FLOW OF LIGHT AND MUSIC: A VIDEO EXPERIENCE BY JAMES WILSON

This post starts off with a visual and auditory experience for you that will work best if I don’t provide any “up front” information.  Below you will see a link to a short video that will provide that experience.  It is best if you watch the video before reading on.

To view video, click on link:   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wYDW9lOnuwM

 

Now that you’ve watched the video, please take a moment to briefly let  James, the artist, know what you experienced.  It would be helpful for him to know what you thought or felt at various points in the video.  You can provide this feedback by clicking on the bubble at the right of the picture at the top of the post.  If you want your comment to remain anonymous, just write in “anonymous” when prompted for a name.

Below is an interview with James which I think you will find interesting.  My intention was to find out more about how this particular artistic experience came about.

A&Z TODAY: Most of your current music, music videos, and of course your visual device, “The Adagio”,  seem to tap into a sort of slow motion in conjunction with music.  How did you get started along this line of thinking?

James:  I can remember the circumstances pretty vividly.  It was a while ago, probably around 1966 or 1967 when I was a music student at Boston University.  One evening, a weekend night I’m pretty sure since I had nothing pending the next day, I was chilling out at my apartment with some friends, listening to jazz, mainly Miles Davis.  One of my friends shared some weed, and I probably had had a few beers by that point in the evening.  I think it is pretty common when “high”, either on just life or with the assistance of some mind-altering substance, one gets into a state of mind where he/she is somewhat removed from oneself; almost like you become an “observer” observing oneself. 

Miles was playing “Solea” from his “Sketches of Spain” album.  I was very much in the “observer” state of mind at the time, and looked down to notice my hand was moving very slowly to the music, kind of in an up and down fashion along with the characteristic  “arcs” that Miles plays during his solos. ( If you listen carefully to this piece in particular, you will notice that he hits high points, then his trumpet lines slowly descend to a low point.  He then begins to build the tension, and overall pitch, back up, etc. etc. )  My hand was following that, the up and down motion, but also moving very slowly in a smooth arc, not at all as part of any of the rhythmic elements of the piece.    I was hearing/feeling some other motion in the music that no one was talking about.   It was not anything you could consider “rhythmic”. 

Fortunately, I hadn’t partied too hearty that night, and the next day I remembered the evening’s experience pretty vividly.  I thought about it off and on for the next several years, and in 1969 I built the first prototype of “The Adagio”.  It was pretty crude, but it worked, and was my first attempt to capture what I had experienced, and something I could work with in more detail.

A&Z TODAY: In a previous A&Z article, you discussed some of the thinking that led to the actual building of the Adagio. 

Yes, I won’t repeat that here again.  Anyone interested can go HERE to read the article in your blog.  I did go into some detail at that time about how and why I came up with using the sine curve to measure the up and down motion.  Using a slowly rotating cylinder, that was speed adjustable from 0 rpm up to about 3 rpm allowed me to create a slow moving, continuously flowing arc of light across the viewer’s vision.  

A&Z TODAY: At one point, you used Adagio in a biofeedback experiment.  How did that evolve?

After I built the first Adagio, I spent a lot of my free time watching it while listening to music.  I also began to notice certain patterns that might someday be of interest to music theorists.  From working with Adagio and music over the years, several patterns have emerged:

 1.   Most music falls within several rotation speeds: roughly 1 rpm, and 1 rev. every 90 seconds.  Some outliers do occur, for example Gregorian Chant which moves incredibly slow, like 1 rev every 3 minutes, and Bartok’s piece for Celeste, Orchestra  – adagio movement, also crawls along at a barely perceptible pace.

2.  Most music, esp. classical such as Mozart and Bach, has cadences every ¼ rotation.  In other words, 8 or 16 measures of music usually equal ¼ rotations of the cylinder, or on the sine curve, at the 90, 180, 270, and 360/0 degree marks.  You can get an idea of this here:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZrnhYnNqjzU , along with a Mozart piece.  Note that the Adagio is at 180 degrees rotation when the piece cadences at around 47 seconds.  Coincidence?  Maybe, but then maybe not.

