rowan williams

a little book I found in the library called grace and necessity 2005.
though intellectual it is both beautifully 'grounded' (lots of examples) and understandable.
before I take it back I need to read it again:
it really inspires and I don't want to miss any vital clues
page 5 . . .'whether there is an unavoidably theological element to all artistic labour.'
page 14 'What he (maritain) is clear about is that the production of beauty cannot be a goal for the artist. If the artist sets out to please, he will compromise the good of the thing made.'
I fully understand the first sentence but the second is problematic.
but on the same page:
'maritain notes that contemporary art is confused about beauty: either there is a cult of the beautiful for its own sake . . or there is a replacement of beauty by an appeal to a work's fidelity to the artist's subjective integrity - personal honesty doing duty for 'formal splendour' (aquinas' "splendor formae")
[for me, though, the one thing probably leads to the other making me guilty on both counts]

darkness again the last two days or so.
wondering if this darkness has it's source in the last darkness;
whether the way out of that darkness might be the way out of this one too.

but,I forget again, there are never any roadmaps
and it is mere foolishness to hark back to 'old routes'.

which is surely just how it is with my music too isn't it?

do I know who my enemy is?
when I knew I could fight.
and fighting made me strong.

who is my enemy now?
still just doubt?
or something more rebellious?

my situation corners me
and I must do my best to trust in a barren place

and yes that is how it is with my music too
-------------

wanted today to make a little opera of the story of balaam and bakal.
I won't be able to of course.

a man,not the man

I am a man and not the man.
I'm not saying that I have never understood this
but it is true that I didn't conceive of it in this way.
there needs to be the man before you can.

the man is actually all that many of the psalms are about:
one of this fortnight's re-revelations . . .

even when alone reading the psalms is something one does with others
a communion then.
[it's hard to put into words without it becoming mere dogma,
or even worse: psycho-babble]
--------

I worked on my violin concerto the other night.
just tweaking things in the first movement for a recording.
[I've had to do another one because the gpo upgrade changes everything.]
sound became a source of light for the first time in many months.

today I was still rubbing out the end of the octet:
(my piano covered in bits of used rubber)
not knowing what this piece is about.
perhaps the not knowing is what it's about.
there is whimsy in the second movement
I need to understand that better before I can finish it happily.
no rush.

so the music isn't some idle decoration
to placate a restless mind?

struggling with the end of this 'octet'
I realise that I have no idea what it means
any more than I understand my prayer . . .
although I do somehow know what it mustn't mean.
(I think)

the question is
can my music shed light on my prayer too?
[ie. can it not work both ways around?]

does the music inform my prayer
and does the neglect of my music hinder my prayer?

self-faith in me reflects in the faith I have in my own music.
faith in you is faith in you . . . .
aren't these different kinds of faith
or do they flow from the same source?

a few leads today:

burnt fingers;
nothing to hold onto;
the purifying fire which leaves only truth untouched;
your gentle refusal to let me see or know
except by faith.

let go let go you say
but have faith have faith
this is the only holding onto
everything else is subject to alteration, modification and the cycle of decay and renewal
except faith
and it is in the darkness of faith that I am
saith the lord

when I read genesis this time
I realised that I myself am the pharoah who does not let your people go.
until I have lost nearly everything.

the ark if the covenant is made of beautiful things:
colourful, lively things
not drab black and white things. . . .

oh, and the music?
yes yes you cry
of course
(and didn't I really know this all along?)

the music does not lead to knowledge
but it does not lead away either

and today?

today is a different day.
two things that grew out of yesterday perhaps: first the quartet (which is no longer a quartet: more a sextet or even octet? [extra strings in the bottom registers].
I played through the first movement several times yesterday before continuing (a little frenetically) with the second movement and never understood it once. today I tried a different tack: no pushing of the tempo and no looking 'forward' into either phrasing or overall shape. this time it seemed to work: so the piece hangs curiously in the air.
I know it has to do with faith because that is what the piece is about [the piece is really about itself]. . . I cannot think of another way of putting this . . . the piece is also perhaps designed to put off listeners? not deliberately of course . . . .
faith is actually the other thing anyway: which brings me to the point about this post:
my music today is about my prayer and my prayer is about my music

today

a crisis this morning: renewed rage over several things 'hampered' my prayer again. [didn't they become embedded in it rather than hampering?] this seemed to grow out of my email to liz yesterday evening: recalling recent difficult events
and this afternoon: dismay at the quartet.
I have to remember two things: to go forward and not back; to recall the need for faith to persevere as much with my prayer as with my music. and the need to remember where this music is actually coming from and the way in which I am writing it as well as the fundamental reason for it . . . . the finished product is NOT what it's about. I MUST remember this and not be daunted by inadequacy and inconsistency . . .

yesterday's post

not so much that 'God communicates through art' but that God is so pervasive and 'unavoidable' in all of the laws and biases of nature on every conceivable level (and many inconceivable ones also) that any artist seeking truth and meaning through his art cannot fail to discover God to his 'audience' (and himself) through it.
['even his rebels']

not only this but because God creates - by his very nature he creates - the artist is not only 'participating' in 'creation' but 'acting with' and 'on behalf of' or 'representing' God in a mysterious way . . . .
the danger is to limit God by creating notions about what 'beauty' consists of.
[beauty is truth and truth beauty]. the truth lies way beyond our meagre comprehension except on a very simplified level and so beauty does also. the better artists are the ones sensitive and skilful enough to see beauty beyond the pale replicas that we tend to make do with . . .
but saying that, it's hard to see a place for my own compilations there. . .
but I begin to understand that there seems to be a necessity of faith about creating . . . this I haven't really understood . . . .
when I am not creating I suffer and my whole being is somehow diminished. . . at least that is how it seems today.

God communicates through art.

is it really as simple and as clearcut as that?

holy word
holy sound

until I fully understand your immanence I cannot understand my music.

it cannot be a question of judgement.
with judgement comes doubt
and with doubt: neglect.
my music is a source of healing only when I can refrain
from both neglect and self-judgement.

music cannot be about concert-hall or 'being heard'
it is only about the inner perception of colour:
the inner stained glass through which light can (and does) pour.

I know only too well that meandering improvisation can no longer satisfy:
it needs to be written down so that I can discern
patterns,
directions,
pathways,
and, potentially, meaning. . . . . .

I need my music to be about you
but isn't there a danger of serious under-estimation here?

aftermath

a day later and I hardly dare look at my piece 'finished' yesterday. I am determined to call it a symphony though it breaks even more rules than previous efforts.
I have just edited yesterday's post a little. too many words . . . . and come to think of it, I might end up feeling the same about my piece also: too many notes.
too much C major?
symphony meaning 'painting'; a whole; a start and a finish. a problem resolved - however inconclusively . . .