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The
music of Arvo P”rt has been with us for over three decades. And while his
works have been extensively recorded and regularly performed, he has
historically been given cursory attention, if any at all, in the annals of
20th century music. Most likely, this is an omission rooted in insecurity
rather than indifference. P”rt's work is hard to describe in words, and
even harder to classify stylistically. As this century nears a close, we
still do not know what to do with him. In the words of Paul Griffiths:
"P”rt does not sound like anyone we are likely to meet. There is
a great deal that somethingówhat?óhas forbidden it to say . . . [His]
music, however, simple in substance, is complex in that it stands before
us inexplicably tongue tied. We may feel that we have nothing to say in
return."
Griffiths, perhaps accidentally, has tapped into the essence of P”rt's
aesthetic. When we approach his music, we are likely to conclude that our
analytical tools are somewhat insufficient or even inappropriate for a
complete understanding of his methods. Approaching his work is like
describing the interior of a church. One feels an odd discomfort by
engaging in only a secularized analysis of its artwork and architecture.
This uneasiness is the most likely rooted in our neglect of those motifs
drawn from religious experience. These are, however, essential to a full
understanding of the composerís work. So the difficulty of writing an
entire book on P”rt's spiritual úuvre becomes clear. A successful
author must speak intelligently of P”rt's music while still respecting
its mystery and its message.
In light of this challenge, Paul Hillier manages to enter P”rt's
cathedral and describe his frescoes with reverential insight, being
himself a full believer in its message. Hillier, now a music professor at
Indiana University, has worked closely with the composer, leading the
renowned Hilliard Ensemble in a number of his premiere recordings. He has
also been one of the few who have spoken with P”rt at length about his
life and work. But even with such credentials, explaining P”rtís
musical theology is not easy. The Estonian-born composer speaks very
little about his works and even less about his process. Consequently, he
has acquired the image of a monkish recluseóa bald Medievophile who
willfully escaped the chaotic experimentalism of the 60s in order to write
music that, by comparison, makes Sch¸tz sound adventurous. Hillier makes
a valiant attempt to clarify this misperception by carefully revealing the
purpose behind P”rtís writing. His is a sacred, selfless art is based
on a purity of simple processes. It is highly structured as a means of
purging the ego from the process of composition.
Unlike most books on composers, Hillierís begins not with biographical
material, but rather with those elements, which are at the heart of P”rtís
musical tradition (e.g., Russian Orthodoxy, icons, hesychasm, bells).
Those well acquainted with the composerís work would see the necessity
of Hillierís approach. P”rtís writing has frequently been analogized
to the work of an Orthodox iconographer in that both construct their art
in an anonymous fashion, cultivating a "stillness" born out of
tradition and faith. Consequently, biographical material is understandably
peripheral, if relevant at all, to the understanding of his work.
The first chapter is sure to be foreign territory for readers who are
unfamiliar with the traditions and theology of the Eastern Orthodox Church
(which are notably different from those of the Christian West). This
information, however, is essential for a complete understanding of what
influences the composer. His writing tradition, like countless other 20th
century composers, is an amalgam of many different manifestations of
spirituality, all of which contribute to the sense of egolessness and
Divine contemplation. Hillier presents a topical study on these elements
which includes a discussion on icons, bells, minimalism and hesychasm (the
Orthodox monastic tradition of silent contemplation). It is unfortunate
that he does not dwell on these points at length for each is rich with a
potential for understanding the reverential tone of P”rtís work. The
material presented here provides needed sustenance to a new area of theory
and aesthetics that deals with the implications of silence, egolessness,
and symbol in a spiritual context. Thankfully, Hillier does give many
valuable references to guide the reader in further study.
With these elements clearly presented, the remainder of the book is spent
discussing P”rtís life and work, including a detailed evolutionary
account of the codification of his tintinnabuli style. Tintinnabuli is a
process by which scale and triadic material combine to create harmonic,
rhythmic and formal relationships within a larger structural framework. In
a thorough chapter dedicated to this technique, Hillier reminds us that
tintinnabulation is not only a practical or aesthetic-driven application,
but more importantly a symbol of Godís relationship with humanityóa
truism which P”rt confesses regularly. The vertical and horizontal
components in tintinnabulation personify the dualism of body and spirit:
the ego-driven life of sin heard in the melodic "M-voice," and
the objective realm of Godís forgiveness as heard in the stability of
the triadic "T-voice." The M-voice continuously moves in a
linear fashion, searching for direction, while the triadic T-voice
provides an element of stability. The two voices are considered one
indivisible entity, capable of adapting to a variety of situations and
eliciting an inner sense of tranquility and Divine presence. In P”rtís
own words:
"Tintinnabulation is an area I sometimes wander into when I am
searching for answersóin my life, my music, my work. In my dark hours, I
have the certain feeling that everything outside this one thing has no
meaning."
