Author: SB

Perpetually dissatisfied with the contents of my sock drawer.

Toward something

Strangely enough, some questions seem to be largely neglected in a program ostensibly focused on theology and art:

  • The perennial, controversial, probably unanswerable (but still important) question: “What Is Art?”
  • Related, what is entertainment, and what is its relation/contrast to art?
  • What should be the goal, or goals, of art from a Christian perspective? (N.B.: there is a big difference between art by Christians and Christian art; the former has a long and venerable history, the latter usually stinks)
  • How can art (or any other vocation, for that matter) speak about the kingdom of God? How can art speak peace to violence, justice to oppression, love to hate, hope to despair?
  • In a spiritual/moral sense, what is good art as compared to bad art? Can we safely speak of good and bad art or entertainment with regard to the contrasts of the previous question (maybe also taking Philippians 4:8 as a guide)?
  • Is there a valid application of those same criteria with regard to aesthetics?
  • From a practical point of view, what does it mean to think about art “theologically?” How would this actually play out in the artistic process/product?
  • Regarding the last question, is this even possible in non-representational art (i.e., music in my case)? Without recourse to descriptive titles or program notes, can music (the musical artifact, the sound) be theological?

There are, I am quite sure, many more questions in queue with these. I am bothered that I don’t think I’ve had a serious discussion about them in any official capacity as part of my program in “Theology and the Arts” here at school. For some of them I have impressions of answers, for some rather strong feelings, and for others I have no clue; but what I think hardly matters if it is based mostly in personal opinion–informed or not. These need to be delved into, lived with, discussed. I haven’t been posting much lately with the work load pressing on me as it is, but hopefully I’ll occasionally be able to make time to explore some of these questions here at new mus(ings)ic, since that’s right in line with what I always intended to write about anyway (it certainly wasn’t intended to be primarily a theology blog, which is kind of what it’s been lately).

P.S. I’ve been updating my real website off and on for the last few days, adding little bits and reformatting others. There is a lot of work left to do, but feel free to check it out. I’m particularly proud of having finally integrated a music player, rather than just having links to mp3s for people to download.

Notes and words

So I sat down in earnest today to compose, working on the Mass setting I mentioned a couple of posts back. I had a few loose sketches and ideas already, and am quite pleased that tonight I was able to complete two versions of the Kyrie (I know, I know: there are three words in it; all the same…). I also got a good start on the Gloria, confirmed which text I’m using (the 1962 English translation of the Tridentine Mass), and hammered out my harmonic scheme for the work overall. I’m happy, given my nervousness over the project due to my lack of time to compose regularly… I was afraid I was too rusty to get anything done. Earnest Newman’s famous quotation comes to mind: “The great composer does not set to work because he is inspired, but becomes inspired because he is working.” Not that I’d call myself a great composer, but it really is in getting to work that the “art” of it comes. I guess that’s why people call it “artwork.”

The idea behind this Mass, by the way, is new for me. I’m attempting to involve the congregation in the music without overwhelming them. I tend to like dissonance and rhythmic complexity and such, so this takes a very intentional approach from me to make happen. So far, so good, I think. Rather than writing for a large ensemble (as is strangely typical of Masses, despite most churches having an organ at best), the accompaniment I’m using is a single melodic line, playable on any instrument capable of the notes–so organ, flute, violin, guitar, bassoon, accordion, xylophone… whatever is available. The text is sung (thus far, at least) in a call-and-response manner, heavy on the repetition for the non-music-readers, between a cantor/choir/soloist and the congregation/choir. I’m going to be regularly running it past non-composer types to make sure I’m not imagining some super-musical church congregation, but even if it did end up largely out of reach for most non-musicians, it will certainly be easily accessible for choirs.

I’m just glad to be getting my hands dirty with the music again…

A joke.

Scene: The Soviet Union. A hotel room for four with four strangers.

Three of them soon open a bottle of vodka and proceed to get acquainted, then drunk, then noisy, singing and telling political jokes. The fourth one desperately tries to get some sleep; finally, frustrated, he surreptitiously leaves the room, goes downstairs, and asks the lady concierge to bring tea to Room 67 in ten minutes. Then he returns and joins the party. Five minutes later, he bends over an ashtray and says with utter nonchalance: “Comrade Major, some tea to Room 67, please.” In a few minutes, there’s a knock at the door, and in comes the lady concierge with a tea tray. The room falls silent; the party dies a sudden death, and the conspirator finally gets to sleep. The next morning he wakes up alone in the room. Surprised, he runs downstairs and asks the concierge where his neighbors had gone. “Oh, the KGB has arrested them!” she answers. “B-but… but what about me?” asks the guy in terror. “Oh, well, they decided to let you go. You made Comrade Major laugh a lot with your tea joke.”

(from Wikipedia)