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strategizing in the shadow of a giant
Yesterday I had the pleasure of attending a colloquium @ Monmouth College given by Ian Moschenross, concerning the romantic style traits of composer Robert Schumann (1810-1856). What I learned applied fairly directly to painting (and many other things, no doubt!) so I'm sharing. (This is if I can get my fingers warm enough to type. It is really, really cold in my part of Illinois today.)

R. Schumann's problem was a familiar one. He was working in the shadow of a giant, Beethoven.

Beethoven was sort of the ultimate romantic artist who defined what it means to be an artist in the romantic tradition, which is still so enormously compelling. By the end of his life he was writing music that was so demanding of the performer as to be physically unplayable-- he didn't care. He wrote music that had no regard for the sensibilities of the audience-- he didn't care. He was sick and old and poor and cold and isolated and deaf and outcast and sort of expected to go and throw himself off a bridge, but he didn't; he passed over suicide in order to keep on a day at a time writing music that still passes understanding.

Under Beethoven's watch, music turns inward to focus on the artist, as a medium or mystic. Music is no longer entertainment. The artist is indifferent to the audience and the performer, and the artwork may well be incomprehensible. This is an aesthetic in which an audience is privileged to overhear the inner workings of the artist.

How is anyone supposed to follow that?

Beethoven's suffocating dominance meant that everyone unfortunate enough to be working after he did was born into one primary and overwhelming problem-- how not to be derivative.

So. I identify, and not because I'm wilting in the shade of some modernist painter. (I was born into a complex art world late enough to be free of that.)

My giant is the amazing and overwhelming internet, how I can know so much about what so many intensely talented, hardworking and smart painters all around the world are doing right now, what they did last week, what they did last year. They can collectivise in my head. It can seem as if constantly and instantly thousands of artists are producing thousands of tight, compelling, mature bodies of work.

(I think part of my love for art blogs, ones where artists really share, is how when followed over the years they reveal the element of blind scramble behind the production of such work-- all the wrong turns and false starts and dead ends. If you keep one-- thank you!)

Anyway, back to R. Schumann and how he coped/worked in the shadow. This is what R. Schumann did.

1) He used quotes. R. Schumann directly acknowledged Beethoven by quoting him. He imported brief motifs from Beethoven that would have been instantly recognized by the audience, and developed larger works around them.

2) Made use of literary references. R. Schumann read deeply and created musical works based on literature of the time that impacted him. He found ways to express literary characters and structures in music.

3) Multiple personalities. As was not unheard of at the time, R. Schumann recognized and named different aspects of himself. He allowed these different aspects to compose (and signed the movements with their names). He wrote movements that served primarily to introduce these alternate personalities, and titled the movements with their names. He kept a journal in which the differing personalities made individual entries.

4) Deployed the Esoteric. R. Schumann used secret codes in his work, assigning particular notes to reference meaningful things/people/places. These secret coded references, inaudible to an audience, are noted in the musical scores for the performers and the scholars. He used these codes to drive compositions. The esoteric elements created distance between the artist and the audience. (The distance creates room for an enthusiast to be active, to grow in appreciation via learning.)

5) Technical innovation. Schumann was quick to make use of technological improvements and aggressively explored the limits and quirks of musical instruments (eg. the generation of harmonics with pianos). The limits and quirks of the available materials revealed opportunities.

6) Rhythmic ambiguity and obsessiveness. Schumann liked to put his audience off-center with rhythms that first present as deeply familiar and then morph or uncloak. He also liked to work a simple rhythm for pages and pages and pages, allowing it to provide coherence through the piece across time.

7) Self-quotation. R. Schumann quoted himself within and across his own works. These self-quotes were inside jokes or rewards for his inner circle. Fragmentary reminiscences of his own work within his own work create richness and layers, as the audience listens and is simultaneously reminded of previous listening.

It isn't hard to look around and find people in all kinds of mediums and disciplines who use one or some of these strategies. Most of these strategies weren't entirely new to me, and some few of them I've worked and worked and worked. I'd like a couple more!

It's good to learn how people in the past working in different mediums strategized similarly, yet with such diverse creative outcomes. We are all across time rowing by ourselves in the same boat. Or something. :)

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From: wrinklegrin Date: December 8th, 2006 12:14 am (UTC) (Link)
"Multiple personalities. As was not unheard of at the time, R. Schumann recognized and named different aspects of himself. He allowed these different aspects to compose (and signed the movements with their names). He wrote movements that served primarily to introduce these alternate personalities, and titled the movements with their names. He kept a journal in which the differing personalities made individual entries."

I am loving this idea. I can totally see how it would be liberating in allowing one person to really, really explore different styles of work without having them get in the way of each other.
angiereedgarner From: angiereedgarner Date: December 16th, 2006 11:48 pm (UTC) (Link)
I love it too.

I think what I don't like about it is that there is a difference between developing and enriching an alternate sense of oneself by choice and having a (unchosen) multiple nature. Apples and elephants! Thank you for commenting.
wickedgillie From: wickedgillie Date: December 16th, 2006 09:40 pm (UTC) (Link)
I think Schumann must be on the collective brain, since I just heard a conversation on the radio the other day about RS being bi-polar, and the debate over whether medication might have saved his life, thereby giving him an opportunity to create a larger body of work, or whether this would have compromised his artistic genius and killed his muse. Regardless of the media, it's an interesting debate for any artist facing mental health issues.
angiereedgarner From: angiereedgarner Date: December 16th, 2006 11:50 pm (UTC) (Link)
I think bipolar and creativity are on the collective brain for sure-- these same kinds of questions came up in the academic colloquium I attended. I couldn't believe the questions were serious and imagined the person asking them had no life experience with bipolar.

I personally get both tired and offended-- I'm really clear that mental illness is a problem for creativity as it is for any other kind of human functionality. I don't think it gives us anything, it only takes.

Which doesn't mean that people don't make amazing art relating to experiences of adversity, they do. But impaired functioning does not make someone magically able to produce in the studio. People with bipolar aren't creating when they are hallucinating and out of control and injuring themselves and others.

I think there is kind of a collective, sick thing going on by which working productive artists are treated as "other"-- insane, not like "us"-- as that against which normal people get to define (and excuse) themselves.

All we truly don't need is the kids (or adults who should know better) trashing their heads thinking it will make them more creative, yanno? And I get tired of people basically asking me if MY creative work comes from some aspect of Teh CRAZY. At this point I tell them I do not have to be crazy to paint, but there are some aspects of being a professional artist that could make anyone crazy. And I give them the Look. :)

An amazing artist friend, Kate Sedgwick, is about to debut a body of work dealing exactly with her breakdown and hospitalization for bipolar. It is amazing work. And she didn't do it while her bipolar was unmanaged-- it took her ~years~ to be able to make art about it. She send me images of her stuff so I can blog it, and maybe this rant will get refashioned into a post of some sort. A less ranty one maybe!

Bless you for your comment, I needed to get to this issue and I know I took a pass on it with this post. I've just had a short fuse re people thinking mental illness causes creativity.
wickedgillie From: wickedgillie Date: December 17th, 2006 12:20 am (UTC) (Link)
I really like where you went with the original post. It definitely made me think about my personal iconography, inside jokes, and the ways I "converse" with my art history background.

As to your rant, I'm interested to where the tide takes it!

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