thinking about Stravinsky’s “abyss of possibilities” … the dizziness he got from staring into which he stopped by returning to his “beloved” forms, meaning traditional, some might say aristocratic or élitist, or downright passé forms, where, he believed, the composer/artist enters into a great argument, with the art/music of the past, with his forbears, predecessors, standing at crossroads, forks in the path, shouting, SO WHY GO THAT WAY?! WHEN YOU MIGHT HAVE GONE THIS?! I thought the following: now what forms/form might stop our heads from spinning staring into the same abyss of endless possibilities for creation?
The form seeming to predominate has been destruction; and then following destruction there was the form you might call autism, requiring of the artist that she or he not enter into arguments with tradition – presumably because these involve confrontation – while still painting portraits, reinventing the sonnet, writing things called plays, screenplays, making sculptures, and so on. So the answer to the abyss of possibilities has been to destroy its ground, in the past, in tradition, or simply to ignore it; to say, It’s impossible what these possibilities are offering me, an infinity of creative possibilities! This one ought to aver is a failure of imagination.
So: what forms? still stopping us at the moment of sitting down/standing up to commence work from growing dizzy with the feeling of immense possibility? (Because isn’t this preferable at the moment of sitting down/standing up to commence work to feeling crushed by the thought that everything has already been done and then having to ignore/destroy/deny it? Which amounts to an acknowledgement that we are not equal to the task of artistic creation, to a sort of medievalism, a sense whereby time is winding down, has wound down… )
THERE IS A FANTAIL IN THE HOUSE! It’s partner calls at the window. It’s saying one word to me, over and over, and fluttering over my head. .. Now it has gone. …
… Not to make an enemy of our potential for failure but to embrace this with every possibility…
I enjoy the form of the dialogue, where, for long stretches, nobody says anything, while saying everything, and then somebody speaks at great length, to say everything, while saying nothing.
