To God the Father

Eve After Falling Into Sin, Johann Koler, 1883

Love, again you have found me in the call of birds, the sound of wind thrumming in my ears.

I know that all the world was meant to be green in this way, that lushness was to overwhelm and sedate us into the dreamlike torpor of Adam.

Fill us with a potency. Make us leap from out ourselves towards you, nearer by death-and-life-giving.

Here in the barren land we wait for lushness, for fervent murmur of running waters, for the full welling of slow rivers.

Break us for our yolk.

Keep us till we sleep our fathers' sleep and give out the new full self.

Satire and Evil (and Good), Pt. 2

Note: At one point in this video, I mention amendments to the satire posted earlier. Not all of those amendments -- if any -- will go into effect. To injure the rhetorical effect of the satire by rendering it facile would be to diminish the necessary seriousness of approach to this difficult issue.

Satire and Evil (and Good), Pt. 1

Where is the Horse and the Rider

or 'Why you see few art-related posts on my page'

"Where is the horse and the rider?

Where is the horn that was blowing?

They have passed like rain on the mountains,

Like wind in the meadow

The days have come down in the West

Behind the hills into shadow..."

Where is the love of beauty? Where is breathtaking art and poignant song, and where are those who will seek them, praise them, cherish them, and show us how to see?

Like the brief, ephemeral art of our generation, they have been abruptly hidden from sight. Rinsed as from the slate -- no tablet of wax bearing the imprint of centuries' wisdom. Rather, the clean slate of a frontier school that started clean one day and started clean again the next.

Just as we are minimalists in ownership, we are minimalists in understanding or in seeking, in knowing and in wishing to know. And so we receive what we desire, we reap what we sow, which is so close now to nothingness. Where is the love of beauty, the devout appraisal of art? It is as it is in our hearts. Do we expect the tiny race of the people of culture to shower us with the Gospel while we wonder whether we are Princess Belle in her green dress or blue, or which Buzzfeed quiz will show us our best virtues?

Can you hear the overwhelming silence of the artists? I can hear the sea ceasing to sing, ceasing to whelm us over with the peace that she has given the imagination and the further peace that the imagination has given her. Did we think the artists would not starve? But they have all starved -- starved from a destruction of beauty in the world, a destruction of real living, of the seemingly invincible subject. The world has died, and art imitates life as life imitates art. Have you seen the imitation of death? I know that I have.

"The everlasting violence of that double passion with which God hates and loves the world" has come upon the artists in their silence. And as much as they have loved her, adorned and graced her with their innumerable lavishments, they wish nothing now but for her destruction, her punishment, her fall from pride into desolation and suffering and noisome darkness and fear. Repentance.

The fuel of the artist is life -- life that breeds more life -- life teeming and bursting at the seams -- life burgeoning unstoppably and never ceasing to unfold into new and eternal glories. Is it any wonder that the artists are silent, or that the lesser imitate death until it takes them.

Here is the demand of beauty: life. What prodigies have we killed, or allowed to die? No more.

The death of society is at hand. Were we more bitter towards the slaughter of our friends, we would have burned the fortresses of darkness and salted the earth, leaving the festering fields of evil forever barren.

We wish to intervene against the Islamic State in the Middle East. This is a just impulse. But, in our haste to tender retribution, do we forget the thousands slaughtered daily at home. Are the lives of countless children less worthy than the preservation of political potency in names: in "Yezidi", in "Christian", in "Shi'ite". Do we wish to save lives? Is that our intent? Or do we wish to save particular lives for particular reasons? Are the unborn not our brothers and sisters, and do they not live next door. Do they not die next door.

Can you justify your willingness to stop the IS against your unwillingness to stop the Abortionist State? Is it easier to fight a tyrant thousands of miles away?

The lauds of the poet fall silent. The artist in anger and desperation hurls his brush. Is there beauty in the world.

Can you justify not -- at the very least -- standing in prayer before the clinic, adjuring those who would be murderers to abandon their course? Rationalize, I beg you. Rationalize. Rationalize a way to avoid preventing murder when power is in your hands. I have dispensed with the arguments. I have had them all. I have heard them all. There is not one left with integrity. The truth cries out like a stone. It will not move.

The poet falls silent. The artist's heart roils and burns, and a black anger rises.

If you would have the soldiers stopped who terrorize in the name of Islam, but you will not place yourself in danger for your brother who perishes at the hands of the mercenary next door, the only judgement left to you is that of coward and liar.

