cage and the intentionality of nonintention - shultis

8/11/2019 Cage and the Intentionality of Nonintention - Shultis

1/40

Silencing the Sounded Self: John Cage and the Intentionality of NonintentionAuthor(s): Christopher ShultisSource: The Musical Quarterly, Vol. 79, No. 2 (Summer, 1995), pp. 312-350Published by: Oxford University PressStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/742249.

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2/40

i lenc ing

t h o u n d e d

S e l f

J o h n

C a g e

n d t h

Intentionality

Nonintention

Christopher

hultis

"Whatwe

require

s

silence;

but

whatsilence

requires

s

that I

go

on

talking."

-John

Cage,

"Lecturen

Nothing"

This

essay

will

address

ohnCage's

nclusivedesire

o allowroom or

silence

in

both

his

musical

ompositions

nd his written exts.

Cage

himselfnoted that

"silence"

ad been a

lifelong

concern:

I've

ately

been

hinking gain

bout

ilence,

hich s

the title

of

my

first

bookof

my

own

writings.

When was welve

ears

ld

I

wrote

hat

orationhat

wona

high

school

ratorical

ontest

n

Southern alifor-

nia.

It

was

called"Other

eople

Think,"

nd t

was

about ur

relation

to theLatinAmericanountries.What proposedas ilence nthe

part

of

the United

States,

n

order

hat

we couldhear

whatother

peo-

ple

think,

and hat

hey

don't

hink

he

way

we

do,

particularly

bout

us. Butcould

ou

say

hen

hat,

as

a

twelve

ear

ld,

that

I

was

pre-

pared

o devote

my

ifeto

silence,

nd o chance

perations?

t'shard

to

say.1

Proving lifelong

devotion

o

chance

operations,

Cage's

methodof

achieving

ilence,

wouldbe

difficult

o

accomplish.

However,

Cage's

entirebodyof workhas, from he verybeginning,been devoted o the

inclusionof silence

n

an

otherwise

ound-filled orld.

One of the first

ways

n

which

Cage

allowed ilence

into music

was

by

emphasizing

uration nstead

of

harmony.

n

the 1930s

Cage

studied

with

Arnold

Schoenberg,

who

immigrated

o

Los

Angeles

ust

prior

o World

War

II.

Regarding

is

studies,

Cage

wrote:"After

had

been

studying

with

him for two

years,

Schoenberg

aid:

In

order

to write

music,

you

musthave

a

feeling

or

harmony.'

explained

o

him that

I

had no

feeling

or

harmony.

He then saidthat

I

would

always

ncounter

n

obstacle,

hat

it

wouldbe as

though

I

came to a

wall

through

which I

could

not

pass.

I said:

In

that case

I

will devote

my

life to

beating

my

head

against

that wall.'

"2

Cage

found two allies

in

his battle

with

harmony:

the French

composer

Erik Satie and Anton

Webern,

a formerstudent of Schoen-

312


3/40

Silencing

he

Sounded

Self

313

berg.

In a lecture

given

at BlackMountain

College

n

1948,

Cage

wrote:

In the field

of

structure,

he field

of

the definitionf

parts

nd

heir

relationo

a

whole,

here

hasbeen

only

one new

dea ince

Beethoven.

Andthatnew dea

can

be

perceived

n the work

f AntonWebern

nd

Erik

Satie.

With

Beethoven,

he

parts

f a

composition

ere

defined

y

means f

harmony.

WithSatie

and

Webern

hey

aredefined

y

means

of time

engths.

The

question

f

structure

s so

basic,

and

t

is so

important

o

be in

agreement

bout

t,

that one

mustnow ask:Was

Beethovenight rareWebern ndSatieright? answermmediately

and

unequivocally,

eethoven

as n

error,

ndhis

influence,

hich

hasbeenas extensive s

it

is

lamentable,

asbeen

deadening

o the art

of

music.3

For

Cage,

duration ecamea meansof

getting

around he

difficulty

f

"having

no

feeling

or

harmony."

And

by

citing

Webern,

Cage

was

able

to use

Schoenberg's

most

famous

pupil

as an

example

of how

harmony

was an erroneous

method

of

structuring

usic.

It was silence thatpointedCage away roma harmony nd

toward

duration.

