A few weeks ago the directors of the local museum invited me to an after hours talk by an artist whose work was showing in one of the galleries. Apparently the artist had floated the idea of doing a powerpoint presentation, but ended up talking about her work while walking around the gallery.
I am glad she opted for that because listening to her talk about how her process has evolved while referencing the different pieces in the gallery was much more engaging. Once she was done, everyone went scurrying back to the walls to look at the pieces in the context of her commentary.
For the last few weeks I have been wondering if a performing artist could be as effective and engaging talking about their process. A visual artist has a bit of a benefit in this regard.
When the artist I saw speak noted that she got more comfortable with the idea that she didn’t have to include the limbs in great detail when she was really interested in a person’s head and torso, the evidence was right before you as she compared an early work to a later work.
When an actor or musician says they did something one way in the past and now they do it this way and demonstrates the differences, you never know, they could be lying. Also the way they depict their style of performance in the past is informed (and perhaps infected) with everything they have learned since. They can’t perfectly reproduce their past imperfections.
This dynamism is what makes live performance interesting so we certainly don’t want people trying to ossify their abilities. It just doesn’t have the verifiable elements that visual arts have.
Ultimately, primary qualification for successfully talking about your process is being skilled at talking about your process in an interesting way. The artist I saw could have been just as terminally boring without a powerpoint as with.
I was reading an article in Boston Magazine about the incredible lengths to which a musician was going in order to audition for a percussionist spot on the Boston Symphony Orchestra. Every night he was sending excerpts of his practice to Christopher Lamb, the principal percussionist of the New York Philharmonic. At one point Lamb responds,
“in the case of Ravel’s Boléro, a piece with a famously repetitive snare-drum part — “You’re too young, this is too fast for this old guy … relax, be more inviting.’”
After reading that, I wanted to know what did too young sound like, what does relaxing and more inviting sound like?
Would I, as a layman, actually be able to discern the difference or would I need to be a percussionist practicing 20 hours a day as this auditioner was, to even perceive the nuance?
What is the impact on the rest of the musicians if he is playing too young versus more relaxed, and does it have an impact on the enjoyment of the audience? Or is it just the other musicians who will really notice?
If there was a demonstrable difference between the week before and the week after he got the note, (versus comparing how he played when he was 15 versus today), it might be interesting to audiences to learn about “the change that landed me the job on the BSO.” (Well, he isn’t listed as a BSO musician, but you get the idea.)
In regard to theatre performances, they are often intentionally directed in opposition to previous productions so an actor could be equally brilliant at the same role in entirely different ways simply because the productions had different focuses. There can be both maturation of skill as well as an increased flexibility of approach that an actor can talk about.
All this got me wondering if artists conducting performance talks should move beyond talking about what they did to create the present work and talk about that evolution. The frustrations, mistakes and choices that had been made over time might help break down the perception of talent and inspiration being absolute things that are doled out to some and not to others.
People may be better able to identify and connect with artists who talk about a process of misses, self-criticism and evolution that parallels their own experience. Not to mention realizing that careers are not usually made on reality television shows.
Again it wouldn’t work for everyone. Some people won’t be skilled at keeping the conversation from crossing from self-examination and deprecation over to self-pity and recrimination, alienating their audience.
Anyone have examples of artist talks that they thought were done very well?
Hi Joe
I believe that the performance world has enormous potential to engage an audience in “behind the scenes” information of all kinds – particularly if, along with concerns of individual development, you bring in concerns of orchestral ensemble and other performance challenges unique to orchestral performance.
I have recently been scouring the web for videos of all types of talks given by performing artists, including TED-type presentations with “powerpoint”, master classes by instrumentalists, documentary clips by orchestra members, lectures by performers, demonstrations of instruments, lectures by musicologists, coaching sessions by teachers and so on. For me, the most engaging type of talks centre on the piece being performed, not on a single performer. To zero in on how a single performer improved his or her performance over time is not that interesting to a general audience, though it might fascinate other performers currently learning the piece.
For a general audience, a presentation that outlines the performance challenges of a given composition has the potential to enlighten and entertain on at least three levels – to provide insight on the particular challenges of learning how to play a particular instrumental part, to point out challenges of ensemble, and to enlighten the audience on what to listen for within the piece itself.