Go out into the world. Go out. You have been sent out to bring the good news. The good news begins with the gospel of life. You must protect life, from conception to natural death. If you have not done this basic duty, this basic act for the ongoing creation of society, if you watch society crumble -- you too will fall with it.

Go out into the streets and pray, and beg God for mercy. I too will go with you. Come alive, and reject the systematic destruction of the human person. Overthrow the deathly edifice. This is our duty. It is undeniable. It is irrefutable. It is the supreme test of faith in our time -- the supreme evil, that which requires the most devout action in opposition.

If you wish to have good things, you must give, and you must first give life.

Where is the horse and the rider?

The beauty of the warrior lies in that which he defends.

Book Review: "Voyage to Alpha Centauri"

Cinder blocks.

Cinder blocks are analogous to the accidental properties of Michael O’Brien’s novels. Yet his latest, his 10th, “Voyage to Alpha Centauri,” is relatively small compared to his earlier works, clocking in at only 587 pages.

It’s a shame that these books look so daunting, as a majority of our twittering, texting masses will never read something that doesn’t grant them instant gratification. Yet for those who are patient, willing to take the time to embark on his latest adventure, will find themselves traveling through space at 0.5 times the speed of light. Man’s destination? The system of Alpha Centauri, our closest neighboring star.

Many have commented on this novel, some saying that the same story could have been told with 200 pages cut out of it. While this may be the case, I for one did not feel the novel drag. O’Brien is a master artist, not an author of popular fiction. Every word carries meaning. Indeed, if you allow yourself to be immersed, you will feel as though you are a passenger aboard the Kosmos (mankind’s massive city-like ship, over a kilometer in length that embarks on a nineteen year voyage into space).

Written as a journal, the reader enters into the mind of the two-time Nobel-prize recipient, Dr. Neil de Hoyos, whose work in physics have allowed the possibility of such a voyage to occur. He’s a skeptical fellow, allowing his intelligence to act as a wall against the inner longings of his very human heart. He lives with regrets, he’s angry, and he walks with a limp. Yet he and the 600 other passengers hope that in leaving their fallen, totalitarian home planet, they will be free from their dystopia, somehow, some way.

As the story progresses, the milieu becomes very dark, and the terrible truth of man’s inability to escape himself and the shortcomings of his people stare in the face of Dr. Hoyos. The central theme under all the action, discoveries, and conspiracies really got under my skin; try as they might to transcend humanity’s ugliness, the voyagers still carry the faults of their people - our people - within themselves. Evil lies in the hearts of men.

And yet the story ends with incredible hope and joy. When I finished the book, I had to take a day to unwind myself, to float back down to Earth. I was saddened that the journey was over, but I cannot wait to discuss it with my brother, who has just started the book on my recommendation.

You can buy the book here: http://amzn.to/1pUA31S

You can also check out O'Brien's other novels (and his wonderful articles and paintings) at his personal website: http://www.studiobrien.com

The Fight and Flight of Street Art

In Poland. By Natalia Rak.

As a rule, respectable people are inclined to think of street art as vandalism, and in many cases they are right to do so. For the most part, they are thinking of graffiti in its depictions of gang signs, obscenities, or general absurd ugliness or mundanity: "The Dell," "Klue," "F*ck what they think," etc. We are apt to judge objects by their worst traits, as we do each other.

But, primarily suburbanites, we offer ourselves little exposure to the world. The graffiti we encounter is generated by those not so unlike ourselves as we like to think -- suburbanites, perhaps disgruntled teens or young adults who just need to shout and get out.

In the cities, the centers of business and the pretentious avant-garde, where the battle for the soul rages more fiercely and the opposing voices clash and shatter against one another, there is a presence that knows it cannot reach its audience with mere mediocrity or annoyance. It knows that it must put up a fight to be seen, to be felt, and to transform. Extraordinary and intrusive -- it can be no less.

In Lodz, Poland. By ETAM Cru.

Beyond the merely sexy and suggestive, beyond the mere representation of culture or its values as they stand, there are some artists who are weaving a new tale, telling a new story, teaching by gift, service.

Such beautiful, complex works of art on the building walls are the artists' heart on a plate. One does not destroy such things unless through guilt, self-hatred, agony -- and such marks (such cuts on the face of Our Lady of Częstochowa, for instance) are the sign of a war on beauty, a war on the self.