According

o

Cage, harmony

s a

structuring

ethod

does not include ilence:

If

you

consider

hat

sounds

characterized

y

ts

pitch,

ts

loudness,

ts

timbre,

nd

ts

duration,

nd hat

silence,

which s

the

opposite

nd,

therefore,

he

necessary

artner

f

sound,

s

characterized

nly

by

its

duration,

ou

will

be

drawn

o

the conclusion

hat

of

the four

harac-

teristics

f

the materialf

music, uration,

hat

s,

time

ength,

s the

most undamental.ilence annot eheardnterms fpitchorhar-

mony:

t is

heard

n

terms

f

time

ength.4

At

this

point,

one

could

very

well

questionCage's

ogic.

Does

it

followthat since

duration,

y

nature,

ncludes

ilence,

while

harmony,

n

and of

itself,

does

not,

duration s

the

only

possible

approach

o

structuring

usic?

Obviously

ot.

However,

t

does

shed

light

on

Cage's

motivation

behind

believing

hat such

was

the case.

Harmony equires

he

imposition

f

unity

upon

musical

material. t

is a

humanly

ontrivedmethodof

writing

musicwhichcannotbe

directly

found

in

nature.

C-major

chords

may

be

naturally

derived,

but

their structural

relationships,

as

found

in

so-called tonal

music,

obey

a

carefully

and

humanly

constructed

system

of rules.

Cage,

on the

other

hand,

was

looking

for

justification

outside of

any

musical

tradition.He

was

attempting

to uncover a structural

connection

between the mak-

ing

of music

and the natural world. It

had

little to do with how

music


4/40

314

TheMusical

uarterly

is

conceived;

t

was

instead

an

attempt

o uncover

how

music s

per-

ceived.In otherwords,Cagewaspayingmoreattention o howwe

actually

hearmusic

han

he

was to how we think

aboutmusic.

When we

considerhow music s

heard,

unrelated o how it is

made

(if

that

is

possible),

hen, indeed,

durations

more

undamental

than

harmony.

We hearsound

and

silence,

and we can

do

so

directly

with

neither

hought

nor

preconception.

o

hear

harmony,

s

a

pre-

conceived tructure

f

relationships

etween

ones,

requires

process

that includesa

knowledge

f certain

musical

procedures

nd traditions

that have as muchto do withthinkingas theydo withhearing.

In

1948,

when he wrotehis "Defense

f

Satie,"

Cage

still

saw

composition

s a unifierof

experience,

"an

activity

ntegrating

he

opposites,

he rational nd the

irrational."5

nd,

in

another

ext,

Cage

extends

such

abstractionsnto

concretemusical erms:

"The

material f music s soundand

silence.

Integrating

hese is

compos-

ing."6

However,

by looking

owardnatural

ather han human

designs,

he was

already

n

a

path away

romsuch

ordered

rocedures:

"there

s a

tendency

n

my

composition

means

away

rom

deasof

order owardno ideasof order."'7n 1958Cagedelivered lectureat

Darmstadtntitled

"Composition

s

Process,"

romwhichthe

previous

two citations

are

drawn.

The first

part

of this lecturediscusses

hanges

in

his

approach

o

composition.

These

changes

describe

process

away

rom"ideas f

order,"

ot

away

rom

order

tself. The

question

continually

aised

n

Cage's

work

s

the

question

of whose

rder

will

determine he courseof the art

experience.

And

the issueof

duration

is

a first

tep

away

rom

humanderivation nd

human

control.

From he 1930sonward,Cageusedwhatis knownassquare oot

form,

one

of

his

first

attempts

t

structuring

usic

by

duration ather

than

by

pitch.

Macrostructurend microstructure

oincide,

so

that

if

there

are

fourmeasures

er

unit therewill be four

units;

and

if

the

internal

phrasing

f the

bars

s

1-2-1,

the externaldivisionof

parts

(within

the

large

tructure

f

four

units)

will

also be

1-2-1.

For

example,

n

his FirstConstruction

n

Metal,

hereare sixteenmeasures

in

each

structural nit. To make he

square

oot,

there

are,

conse-

quently,

sixteen

units.

The

large

tructures divided

ymmetrically

s

follows:

our, three,

two, three, four,

thus

totaling

ixteen,

and each

individual

nit is

similarly

ivided.This

method,

used

n

mostof

Cage's

music

during

the 1930s and

1940s,

eventually

produces

a for-

mal structure

ndependent

of its content.

Content,

in this

period,

was

still

primarily

a matterof

taste,

as can be

seen,

for

example,

in

Cage's

selection of

piano preparations

or

his Sonatas

and Interludes:

The

materials,

the

piano preparations,

were chosen

as

one chooses shells


5/40

Silencing

heSounded

elf

315

while

walking

along

a beach.