 3. Much good music (including Bach, Bartok, and oddly, Gil Evans – esp. Sketches of Spain with Miles Davis), follow the arch of the curve.  I.e., it builds up during the first ¼ rotation, then releases down to ¾ rotation, etc.   I have used these theories in my own compositions.  This video you included at the start of this article,  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=isvcRjRauSU uses an ambient piece I composed that was constructed specifically for use with the Adagio.  The rising and falling ball/”moon” follows the sine curve across the screen, with a cylinder rotation speed of 1 rev/90 seconds.  Hopefully you get a sense that the music is moving “upwards”, during the upward cycle of the Adagio, then “downwards”, etc.   That’s what I intended anyway.

 If you work with the Adagio long enough, it can affect you psychologically.  You almost feel a little “stoned”.  I think it slows your sense of time down, and you begin to notice things that perhaps you never noticed before.  Of course the study talks about the fact that it activates the right hemisphere, etc.  And so that kind of ties in with the altered-state one gets from viewing the Adagio over a period of time.

Of course the sensation of an altered-state is what eventually led to the biofeedback study.  I definitely noticed a change in how I was feeling and seeing things and I had several of my friends try it as well.  They also remarked on a change in their perceptions, a sense of “time slowed down”.  

 

In 1978 I was taking a few courses at Nova University in Florida, and also teaching some of the students there computer skills.  One of the doctoral students, a friend of mine, Joyce Keen, became interested in using the Adagio as part of a left brain/right brain activation experiment she was proposing.  She was able to get some heavy hitters of the time, such as Dr. Joe Kamiya, to be on the dissertation committee.  Anyway, the experiment produced some very strong and statistically conclusive results; namely, that the Adagio, and music, reduced stress in the experimental subjects.  The general conclusion is that the Adagio and music activated the right hemisphere, thus allowing the left hemisphere, which is the side of the brain that brings our “fight/flight” response back under control, to concentrate on that task.  In other words, while the right brain was engaged, the left brain had available “down time” so that it could more efficiently address the stressors that were being administered to the subjects.   A few weeks after the initial sessions, Joyce repeated just one session.  Evidently the effect did not seem to diminish over time, as the experimental group still recovered significantly faster than the control group.

Some interesting non-scientific results also occurred.  For example, one student swore she was being levitated in her chair while watching the Adagio.  Another student that suffered from insomnia, said he had started sleeping normally again. 

A&Z TODAY: The study was done a while ago, in 1978.  What has transpired since?

Well, for better or worse a something called “life” got in the way of my doing much else with it since that time.  I got off on a number of tangents, making a living, etc., so I really haven’t done much with it until recently.   I know this seems like a stretch, but I have become very interested in politics over the last 5-10 years, and am very concerned about the direction the country, and the world is taking.  The human race faces at best an uncertain future, and, according to the majority of climate scientists, quite possibly extinction.   What seems to be lacking most in our business leaders and politicians is a little thing called “empathy”.    Nobody seems to care about anyone else not within their immediate family or sphere of influence, much less the fate of future generations.   As long as they are OK, as long as they are comfortable,  who cares about anyone else?  That seems to be the current trend, the current way of thinking, especially here in the United States. 

Empathy emanates from the right brain.  It is a right brain attribute.  Well, you can probably guess where this is going.  In short, what the world needs most is a little  right brain activation, a little more right brain thinking.   What was that popular song “What the world needs now is love sweet love”?     – a  Burt Bacharach song from the mid-1960s if I recall.  Unfortunately it is truer now than ever.

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TRUTH AND FAITH AND “B.S.” IN ART AND ZEN

 

THE GOLDEN RATIO OR GOLDEN MEAN

The post titled “The Evolution of Adagio: A Therapeutic Motion Machine” by guest blogger James Wilson, has quickly become the most viewed on Art and Zen Today during the past 90 days.  A comment on that article from Charlie from Mass. raised some interesting questions about validity of some of the theoretical foundations used by James in the evolution of his “machine”. Specifically, the validity of the “golden mean” or “golden ratio” was questioned.  (Click here to read “The Evolution of Adagio: A therapeutic Motion Machine.”)

