In my daily life, I listen to a lot of music. I do this primarily because I love – have always loved – listening to music. However, that is not the only reason I listen. I also listen in order to understand the ways in which various artists employ the five basic elements of music – melody, rhythm, tone color, harmony, and form – to further their artistic goals.
As I broaden my musical horizons, I begin to see patterns - commonalities - in the way people combine these elements, whether the composition in question is 200 years or 2 days old. There are certain things expected of a composer regarding how musical ideas are presented and developed, stated and repeated that remain constant in almost all music. Music for which these expectations are not met is either intentionally contrarian or the product of a lack of skill in dealing with musical subjects.
You may be thinking that I am referring to atonal music, noise music and the like in that last statement, but I am not. These musics, like any others, obey the rules of form and treat their subjects with the same reverence as any other sort of music. I made this mistake once - I remember hearing snippets of Penderecki's famous "Threnody" and dismissing it as formless noise music. It was only when I heard the piece in its full, ten minute form that I understood it as I understood any other piece of music.
It is a curious thing then, given this universality of form among compositions, that certain compositions can still strike me as transcendent. When I examine these compositions further, I am always amazed by how consistently it is precisely the way in which they alternately fulfill and subvert the rules of form and composition that excites me. A purely theoretical example: when a return to the first theme of a piece is expected, a quick flourish introducing a short melodic variation on the second theme surprises and delights, but would be disorienting if it were not followed by the expected return to the first theme. This is what I think of as Great Art.
I have had conversations with people who believe that Great Art should be understandable and recognizable by all people. I disagree. The fact is that people are not able to understand a piece of art in the fullest sense until they understand, through experience, the ways in which the expectations of the craft have been fulfilled and/or subverted.
I will give an example. Suppose I had never seen a movie, or any sort of video narrative. Given that fact, wouldn't I be quick to proclaim any sort of half-decent film as truly transcendent art upon first viewing? The problem is that I am not acquainted with the history of film, and therefore do not recognize any of the various cinematic and storytelling devices used or not used in the film. What makes Great Art great is how it exists within its lexicon, as outside of a particular lexicon there are no standards by which it can be objectively judged.
While I don't believe in truly universal art, I understand where the perspective comes from. Most of you reading this are well acquainted with American culture, and therefore many of us have experienced a good portion of the same art. This gives us similar perceptions of what expectations said art should fulfill. Therefore, we end up heaping acclaim upon many similar things. This might lead us to believe that our collectively favorite pieces of art have complete universal appeal, when in fact our mutual admiration of it is more of a comment on our own similarities than any universality inherent in the art.
Universal art would need to mean the same thing to anyone, from any place, from any period of time since the invention of art. When the requirements of universal art are stated this way, we clearly see the impossibility. Language barriers are the most obvious obstacle. As lovely a piece of prose as this article is, only a select group of humans throughout history could make any sense of it. Even perceptions of human beauty, one of the things we would most expect to tie us all together, have changed over time.
Since Great Art is not universal, how much more should we strive to learn the tenets of our respective cultures' art forms, that we might become more cognizant of the nuance and beauty contained within the minds of our fellow human beings? That, my friends, is truly the purpose of Great Art.
I think that we agree, but I would like to state that Great Art should work on all levels, within the culture for which it is intended. That is, everyone should be *able* to get something out of it, regardless of their level of expertise, although not everyone might enjoy it. However, that also means that there should be nuances that reward deeper subject mastery.
ReplyDeleteFor example, let us consider what I think is clearly the best movie of the past decade, which is either Inception or The Dark Knight, I cannot really decide. However, they both have some things in common, perhaps most importantly both work very well simply as movies, the have engrossing plots solidly represented by the actors (The Dark Knight might have an edge here as Heath Ledger's performance was absolutely phenomenal!), so they should appeal to people on the most basic level as movies qua movies. However, both also have amazingly strong philosophical undertones, with Inception tackling the epistomological question of what it means to know something and The Dark Knight presenting an interesting picture of "human nature," and even reprising The Prisoner Dilemma, actually using a boatload of prisoners!!! These are nuances which make me appreciate the movies more, given my intellectual background. I also hear that Inception does some really interesting things with the soundtrack, but that isn't entirely my bailiwick. Anyway, I appreciate the artistry of your post, on whatever level I am able, and I thank you for such an interesting topic!