But why is the "vandalism" of graffiti necessary? It is not "necessary," per se, but imminent, just as the destruction of countries, cities, lives is imminent in any war. Modernity made its war on the person long ago, and street art fights back with love. The world tears out her hair, and he crowns her head with flowers to assuage the loss. Street art now is a true revolt. It is the mother who, suffering, says no to the child.

It is true that many artists today, more than ever, are isolated within their world. The selective social media that effectively operates our daily lives makes sure of this. But the artist does not want to be seen by other artists only. Even more than this, he must not be seen by other artists only. The artist is for the world. Like Christ, he draws when there is nothing left to say, even if he must draw in the sand, or on a concrete slab.

One of Andre Amador's Playa Paintings

The hardened law is what must be broken, taught, and with such non-aggression as a flower in its gun barrel, a sad human face on its corporate morgue.

The world was made of and for color, light, play, and passion deep as the blue of the deepest sea. And to combat it with handcuffs or paint-overs is to bend the natural law and to hasten one's own death. The cities need "illicit" art because they have become dungeons. And even art that hangs limp on gallery walls can suffer the glare of the evaluative modern mind. Churn, spit, rotate -- that is our definition of sophistication. And when the museum-infected red square #24 plays in service of that mind, laying out a sea of blood to be filled with the self's own manufactured ideals of libertinism and commerce ... it too has gone to the gallows and hung itself.

Lodz, Poland. The site of a wondrous artistic phenomenon. Murals of gigantic proportions appear in panoply upon the broadsided buildings throughout the city, with subjects ranging from the grotesque to the pastoral -- all done with skill. And, strangely enough, embraced unreservedly.

by Aryz

From the Huffington Post: "The public/private partnership and the addition of the artwork has attracted business and investment, and of course urban exploring tourists who can follow a map to see the works within a couple of hours. As a model for employing the talents of street artists to create public art in service of the re-invigoration of a city, this one appears to be very successful at respecting the work while adding value to a neighborhood, district, city, and community." (Full article here: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jaime-rojo-steven-harrington/large-murals-transform-lodz_b_3428241.html)

The immediate subject of all art is life, regardless of what is portrayed. It is a commentary and a question, an appeal and a message. It should always inspire the sort of activity mentioned in the above article. Unfortunately, it often encounters a different response:

In Greenpoint, NY. By Banksy.

Thanks be to God, the same intelligent minds whose art is destroyed in the service of an arbitrary and disjointed sense of order know just how to respond. When small arms fail, send a missile.

In London, England

by Banksy

As Banksy says, "Some people become cops because they want to make the world a better place. Some people become vandals because they want to make the world a better-looking place."

I am certainly not promoting unrestrained hooliganism, nor am I condemning the justified burial of offensive material -- unless it offends for the right reason. One retains one's right to his property if he is a good steward of it. For instance, the Lodz venture might be considered good stewardship: if you find yourself in possession of a great ugly gray block of concrete, it is a good decision to fill it with something beautiful. 

However, if you place your animal in insufferable conditions ... or you do the same to humanity by denying its better voices, you have lost your rights. You are a failure as a steward to the earth, and what is government but an appointed steward to act for the best interests of humanity. At this point, someone else must assume the throne. And authority is not given the steward to deny the return of the king.

In "The Duty of Society to the Artist," E.M. Forster provides a helpful illustration of the conversation between an artist who wishes to paint a mural and a city official. The city official is very happy to pay the artist, but wants to know exactly what the artist shall paint (for it must, of course, thinks the official, be of service, of usefulness, to the state). The artist does not know what he shall paint. He needs to begin. He needs to create, experiment. He is not an engineer or a chemist. He is an artist, and the artist makes out of love, not out of mere design. His creations do not have a purpose, per se, but a meaning. They are not schemes, but the story of life itself, manifesting the reflective nature of man toward himself and the cosmos. They are appeals to the deepest and truest sensibilities of human nature, and thus allow the elusive Real to be actualized as the imagination takes hold and seeks to make itself like unto beauty.

But the city official shakes his head. He does not understand, nor does he care. He is a vandal, unknowing.

We can do with no more vandals. Plenty of vandals have made our love run cold, placed it under fire of scientism's laser beams. I say let the love pour out upon the city streets. Let the snowy-capped mountains be moved to the weirdly Mordor-esque towers of New York and Chicago. Let Banksy be Banksy. His money's where his mouth is and he can bank with mine anytime (with some -- or many --reservations, of course). 