 

THE GOLDEN GINGERBREAD BOY


 This got me thinking about the place of “truth” and “faith” in the artistic and spiritual systems we use to guide our practices.  James later penned a response to Charlie’s comment but it could not be posted because I have placed a time limit on comments in order to cut down on the “robo-spam” sent to the blogsite.  

So today’s post consists of: 1) Charlie’s comment on “The Evolution of Adagio”; 2) James’ response; 3) some additional material intended to  help the reader follow along, and finally; 4) some comments by me on how I see the discussion relating to the practices of art and Zen.  Because this post consists of ideas expressed by several different people, I have physically separated each authors contributions to make it easier to follow.  I’d like to thank Charlie and James for inspiring me to sit down and think about all of this. 

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First is the comment by Charles that was published soon after the post on Adagio by appeared in Art and Zen Today.  In his post, James had written about the use of the “golden ratio” in the development of his invention.

Charles wrote:

“The golden ratio is like religion—it’s an old theory which doesn’t hold up under scientific scrutiny. I googled “skeptic ‘golden ratio” and came up with a nice quote from a comment by Phil in Australia:

Beauty like love is one of life’s greatest mysteries. Numbers can’t explain it.

Comment by Phil, Sydney Australia, from the following link:

http://skeptoid.com/episodes/4325

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SENT IN BY CHARLIE

The comment by Phil, referred to above by Charles, was in response to an article titled “The Golden Ratio” published on the website Skeptoid:Critical analysis of Pop Phenomena .  Below is one paragraph from the original article that prompted Phil’s comment.  I include it here to help put Phil’s comment into some context.

φ, the golden ratio, and the Fibonacci series are mathematically interesting and do have natural manifestations. That doesn’t mean everything, or even anything else, is based on them. The popularity and “big name” of the “divine proportion” has been the real driver of its pseudoscientific assignment to just about anything and everything. Those whose brains’ pattern-matching software is in overdrive have probably heard of the golden ratio, and so it’s the one they think of whenever they see a rectangle, or a great work of art (like the Mona Lisa, which is not based on the golden ratio), or patterns in the stock market (which don’t exist at all, let alone at the golden ratio), or in the numerology of the Bible (unless any other number is allowed to be considered just as significant). Not every claim about the golden ratio is the result of hyperactive pattern matching, but most are. At a minimum, such a claim is always a good tipoff that you should be skeptical.

The entire article and comments, including the one referenced by Charlie, can be seen at:

http://skeptoid.com/episodes/4325

 

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In this section, I have copied James’ response to the comment made by Charlie.  This was not previously published on Art and Zen Today.

 

Charlie,

I agree that discussions around the “Golden Mean” can sometimes lapse into a matter of “faith”.  From what I can tell, science has neither proven anything about it (except it has some pretty amazing mathematical properties), but it hasn’t really dis-proven anything either. 

The way I think of it, and use it, is that when starting a creative project, like a piece of music or painting, it is helpful to the composer or artist or designer to create some kind of “limits”; otherwise the possibilities are infinite and can result in artistic paralysis.  Take 12 tone compositions for example.    Here’s a definition:

Twelve-tone technique—also known as dodecaphonytwelve-tone serialism, and (in British usage) twelve-note composition—is a method of musical composition devised by Austrian composer Arnold Schoenberg (1874–1951). The technique is a means of ensuring that all 12 notes of the chromatic scale are sounded as often as one another in a piece of music while preventing the emphasis of any one note[3] through the use of tone rows, an ordering of the 12 pitches. All 12 notes are thus given more or less equal importance, and the music avoids being in a key. The technique was influential on composers in the mid-20th century.

