A Bear, Poked

In Defense of the Arts

Ok. So, a friend posted a link to a column from the Daily Texan, the student newspaper at the University of Texas at Austin. The author of the column views arts education in the university setting as a pointless indulgence for the less-talented artists in the world. There is a host of offensive assumptions, insinuations, and obvious ignorance in the original column, but I will let you respond as you will, if you care to read it here.

I could have quoted Churchill, or spoken of the immeasurable ways that the arts transform ours from a society into a culture, but instead, I chose something that I feel is in my sweet spot: satire. Borrowed satire, courtesy of Thomas Swift. I am fairly certain that if my response is published, there will be an equally impassioned response in defense of athletic programs. Hopefully people will “get” it, so that can be avoided.

A Modest Proposal for Quazians: The Questionable Value of Athletic Programs

There is no question that the recent economic downturn has caused state and federal legislatures, as well as the public universities dependent upon funding from those bodies, to reevaluate the allocation of taxpayer money within institutions of higher learning. This has led to a spate of productivity studies, departmental cuts, and presumably the declaration of loyalty oaths. In this environment of uncertainty, I would strongly encourage UT administrators to take a hard look at our athletic programs. Students should also ask themselves whether such programs can lead to stable careers or if they are frivolous gambits with no bearing on the real economy.

(At this point, I would cite the words of some luminary in the field that I am attacking, attempting to insinuate that this somehow constitutes the construction of a logical, persuasive argument, but I have a long and well-documented aversion to quotation and won’t sully that here, as I consider it part of my accursed creative mind that I am not reliant upon the bon mots of others to communicate my thoughts. This desire for independence is surely the shame of my arts education made manifest.) Parents of school children often adamantly defend school athletic programs. These athletic supporters argue that such activities encourage social development, the ability to work with others toward a common goal, the mastery of physical skills, and a sense of collective identity. And I agree with that, though it may verge on communistic ideals.

These aims, however, ought no longer to be the concern of a university. An undergraduate student who has completed his or her high school education has already developed those skills and habits as well as the necessary submissiveness to peer pressure and group dynamics. If they have not, they have no place here because they are not one of us, likely a sociopath, and ripe for dispatch upon an ice floe. UT attempts to provide students with an education, regardless of their major or sport. It should be noted that athleticism isn’t the sole province of team and individual sports. Prodigies in law, computer science, medicine, and other fields likely to elicit great pride from one’s parents alike have made time to participate in sports on a competitive or casual basis, to say nothing of the countless sea of “runners”, “cyclists”, and “unicorns” who also sacrifice their time and energy for the sake of physical health. By the way, even mediocre non-athletes have been reported to engage in these activities.

(This is the point at which I would make sweeping claims about what options are available to elite student-athletes, though I have no idea what I am talking about. I would argue that they are expensive alternatives to the hyper-affordability of a UT education, and that the best of these athletes really ought to be there instead of sapping the marrow from the already wizened bones of the university budget. Again, let me reiterate that I would make all of these points without bothering to consider my own lack of knowledge in this field.)

I recognize that proposing the elimination of athletics programs might come across as harsh – even unfair – as it would leave affluent season ticketholders and corporate sponsors with a much freer social calendar. But sports have traditionally been the domain of the poorer classes anyway. Clearly, our current handling of the situation is cultivating an ongoing athlete mill that does not pay heed to the absence of employment opportunities post-graduation. In short: although athletic competition enriches our national culture, it makes not material contribution to the nation’s economy.

This anxiety is not my own, as it is expressed clearly by the most esteemed governing body of student-athletes. According to the National Collegiate Athletic Association:

1.2 percent of NCAA male senior basketball players will be drafted by a team in the NBA

0.9 percent of NCAA female senior basketball players will be drafted by a team in the WNBA

1.7 percent of NCAA senior football players will be drafted by a team in the NFL

8.9 percent of NCAA senior male baseball players will be drafted by a team in MLB

(I could go on to note the lack of durability in any of these careers, the rate at which drafted players are cut, or the virtual poverty that baseball players endure in the minor leagues as they pursue their dream, but I won’t.)

But facts are pesky and only get in the way of the deeper truths. It would be a tragedy if talented and highly motivated athletes stopped throwing themselves wholeheartedly into their dreams simply due to the nearly comic futility of pursuing them to their logical conclusion.