At least let the artists go back to the streets without timidity. Art is to be seen, remarked upon, rejected if need be. But it must be seen. 

Go out and make fishers of men. Go out and be praised and shamed, for is this not your calling, the very essence of your work? Its public nature, its communal nature? Go out and paint the stars back into the sky. Go and replant trees in the most unjungled of concrete jungles; remain to water the feeble saplings. Go out and paint icons of the kings of men, and dare the world to mutilate its very face. Go out and dare. Go out and make fishers of men.

Bydgoszcz, Poland. Mural by Pener and Sepe.

Krzysztof Kieślowski: Polish Filmmaker

Recommended

This post will serve as the introduction to a series on Krzysztof Kieślowski, a Polish filmmaker widely unknown in America, who directed many films of great intuition and artistry from 1989 to 1994. 

A master of the contemplative moments of life, he captured complex emotion with the aid of powerful sound scores by the Polish composer, Zbigniew Preisner, with whom he worked closely on some of his greatest pictures, such as the Trois Couleurs trilogy and La Double Vie de Véronique. 

Noticeable characteristics of his cinematographic style include long shots of characters making their paths through the streets, sequences devoid of dialogue with movement seemingly directed by the almost constant musical accompaniment, and a conscious use of color tones to achieve diverse moods.

Singularly masterful in comparison to most contemporary filmmakers, Kieślowski's ability to convey the human condition as beautiful, mournful, solemn, and sublime dwarfs the standards of Hollywood that attempt to simplify human experience to a few immobile sentiments, reactions, needs. Kieślowski's characters cannot be pinned down. They seem to be the best representations of the fallen human self, free from assumptions and surmise. They have infinite potential, and no trite, quick conclusion is employed to flatten them. They remain real.

We may be blessed with one lonely hermit of the same breed, and of course I mean Terrence Malick, who has also applied the compositions of Preisner -- as well as John Tavener (d. 2013) -- to his work.

Enjoy the trailers. Dive into the human story and the fragrant bath of life. More to come.

The "Sea Peoples": American Philistinism

Edgar Degas, "David and Goliath"

"Philistine" is a lovely pejorative that has unfortunately gone out of fashion -- or at least out of the common ken.

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, a "philistine" is "3. ... An uneducated or unenlightened person; one perceived to be indifferent or hostile to art or culture, or whose interests and tastes are commonplace or material; a person who is not a connoisseur."

Perhaps the very reason for the mysterious disappearance of such a germane descriptor is that we are so inundated with Philistia that we cannot see it, like a fish in the sea. Only a Noah will float.

One has only to review the "reviews" of Terrence Malick's To the Wonder to discover the inane blatherings of our very own American philistian moviegoers, who apparently equivocate between animal stimulus and good art. Take, for instance, this particular jewel presented graciously to the Amazon passer-by's innocent perusal. Please try to read this comment in its entirety, considering it a spiritual exercise in order to "know thy enemy":

"I'm educated, I went to college. I can appreciate works of 'art' and I have done. However, to watch this movie is to waste time and money on a kaleidoscope of someone else's brain vomit. If I hadn't read the synopsis, I very seriously doubt I would have had a clue what this movie was about. Scattered images and very little dialogue thrown together in a pathetic attempt to seem 'arty' [sic] when, in fact, it comes off as very contrived and forced. When filmmakers come up with this tripe, I can only imagine that they have simply forgotten the 'point' which is to entertain the viewer. I was not entertained. Only shallow people attempting to exhibit nonexistent depth are even going to pretend they enjoyed this viewing experience. However, if you marvel at seeing wonderful actors spin around in the sun and actually NOT act (or even speak audibly); if you enjoy watching a movie presented very similarly to a dream I had last night; or, if you are out to impress that cute blond in your liberal arts classes by feigning intellectualism -- then by all means, go for it."

Thank you, Kellie from Miami. You were very entertaining. I feel less shallow now. "Are you not entertained?," says Maximus. I was entertained. Are you entertained?

That the idea of the beautiful in a piece of artwork and the idea of entertainment held by many Americans are not synonymous, I think you will agree, but in the interest of culture I will provide some delineations. In doing so, I accept the risk of appearing to be one of those "shallow people attempting to exhibit nonexistent depth." ;)

Entertainment. When we seek entertainment, we are usually relying upon someone else's effort to make us laugh, smile, gaze in wonderment, recoil in mock horror. In so doing, we are asking that person or other entity to satisfy our expectations, to fulfill our pre-conceived notions of what will make us happy or afford us some distraction from the weariness of life. Entertainment never transcends the sphere of the immanent.