To me, Twelve-tone is basically a lot of BS, and it really doesn’t “avoid being in a key”, which was its primary purpose in life.  However, it did get a lot of people to write a lot of music (some good, some not) simply because it gave them a “system” to work within. I.e., it got them to initiate the creative process! 

And, if nothing else, this is the magic of using the Golden Means, or any other system for that matter, particularly in the arts, where, as I said above, the possibilities are basically infinite.  It imposes enough limits that the artist/musician can get his/her hand/head around it. 

If in fact artists and/or architects have and do use these ratios in their work, it is probably for this reason more than any other.  It’s almost like; in absence of any other confining system, why NOT use it?  Yes, it may just be BS, but, then again, it might not!   

James Wilson

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Ok.  Now it is my turn to chime in as Editor of Art and Zen Today.

It is pretty well known that artist’s of all kind often impose systems on their practice that challenge them to go beyond their usual boundaries and possibly attain to highly creative results. I covered this topic in some detail in the post titled “Buddha as a Performance Artist?”  I believe that it is possible to say that these artistic or spiritual systems may be said to foster “mindful creativity” as the term is used by Langer (see   “On Becoming Mindful”  )  But, the “mindfully creative artist is able to use the restrictions imposed by whatever system they are using to foster new ways of imagining that inevitably go beyond that system.

 Often the “systems” evoked for such purpose, whether artistic or spiritual, do not really “make sense” to others and if the system is touted by the user as some sort of “truth”, the chances are that someone will find way to poke holes in it.  I think that this is along the lines of what James is saying in his comment above.

About a year ago I did some googling around the internet looking for artists who explicitly used the Golden Mean concept in their work.  I found one painter who made a big deal of his dedication to the Golden mean ratios in constructing his painting.  It was my impression that he was consciously trying to appeal to buyers who were into new agey “sacred geometry”.   I found his work to be rather boring, predictable and not very creative.  This, I think, speaks to the problem of any “systems” that we impose upon ourselves.  As Jim seems to say in his comment,  “systems” that impose restrictions can lead to greater creativity but not when followed slavishly (i.e. without mindfulness).

The quote from Phil that Charlie included in his reply is actually the last line of a quite long comment response to the article debunking the use of the Golden Mean.  In the next segment,I have included all of Phils’ comment because it seems to me that he provides an example that reinforces my notion that genuine creativity is not found in the “truth” of the system but rather in how an artist uses this system (see insert below). 

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Here I have copied the full comment made by Phil in his response to the article debunking the use of the Golden Mean.  Charlie referred only to the last line of this comment, but the rest of it seems to provide an example of my main point.

 I had a violin maker friend who made every instrument in accordance with golden section proportions. This included sound post positioning, the ratio of string length above and below the bridge, neck length, and the actual proportions of the body themselves.

He had a great deal of success and believed that the proportions were common in some historical violin making.

He also considered the setting of the violin to be very critical and that most violinists hadn’t a clue how to do it. One major difference between a Strad and a cheaper violin, he said, is that if you pay millions of dollars for an instrument, you just might be keen to set it up properly – sound post position, bridge positioning and shape etc

Whether or not Golden proportions help – he was convinced they did – the real magic was in the hands of the maker who completed the task and the final adjustments. I am sure that applies equally to everything from architecture to furniture. Sometimes I think that in attributing success to the golden section the creator of a masterpiece is perhaps a little too modest – or his critic a little too coldly scientific

Beauty like love is one of life’s greatest mysteries. Numbers can’t explain it.

Phil, Sydney Australia
August 22, 2013 11:15pm

http://skeptoid.com/episodes/4325

 

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Ok, this is me again.

Ellen Langer’s Book On Becoming an Artist consistently prompts the reader to question any existing artistic systems that they encounter as they embark on their creative journey.( see ELLEN LANGER ON THE “TALENT MYTH” ).   Especially when we are beginners in any realm, we tend to look for some “system” that provides us guidelines for how to proceed.  There is nothing wrong with this, but to the extent that we get “stuck” in the system, our creativity will suffer.  I think that this also  applies to artists who have been creative enough to evolve their own “systems”, so to speak, of making art.  When they are no longer mindful and begin automatically doing what has been successful for them in the past, there is no creative growth.  The ability to push beyond even self- imposed boundaries is why artists like Picasso, Miles Davis and Bob Dylan, to name a few,  are acknowledged as creative geniuses. And, so it goes, I would suggest, in the realm of the spirit.  This brings me to Zen, and most forms of Buddhism generally. 

 

 

Buddhist thought and practices inevitably entail boundaries or limitations.  Furthermore, they often don’t make rational sense and I have heard myself and fellow Zen students refer to various teachings as “B.S.”  The non-rational aspects of the teaching require that the student develop a degree of “faith”, to use the term that Jim seems to use derogatively.  I would suggest that “faith” is only problematic when it stifles mindfulness.  It is important to point out that Buddhist practice does not demand “blind faith”.  Rather it requires a willingness (i.e. “necessary “faith”) to try out a certain viewpoint and set of practices to see whether or how they work in one’s own life.  Buddha famously said something along the lines of the quote below (I don’t have “faith” that Buddha actually said everything attributed to him):

“Do not believe in anything simply because you have heard it. Do not believe in anything simply because it is spoken and rumored by many. Do not believe in anything simply because it is found written in your religious books. Do not believe in anything merely on the authority of your teachers and elders. Do not believe in traditions because they have been handed down for many generations. But after observation and analysis, when you find that anything agrees with reason and is conducive to the good and benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it.”

 

The Zen literature is especially contradictory and difficult to make sense of because it points out again and again, that Zen is simply a system, and that if you use the system wisely you end up transcending the system itself.  This does not seem “rational”, at least to most beginners. It requires some degree of “faith” to continue with Buddhist practice until one can develop an understanding of how this works.  Eventually, the student sees that there is no set view which is considered to be true and there is no end to discovering this; that is, as you discover new ways of seeing your life, you find that you can not rely (i.e. have “faith in” ) on that viewpoint forever.

 

 To the extent that Buddhist practice leads to a constant re-visioning of one’s self and reality, it could be seen as the ultimate creative practice.  Dale Wright makes this point in his recent book, The Six Perfections.   Interestingly, Wright uses language that is consistent with Langer’s where “mindfulness” and “creativity” are equated. Wright’s book examines the various conventions and guidelines for attaining enlightened “Wisdom” as they have been passed down in Buddhist literature.  However, Wright makes a point of reminding the reader over and over that blind conformity to these strictures is not what the journey is all about.  “Wisdom” says Wright “is the ability to recognized what is and what is not an appropriate guide for dealing with situations skillfully.”  (pg. 233).

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PRACTICING ZEN/TRUMPET

Miles Davis See Video Below

Since this blog bill’s itself as pertaining to “artistic and spiritual practices”, I want to explore the concept of “practice” in a series of essays.  In this post, I’m going to make some observations about my practice of Zen and my practice of playing the trumpet. I don’t want to underestimate the complexity and the difficulty of mastering either the trumpet or Zen, and I don’t want to give the impression that the practice of both are exactly the same thing, however, I do think it can be instructive to point to some common features.  Also, I should point out that I am a relative beginner in both disciplines and so my observations are likely limited by that fact.

I started formal trumpet lessons about 6 months ago but had purchased a trumpet earlier and had tried to work my way through various lessons on my own. So, I messed around with my trumpet for about a year, wanting, I guess, to feel it out and see whether I really wanted to commit to the expense and discipline associated with taking lessons. Also, the idea of someone taking up such a difficult instrument at my age seemed crazy and it took me a while to get over that idea.  Although I learned to “play’ scales and a few songs, I was accutely aware that my “tone” stunk.