Only the most devout ostriches among us could continue to proceed unaware of the cost of a college education. A practical, sensible student (such as we should all aspire to be) must tailor (though not actual tailoring, because that is too artsy) his or her studies to maximize ROI. (Remember, there is nothing in life more important than money, and all of our efforts should be in pursuit of more money. Praise money.) If a student cannot be shaken from the inexplicable desire to travel across the country to compete in the midst of their academic studies, let them take heart that they are absolutely entitled to the misallocation of their own resources. Despite this, as an institution funded by taxpayer dollars and the support of donors interested only in the promotion of broader economic success for the university and its students, UT should inquire as to whether Texans feel that their hard-earned (not inherited, gained through good fortune, or acquired through questionable business practices – never, never, never) should continue to support these misbegotten student journeys.

The Longhorn Network notwithstanding, the University of Texas at Austin and other public universities are deeply committed to the greater good. Their principal responsibility, though, is to foster academic success and to guide students toward immediate and unerring integration into the job market so as to facilitate economic productivity. As they consider whether the budgets of athletic programs should be cut, UT must assess the extent to which these programs are helping students achieve their career goals.

Updates:

My friend Lane Harder has written this forceful and on point response, including a challenge to public debate. He does, it appears, demand satisfaction.

 

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Narrating a Meta-Narrative

Words ‘N Music

Progress is being made on the dissertation. Slowly, surely. I’ve developed a much clearer sense of the overall form, as well as the structure of subsections within each larger portion of the work, and today I’ve begun to chip away at the narration. It’s an interesting challenge, because I’m not really crafting a concrete narrative of a particular character or group of characters. Instead, the narrative function of the piece is that of a meta-narrative, effectively insinuating myth or folklore, except without the benefit of a buffer created by implausibility, royalty, and other -ty. That may be a harsh way to characterize it, but I don’t know too many people who would swear by the historical accuracy of The Ring (Wagner, not horror).

This is still an early draft, and I’m still a long way from having a keen idea of what will or won’t work within this context, but the following comes at the conclusion of the children’s war games, the first macro section of the piece. The bolded portion will be sung, and there will be a lullaby along with/underneath the narration. This subsection is currently allotted about one minute.

“Children! Children! Come home, it’s getting dark!”

And with that, the soldiers were made boys again. Each stared at his enemy, and, after a silent, ocular negotiation of armistice, burst into a giddy sort of laughter – the kind of laughter that follows a fight the origin of which has been forgotten somewhere on the distant side of dawn. They sprinted homeward, for they had been called by love, frantically hoping to remain ahead of the darkness that tightened its grip on the land with each stride.

 

Posted in Dissertation | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Church Tower in Bethune, France

I’ve been reading a ton of letters and diaries, and it is proving to be every bit as engaging, upsetting, and difficult as I had imagined. In Lionel Sotheby’s Great War, we catch a very interesting and different perspective. By this point, early in the text, he has expressed tremendous admiration for the German nation, culture, and people. This is from the February 2, 1915 entry:

I should just like to mention the fact that I visited the very old church. It is most beautiful and must be most aged, perhaps the 13th century. Its tower is massive and very thick standing close on 200 feet off the ground I should judge. I wonder that the Germans have not shelled it. It is a great landmark on this flat country and a great observation post. I think it proves that the Germans do not make a habit of bombarding churches, and that perhaps the papers exaggerate too much when they talk of the Germans’ so-called “atrocities.” After all it is very easy for a shell to strike a church by mistake and to cause so much damage as to lead one to expect many shells had fallen.

A healthy suspicion of information received through the filter of the state and affiliated media interests seems like a sensible choice at all times, though it may lead one to conclusions rooted more in a desired structure of things than in their actual unfolding in time. Here is a picture of the church, in 1918.