Hillier makes it clear that the tintinnabuli was not always part of the
composerís musical language, but rather was the consequence of many
earlier musical experiments. In the discussion of P”rtís early
compositional period (covering the serial/collage works written prior to
1968), Hillier focuses on three works which he considered most important
to the composerís development: Perpetuum Mobile, Symphony No.
2, and Credo. These pieces, while audibly chillier than his
current writing, are presented as crucial to the overall understanding of
his later style. Despite the composerís personal rejection of his
earlier writing practices, Hillier shows how these were necessary dealings
with structure that enabled P”rt to emerge in the 70s with a new
systematic style infused with tintinnabulation. He writes, "For P”rt
it seems that serialism was primarily a useful means of pouring pitch
sequences into music ideas that originated elsewhere."
These extramusical ideas came to fruition in the mid-1970s following a
period of compositional silence that lasted for many years. Hillier
communicates with detailed clarity the composerís feelings during this
time. It was in this period of crisis that P”rt learned how to walk again
as a composer. He looked to the Orthodoxy Church for spiritual guidance.
He began studying early sacred music of the West (Gregorian
chant, Bach, Palestrina) while growing increasingly aware of Orthodox theology. Through this influence, P”rt created a tradition out
of pieces of the past that shared his penchant for spiritual and selfless
art.
In the late 70s and throughout the 1980s, P”rt became extremely
productive using what he had learned filtered through the tintinnabuli
style appearing within various macroformal designs. In the discussion of
these works, Hillier dedicates an entire chapter to a detailed analysis of
Passio, P”rtís monumental setting of the Passion according to
St. John. He also includes substantial discussion of the Te Deum, Stabat
Mater, and Miserere, which, together with Passio,
constitute P”rtís major compositions of the 1980s. Also, the author
includes a surprisingly current discussion of P”rtís most recent works
including the recently recorded premiere of Litany, a work in English that sets a penitential Orthodox prayer.
With the above wealth of analytical material, one might say that
Hillierís book is important in that it is the first comprehensive
analytical study of P”rtís music to date. But perhaps more important
(and more needed) are the provisions it imparts to the fields of music
theory and aesthetics for discussing and analyzing spiritual works. We are
now witnessing a new public penchant for the metaphysical in the arts. The
music of composers like John Tavener, Ivan Moody, Giya Kancheli, and
Henryck Gorecki have acquired considerable attention recently, but have
been carelessly termed "new simplicity" or
"holy-minimalism" in an attempt to explain with recycled tags
their anomalistic appearances at the end of the 20th century. After
reading Hillierís book, one realizes that such labels do not adequately
convey the fullness or the purpose behind such music. Words like
minimalism and simplicity, while familiar to all, mislead in that they
only describe the superficial and salient features which are the products
of a much deeper artistic and hermeneutical goal, one that, like the
sacred icons of the Christian East, has as its primary tenet the
representation of the spiritual world through symbol, color, and
stillness.
As Hillier correctly writes, "simplicity of form does not necessarily
translate to simplicity of experience." It is precisely the
experience that is most important to these composers. Consequently, we
should instead look for a better term from the world of Byzantine art.
Byzantine aestheticians and iconologists frequently use the Greek word
"anagogic" to describe the nature of Orthodox sacred art. The
word denotes the artistic experience whereby the observerís thoughts and
feelings are lifted up from worldly sense experience toward a
contemplation of the spiritual realm. It seems, then, highly appropriate
to refer to this kind of music as "anagogic music" in that it
serves a similar function.
Hillier makes it clear in his conclusion that this type of music is
answering a strong need in many today as it has done cross-culturally in
the past. Taking our lead from the first chapter of this book, perhaps we
can begin to look for new analytical strategies that acknowledge the
spiritual element in music composition, performance, and perception. While
there are new scholars who are exploring the aesthetics of anagogic
expression in art, the field of music is still sorely lacking in such
research. Hillier is quite correct when he cautions us about ignoring the
motifs outlined in chapter one. To do so, he says, "would be to
accept the (to me) unacceptable premise that P”rtís music is simply an
accident of time and circumstance." It is unfortunate that in light
of this strong statement, he does not assert the need for their further
study. He merely encourages the reader to "accommodate them at will
into the . . . music itself."
P”rt willfully rejected those serial techniques which he believed
precipitated oneís "creative death" and instead turned to more
traditional forms of sacred expression embracing something less
self-referential and far more symbolic. In analyzing these works, we, too,
can peer beyond the clinical disposition of current music theory in order
to acknowledge those perceptions that are instinctively human in the
artsóto investigate adaptations of iconographic symbol, to examine the
effects of controlled silence and contemplation, and to understand the
delicate structural balance between the self and the selfless. One can
currently only imagine what profit we would gain from new ways of looking
at Machaut, Palestrina, Bach, and even Messiaen and Stockhausen in light
of Hillierís first chapter. Perhpas we might finally articulate with
some degree of certainty the universal expressions of sacred that have
intrigued so many of this centuryís finest composers.
Kurt Sander, Assistant of Music
Theory and Composition, Northern Kentucky Univeristy
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