“Creative lying” and Other Ways to Signify: On Music Performance as a Creative Process
Lina Navickaitė-Martinelli, University of Helsinki / Lithuanian Academy of Music and Theatre
1. Introduction
In musical culture, the concept of a “creator” is commonly applied to the composer, the author of a musical work. The centrality of the “opus”, and of authorship in general, in music aesthetics, analysis and even mythology (the myth of musical “genius”) is certainly connected, if it is not its primary consequence, with this perception. Within this framework, the conceptual transition – which also happens to be a chronological one – from authorship to performance becomes synonym of a transition from a creative process to something else. Something skilful and competent, sure, and hopefully something emotional and inspiring. But “creative” is not a quality that seems to play a prominent role. In fact, creative is what was happening before the performance.
But can we really say that the interpreter of music is a mere performer of a technical job, who reads a certain text and presents it to a listener without any personal explication? The “consumers” of music, i.e., the listeners, are often fascinated at a superficial level by performer’s virtuosity, mastering of an instrument, performing by heart, etc. However, the essence of the performer’s work is something laying behind these important yet manageable basics: that is a creative process. The notes, as a rather vague source of information, serve to the performer mostly as a plan which one needs to carefully read and understand, but which gains a particular value only after being creatively assembled. It is precisely the importance of the creative effort, unfolding the variety of possibilities dormant in music that is emphasized by so many practicing musicians and pedagogues. The job of a performer, and his/her role within the musical process, is definitely not a passive one, and even the term “mediation,” so often (ab)used to describe performance, may end up giving an incomplete picture of the real, intimately creative, nature of the performer’s hermeneutics of a musical work. In other words, the metaphor of the priest (which cunningly implies the status of the god for the counterpart – that is, the author) is hardly an accurate, let alone fair, one. [1]
In the present article, I shall discuss some features of music performer’s art, which allow us consider his/her activity as a creative process. After the musical work is written, and before it reaches the listener, many-sided and complex work has to be done by the performer-interpreter. Interpretation of music reaches far beyond being mere reproduction or mechanical re-creation; rather, it is to be treated as a distinctive type of creation, through which the creative ideas, insights and convictions of a performer are conveyed. After having listened to several different interpretations of the same piece, it seems evident that each of them provides the musical work with significantly new nuances of sonority, style and meaning. Relative to these observations, below I shall present (1) some thoughts on how one might semiotically approach the creative process of musical performance; and (2) the attitudes that certain performers have concerning their creative roles in interpreting the music which they perform.
2. Terminological Premise
Perhaps the first problem in talking about the art of musical performance is the lack of a clear definition of the term. “Musical performance,” what is it? In one of his essays, Dario Martinelli (see Martinelli 2010, 51) expresses reservations concerning terminology in the area under consideration. He remarks, for instance, that, even in what is taken to be one of the most reliable sources, The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, we cannot find a satisfactory answer as to what musical performance is. Indeed, the author of the entry “Performance,” Jonathan Dunsby (2000), from the very first sentence speaks about “music making” instead of (or, sometimes, together with) “performing.” Admittedly, such a generic concept as “music making” is rather far from contributing a complete understanding of what the work of a music performer consists of. Or, in a way, it is a de facto admission of the complexity of the concept, and its yet-unexplored potentials.
Another terminological issue, or rather inconsistency, arises between the two terms that nowadays are often used as synonyms: “interpretation” and “performance.” By interpretation we name the understanding and rendering of a musical work, according to one’s conception of the author’s idea. The term is most commonly applied to the understanding of a piece of music made manifest in the way in which it is performed. In this respect, it is already a personal and creative embodiment of a musical composition that depends on the medium between composer and listener. A performer, while studying a musical piece, consciously or not re-models it according to his own ideas and tastes, at the same time paying attention to certain kinds of notation, author’s remarks, the context of the composition, as well as to his own artistic intuition and individual technical capabilities.
In contrast, the term performance designates the execution of something. As Lithuanian violist, conductor and musicologist Donatas Katkus notes, the corresponding Lithuanian and Russian words for the English “performance,” namely atlikimas and ispolnenije respectively, both stand for execution, that is, an act that embodies a set of previously-planned conditions. The German Aufführung and the English performance, too, are related to the execution of a previously-planned job. All these terms show that, in embarking on the act of musicianship, something is indeed performed, that is, a certain predetermined idea is put into action, or a certain musical structure – a song, a dance, a chant, or a symphony – is repeated. The term “to perform,” according to Katkus, has replaced the previously-used “to sing,” “to play,” “to make music,” etc., in order to designate the concrete act of musicianship and its nature (Katkus 2006, 14). Thus, an interpretation is distinct from the performance in which it is embodied. Whereas a given performance is a unique event that might be reproduced (as by a recording) but cannot be re-enacted, an interpretation results from a series of decisions that can be repeated on different occasions of performance: different performances by a given player or conductor might embody the same or a very similar interpretation.
With all the differences implied, it is clear, however, that these two terms – interpretation and performance – refer, much more than the aforementioned “music making,” to the opus, a musical work that is being interpreted or performed. As Nicholas Cook rightly puts it, according to the language we traditionally use to describe performance in its specifically musical sense, “we do not have ‘performances’ but rather ‘performances of’ pre-existing, Platonic works. The implication is that a performance should function as a transparent medium, ‘expressing,’ ‘projecting,’ or ‘bringing out’ only what is already ‘in’ the work, with the highest performance ideal being a selfless Werktreue” (Cook 2001, 244).
Without denying that musical performance, particularly that of Western classical music, is inevitably associated with the musical work, the semiotic approach, I propose, should invoke a broader viewpoint and study performance as encompassing all the external, extra-musical, or exogenic, meanings that do not necessarily depend on a musical work. A good example of such an already-existing attempt, although without purporting to be a semiotic study, is Christopher Small’s insights on music performance. For him, music is not a thing at all but an activity, something that people do. It is of a special interest how Small, in his rather provocative book Musicking: The Meanings of Performing and Listening, proposes a framework for understanding all musicking as “a human activity, to understand not just how but why taking part in a musical performance acts in such complex ways on our existence as individual, social and political beings” (Small 1998, 12), and suggests the following definition for the word musicking: “To music is to take part, in any capacity, in a musical performance, whether by performing, by listening, by rehearsing or practising, by providing material for performance (what is called composing), or by dancing” (ibid., 9).
This article, however, limits the focus to performer’s activities and on meanings that are produced by performance only, not venturing into the field of any human activity related to music, as Small advocates. But even so, we can see that the phenomenon of musical performance encompasses much more than its relation to the score.
3. A Theoretical Model
Thus, how should a musical performance be studied in semiotic terms? To start with, I propose that while dealing (and I am consciously avoiding the usage of just “hearing,” because there are more channels of perception involved in this case) with musical performance, a semiotically oriented researcher should be able to extract, to sort out the semantic and pragmatic elements that stem from the musical work itself, and those deriving from the performer’s input. Accordingly, it should be possible to extract the meanings emerging from the opus in se, the modalities of the musical work; the meanings produced by the performance – for instance, how a performer modalizes the piece, what kinds of effort produce certain new significations; and what are the elements that operate in the activity of a performer as cultural figure.
Figure 1 below presents a theoretical model following the tradition of musical semiotics that, through Eero Tarasti, stems from the theories of Algirdas Julius Greimas. By employing the Greimassian square and taking into account the above-mentioned considerations on musical performance, we may posit four types of logical relations between performance and musical work: P–W, P–Non-W, Non-P–W, Non-P–Non-W.
Figure 1. Four types of logical relations between performance and musical work
1) Within the duality Performance–Work we can trace the combined or shared elements. Those are signs that stem from both the performance and the work, that are produced out of the interaction between composer, score and performer. For instance, among many other things, a certain type of gesturality is determined by the piece and realized by a performer. [2] An interesting situation, which should also be ascribed to this realm, is when a composer develops a close relation with a particular performer, and their collaboration brings forth new artistic fruit. Also belonging to this category of relations are certain prevailing stylistic requirements, standardized performances, and performance clichés related to the creative output of a certain composer.
2) Relation Performance–Non-Work has to do with significations that are purely due to the performer: his/her personal characteristics, creative individuality, corporeality, imagination, etc. It is a certain semantic gesture, which prevails in all the interpretations by this performer and permits him or her to be distinguished from other performers. Aspects belonging to this realm might be called the “performer’s theatre”: emotions conveyed, corporeality, setting, tension, atmosphere created.
3) Work–Non-Performance: Significance that is purely due to the work. These are requirements determined explicitly by the score (which, I would claim, are a rather tiny part of the whole process). I do not intend to venture here into a philosophical discussion about what a musical work is, and how little or much of it can we perceive from the musical notation (I am using the word “work” as equivalent to “score,” since in most cases the latter is our only source as to what the work is). But, clearly there are some aspects of the score that can be approached with certain flexibility by a performer, such as tempo and dynamics. In current Western music performance practice, it is normally only pitches, and perhaps durations and rhythms, that are followed with the most precision. It follows from this that even certain, more or less precise requirements of the score might be placed in the first (rather than the third) block of relations, that is, Performance–Work: let us remember the practice of Baroque ornamentation, for instance, which clearly illustrates that certain elements belong to certain areas depending on the common agreements of a given culture.
4) Non-Work–Non-Performance. To this side of relations belong context-related or even ideological matters, such as romanticized performance, Werktreue ideal, “authenticity” requirements, etc. It is to be noted that any performance is culturally and socially mediated; that is to say, no performance, be it a live concert, a recording or any other representation, exists on its own, isolated from the surrounding culture. If what we have thus far discussed is a performance-as-text (where text is purely “musical” action: performance and/or musical work), here we enter the realm of performance-as-paratext. This includes, for instance, those socio-cultural elements surrounding the text that normally support one’s comprehension of it, offering clues, alternative interpretations, etc., while not being the musical action itself. Such socio-cultural matters as notions of schools and traditions, styles and identities, repertoire choices, competitions, various media types, marketing, image constructing, verbal communication of and about the performers: all these constitute a significant part of the phenomenon of musical performance. Important also to the whole process are the institutions through and in which the Western classical music tradition is disseminated, performed, and listened to today.
It is relevant to point out that all these aspects are, surely, inter-related. As in many other cases, it is impossible to have only four sharp angles and no grey areas, to which several of the elements can fit. For instance, to name just one of such points, the relation to the instrument, which is considered an extension of one’s body in musical anthropology, is a very important corporeal experience to a performer, thus, it can easily be placed in the P–NonW realm and there are very many aspects of that relation to discuss. However, an instrument might also have an important social role, especially in the case of piano, say, in the nineteenth century. [3]
Another legitimate question that might be raised is: Are all the elements audible while listening to music performance? The answer generally is “no.” But then again, we have already pointed out that a performance is not simply something that we “hear,” but something that we “deal with.” Some elements, therefore, are already added to the perception when we see a live performance, some others come before we even decide to hear a certain performance, and so on. It is not necessary that a performance is only what we receive and perceive while doing a so-called “blind listening,” without even knowing who is playing (such a beloved method by many devoted music lovers!). Moreover, Gino Stefani’s theory of musical competence comes to mind, and its idea that the competence of any receiver is worthwhile of the musicologist’s attention. It is obvious, for instance, that most of the score, the stylistic or the technical aspects in music performance are accessible only to a professional listener, some perhaps more to the musicologist (structural matters), while some only to the practicing musician (fingering, pedalling tricks, etc.). However, there are many things to which a lay-listener would pay his or her attention (like, the dress or mime of the singer, up to sheer anthropological aspects that traditional musicology tends to ignore), and these should also be taken into account while semiotically studying the phenomenon.
4. Case-Studies: “The Performer in the Work”
Now let us concentrate on elements of musical performance art that might be ascribed to two explicitly performance-related angles of the square above: Performance–Work and Performance–Non-Work. An important question here is, How much of what we hear or see in a performance belongs to or depends on a performer’s personality?
It must be said that here I am not focusing that much on the “character” and even less on the “sincerity” of a performer, whether or not it is the “real” him in what he tries to communicate to the audience or to critics (a rather important issue for Naomi Cumming in her significant study on performer’s individuality; see Cumming 2000). I am rather interested in the Semiotic Self of a performer, which is a much broader concept that, together with many contextual circumstances, may also encompass “creative lying,” to borrow the title of a famous book on Glenn Gould. Along with theoretical studies and comparative analysis of different recordings, I consider interviews with performers an important research tool. Verbal communication helps deepen one’s understanding about the nature of a performer’s work, as concerning performance strategies, decisions about execution, and the like. Significantly, verbal communication contributes also to the artist’s more conscious understanding of his/her activity, because one often does not reflect upon certain issues before being asked about them.
In discussing the creative role of a performer, I have chosen from the many available remarks by authorities on piano performance the writings by pianist Glenn Gould, together with the study by Kevin Bazzana Glenn Gould: The Performer in the Work (1997). The performer I have myself interviewed for this purpose is a Lithuanian pianist Petras Geniušas (b. 1961), who kindly agreed to share some secrets of his artistic “cuisine.” Thus, I do not aim here to discuss the creative process of “a performer”; rather, the following reflections are based explicitly on my analysis of recordings and verbal communications by these two musicians. Two main issues are considered: the role of a performer in the process of interpretation, and the performer’s relation to the composer and/or work.
3.1. The role of a performer
For Gould, as one might easily guess, the performer’s role was that of being creative. In his own words: “I refuse to conceive of the recreative act as being essentially different from the creative act” (quoted in Bazzana 1997, 39). Gould treated a performance as one possible variation on the work, seen explicitly from the performer’s point of view. By extension, as Bazzana states, the pianist felt that the susceptibility of works to variant interpretations extended well beyond the truism that no two interpretations are alike (ibid.). The same applies to Geniušas, who apparently perceives the role of the performer as first and foremost a creative one. One of his most recurrent terms while talking about performing music is išgyvenimas, Erlebnis (Geniušas 2008 [4]), an adequate word for which, in semiotic terminology, would perhaps be engagement, embrayage. In this case, it means the performer’s most personal and intense feeling of and for a musical work. When Geniušas starts working on a musical piece, the point of departure for him is not formal or structural, but rather the inner truth, what engages or draws one into the work; once found, it suggests adequate interpretative decisions. Most often, this inner feeling comes for the pianist through the visual imagery, a kind of “internal cinema,” that accompanies the piece. Lights, images, perspectives, surroundings, a person/protagonist with emotions and feelings – all the elements of this “inner film” are encoded by the performer into the sonorous texture, from which listeners will in turn decode them and create their own “cinema.” The pianist does not mind if listeners’ significations differ from his own; more important is that the performer creates a catalogue of images, which in his mind are organized according to a certain narrative. The crucial action here is the creation of the catalogue, not the creation of the narrative; the latter will eventually be organized in an autonomous way by the listener (similar to Gould’s concept of the “well-tempered listener,” who is consciously and actively engaged in the creative process). What matters is the existence and richness of the significations in this encoded message; its actual manifestation, or appearance, is not really relevant. (To his students, he says “imagine something,” and when a performer finds something that is relevant for him only, the meanings of the musical work normally open up much easier.) Unlike Geniušas, Gould’s main approach to a musical work was through its structure rather than its emotional qualities; but as concerns the roles of composer, performer, and listener, he very much acknowledged the continuity of the semiotic process at every stage (which recalls Barthes’s view of the reader as writer). In Gould’s thinking, every interpreter can become a creator, as can every receiver; the interpreter can form a new “composition” from the composer’s work, but also the interpreter’s product can in turn become a “composition” in relation to which the listener can act as an “interpreter” (Bazzana 1997, 83).
3.2. Performer’s relation to the composer/work
In a 1962 interview, Gould was asked whether the performer was responsible to the composer or to himself, to which he replied:
There are a few performers in the happy position of feeling that the way they feel the music is the way the composer felt the music. But sometimes I wonder why we fuss so much about fidelity to a tradition of the composer’s generation, and not the performer’s – for instance, trying to play Beethoven as Beethoven is supposed to have played it (quoted in ibid., 59).
Some years later, when asked by an interviewer if he felt that Beethoven would approve of his interpretations of his music, Gould’s response was: “I don’t really know, nor do I very much care” (ibid.).
Geniušas’s attitude toward his relation to the composer is far less “radical,” since he in principle approaches the issue from a different perspective. As most of the performers would agree, he admits that, being a classical musician, he is mediating the composer. He cares to study Beethoven’s style, the composer’s biography, the instruments he played, illnesses he had, and so on. As the pianist puts it, “it is a scholarly attitude that dominates in the musical world nowadays, and I do not ignore it” (Geniušas 2008). Much more important to him, however, is a kind of spiritual relation to the composer. To his mind, the composer, while writing the piece, knew certain things – a certain idea he wanted to convey, a certain form that he wanted to retain, or a certain emotion to express – but this is not all. Because why this idea came and where from – in other words, what is “before” and what is “after” this music – these are not things, in Geniušas’s opinion, that the composer is fully aware of. Thus, believing in the existence of this subconscious level in both the composer’s and the performer’s activity, he does not consider it blasphemy from the performer’s side to rely on his own intuition about the work’s signification. Similarly to Gould, who thought that the performer should impose his own values and prejudices onto the work – should, in a sense, create his own new work based on the existing score – Geniušas observes that the composer is usually very “good in structure,” but he points out the need for a performer to fill in that structure with individual meanings (ibid.).
Nevertheless, in making one’s interpretative choices one should not deny certain stylistic requirements. While dealing with Beethoven, Geniušas says, one should first of all strive for the utmost intensity. This composer is for him “the miraculous concentration of everything – feeling, intellect, engagement – at superhuman heights”; thus, any performer can only attempt to get as close as possible to such intensity. And in doing this it is important to perceive the music played as something unique and new. This is actually the point that many performers make: that it is important to keep a “fresh” attitude towards the music played. But in Geniušas’s understanding, it additionally supports his deliberately unorthodox and sometimes a-historical attitude towards the music played. Both “classical” and “romantic,” for instance, he considers being more inner categories rather than historical ones. Thus, instead of classifying Beethoven as a Classical or Romantic composer, it more important to the pianist that he perceive that music as something just written, something modern, new and unique, not yet classified, exactly as the composer might have perceived it when he wrote it. As also a kind of “spiritual” communication, an emotional “resonance” with the implied composer’s intentions is more significant for him than is literal obedience to the author’s indications in the score (ibid.).
Again, on a more radical level, for Gould faithfulness to the score was not a given. Believing that a musical work exists apart from performance, he considered such aspects as contrapuntal balance, rhythmic nuances, dynamic levels, articulation, tone colour, and instrumentation – even where specified by the composer – to be subject to the performer’s will, yet without compromise as to the identity or status of the work (Bazanna 1997, 36). Among the few performers of the mid-20th century who considered fidelity to the author’s text to be almost a negative pursuit, Gould expressed what was perhaps an extreme reaction to the prevalent tendency of the time, which limited the interpreter’s creative insights and suggested focusing one’s efforts toward rendering the work as “neutrally” as possible.
4. Instead of a Conclusion: Prospects for the Research
It is possible to go to much more lengths in discussing the creative process of a performer, with all the possibilities for signifying the music and the self, while making interpretative decisions. Since when Performance Studies moved their first steps back in the 1970’s, this has been one of the scholars’ major focuses, and not only in relation to music. While a general agreement on the details of the relation performer-creativity is far from having been achieved, it seems clear to everybody that such relation exists, and it is hardly a secondary one.
At any rate, instead of concluding with a topic whose discussion would go far beyond the scopes of this article, I would like to occupy the remaining space by remarking that the performer who seeks to disappear into the work performed is nowadays frequently complimented. Although one would be tempted to interpret this state of things as a collective attempt to underrate the input of a performer, as if s/he really has to be not more than a priest, I believe that the truth has more to do with the other party involved. Indeed, it is probably yet another confirmation of the centrality of “authorship” in the general perception of a musical work. Following the scripta manent principle, the idea remains that the original output of the composer is the truth, and as such it has to be treated with fidelity and a sort of respectful devotion. The good performer is the one who does not lie about the work, but offers it to the audience in a formulation that does its composer the due justice.
Having said that, it remains difficult to fault those performers who choose to follow the opposite route, if their choice is consciously motivated. The case-studies above were deliberately selected in order to discuss the two pianists whose viewpoints are rather similar when it comes to signifying one’s self in performance, rather than humbly complying with the directives of the score. It would undoubtedly be possible to present totally opposite views as legitimate as the ones discussed here. Be that as it may, the important research task in semiotically-oriented performance studies is to be able to approach musical interpretation as a manifold and multidirectional phenomenon, in which the most varied significations are operating.
Here, again, communicating with performers, along with the study of their interpretations, seems to be significant. Lately, I have conducted over twenty interviews with prominent musicians of various specialties, such as Vladimir Ashkenazy, Monica Groop, Gidon Kremer, Alexander Toradze, Violeta Urmana, among others. Naturally, the creative nature of a performer’s work was discussed more than once in those conversations. It is rather evident from their verbal communication that performers tend to emphasize emotion, feeling, intensity, Erlebnis, and imagination as the necessary elements that make their art a creative one. The notes in the score are normally referred to as “hieroglyphs,” “mere symbols,” “Morse code,” etc., while the content, the atmosphere, the spiritual, emotional, meaningful world is added to them only by a performer, thus again the creative role is attributed to the interpreter of those notes. Also, the pleasure their profession gives them is often referred to as a “creative joy.” It is my next research objective to produce a consistent analysis of all the conducted interviews and methodologically classify the data that has so far been uttered and received in an academically less rigorous manner. As for this article, we may conclude by quoting the cellist David Geringas, whose thoughts well summarize what has been written above:
I think that a performer has at least to try to newly create the piece that is being played. What is written in the score is only signs that help re-create the music, but the music starts its existence only in performance. It is very important, while the music sounds, to experience and feel it as intensely as possible, as if to create it anew. I think this is the main goal of a performer: only if one manages to do this, the interpretation will be adequate (Geringas, in Navickaitė-Martinelli 2010, 407).
If nothing else, statements like this (plus the many other similar ones I collected in my interviews) prove that most performers mean what they do, and do what they mean. Performers, and rightly so in my humble opinion, claim their right of possessing a way to music that constitutes a sheer language. This language is different from the composer’s way to music, for the simple reason why an act of performance is intimately different from an act of composition: both may be, and are, creative actions, but the dynamics, the articulation, and the actual spirit that animates them are different. What composers and performers share is a text, and this text – once handed from the former to the latter – has to be translated. The good translator is not the one who simply addresses his/her job in terms of “fidelity” to the text. Mostly, his/her task is to make that text as efficient as it was in the original formulation, now that the language has changed. That may imply neat, even radical, re-articulation of words, sentences and expressions which may happen not to work in the new language, if translated literally.
Notes
- For more on the concept of “mediation” as applied to performer’s work, see Navickaitė-Martinelli 2008.
- This type of performer’s signification, the “composed gestures” that are embedded in the score and actualized by a performer, is thoroughly discussed by Marjaana Virtanen in her doctoral dissertation Musical Works in the Making: Verbal and Gestural Negotiation in Rehearsals and Performances of Einojuhani Rautavaara’s Piano Concerti (Turku University, 2007).
- See the study of Richard Leppert, among others, for instance, his The Sight of Sound. Music, Representation, and the History of the Body. Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 1993.
- Here and elsewhere in the text, this refers to the author’s personal communication with the pianist, October 2008.
References
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Cook, Nicholas (2001). “Analysing Performance and Performing Analysis.” Rethinking Music. Nicholas Cook and Mark Everist eds. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 239–261.
Cumming, Naomi (2000). The Sonic Self: Musical Subjectivity and Signification. Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press.
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Katkus, Donatas (2006). Muzikos atlikimas. Istorija. Teorijos. Stiliai. Interpretacijos [Music Performance. History. Theories. Styles. Interpretations]. Vilnius: Lietuvos muzikų sąjunga.
Navickaitė-Martinelli, Lina (2008). “‘Performer as Mediator’: How We Got Into the Concept, and How to Get Out?” Global Signs: proceedings of the 2003–2006 summer congresses of the International Semiotics Institute (= Acta Semiotica Fennica XXIX). Eero Tarasti ed. Helsinki/Imatra: International Semiotics Institute, 158–164.
Navickaitė-Martinelli, Lina (2010). Pokalbių siuita. 32 interviu ir interliudijos apie muzikos atlikimo meną [Suite of Conversations. 32 Interviews and Interludes on Music Performance Art]. Vilnius: Versus aureus.
Small, Christopher (1998). Musicking: The Meanings of Performing and Listening. Hanover and London: Wesleyan University Press.
