Sunday, March 7, 2010

Creativity: The Relationship Between Music Production and Writing---Ishmael's Reading Response .2

During a poetry workshop, a fellow student announced to the class that my music was reflective of my poetry, that the two were similar in essence. I had thought so myself, but was surprised that someone else could see the connection. It turns out that she is also a writer and a musician, however, so her insight made sense after I gave it more thought; after all, I could say the same thing about her works. That moment brings to mind questions of the relationship between personal composition style across mediums, more specifically, writing and music production.

Frank Zappa, on page 195 of Creators on Creating, talks about composition, any type of composition, and how it’s all about organization. “Just give me some stuff and I’ll organize it for you.” How that stuff or the elements are arranged, the essential style in which they are arranged, is what I believe my classmate saw in both my music and my writing.

The “Project/Object” is a term Zappa uses to describe the overall concept of his work in various mediums. He says: “Each project (in whatever realm), or interview connected to it, is part of a larger object, for which there is no ‘technical name.’” He continues: “Rembrandt got his ‘look’ by mixing a little brown into every other color—he didn’t do “red” unless it had brown in it. The brown itself wasn’t especially fascinating, but the result of its obsessive inclusion was that ‘look.’”

I interpret this to mean something similar to “signature style.” My style bleeds through into whatever medium I’m working in. In music, I tend to play what most people would call off key. The notes sound brilliant to me, however. In writing, I tend to make things a bit more surreal because the beautiful mysteries in life speak of realness to me.

When I create music, I draw inspiration from accidents, oddities and anomalies. The same idea is applied to writing, but translated a bit differently. Stravinsky says on page 192 of Creators on Creating that the faculty of creating goes hand in hand with observation. He notes that familiar things, things that are everywhere, attract a creator’s attention, but that the slightest accident holds the creator’s attention and guides his operations.

He continues:

“One does not contrive an accident: One observes it to draw inspiration therefrom. An accident is perhaps the only thing that really inspires us. A composer improvises aimlessly the way an animal grubs about. Both of them go grubbing about because they yield to a compulsion to seek things out. What urge of the composer is satisfied by this investigation? The rules with which, like a penitent, he is burdened? No: he is in quest of his pleasure. He seeks a satisfaction that he fully knows he will not find without first striving for it.”

These accidents or anomalies I search for are ways to drive the art forward for my own satisfaction. Part of that satisfaction comes from changing the domain, doing something that hasn’t been done (much) before, but I am most satisfied when I achieve a new level of skill or some creative accomplishment for myself, in my own style.

Csikszentmihalyi’s flow experience—a highly focused state of consciousness or complete absorption with the activity at hand—is similar to athletes being ‘in the zone’ or ‘feeling the flow.’ The flow experience or state is “an optimal state of intrinsic motivation, where the person is fully immersed in what he or she is doing.” When I achieve this state, searching for the oddities, the glitches in my surroundings, becomes automatic, more blissful and much more profound.

Zappa says the frame is important in art because it allows one to know where The Art stops and The Real World begins. He says a “box” is needed around the art because, otherwise, what is that shit on the wall? Most people can’t perceive it or “deal with that abstraction.” He then goes on, in a sarcastic way, to “ask the audience to do a bit of work, as opposed to just settling for those tried and trusted familiar sounds.”

I agree that labeling something in the art world, giving it a frame, is helpful, especially for avant garde works. I’m not saying it’s necessary, just helpful. Unless people are cultured to appreciate art (in whatever form), the meaning, or whatever the artist is trying to convey, may be missed.

How something is framed can be just as helpful. It tells the audience not only what to view but how. Again, I don’t believe this should be necessary, but it is helpful if one cares what the audience may think. In writing, calling a prose poem a poem instead of a piece of prose (or vice versa) can be a proverbial light bulb for some people. I’ve seen it. The same with music. Most times, my instrumental music is a blend of styles. But calling a piece hip-hop or electronica or space jazz, surprisingly, changes the way it’s received or understood. For example, if I have a basic kick / kick / snare type beat (take “Rockers to Swallow” by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, for example), I can use that beat in various types of music. Rock, Hip Hop, Pop, etc. I could then layer guitar and keyboard over it and still operate in any of those genres of music. I’m not speaking about vocals at this point, just the instrumental. The way I label it, gives a frame to the audience members who need or want guidance.

1 comment:

  1. interesting what you pull from zappa and how you apply it to your musicality. having a signature and then getting pigeonholed are dangerously linked. expectations from artists come from what they do the first time. so that beat is what may be your signature and voice and authority but might be a rut too. i think that's a common concern for writers, that they just keep writing themselves over and over. but if we "flow" then what ever life gives us, both in terms of growth and inspiration might be reflected in the our work as time goes on.
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