Bethune church tower

Posted in Dissertation | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

A Father’s View from Auschwitz

Auschwitz, February 16th, 1942
Dear Walter,
You really surprised me, first of all, with your letter and second, with your announcement. I congratulate you on the results of your medical test for military service. If you want to join the air force that much, I won’t spoil it for you and will send back the paper for you with my signature. I hope you get lucky with that as well, my friend. I take it for granted that you have to sign up only for the duration of the war. What happened to the other comrades who took the test? By the way , what did your mother think about your plan? She won’t be too excited about it. You wrote that you will take your final examinations soon. Do the best you can to get a high score because if you want to succeed in life you must be able to do something. How did your examinations in vocational school go? Here it is a hellish mess, everything is upside down. They have built a village of barracks, and they are not small – on average some twelve to fourteen rooms per barrack and each is about six to seven meters long and about four and a half to five meters wide, with a nice corridor in the middle. We have five men to a room. Each of us has his own desk and closet for coats, office jackets, hats. They also have a concentration camp here with about 50,000 convicts . They all wear black and white striped suits. Most of them are Polish, but also German. Among the Polish are many men of the more intelligent class. They will keep them here on purpose. With these people we can get anything done, especially since many of them have learned a trade. Each one is working in his own trade. In the camp there are a furniture workshop, a sawmill, concrete shop, etc. In Poland, just one false move, and it is a striped suit. Break a leg and friendly greetings.
Your father

(accessed at http://www.feldpost-archiv.de/english/e7-auschwitz.html)

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

As If Nothing Ever Happened

26.1.43 Just think once of the past winter, of January. Recall your thoughts of that time and compare them with your thoughts of today. No, my dear, don’t do that. It would be terrible. I had death in front of my eyes for five months, and I escaped it. Today I can say that sounds like a fairy tale, but that is how it was, and I cannot forget it. You know, I often tell myself, I had death in my pocket, in my haversack, but I didn’t let it out. Oh, well, that’s over. We have each other, my darling, and I buy things again and wrap little packages, just like in 1941, as though nothing had happened.
(Ernst G. in: Sei tausendmal gegrüßt. Feldpost-Briefwechsel Irene und Ernst Guicking 1937-1945, Book and CD-ROM, Berlin 2001; also Feldpost-Archiv Berlin, shelf number: 3.2002.0349)

(accessed at http://www.feldpost-archiv.de/english/e8-loveletters.html)

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Time to Go Dark

Since the last post, I’ve officially passed all of my comprehensive examinations, gained admission to doctoral candidacy, and begun the horrifically intimidating process of exploring the academic “job market”. Tomorrow is my first full dissertation day, and in preparation I’m trying to find some resources. This is one of the first things I’ve found, and it’s heartbreaking.

Children Playing War Games in Libya

Working on this project is going to put me in some incredibly painful places, but I have an abiding hope that when it is finished the work will matter somehow. I’ll probably be using the blog here to track the project as it develops. It will get a bit closer to Web MyGPA.0 as we progress. Please join me, and feel free to comment.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Nov. 2, 1920 (An Election) – Charles Ives and the Time Machine

This is My Reward for Score ID Study (Well, this and Hopefully Passing)

Hello again, this time from the library. In the middle of comprehensive exams with two down and one to go. I think that I’m doing alright so far, but there’s no way of knowing really, I suppose. At any rate, the lone remaining exam is the Score ID, like drop the needle except with paper and printed music. Not at all intimidating. (Horrifically, knee-knockingly intimidating.) While I’ll certainly do a lot more studying, today I have spent some time picking representative sets of works at random and examining the scores to get a sense for what they might communicate to me in my hour of despair.

One of the collections I picked up was a critical edition of Charles Ives’ 129 Songs. Flipping through, I saw the things that I expected to see, and paid a bit more attention than normal to observe that there are some facets I hadn’t actively considered before. Then, I got to #114: Nov. 2, 1920 (An Election), with the subheading:

Soliloquy of an old man whose son lies in “Flanders Fields.” It is the day after the election; he is sitting by the roadside, looking down the valley toward the railroad station.

The text of the song, written by Ives is heart-wrenching and it is almost as if he had a time machine, the nature of the concerns and frustrations being so hauntingly similar to our contemporary world.

“It strikes me that…some men and women got tired of a big job; but, over there, our men did not quit; they fought and died that better things might be! Perhaps some who stayed at home are beginning to forget and to quit. The pocketbook and certain little things talked loud and noble, and got in the way; too many readers go by the headlines, party men will muddle up the facts, so a good many citizens voted as grandpa always did, or thought a change for the sake of change seemed natural enough. ‘It’s raining: let’s throw out the weather man. Kick him out! Kick him out! Kick him out! Kick him out! Kick him!’

Prejudice and politics, and the standpatters came in strong, and yelled, ‘Slide back! Now you’re safe, that’s the easy way!’ Then the timid smiled and looked relieved: ‘We’ve got enough to eat: to hell with ideals!’ All the old women, male and female, had their day to-day, and the hogheart came out of his hole; but he won’t stay out long: God always drives him back! Oh Captain, my Captain! a heritage we’ve thrown away; but we’ll find it again, my Captain, Captain, O my Captain!”