Once I decided to commit to lessons, I shopped around for teachers and chose someone who I considered to be the best fit for me.  The person I chose is Nathan Mills who teaches youth in the

Nathan Mills

Escondido area and plays in a variety of bands all over San Diego and beyond.  Everyone I talked with gave Nathan great praise, but the deciding factor for me was that his email address includes the phrase “crazytrumpetman”

My process of moving cautiously into trumpet playing resembles what I and others have gone through when moving into spiritual practices.  Most people do a lot of reading and practicing on their own at first and only gradually commit to a particular group or teacher.  I think we all realize that, once we make that kind of commitment, our practice will face a new level of difficulties not found when just sort of mucking about on our own.  This is why most people interested in spiritual transformation avoid committing to becoming a formal student of a spiritual discipline and consequently, don’t go very far.

During my first trumpet lesson, I became aware that there would be some similaritiesbetween trumpet practice and Zen practice.  Nathan told me that he would not be able to directly instruct me in how to play.  In other words he could not say do “such and such” with your lip” and “this or that” with your tongue, breath, throat, facial muscles etc.  He said that the best he could do is give general hints about these things and that it was up to me to figure out, on my own, how to do it.  So, for instance, I was told to think of or feel like I was singing when blowing into the trumpet.  Without him specifying what had to be done exactly to do this, I was slowly able to make some improvement in my tone by trying to keep that image in mind as I practiced.  Much of the work in my lessons so far has involved trying to activate various visual or sonic metaphors that are general in nature but provide some indirect clues as to how to make physical adjustments in the blowing process. Part of the problem is that every student has a unique set of physical characteristics and so no single verbal instructions will work for all.   This means that each student will need to try slightly different ways of finding their own sound.

Based on my personal experiences and observations of others, I would say that something similar happens to new Zen students.  Not having much of a clue as to what was going on in my teacher’s mind when he meditated, I had to rely on indirect comments made by Jiyu Roshi  and on things I read.  When I first started practicing Zazen, I was given a series of exercises that involved “counting breaths”.  Although this sounds like it is fairly concrete and easy to communicate, I found out that what I thought the experience of counting would or should be, changed as I practiced over time.  In other words, whatever the teacher meant by these terms did not correspond exactly to what I thought they meant. Later, when moving into the practice of Shikantaza or “just sitting”, I found even greater ambiguity . Roshi told me, on countless occasions, exactly what Nathan had said;  that he could only give me broad verbal clues and that it was ultimately up to me to discover what worked. Whenever I asked for more concrete or explicit instructions, Roshi would try to comply but I could always tell that there was only so much he could do or say, and that ultimately,  I needed to just sit and find my own way.

It strikes me that good teachers, in any discipline, have to work with the unique characteristic of each student and part of this involves providing a supportive environment for the student to experiment with finding what works for them.  It is probably the case that someone could learn to either play the trumpet on their own or practice Zen on their own, but it is my guess that having regular contact with a teacher makes this much easier.  In both cases, I find it valuable to have a positive model and someone who can provide regular feedback, even if it comes in the form of indirect hints or suggestions.  I have found that in both disciplines  whatever passes for progress comes slowly and never as fast as expected.  I’m guessing that in trumpet playing, as well as Zen, that ruminating about achieving a certain goal is actually counterproductive, since being relaxed seems to be a common feature to virtuosity in both disciplines.

I just watched the movie “Collateral” starring Tom Cruse and Jamie Fox where Miles Davis is referred to as “the coolest man on the planet”.  Miles, who is my creative hero, one said: ” I’ve practiced my tone for almost 50 years, and if I can’t hear my tone, I can’t play”.  In the next installment, I’ll look at the apparent need in both music and Zen for neverending practice in order to find our natural “tone”. Before wrapping up, let me suggest that you take a look at my music video homage to Miles Davis.  It was produced last year on the occasion of the 10 year anniversary of his passing.  The music was taken a CD produced by my old band Shocradance.  My brother wrote the tune. I wrote the lyrics and it is sung by Kirsten Bolton. Click on the link below to see the video.  (You may also want to read Part 2 of this post and some later posts on Improvisation.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lbxn3nAcAXk

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