Ms. Kellie from Miami seeks the same. She would very much like to have all of her instinctual desires recognized and catered to by the filmmaker. She refuses to be brought out of herself in order to encounter a mode of experience that is superior to her own. No. That would make her uncomfortable, and we cannot have "educated" people being made to feel uncomfortable, especially if they have attended "college" and thus understand how to appreciate "'arty'" things.

Sorry, Kellie. Art is ecstasy.

Culture. When we seek culture (and I am referring to the Arnoldian scheme when I say "culture" -- see the final paragraph of "Violence and Cinema"), we are seeking something beyond ourselves. We are seeking something we have not attained, and in this seeking we accept that we must toil with difficult ideas, with difficult perspectives that will at first confuse us when they seek to liberate us from the animal and the mundane.

To take up the banner of Culture is similar to the Christian ideal of taking up the cross. It is a way of intellectual perfection that always looks for the more potently significant in life, even at the expense of the comfort and pleasure of an easy romance or a gratuitous battle sequence. In truth, the way of Culture is the way of the spiritual, of understanding the world and oneself as realities infused with spiritual magnitude, and of seeking to understand the meaning of that magnitude. The way of Culture, of perfection, is infinite, as humankind is infinite.

Thus, to the "'point.'" To be a philistine is to pin down, to ground, to crush things into a swallowable morsel for one's disposal. Yes, to be a philistine is to be a consumer both of products and of ideas -- to dispense with them, to put them in their place so that whatever small-minded existence one possesses may continue without disturbance.

(The idea of philistinism is thus easily pinned down -- it hardly wriggles -- while the ideas expressed variously in such a film as To the Wonder are not so easily placed, nor should they be.)

I dare say Ms. Kellie from Miami has put Malick in his place. For her, the eminent filmmaker with a long and fascinating career as an artist offers the world nothing but "brain vomit."

The person of Culture disagrees.

He can see for her the waves of the Florida sound begin to rise in tumultuous clamor, washing further and further their dross upon the shore. They will take her up with the zombies that dash toward the sealed ark, and she will float for awhile in a hell of thrashing bodies and silted water until she sinks, unaware like a fish in its sea.

But then again, she is a person ... with the sort of infinite potential displayed by Malick in his exploration of human capacities. She can change, though she be Delilah of the Sea Peoples.

Concerning Music

Part III: Voices of Heaven

The human voice, almost unlimited in its range of application and its potential for communication, is truly a wonderful gift. In its very nature as intrinsic to humanity lies its unique quality of being the only musical instrument created directly by God Himself. In the Incarnation, God became man and took on a human body. Because of this act, there is something of the divine nature in the human voice. In this divine quality rests the capacity to be raised to the level of the sublime, and also lowered to that of the profane.

In song, the words commonly used for communication are given a quality which rises above spoken words. A person must pour all of his musical skill into the words in order to make them resound with the beauty of musical art. Simply put, the singer endows his words with all the beauty he can give them. Because of the spiritual quality of the human voice, the words he chooses to hallow by making them into song become very important. Transform sacred words into song, and they become divine. Adapt depraved and vulgar words or stories into song, and they become a mockery, and in this mockery the singer commits blasphemy against the divine nature of the instrument, against the Giver and Bearer of this instrument Himself.

It is in this mockery that we find hidden and subversive elements of Satan's influence. After all, what can Satan do apart from make a mockery of what is good? It is in the demonic hallowing of depravity under the disguise of music that the fallen angel of light dupes us into overlooking one of his greatest deceptions. We see the evidence of this lie everywhere. Songs whose words celebrate every form of human concupiscence have subtly made their way into the enjoyment of those in even the most pious of social circles. These songs have gained acceptance because they bear the disguise of music, which may be appealing by itself. But in truth, what greater mockery is there than to make a divine instrument sing the praises of sin itself? The hideousness of this great perversion is as frightening in its reality as it is powerful in its infernal practice.

Now a word on the unfortunate phenomenon spearheaded by the growth of mediocrity in music. In the popular music industry, there is a severe lack of appreciation for true vocal talent. The predominant idea, cemented in our minds by such exhibitions as "American Idol", is that that anyone with a flair for performance and who can prolong words into a semi-rhythmic or melodic pattern can make good music. The aid of technology has been a great boon to this mediocre industry. This cheapening and commercialization of music, in particular the human voice, has led to a society with wide-ranging ignorance of the existence of true beauty in vocal music.

