nI (erroneously) postulated that he meant that it<br \/>\nmust have something to do with physical sound. And I<br \/>\ninterrogated him about illusory timbres. Sounds<br \/>\nthat I detect when I conceive of them. These are<br \/>\ncompositions that are actualized in my mind, and<br \/>\nhave no province in the material sphere. This led<br \/>\nme to an abundance of investigations with<br \/>\nutterances that evoke sounds and time.<br \/>\nConsequently I comprehended that the recollection<br \/>\nof music does not tackle continuance, as it seems to<br \/>\nbe perceived in the physical realm. It shrivels time<br \/>\ntowards an individual instant. For example when a<br \/>\nperson pronounces the words \u201cBach Goldberg\u2019s<br \/>\nVariations\u201d I respond with a clear acoustical<br \/>\nmemory, a sound in my mind, which is an<br \/>\nencapsulation of the whole piece with the passage<br \/>\nof time embedded in it. It is not just the label of the<br \/>\nname of the piece, but an allusion that embraces<br \/>\ntime and the music\u2019s advancement in it. I attempted<br \/>\nshaping such moments in my music, individual<br \/>\ninstants that were designed to elicit the<br \/>\ncontinuousness of time. Recent pieces present an<br \/>\neffort to invent a composition that in each and<br \/>\nevery moment depicts its whole.<br \/>\nThis year I adopted a changed route, fabricating<br \/>\npieces that transpire only in the audience\u2019s mind.<br \/>\nThey have no physical attributes. Each has<br \/>\ndisparate explicit directions of how it should be<br \/>\npresented: some are executed while other music is<br \/>\nbeing played and others in silence. A piece is<br \/>\ninvariably performed by providing every member<br \/>\nof the audience with a reproduction of the score, to<br \/>\nbe read in silence without an origination of any<br \/>\nphysical sounds.<br \/>\nWhen writing these pieces I unraveled new<br \/>\nthings; about time propelling backwards (it is not<br \/>\nsymmetrical to the motion forward), and about the<br \/>\nperceived and determined beauty of sounds, and<br \/>\nmost of all about our agreements as audience<br \/>\nmembers about what it is that we listened to.<\/p>\n<p dir=\"ltr\">A new Description \u2010 Feb 15, 2009.<\/p>\n<p dir=\"ltr\">The interest in text pieces came about from two directions. I started writing text scores<br \/>\nfor improvisation ensembles in 1988 when working on Nautilus a collaboration of live<br \/>\ndance\/video\/music at SF State University. These pieces use texts to convey instructions<br \/>\nto musicians, and are made of language taken from the traditional discourse of westernculture<br \/>\nmusicians. The most useful feature that came out of this<br \/>\npieces\/process\/research was that I found out that I could specify time in the score in a<br \/>\nnon\u2010linear way. For example consider the instruction \u201cstart by playing this melody and<br \/>\ncontinue improvising on it on and off for the next few minutes, when you are not<br \/>\nimprovising you may whistle a tune or dance a jig\u201d (this is not a quote from a specific<br \/>\npiece but a useful example.) In this example the discourse is one of western\u2010musicians \u2010<br \/>\n\u201cmelody, improvising, tune, jig\u201d are all words that have specific meanings in this<br \/>\ndiscourse. But Time, in this example, is flexible, i.e. the composer doesn\u2019t know how<br \/>\nlong this section of the piece would be (\u201cfew minutes,\u201d) and also non\u2010linear. The text<br \/>\ndescribes the action for the full length of the section (\u201con and off for a few minutes,\u201d)<br \/>\nand then goes back in time to fill, with new sounds or actions, the holes that were left in<br \/>\ntime.<br \/>\nThe second direction, which led me to a new and different type of text pieces, is based<br \/>\non a response that John Cage made in one of our classes at Northwestern University to<br \/>\nthe question \u201cwhat is music?\u201d To which he responded, \u201cit must have something to do<br \/>\nwith sound.\u201d It took me several years to ponder this statement, and discover that what<br \/>\nmade me uncomfortable about it was my interpretation that sound is a literal physical<br \/>\nentity, but the other aspect of \u201csound\u201d the imaginary one, the one we can recalled in<br \/>\nour mind without any physical sensation, I treated as a separate entity. This started a<br \/>\nprocess of compositional activity that I group under the heading \u201cimaginary pieces.