As if that weren’t enough, there is an additional note attached:

The assumption, in the song’s text, that the result of our national election in 1920 was a definite indication that the country (at least, the majority-minded) turned its back on a high purpose is not conclusive. Unfortunately, election returns coming through the present party system prove nothing conclusively. The voice of the people, sounding through the mouths of the parties, becomes somewhat emasculated. It is not inconceivable that practical ways may be found for more accurately registering and expressing popular thought — at least in relation to the larger primary problems that concerns us all. A suggestion to this end (if we may be forgiven a further digression), in the form of a constitutional amendment, together with an article discussing the plan in some detail and from various aspects, will be gladly sent by the writer to anyone who is interested enough to request it.

– Charles Ives

 

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

In Studying, Wisdom. Who Knew?

Bonds on Mahler

Next week I’m taking my doctoral common comprehensive exams, and in studying, I’m reviewing as many readings as I can fit in. From the chapter “Ambivalent Elysium” in his excellent book about the post-Beethoven handling of the symphonic genre, the following passage relating to Mahler’s 4th Symphony grabbed my attention violently.

“Mahler’s vision of Elysian fields competes with his doubts about the reality of such a utopia. In this sense, the finale is a very human idea of heaven, one in which the desire to believe is beset by moments of doubt-inspired panic.”

It resounds with the piece so much, and it is perhaps among the most universal feelings and experiences known to humankind. In this subtle insistence that Mahler wrestled with the same things that I do, I felt an unusual calm and comfort. We’re all human, after all.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Starting Somewhere

Two Hundred of the 100 Greatest Classical Music Works

It’s always difficult to find a source of suggestions for guided listening, and when left to my own devices, I will invariably end up listening to the same things I always do. So, I decided I would throw authority to the wind and just find a list, then listen to it. I stumbled upon a wholly unreliable and unsourced “100 Greatest Classical Music Works” list that actually has two hundred pieces on it. The pieces on the list were chosen for “their innovation and influence, as well as their aesthetic importance, historical significance and lasting popularity”. Beyond my inability to trust whoever concocted this list for the sheer fact that they do not use the Oxford comma (I’m from a Cambridge family, but some things are undeniable), the page looks like it’s from 1996.

However, it does list many works, and that’s really all I was looking for to prompt and direct this listening binge. I’ve made the rather questionable decision to take notes about my listening experiences and post them here. These will not be well-considered, highly educated, and insightful remarks about the music but rather more like the quirks of thought that one might expect from a casual, passive-aggressive concertgoer. The indisputable brilliance of my plan? I’m listening from the bottom up, hoping to feel myself getting snootier and more pliant to the insistence of “the institution” that Bach and Beethoven are nonpareil.

If, somehow, I find that I have more time, I will come back to update these notes more thoughtfully, perhaps adding fascinating historical tidbits and what-not. But you and I both know that’s not going to happen between now and the Mayan Meltdown.

200. Three Places in New England – Charles Ives

Boston Common – gorgeous introduction strings/woodwinds

  1. Thoroughly meditative, with the color of a film score
  2. Piano interjections with bell tones precede enlivening of texture and activity
  3. Massive Ivesian organ effect

Putnam’s Camp – prompt disruption, off-kilter march

  1. Awesome brass quasi-echo effect later on in the movement
  2. The music isn’t cacophonous – it’s all orchestrated clearly enough that you can hear the separate components

The Housatonic at Stockbridge

  1. CHOIR!
  2. Begins gorgeous and contemplative and becomes progressively more unnerving

199. Symphony No. 2, “London” – Ralph Vaughan Williams

Lento – Allegro risoluto, molto pesante

  1. A beginning too soft to hear, kind of sad really
  2. Bombastic and unprepared cymbal crash and transition from the Lento
  3. Cutesy tune in flute/strings/trumpet, then tutti
  4. Also, Phantom!
  5. In a fit of nationalist pride, English horn solo
  6. Oh, it got all pretty and schmaltzy, with a smaller string ensemble
  7. In a lot of ways, the end of this movement seems kind of naïve

Lento

  1. English horn solo! Claro que si!
  2. Now that’s a morose string melody
  3. French horn solo! Okay, it’s not a melody, but it’s a call, and that counts
  4. This is much better than the first movement, although it doesn’t strike me as being quite so rich as the Ives
  5. Inexplicable fiddle solo? That’s my specialty. Slap a clarinet onto it next time? Okay!
  6. I feel like I’m in an Indiana Jones movie that doesn’t suck
  7. Full circle with the English and French horns