In the classical tradition we see a vast deposit of beautiful vocal compositions. Yet the classically trained singer is perhaps one of the most under-appreciated of musical artists. Their talents can be seen most prominently in the great classical operas. In modern times they have become more diversified in their range of musical selections, yet the beauty and purity of the trained human voice remains. But it is in the choral tradition that the human voice achieves its highest musical function. There is little in our world that can contend with the awe-inspiring beauty of many human voices raised in harmonic unison. In secular music it achieves an unparalleled level of beauty. In sacred music it rises to entirely new level. From the majestic and powerful polyphony of the Byzantine tradition to the haunting and ethereal chant of the Gregorian tradition, we see the true perfection of the human voice, of the art of music, and of communal worship. The works of Bach, Handel, Allegri, Palestrina, Vaughan-Williams, Rachmaninov, Tavener, and many others will forever be paradigmatic of this wonderful tradition of choral music.

I hope it is now easy to understand how the human voice in musical art can not only make the art as perfect as humanly possible, but in its sacred capacity, as in worship, it becomes the epitome of artistic beauty while transcending art itself. It is in the great choral compositions, where the words of worship have been transformed into the beauty of music, that we find ourselves wondering if the angelic choirs would sound much different if given human voices. There is such a pure and ethereal quality about such music, that it often seems out of place in our fallen world, and indeed it might be. It has been said that the language of heaven is music. I am convinced that our voices, raised in worship and endowed with all the beauty of music, are but a small taste and foreshadowing of Paradise.

The Anti-Realism of Marcel Duchamp

In Oscar Wilde's dialogue entitled, "The Decay of Lying," Vivian says that “Art is a veil, not a mirror” This is a very indirect, but ultimately a very pessimistic, statement. A mirror offers us a distorted picture of actuality. A veil covers up something in order to make it appear mysterious – only appropriate if the object is also a boundless subject, and thus mysterious. Nevertheless, a veil obscures. Art is a window. Art is a 60 megapixel lens to our 2 megapixel lens: the artist allows the real to be actualized by means of an appeal to the imagination. Art attempts to reveal the mystery that is reality which we see with clouded vision because of our imperfections. Art is corrective therapy. Sometimes it is laser surgery.

As Oscar Wilde's Vivian says, referring to the character of Hamlet: “The world has become sad because a puppet was once melancholy.” This is exactly right. In the volatile conditions that surround such a dangerous enterprise as creating art, one is constantly in peril of making mistakes. The lens can become convex, concave, variously distorted. The lens can focus on one part at the expense of the whole, or vice versa, and when Art has gained a whole host of disciples, magnified unreality can cause great harm.

“Art,” then, can be “a veil” – e.g. Duchamp's "Fountaine" – but ideally it reveals the real, the beauty that lies hidden, and thus affects the course of human life positively. Marcel Duchamp asserts that the real (and the beautiful) is exactly what he perceives – in this particular case, a urinal. This assertion would rest on the infallibility of human reason as its foundation. Fortunately -- for this case -- human reason often fails. However, because of the authority of art – “the world has become sad because a puppet was melancholy” – Duchamp set off a current that has caused a great “veil,” if not a black curtain, to fall over reality: the anti-avante-garde in art.

Concerning Music

Part II: Worlds of Music

There exists a wide disparity within musical genres and styles. Many of these differences are centered solely around different cultures, but even within the same culture there are major dissimilarities. I think it can be deduced from this fact that people listen to and enjoy music for a variety of different reasons. While the decision to listen to a certain genre of music is in part determined by the individual's familiarity with it (nostalgic attachment), one also listens to a particular genre for the sake of the feelings and thoughts that it inspires. It is important to observe that these two reasons are very much related.

I will begin by describing two musical styles or genres that appear exceedingly different and nearly present a kind of musical dichotomy. Because of the many sub-genres and various categorizations related to each of them, I will, for the sake of simplicity, refer to them as they are commonly categorized: art music and popular music. There is a third category, folk music, which, also for simplicity, I will group with popular music. Although my definitions of these categories are loosely applied and may be too rudimentary, they will serve well the intent of this essay. Once again, I will analyze music independent of all human vocals, which will be discussed in detail in part three.

Popular music is characterized, among other things, by an easily discernible and often dominant rhythm or beat. This rhythm is usually marked by percussive instruments. One may find it easy to imagine our primeval ancestors discovering that beating on various instruments to accompany dance or song was very satisfying. This rhythmic and percussive music appeals to our very nature as physical beings. The beat of our hearts, the circulation of our blood, our breathing; these natural and physical markers of life are represented in rhythmic music at a fundamental level. This is possibly the most basic explanation as to why human beings are innately attracted to popular music. Observe the response that most people have to a popular song; their body almost naturally begins to move in time with the beat, often culminating in some kind of dance or similar carefree activity. The happiness that can be gained through the enjoyment of popular music is real, but because it is normally just a physical emotion, it is fleeting. This explains why the popular music genre is growing so rapidly; why there is a constant demand for new music, and why there are very few popular songs that are "timeless."

Art music is commonly referred to as classical music, although art music encompasses a much broader spectrum of music than classical, which is actually a sub-genre. It can be very loosely characterized by the absence of a dominant rhythm and by its skill-based artistic origin. Many art music pieces are written to showcase the skill of a particular musician or composer. There is something about the absence of a dominant beat that requires the listener to transcend physical human instincts. The appreciation for art music becomes much more intellectual; we can often find our minds hard at work to match the music with something that is familiar to us. This makes sense when one considers that this kind of music is often associated with intellectuals. Observe someone listening to a piece of beautiful art music; the eyes are closed and a slight smile will sometimes appear. There is a kind of peace and tranquility about raising the mind above visible realities. Although we may not be able to relate physically to what we hear, we somehow know that there is great beauty in it; that it hearkens to something beyond the human condition. Many composers of classical music understand this and they often attribute or dedicate their music to some kind of spiritual reality.

When God created our universe he created order out of chaos. He designed human beings to desire order and beauty. There is something within an ordered rhythm that appeals to our nature as God created it. Music that represents the order within creation is truly beautiful. Keeping this in mind, a perversion of popular music arises in a disordered and chaotic rhythm, as is perhaps exemplified by the dubstep genre, as well as other rising genres. Sounds and tone patterns that would, taken by themselves, be naturally displeasing to the human ear, as in the heavy metal genre, are another example of disorder in music. Art music too is subject to this corruption of rhythm and melody. Experimental and cacophonous melodies or sounds have become more prevalent within the art music world and show a frightful disregard for order and natural beauty. This represents the very "modern" idea that ugliness and disorder can be made into art, and it exemplifies a perversion of the nature of art and beauty itself. It is the "enjoyment" of disordered music that leads to negative thoughts and emotions; indeed, some music is actually formulated for this very purpose, and it is only out of great ignorance or a desire to satisfy human concupiscence that these disordered musical styles can be enjoyed.

An important phenomenon to consider is that people develop nostalgic attachments to certain types of music. These attachments are, to a certain extent, independent from the objective nature of the music. Memories associated with a certain musical piece can, for the individual, completely change the effect that may be commonly perceived or that the artist or composer had originally intended. Children who grow up with certain musical genres have a greater appreciation for them as adults. It is this learned bias towards music that could explain why a person who loves beauty and order can enjoy what may be categorized as disordered music. One must always remember that attachments and biases often cloud clear thinking, and that we must learn to judge art objectively as well as subjectively.

Because of technological advancements, the skill required to produce music has been greatly minimized. This accounts for a sharp increase in mediocrity, especially in popular music, although art music is by no means exempted. The very real fact that almost anyone can compose music which will appeal to many, regardless of skill, and the fact that a general appreciation for genuine quality and skill has all but disappeared, has given rise to the music industry. It is an industry which churns out mediocre art for profit, and one which many sadly uneducated people have been drawn into. This point brings us back to the first part of this essay concerning music as art. Mediocre "art" created simply to make money is not art.

A final note concerning the appeal of art music. I am speaking primarily about most orchestral, film, and incidental compositions. I mentioned that our minds naturally seek to match what we hear to something which is familiar to us. The difficulty with the music I have just mentioned is that they do not easily coincide with life as we normally see it. This is one of the reasons it is often used to accompany a story, a story which may often be so fantastic that, if experienced in our everyday life, would be called miraculous. When I listen to beautiful orchestral music, my mind is drawn into the worlds of Narnia, Middle Earth, or Perelandra, the worlds of mythology and fantasy, worlds that are, in a sense, more real than ours, as G.K. Chesterton has observed. The contemplation of worlds where beauty does not wear a mask, where truth is not locked in churches and where goodness is not a mental construct is where the listener often finds peace. Of course, these worlds would be incomplete and even meaningless without the absolutely true, constant, immediate, and dare I say, fantastic reality of the story of our salvation. No story is more true and real than the story that is true and real for all the universe, unbound by culture or by history, free from the limits of time and space. For me, music has always been there to point the way to this world. To those heights we must all go, and we should not dismiss the guiding power of music.

Concerning Music

Part I: Musical Transcendence

 

I have always had an immense love and respect for music. Its capacity for celestial beauty and ability to inspire has affected billions of people, yet its power is often underestimated. In this series of articles, I will describe a fundamental and basic understanding of the nature (and effects) of music, in the hope that my thoughts are as close to the truth as possible.

While I have had some training in music, I have very little education in regards to music theory and the psychology and philosophy that informs it and flows from it, so I hope the reader will forgive me for any errors arising from my ignorance. Everything I know concerning this subject is rooted in my own observations and my basic psychological and philosophical knowledge (a knowledge founded in simple and universal metaphysical principles).

Let me first vehemently establish that there is an objective good in music. The common perception that good in music is subjective or relative is a fallacy. Music, first and foremost, is art. The final end and purpose of art is to portray truth (which, in this article, is synonymous with reality) and beauty in creation, to portray what is truly real, and its ultimate effect will necessarily be the raising of the mind to the Creator and the First Artist. It is a simple fact of human experience that some art fulfills this task better than others.

All art is subject to an objective judgement in the sense that it is either good art or bad art. This judgment is determined by both an objective and a subjective element. The subject matter of the art itself can be judged objectively according to its beautiful portrayal of what is true or real, and subjectively dependent on the skill of the artist and his ability to model his art after beauty and truth. In short, the objective good of the artifact is directly related to the objective good of its model, and the subjective good is directly related to the likeness between artifact and the model, which is dependent on the skill of the artist.

(A note on my use of the terms "truth" and "reality":  sin in itself is a lie, a turning away from all that is true, from God Himself. God, as Being Itself, contains within himself all that is, therefore all that is real is in God. Thus, in this metaphysical sense, sin, by itself and for itself, is not real and cannot be the subject of art. However, the effects of sin such as mercy, suffering and death, justice, damnation and forgiveness are valid, and indeed highly appropriate subjects for art as they are ultimately about our relationship with God. Furthermore, as the transcendentals {truth, beauty and goodness} all reside in God it follows that these "effects of sin" are objective goods.)

Music as art has the unique capacity to be modeled after a diverse and often exceedingly profound array of subjects. To clarify, I am speaking primarily of music separate from human vocals. The presence of vocals in music adds an entirely new element which I will describe in the final portion of this essay.

At its most basic level, music is written to tell a story, and the artist struggles to illustrate this story with the often ambiguous sounds of musical instruments, knowing that the quality of his art will be judged by how well it tells the story. Observe that such music can illustrate an objectively good story, as well as a story lacking in goodness.

Another model for musical composition is human emotion itself. It is in this arena that music has its real power, for it can represent and inspire nearly every emotion, both good and evil. How often have our moods been quickly changed by an arrangement of musical notes? This power has often been used to influence people for good as well as for evil. Ultimately it is by the emotive power of music that our thoughts and feelings are raised to the divine or lowered to the profane.

One may argue that this is a utilitarian understanding of music; that it should stand on its own apart from human influence and desire. In reply I would ask: in what realm, in what manner, and to what end can any art form be separated from the mind who gives it form and from the souls who will experience it? There will always be a part of us in that which we create.

In summary, music in its most perfect form and separate from vocal elements will represent the good (in light of the use of a transcendental here, one may even substitute the word "transcendent") in humanity and nature. Follow music to the heights (or depths) from which it flows and to which it leads, and it will ultimately inspire the contemplation of the beauty that is in all of creation, thus aiding in the ascent of the mind to the Creator Himself.

I have established the purpose of music as an art form; now one may readily ask how this is applicable to the vast array of musical styles and genres. Are there musical styles that represent beauty and truth more perfectly than others? Do certain genres inspire positive emotion while other genres inspire negative emotions? The answer to both these questions is yes, and I will explain how and why in part two of this article.