And this song--which has been playing in my head for the last two weeks. If hip hop is officially dead as a genre--as the New York Times wants to claim (outlandishly)--then maybe genres need to die in order for invention to begin. The pressure to please the casual listener is beside the point, and all things are possible once again.
(I should mention that I came to this song through reading Victor LaValle. The title of Mos Def's album is named for Victor's novel The Ecstatic. I cannot imagine a more exciting thing: to see one's book title used for a Mos Def title. I'd settle for-- for-- well, no need to make a corny joke right now.)
Anyway, the goal for the next two weeks: to write some prose that moves like this! The spontaneity captured, the multiple levels of diction and tone. Unexpected turns. Elegance, wit, control. Some loose threads. And the gift of letting the reader/listener in on the secret: the hybrid coming into being.
***
Some pictures from New Years' Eve--at least my travel back home. A three-ferry night. (The view to St. Edmond's Chapel from the window of my room--that's Fishers Island Sound behind it. An anchor at the ferry terminal in New London. Visceral ropes on the Orient Point Ferry. A passing ferry in the night.)
7 comments:
"The spontaneity captured" reminds me of an interview I heard on Fresh Air with Tim Page. This is about his response the first time he heard the piece "Music for 18 Musicians" by Steve Reich:
"In April of 1976, as a 21-year-old having absolutely no idea that anybody would ever publish me. But I spent the whole night trying to describe that music in words, and I said: Imagine concentrating on a challenging modern painting that becomes just a little bit different every time you shift your attention from one detail to another, or try to impose a frame on a running river, making it a finite, enclosed work of art yet leaving its kinetic quality unsullied, leaving it flowing freely on all sides. And then I said: It has been done. Steve Reich has framed the river.
And I still have that same sort of feeling for this music. I guess I would add, now, that it's music that's not so much about going places and arriving somewhere and big crises and climaxes, as it is about the actual journey rather than arrival or leaving from someplace. You're just fascinated by what's going on at the moment, just surrendering yourself to speed and jostling and, you know, gorgeous sensations that overwhelm you. And I love the sort of patterning of it all.
GROSS: And, you know, the patterning is very repetitious, but at the same time, it's constantly shifting in perceptible and almost imperceptible ways. Does that speak to you?
Prof. PAGE: Very, very much, and that really is what I think my insides feel like, but it calls to mind this kind of ecstatic quality, which I have occasionally felt. One of my very few visual, you know, ecstasies is watching clouds change slowly over the course of an afternoon. I love process. I love patterns. I love seeing things just change slightly, but also still catching you up in the whole process."
All the more interesting knowing that he was diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome as an adult (hence the book Parallel Play)
Also, have you heard of Patrick Watson? Frank gave me the CD "Wooden Arms" for Christmas.
Fascinating, fearless, multilayered layering of sound, music, lyric to create a journey in each song.
Here's a sample: (Where the Wild Things Are) http://www.lala.com/#artist/Patrick_Watson
Maybe a little more creative spark for you...happy writing!
'To write some prose that moves like this! The spontaneity captured, the multiple levels of diction and tone. Unexpected turns. Elegance, wit, control. Some loose threads. And the gift of letting the reader/listener in on the secret: the hybrid coming into being.'
Your words here and you can do it.
I've read your essay elsewhere and I am in awe of your ability to put ideas into words, seamlessly, seemingly without effort.
You can do it and we're all the richer for it.
There's a lot to work with/think about here, Gwynne. Thanks very much for passing these posts on. Something thrilling about Tim Page analysis of Reich. "Framing the river." Brilliant.
I don't know Patrick Watson's work but I'm going to check out your link today.
Happy New Year to you!
Elisabeth, Thanks, as ever, for those kind words. I am taking them in.
Happy New Year to you! (Hope it's not raining too much in Australia--just read reports about flooding. But maybe that's just up in the north?)
Ah Paul, your final photograph is a painting in the making. (I'm currently working with images of boats - specifically, a flotilla of ninety-two small silver & white bamboo boats set temporarily adrift beneath the Antarctic ice.)
Here, in your nighttime crossing, is an expression of intimacy and relationship. One vessel seducing the other - it's breathtaking. Thanks - and happy new year to you.
Dear Claire, Thanks so much for your reading of that photograph. I remember the other boat moving quickly and soundlessly. And it was very cold out on deck and precipitation was hitting my face and I wanted to get home before the clock turned. Happy New Year to you, too. Take care.
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