Scherzo-Allegro vivace

  1. This is beginning as a very wimpy scherzo
  2. Faint Debussian tinges but kind of devoid of life and character
  3. Playful march, following a very brief burst of interesting sonic effect in the strings

Andante con moto

  1. Backbeat timpani doesn’t quite make up for the general blahness of this
  2. Again with a ponderous climb to a full orchestra tutti
  3. Parallel motion en masse

I have learned that I am not a fan of Ralph Vaughan Williams, in this particular outing – 44ish minutes of which only 5-8 felt really inspired

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Learning to Lose Graciously and Live Gratefully

Neil Patrick Harris Never Went Through This

It just occurred to me that, all those years ago when he was still a precocious child doctor on Doogie Howser, M.D., Neil Patrick Harris was saddled with a completely stupid character name. But at the end of each show, before blogging was a thing, he sat down and wrote in a computer journal, much like I’m doing now. He was paid to do it, and he was only pretending, so there are important differences. Since then, however, NPH has rarely been on the underside of things. Sure, some people may have been surprised with the transition to Broadway, or the um…well…let’s just not talk about Starship Troopers.

For more than two decades, he has been, for the most part, consistently successful, according to some metric or another. This is where any comparison between Doogie and me breaks down.

Last week, I got the first faint inklings of positive professional recognition in a veryveryveryveryvery long time. Like, ever. I write music, and I like to think that it has value, and that each piece represents an improvement and facilitates some sort of meaningful emotional experience for the listener. Yet, apart from the compulsory compliments of the post-concert mingle (well-intentioned, many of which are certainly sincere) there has been nothing to suggest that any tastemakers or even tastehavers share any similar sentiments.

Game(s One) Face(s)

I received a nomination for an award recognizing my string quartet (I have no idea how the nomination process works or who nominated the piece, so, assuming that it’s a person and not some series of randomly connected google searches, thank you very much) and was delighted. Thrilled, excited, perfused with messy words. But I also didn’t want to overreact, so I didn’t make a big fuss about it, only telling a couple friends and family members. Keeping it low key also meant that I would hopefully be able to avoid the post-award inquiry into the results. I do not expect to win. The nominees are all incredibly talented and more established than I am, so I’m trying to keep it in perspective.

It was a much needed boost, though, as I shift from student-proper to doctor-candidate. The gains made were quickly squelched by three “so many wonderful pieces, we regret to inform you that yours was not among the wonderfulest” in two days, cut further by ill-advised browsing of the resumes and C.V.’s of other composers who are ostensibly in the same phase of their careers. “Humbling” doesn’t even begin to approach the appropriate threshold of denotive severity. John Adams’ eloquent and encouraging commencement address to Juilliard might have been of some assistance to me, if it were not given to Juilliard students who are generally unlikely to encounter the kinds of travails of self-esteem and panhandling to which he makes reference.

Instead, one is left with the choice to believe in one’s self and one’s art, whatever it may be, or to abandon the chase to those who have already been cited, anointed, awarded, or otherwise acknowledged as possessors of creative magic surpassing and chosen for exponential trajectories of recognition. Space, after all, isn’t for everyone. Addiction is mightier than wisdom, and quitting is not my strong suit. Birthday. That’s my strong suit. Tomorrow night, I will have the pleasure of losing in person for the first time, rather than in the dignified and isolated confines of a car by the mailbox or in the taunting glow of a computer monitor. Hopefully, I will bear it well, but until the moment, one never knows.

Looking Up – Smeagol Lessons

Admittedly, in the hours after receiving the “bad” news, I’m unpleasant and a bit grumpy. It has an unfair impact on my wife and daughters, who have to put up with a temporary surliness that would make most 70-something’s with lawns and neighborhood kids blush. So I’m trying to snap out of it quicker. This weekend, thanks to a kind friend’s invitation, we got to spend a whole day as a family, having fun and being outdoors. Seeing my little girl get over her fear of the swimming pool water enough to take her first tentative, independent doggy-paddle strokes across the pool…let’s just say that there are some things that mean more than a stamp of approval. They’ll come, if I keep at it. And I have more than enough to keep me steady until they do.

Four/Four; Four for Four

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment