Fic: Observations, Ch 195
To end the tournament, Mr. Lurry and the Casino Collective have scheduled a series of spectacles as a final farewell. They are culturally diverse, as is only appropriate for a gathering such as this. Interestingly, there is a performance of Mahler’s Second Symphony. Nyota and I are attending the performance, and I was able to convince Jim to come as well. He has also made plans to watch a boxing match with Koloth, which I have promised to attend with him. The situation with the Orions has made the Enterprise and the B’Moth allies, in the sense that we were united against a common enemy.
“Nothing like an enemy to makes people really good friends,” Leonard shook his head.
“It could have deeper implications for Federation-Klingon relations in the future.”
“We’ll see if it lasts.”
--
The third movement of the symphony, the Scherzo, sets me ill at ease.
It begins like fish in an aquarium-the scherzo is a citation of St. Anthony of Padua’s Sermon to the Fishes-the music is lazy and absent minded. Swimming and circling in the vast closed system, round and round, without point and purpose. There is not even a sense of confusion, but merely looping in and about mindlessly.
The first trio enters with triumphant fanfare, determined to break through the perpetual swimming. The brass forces its way through the crowd of fish, but underlying there is a sense that they are merely swimming in a school now, rather than independently helter skelter. Then the rambling repeats.
Fanfare again, attempting, attempting to break through the realm of fishes. The trumpet plays a melody but always the scherzo returns, always the music becomes lazy, watery, slow like fish dazed by the force of the trumpets. Spiraling, swimming in their aquarium again and again, the same track and traffic.
One last time, but the fanfare ends in catastrophe until the climax-a cry of despair. Horror and terror and grief mixed together in the sound, only to return to the strangeness of fishes once more.
This music sets me ill at ease, though there is no logical reason why I should feel so. Nyota sits to my right, immersed in the experience of the concert while Jim sits to my left, his expression patient and politely interested. It is a mask, one that he has had much practice wearing.
At the end of the movement, a chromatic scale downward, descending. Ends without resolution.
--
“What did you think of the performance, Jim?”
A pause.
“You know I don’t go for this kind of music. I mean, I guess it sounded good?”
“You were not affected by it at all?”
“Spock, I don’t get art. Looking at it, listening to it, I don’t get it. It’s probably a piece of genius, but I don’t think it’ll ever affect me the way it affects you.”
“But the death-scream in the third movement? That didn’t reach down and grab you?” Nyota asked. “You didn’t feel it?”
“It was loud.”
“Or Ulricht, the alto singing, longing for respite from weariness?” she pressed.
“No, not really.”
“You know, some people consider music to be the absolute highest of all art forms.”
“Don’t you have to get into a discussion about ‘what is art’ and ‘what is form’ and ‘how do you determine the highest’ if you want to say that?”
“You’re channeling Spock now.”
“He raises valid questions. I believe Nyota means that of all art forms, music-particularly purely instrumental music-is the most abstract expression of intellectual ideas, yet reaches one’s emotions directly, in a form that some have said is pure and unmediated. Mahler’s Second Symphony, for example, intellectually is a meditation on the themes of life, death, and the question of the existence of life after death.
“It was also influenced by Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony and that is reflected in several ways, including the prominent use of the chorus in the final movement, progressive tonality going from C minor to E flat major-”
“Strictly speaking the Ninth is only a change in mode going from D minor to major.”
“Of course. That aspect of striving towards another state, expressed musically, is still present.”
“I’m not sure I was convinced by Mahler’s vision of transcendence. It’s not as triumphant and whole as Beethoven’s fourth movement.”
“The two composers present two different visions. Beethoven was more concerned with the artist’s role in bringing Elysium to society. The Ode to Joy theme sung by the chorus is the expression of a universal brotherhood-”
“And sisterhood-”
“I find Standard to be distinctly deficient in this aspect of language, as personhood emphasizes the individual rather than the group, and humanity is specific to Terrans.”
She nodded.
“But I see what you’re saying. Beethoven is about ‘we’, where ‘you’ is explicitly linked with the millions of the world, while Mahler focuses on the individual. It’s almost an outsider’s perspective, especially in the Scherzo, where the climax is that cry of despair. And the chorus sings as individuals consoling themselves, not as a group united in Elysium.”
“Yeah… everything you guys were talking about went completely went over my head.”
“It does require a certain set of prerequisite knowledge to comprehend the full meaning of the composer.”
“But even if you didn’t know that about Mahler and haven’t studied Beethoven, you can still feel the emotional power of the music. Can’t you?”
“You of all people should know that there’s nothing universal when it comes to communication, Nyota. This music speaks to you, or whatever, and that’s great. It really does nothing for me.”
She remained unconvinced.
“Look, I’ve been to tons of concerts. You’ve been to some of them with me-comes with being a representative of Starfleet-every diplomatic mission involves some trip to the art gallery or culture show. You want to talk about feeling in instrumental music? There’s some stuff I’ve listened to that sounds like noise. Complete noise. I can’t make out a pattern, can’t even feel a beat, much less an emotion. There’re definitely feelings involved in liking music, but the more concerts I go to, the more I think appreciation for art is a constructed thing.”
“Fascinating. That is, of course, the premise of art today, that the appreciation and consideration of something as art is arbitrary in its construct. They hold that neither subject matter nor technique is of any consequence. What is more important are the intent and thought on the part of the artist and its perception by the viewer.”
“Deconstruction is all well and good, but there is something that distinguishes art from everything else.”
“But what is that? You and Spock have these intense intellectual and emotional reactions to things that I don’t have any response to at all. What sets it apart for you? Is it the intent or something of the artist?”
“No,” Nyota shook her head. “That’s not it. Anyone can call themselves an artist but that doesn’t mean they can create art.”
“The standards by which one measures the greatness of a piece of art are questionable. Furthermore, if, as some contend, the appreciation of art is essentially a construct dependent on one’s education and value system, which in turn are dependent on one’s culture and species, then those standards are meaningless and self perpetuating.”
Jim looked at me.
“What he said.”
“Even if we say it’s a construct, I still think there are some things that speak to people universally, across time and species. Art’s meant to open up another world to the viewer, to bring them into the vision of the creator and there’s always going to be some form of a learning process, an evolution in that. I don’t think art’s static. It’s not one shot of emotion and then forget about the experience. Ultimately, it changes and transforms you. It brings you to see something from another point of view. That’s what art is to me.”
“You do realize the subjective nature of that statement, ndugu.”
“Change and transformation are nice, but a Gorn stabbed you and you’ve changed since then. Is that art?”
Nyota threw up her hands.
“I can’t win. Have you been thinking about this, Jim?”
“Not really. I’m just saying whatever comes to mind.”
“You sound like you’ve thought about it.”
“Spock tried to explain it to me before. I still don’t get it. I know that there’s a lot of thought and history that goes behind these pieces you guys love, and it’s fine if you want to consider them that way, on those merits, as things part of a larger tradition. But saying that they’ve got some kind of universal appeal is where you lose me.”
“Is it not possible to consider both points of view correct?”
“They kind of contradict each other, Spock.”
“That contradiction arises if you consider them to be part of the same paradigms of thinking. They are not. You and Nyota hold distinct opinions concerning the nature of art that are based on differing value systems, one which emphasizes the subjectivity of the perception of both artist and viewer, while the other emphasizes the context in which the creation is made and judged.
“It is possible to produce a synthesis of these two viewpoints such that both are equally valid.”
“Then what’s your take on it?” Jim asked.
I paused, considering my words.
“I do not claim to make a definitive statement with respect to art, but from my observations, I have gathered that while artists try to create something individual, art without context can have no meaning. The artist strives to transcend the standards set forth in their time, breaking them and perhaps creating a new set of rules. However, it is ultimately by the standards of the viewer against which the artist will be judged.
“When a viewer finds a piece of art unconventional or incomprehensible, they have the power to choose to adhere to their preconceived standards, molded by whatever factors related to their environment and personal experience, or to learn new paradigms such that they might experience that work of art in a wholly different manner. A work that compels a viewer to reexamine the body of ideas and reactions they held before-whether emotional or intellectual-is ultimately what sets certain pieces apart from the products one encounters every day, and I believe that act of motivated creation is what many would call ‘art’.
“The power of a work also depends on its impact on an audience as a whole, no matter the variety of experience among individual viewers. No piece of art will ever be universally appealing in the sense that all people are moved, but if enough are compelled, and that compulsion stands the test of time, that is what people come to name ‘great art’. And that, in my opinion, is how art can be considered the most subjective discipline ever conceived, and yet speak to ‘universal’ truths.”
Jim smiled.
“I knew you had a theory about this. I knew it.”
--
“It is-what is the Standard word-beautiful? Striking? Grotesque?” Koloth boomed.
“Depends on what you want to talk about,” Jim replied.
“This fight they are staging. On Qo’noS, I have box seats to the best matches. It is a thing of great violence.”
“I’ll have to visit sometime,” he yelled over the noise of the crowd.
“You’ll see then the real beauty of violence, only as Klingon warriors can display. The power! The force! It is an art, I tell you.”
Jim nudged me.
“These card games of risk are child’s play.”
He allowed the remark to pass without comment.
“Who’d you bet on, Koloth?”
“The large one, built like a korasha! The other is no match against him,” Koloth pointed to the boxer who seemed to have more muscle mass on his body.
The opponents were equally matched in height and weight, but somehow Koloth’s choice did appear more menacing.
“What about you, Kirk? Who have you chosen for champion?”
“The other guy,” Jim grinned.
“He has potential,” Koloth nodded. “But the other has more force to his blows. There is no doubt.”
“You’re probably right. But I think my guy’s got more stamina.”
“By Qo’noS, it will be a well matched fight!”
Around us, several Klingon warriors cheered, the sound like a war cry. It was an impressive. The noise encouraged the boxers getting ready in the ring.
They stepped forward, touched gloves. The referee signaled the start.
And with a cry ripping through the air, the fight began.