\u201d The<br \/>\nlistener in her\/his mind without any physical sensation creates these pieces. The<br \/>\ndiscourse here uses the English language within its normal day\u2010today use, and,<br \/>\nimportantly, within the bounds of western culture. So images like \u201cthe beeping sound of<br \/>\na life support system\u201d are used to evoke a sound, which, it is assumed, is familiar to any<br \/>\nTV watching western culture based audience and is quite precise in its sound contents.<br \/>\nAnd when the image \u201ca flute like pretty melody,\u201d is used, it is intended to evoke a less<br \/>\ndetermined sound but one that we, participants in Western Culture, know many things<br \/>\nabout its sound contour. Composing in the mind of the audience entails, I believe,<br \/>\ndescribing the sounds in words, so the choice of language and the determination of its<br \/>\ncultural context are imperative. And, obviously, this encourages the translations of the<br \/>\ntext to the language of the local of the performance. Since I believe that most<br \/>\nperformances of the pieces happen on\u2010line, English seemed to be the most appropriate<br \/>\nand relevant choice.<br \/>\nThe term \u201cdiscourse\u201d, rather then \u201cperformance practice,\u201d is chosen because<br \/>\n\u201cDiscourse\u201d within our academic\/artistic discourse clearly identifies cultural context and<br \/>\nsocial structures as components of the discussion; on the other hand, the term<br \/>\n\u201cperformance practice\u201d is placed within musicians\u2019 discourse and seems to make these<br \/>\ntwo distinctions blurry. \u201cPerformance Practice\u201d refers to a body of knowledge that a<br \/>\nmusician performing a piece uses, \u201cDiscourse\u201d encompasses both that discussion and<br \/>\nalso the body of knowledge that the audience employs when it listens to a piece of<br \/>\nmusic or is involved in the performance of music.<br \/>\nI found two very powerful tools in this discourse. The first is that it provided me with the<br \/>\nability to mix ugly sounds with beautiful ones without having the \u201cugliness\u201d become an<br \/>\nissue of discussion between the composer and the audience. If asked to imagine \u201cugly\u201d<br \/>\nsounds an audience member will choose a sound that is appropriately ugly for her\/him.<br \/>\nThe second tool is derived from the ability to choose words according to how they<br \/>\nsound and place them next to each other to create rhythmic patterns; this is obvious<br \/>\nand elementary in the discourse of poets. \u201cThis sound is tremendously slow,<br \/>\ntremendously slow,\u201d attempts to convey the sound by using the sound of the \u201cs\u201d and<br \/>\nmakes an effort to influence the rhythm by repeating the words. This, as in poetry, may<br \/>\nget lost in a translation, so the use of it is limited.<br \/>\nIn the imaginary pieces the audience is provided with a sheet of paper on which the text<br \/>\nis printed, and given a certain time to read the text and play the sound in their head.<br \/>\nThe notation and layout is important as it does imply certain musical elements. Size of<br \/>\nwords and the distance between them are, it is assume, translated into accents and<br \/>\nspaces in time in the imaginary music. There was a suggestion that I project the text one<br \/>\nline at a time, gaining more control of the time process, and the unfolding of the piece<br \/>\nin the mind. I may do a piece like that in the future (perhaps very soon,) but I found that<br \/>\nidea problematic for the older pieces, significantly because the flexibility of non\u2010linear<br \/>\ntime may be lost. For example a sentence such as \u201cearlier a melody sung by an old<br \/>\nfemale Arab voice started but it just now became noticeable,\u201d may lose the power it has<br \/>\nof moving backwards in time. If time is explicit as it is when the line appears in the<br \/>\nprojection in a pre\u2010specified moment, the conviction that we moved backwards in time<br \/>\nmay be lost. But, as I said, this new idea has my interest, and it does seem to solve one<br \/>\nproblem that the text pieces have: that descriptions of time of different durations are<br \/>\nread at equal duration. For example, \u201cthe low timbre becomes louder very slowly, \u201c and<br \/>\n\u201cthe high sound becomes softer very quickly,\u201d take the same amount of time to read,<br \/>\nbut should take different lengths of time to play in one\u2019s head.<br \/>\nAs I am writing this I am reading Oliver Sachs\u2019 book Musicophilia. It\u2019s a wonderful<br \/>\namazing book that summarizes the current research on how the brain processes music,<br \/>\nsound, and the memory of music. There is abundant evidence that the ability to imagine<br \/>\nmusic and sound is very common to all of us, and the ability to create new music in the<br \/>\nmind, one that is based on memories of music, is also common. My imaginary pieces, in<br \/>\nthis context, seem very obvious, and not at all radical or unusual.