For the Total Artistic Experience…

Did I hear Rothko? Did I hear Retrospective? Did I fly to Paris?

Yes, times three.

(There’s magic in off-season fares, and friends with sofa-beds!)

I’m so color-obsessed I actually got out of bed early (ouch!) and made my way to the far edge of Paris to see paintings by Rothko—a master of color, and much else— in person. (I hereby give thanks to the Fondation Louis Vuitton for this splendid opportunity—never before have obscenely-priced handbags seemed so…justifiable!)

I was expecting a huge hit of COLOR; I was expecting to steep my eyeballs in his stacked threesomes of color-blocking; I was expecting genius.

What I got was: all that, PLUS a total artistic experience, a visual delight that developed over time, as if “listening” to visual “music”. The human brain cannot truly see these (or other) masterpieces in a brief glimpse, or even a lingering glance. It requires a good stretch of time to soak it all in, to feel the colors and shapes vibrating and pulsating, forward and back, drawing you into some other dimension. Details become prominent, then recede into the whole.

What I also got was: a “compendium” of great art across the ages. Not an art lesson, but covert references to what justifies mankind’s presence (so often nefarious) on our small "blue marble”: Chinese calligraphy, Turner’s skies, Homer’s seascapes, Rembrandt’s monumentality, Rembrandt’s dark depths, the patina on a Roman terra cotta wall, the rain depicted in Japanese ukiyo-e woodblocks that in turn inspired van Gogh, Mondrian’s grids, Breughel’s hellscapes…

All these, and even more, to my way of thinking, were assimilated by Rothko, as he transformed them—more magic!—into his undeniably original oeuvre.

So why was I so blown away to see Rothko’s work up close and personal? I mean, his paintings and his powerful use of color were already familiar to me…

Because art simply cannot be REPRODUCED, it must be experienced.

Ah, you might say: if only you had a book that was not A4 or A3 size, but as large as Rothko’s paintings—often something like 2 meters by 3 meters—then they would reproduce.

No, they would not.

There are too many details of texture, sheen, opacity, and optics in Rothko’s originals. Simulate, yes, equal…no. The layering of colors, the brushwork, the splotches, the evidence of spontaneity, the sheer physicality of large paintings—all this and much more just do not translate to the printed page.

And guess what? You simply cannot REPRODUCE music, either!

Ah, you might say: if only you had a very, very good stereo! It is as if (I emphasize your “as if”) the performers are there in the room!

No, it is not.

Because each performance is as unique as a painting. It is always a one-off. Your stereo system (and I was extremely lucky to receive a great system recently as a present, and am enjoying it tremendously) will at best “perform” a facsimile of ONE version of said performer playing said work of music. Over and over. This may be an extremely good version, ideal, even, but artists evolve. Artists are flighty. Unpredictable. Spontaneous. (And when they aim for consistency—as in most orchestra jobs, dare I say—some kind of death is often the result). And I will leave the question of “embodiment" for another essay…

Don’t box us in!

(And don’t pay Spotify to stream us, either! I recently learned that the owner of Spotify earned more in 2022 or 2023 than ALL THE MUSICIANS WHOSE PERFORMANCES SPOTIFY DISTRIBUTES PUT TOGETHER. Cogitate upon THAT, as my dear high school physics teacher, Mr. Cooper, RIP, would say).

Please don’t go to concerts hoping for the perfected balance of a CD unless you are willing to hear a stale performance! Don’t go to a concert to count “clams” (wrong notes). They are the price of being alive as an artist.

Go to a live concert to witness a one-off, to be part of the experience, to see musicians “decorating the passage of time”, as my Chinese friend XD explained once.

The pandemic took a bite out of the concert-going public. We need you, we love you. Let us play and be human—I promise it will be worth the trouble! On a good day, you might come upon a total artistic experience.

I promise to go to more galleries, museums, and live concerts, too! And I won’t leave it just for my fanciful Paris life; Lisbon is also chock-full of wonderful art and music.

Deal?

P.S. - Please DO still buy my CD!

Abracadabra!… My Word for 2024!

Once in a while, I succumb to the zeitgeist, that is, the thing that is au courant, you know, IN FASHION! Which, in this case, has nothing to do with “fashion” and everything to do with… WORDS!