Some of the best examples I have seen of this type of “behind the scenes” presentation are the talks given by Leonard Bernstein in his Young Peoples Concerts and Omnibus series, as well as those given by his protege Michael Tilson-Thomas in his Keeping Score documentaries. For example, in the pre-performance talk that MTT gave on the Rite of Spring in that series, he points out and has the orchestra illustrate to the audience selected soloist challenges within the piece as well as selected passages where ensemble is particularly challenging to achieve.
Here is an extract
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n9nKrHE-6eI
A review of these details naturally enlightens the audience on what to listen for in the work overall. An individual instrumentalist might also on occasion have an amusing story to share regarding his or her overcoming a specific performance challenge – but these are only entertaining to a general audience if they are non-technical.
What it boils down to is whether the information enhances the audience’s ability to appreciate the work being presented. As you observed, “Once she was done, everyone went scurrying back to the walls to look at the pieces in the context of her commentary.” To be engaging, any such presentation in the performing arts must strongly motivate the audience to want to hear the piece again in the context of the remarks, and perhaps to rush home and revisit recorded performances with new ears.
Mr. Hill-
Thank you for your lengthy response. Last year I had a performer who took Bernstein’s talks as his inspiration and conducted a similar program that was well received.
Bernstein seems to have set the standard. I wonder if people have either forgotten/ignored his techniques or if their own attempts pale in comparison because it truly does take a skilled person to pull it off successfully.
Cudos to the performer you mention who was inspired to emulate Bernstein’s education initiatives! Bernstein did set the standard at least in terms of talking to non-musicians about music at a level that non-musicians could comprehend. We have only forgotten Bernstein’s techniques because so few have since endeavoured to provide a broad musical education to a wide audience of non-musicians, as he did in his revolutionary television programs almost 60 years ago. And certainly Bernstein’s medium – network television – has by now divested itself almost entirely of any interest in arts-related programming (or of educational or cultural content, for that matter!).
Other attempts that pale by comparison do so either because the presenter has forgotten that the audience is comprised of non-musicians, or because the presenter lacks the personality to communicate their passion for music. I believe, in other words, that it does not demand a particular skill beyond those that all good presenters should possess in any case.
As for forgetting that the audience is comprised of non-musicians, I refer back to your question, “Would I, as a layman, actually be able to discern the difference..[between a relaxed performance and an inviting performance by the snare drum in Bolero]?” I know that I, also as a layman, have easily discerned all such differences, but only when my teacher is willing when required to take the time to illustrate the difference by isolating the instrument and by juxtaposing the two performances, as in a side-by-side taste test. The music world abounds with subjective language to differentiate subtle differences of execution in performance, and they are all easily discernable through isolated illustration. How much difference does it make to the overall end effect? – not much on its own perhaps, but what we hear in the end is simply a combination of a great many such decisions which combine to create discernable differences in the overall texture, sonority and dynamics produced by the ensemble in total. The same is true in all performing arts. Listen to the many subjective adjectives dance instructors and choreographers use to describe a different execution they seek for a movement, or the adjectives a stage director uses to describe to an actor how differently they hear a line of dialogue delivered in their mind’s ear. All of these differences in delivery are discernable through illustration and have some impact, however subtle, on the final performance.
A third hindrance to engaging an audience eager to learn more, and one which is generally under-estimated, is the industry’s overall tone – a cultural concern which the wisest arts organizations are just beginning to acknowledge and to actively combat. It frequently happens that a newcomer with a fresh and new-found curiosity to learn more about classical music quickly becomes intimidated – if not offended – by the atmosphere of elitism, snobbery, formalism and seriousness which the industry has deliberately nurtured through the past century, and in which it has effectively cocooned itself, like so much armour. It takes explicit effort to break through that armour of the past era, and to re-focus the spotlight on welcoming and encouraging potential new audiences, rather than perpetuating the general aura of elitism that past generations tolerated. Such barriers are very real, and very often discourage a non-musician who might otherwise have made a fine and motivated life-long student.
Education of non-musicians about classical music, as with any great teaching, must focus on exciting the interest of the student, not embarrassing them for how little they may know. Teachers and presenters must excite interest by providing hints of the pleasures in store for anyone wishing to dig deeper. Bernstein’s own work did have detractors – those who frowned upon his willingness to convey his passion by sharing his personal theories of how music evokes feelings – all sheer conjecture, but presented with the greatest passion. His detractors were entirely wrong to criticize him for this, as this was the key to his effectiveness when addressing non-musicians. Sharing such theories awakens in an audience a desire and ability to articulate their own theories, to listen at a new level, and to explore more deeply. It is often in the hope of these outcomes alone that the greatest teachers toil.