<br \/>\nThe imaginary pieces present an expression of another one of my interests, that of<br \/>\naudience\/performer\/composer interactions. For many years I\u2019ve struggled with the role<br \/>\nof the audience and their placement in the physical world of music representation, and<br \/>\nhow it influences the music itself. There are many different issues that arise in this<br \/>\ndiscussion. One of the firsts that comes to my mind is that of the traditional concert<br \/>\nsetting where the audience comprises of a trapped group of like\u2010minded individuals<br \/>\nattached to their seats for the duration of the music. In any live music concert the<br \/>\naudience is identified as a group of equal members, equal in that they are all there for<br \/>\nthe same reason \u2010 to listen to the music. This can be, and is, sometime translated to<br \/>\nmean that they are also going through an identical, and mutual experience, and that<br \/>\neveryone hears the music in the same way. This is the basis of, for example, music<br \/>\ncriticism, where the critic is responding to a performance, which it is assumed, all<br \/>\nattending heard in the same fashion. This is a notion that I reject, many times I came out<br \/>\nof a concert and while attempting to describe to my friends what it is I heard, I<br \/>\ndiscovered that they heard something else altogether. In the classical music world the<br \/>\nsituation are even more restrictive, the audience is placed in such a way (with the<br \/>\nlights are on,) which makes leaving the hall in the middle of a piece close to impossible.<br \/>\nObviously it is a choice that they made responsibly in advance, but can people not<br \/>\nchange their minds?<br \/>\nBut Perhaps the most significant question that arises, for me, as an aspect of the<br \/>\ntraditional placement of the audience, is that the sound we hear as musicians is so<br \/>\ndifferent to the one the audience hears. When one is on stage, for example in the<br \/>\norchestra, the choir, or next to a single pianist, the sound one hears is much richer (to<br \/>\nmy mind,) and all engulfing then any sound projected to the audience sitting in the<br \/>\nauditorium and hearing the music either directly or through audio speakers. How do you<br \/>\nget the audience to move among the performers, to feel free to move in and out of the<br \/>\nspace, and to get a sense that their experience is both individual and collective are<br \/>\nquestions that I tried to solve to varying success in different pieces (The Andy Warhol<br \/>\nDiaries, NU Piece, Cruising Prohibited When Lights Flashing) in the installations (the<br \/>\nSpeakers Suit, The Speakers Army Jacket, Attention Step,) and in the imaginary pieces. In<br \/>\nthe imaginary pieces the individual and private is expressed and emphasized, the<br \/>\naudience member is the performer. The total experience and the sounds created to<br \/>\nrepresent it are clearly individual, and it is the commonality of the experience that is<br \/>\nuncertain and may be discussed. The freedom of the choice of involvement with the<br \/>\npiece is held exclusively within the purgative of the listener\/performer.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>1998-2009, \u05d8\u05e7\u05e1\u05d8<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/manofim.org\/harama\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5119"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/manofim.org\/harama\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/manofim.org\/harama\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/manofim.org\/harama\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/manofim.org\/harama\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5119"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/manofim.org\/harama\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5119\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5137,"href":"https:\/\/manofim.org\/harama\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5119\/revisions\/5137"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/manofim.org\/harama\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5119"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/manofim.org\/harama\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5119"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/manofim.org\/harama\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5119"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}