It’s the “thing” of choosing a Word-of-the-Year. I’m unabashedly all for it! I can tell you already—one day into the new year—that choosing yourself a WOTY is a lotta fun, very revealing (or perhaps self-revealing), uplifting, and so so SO much more useful than a…COLOR of the year.

(For 2024, Pantone has chosen a forlornly insipid orangey-pinky color [do you remember early-1990’s interiors? Oh, gosh, you do—I’m so sorry!!], as if we are already dead from climate change and existential angst, and our Aunt Agatha’s ghost chose this peachy-nightmare color for the velvet lining of our collective coffin…. What I’m trying to say is: I’m NOT HAVING a color of the year, sorry, Pantone. I want ALL the colors—except, as it happens, the one Pantone chose. Sheesh!).

And I’ll have ALL the words, too. Can’t live without ‘em. But one of them will be my special companion and provocateur for 2024.

Yet it’s not just choosing a word—nope, I’m not telling yet—it’s the PROCESS, as usual: contemplate what you need more of, what might inspire you, what might nudge you (shaming words need not apply!) into being happier, better, more interesting, more kind, less lazy (more lazy?)…or all of these together.

I spent a day or two with several contenders: “restore” - as in, restore energy, restore the apartment (or at least tidy up a bit, sheesh). “Desire” - as in, choose the things I truly desire—to do, to be; cut to the chase. “Tranquility” - as in, wow, I love the idea so much, so…why am I always crazy running around??

And then, like magic, it came to me: a word that—if you look at it the right way—embraces aspects of all the previous contenders. As in, brings about something special, has a special power, celebrates the invisible, intangible, and/or unpredictable effect. That implies small effort for a large return. Something that suggests the power of “doing nothing”, ease, or simplicity.

And just like that, there was…

Magic.

As a musician, what we do is already, effectively, magic: we touch keys, blow or bow, make sounds, and—BAM—something (possibly everything) shifts. Can you explain to me how that works? No? That’s because it is a form of magic.

All the arts are forms of magic. Literature: someone somewhere at some time writes a story or poem, which changes the life of someone else, unknown to them, somewhere else, possibly centuries later. How does THAT work? Dunno. It’s magic.

To compose, paint, sculpt, write a play or an opera…all involve bringing SOMETHING out of nothing, pulling something out of thin air. I call that magic!

But even in our day-to-day, if we choose to see it this way, is there not an incredible amount of magic going on?

I meet on Zoom with friends and strangers from all over the world, and we create a bond. My dog greets another dog-walker on the street, hoping for biscuits, and five minutes later, I have a new friend. I make up a song with my young students’ names, and they delight in trying to keep the cross-rhythms going, amazed to hear their names turn into music. I put my dirty dishes into a box and push a button, soon they are clean again.

My goal for 2024 is not only to make as much creative magic as I can but to see the magic that is all around us. There are days (I’m not a morning person! I’m not a winter person!) when I truly don’t want to get out of bed—but this year, while I’m lounging, I’ll take note of all the magic of the moment: my cup of tea, the New York Times (tho’ I live in Portugal), the soft sheets, the warm covers, a serendipitous idea materializing, unbidden…

No matter how much of a doozy 2024 turns out to be (NYT predicts…), I’ll lean on my Word-of-the-Year to keep my spirits up. To make 2024 Magical.

Off you go, now, to find your own WOTY. Whichever word you choose, may your 2024 be magical, too!

Art, Humanity and Progress

On my excursion to the North of Portugal, I was finally able to visit the Museum of "Arte Rupestre" (Prehistoric Rock Art) of the Valley of Foz Côa. This remarkable archeological site was discovered during excavations for an eventual dam, that luckily was never built, due to the importance of the site, named as World Patrimony in 1998. I remember all this excitement but had never gotten around to visiting.

Well, what a treasure trove of art! Spanning thousands of years during the Palaeolithic ages, dating as far back as 25,000 years B.C. and encompassing an extended area, the drawings (engravings) show changes in style and technique and are notable for their profusion—like a musical fugue: one drawing overlaps with several others. The archaeological work done in the last 20 years is astounding.

In the Museum—a handsome architectural monument—this quote, from a famous French archaeologist resonated: "The history of art and humanity are indissociable". To be artistic is to be human. The drawings to the left of the quote are from Picasso (1946, far left) and from the Foz Côa rock art (c. 22,000 B.C, near left). With all due respect for Picasso…so much for progress in art! 

From the Museum at Foz Côa