Tuesday, 28 June 2011

Piano Art Performace

If one considers relative incomes of Steve Wynn and mine, i can claim that I acquired my first Picasso. Which is simply a ticket to Paris bought 12 hours before the flight + a ticket  to a concert which I saw the same day I arrived.  A 26.06 3PM concert was by  my new musical discovery, and the most precious discovery, a German experimental pianist Hauschka. 
Chiharu Shioto In Silence, 2009, at 3rd Moscow Biennale
It is highly intimate to write about art, because while describing your feeling about an art piece, you are simply giving your audience a chance for them to put you on the psychoanalyst's couch.  There is actually a double psychoanalytic séance: first when you react to art (while listening to music or standing in front of the painting), second time when  you share your reaction with the others. In the latter case the audience acts as a psychoanalyst, as I already wrote, but in the former case it's the artist himself standing as Doctor F. At Hauschka's concert I did feel pressed in the sofa of this not infamous doctor.  Feeling, smiling,  crying,  reflecting,  laughing, writing.

And while Hauschka was getting out new and new instruments that he uses  to alter the sound (tennis balls, vibrators and tape to list a few), it seemed that these were put not inside of the piano, but  inside of me  to alter my inner voice. 


The opened piano seemed to feel as naked and vulnerable as I did.  It pretended to remain proudly independent  but responded keenly and obediently on every approach that its master attempted. Sometimes the piano got angry, sometimes surprised, sometimes it burst out in the mighty laughter,  sometimes in ashamed giggling. Did we both (piano and me) suffer? No, but clearly this was a pleasure  on the edge of pain. I was highly grateful to the artist  that he has not performed any of his well-known pieces -  the concert was a pure 1-hour improvisation. It really helped, otherwise some Anästhetikum would be needed.

Picasso, Nude, Green Leaves and Bust, 1932
I  wondered whether what Hauschka  is doing to the noble musical instrument can be called humiliation, Hauschka's reply was that piano really seems to enjoy  his  experiments  - 'almost like a massage',  he said laughing. 

Another thing which the concert helped me to realize is that I like masculine art.  Haushka's sound is highly masculine,  highly sexually-imbued as well. Don't ask me why about the latter,  probably it's the overwhelming power that it inflicts on me, which my mind automatically recognizes as  male power. It's also combination of physical and intellectual, which gives it this subconscious sexual appeal (on my personal assumption that sex is  an activity of both body and mind). Similarly,  Hauschka's music is both deeply  sensual and rhythmically  energetic. 

Yes,  Hauschka's sound is profoundly intellectual, and frankly speaking, I was a bit anxious that when I meet the artist, he will turn out to be less intellectual than his music is. Hauschka, of course,  on the first sight  removed  all my silly concerns. On the second, his  cheerful sense of humor provided a fulfillment of both necessary and sufficient condition of the intelligence present.  
Wit being another characteristic feature of his playful sound, along with spirituality and intellectuality mentioned above -  humour  over the instrument and its possibilities, over division of genres and division of tastes. 


The question distantly related to Hauschka's music comes to  my mind:  should dance express the feeling provoked by music or should choreography be reflection of our own inner self, music playing an assisting role?  I found here present a longer sequence of connections - circular (so it's not longer, it's simply infinite):  Hauschka's music   evoking feeling, feeling,  evoking intention, intention evoking move, move being put to the music. All finally - musical, sensual, physical in a joy of endless Zen. 

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