The formwasas natural s

my

taste

permitted."On the otherhand,regardinghe formof the sonatas,

Cage

wrote:

"[N]othing

bout he structurewasdetermined

y

the

materials

which wereto occur

n

it;

it was

conceived,

n

fact,

so that

it couldbe as

well

expressed

y

the absenceof these materials s

by

their

presence."8

Interchangeability

f

content

in

a fixedstructures

equally

appar-

ent

in his "Lecture

n

Nothing"

1950),

written

oon

afterhe

wrote

Sonatas ndInterludes

1946-48).

This lecture s

the first

published

instance n whichCagetookstructuraldeas rommusicand used

them

in the

creation

of texts. And it is this

approach

hat

character-

izesa

continuing

elationship

etween

Cage's

musicand his

texts

through

he

mid-1970s

at

which

point

this

study

ends):

"In

writing

my

'literary'

exts,

I

essentially

makeuse

of the same

composing

means

as in

my

music."9

The "Lecture

n

Nothing"

uses

square

oot formand is

described

as

such

by Cage,

in

a

way

characteristicf

many

of his

later

exts,

through

n introductiono the

published

ecture:

"Thereare

four

measuresn eachline and twelve inesin each unit of the

rhythmic

structure.There

are

forty-eight

uch

units,

each

having

orty-eight

measures.

he whole is divided nto five

large

parts,

n

the

proportion

7,

6,

14, 14,

7.

The

forty-eight

measures f

each unit

are likewise o

divided."10We are thus

informed f

exactly

how

Cage

made he

structure.

n this

case,

an

integrating

f

rationaland irrational

would

see

structure

form)

as rationaland content as

irrational,

r what

Cage

at that time

regarded

s the

integration

f mind and

heart.

11

As a formalnvention,Cage'suse of square ootformdoessug-

gest

the directionof music

irst,

text second.

However,

n

keeping

with

my

thesis

that

music

and text

interactone with

another,

Cage's

"Lecture n

Nothing"

contains

certain

mportant

deas

not

previously

discernible

n his

musical

work.

Firstand

foremost

s

the

distinction

between

"having

nothing

to

say

and

saying

t"12

and the

"integration

of

opposites."

What still

applies

as

a formal dea

no

longer

holds as

content.

Cage'swriting

s

nonintentional,

whereas

ntegration,

till

present

n

the

relationbetween

orm

and

content,

demands

very

specific

ntention.

Thus,

while

Cage's

nnovations

egarding

omposi-

tional form

move

from

music to

text,

certain

innovative

ideas move

from text to

music.

The

most

important

of those ideas is the coexistent

nature of

sound

and

silence,

of

something

and

nothing:

"I

have

nothing

to

say

and

I

am

saying

it and that is

poetry

as

I

need

it."'3

This

remark,

also

cited

above,

is from the

beginning

of

Cage's

"Lecture

on

Nothing."

Its


6/40

316 TheMusical

uarterly

origin

n

Cage's

aesthetic

s

twofold.

First,

Cage's

attempts

t

art

as

communication

ere,according

o

him,

miserable

ailures.

A

prepared

pianopiece

entitledThePerilous

ight

1943-44)

is a

famous xam-

ple.

Basedon "an Irish

olktale

he

remembered

rom

a volumeof

myths

collected

by

JosephCampbell,"

hePerilous

ight

concerns

"a

perilous

bed

which

restedon a

floor

of

polished

asper.

The music ells

the

story

of the

dangers

f

the

erotic

ife."14

After

a

critic

wrote hat

the last movement ounded ike "a

woodpecker

n

a

church

belfry,"

Cage

responded:

I

had

poured

great

deal of emotion nto the

piece,

and

obviously

wasn't

communicating

his at all.

Or

else,

I

thought,

if I werecommunicating,hen all artistsmustbe speaking different

language,

nd

thus

speaking

nly

for

themselves."15

age

decided,

from hat

point

on,

that

he wouldno

longer

compose

music

until

he

founda

reason

otherthan communicationor

writing

t.

Second,

"havingnothing

o

say"

was

the reason hat allowed

Cage

to continue

composing.

t

was

through

Gita

Sarabhai,

n Indian

musicianwho was

studying

Westernmusicwith

Cage,

that he

learned

"the

traditional

eason

or

making

a

piece

of

music n

India: to

quiet

the mindthusmakingt susceptibleo divineinfluences.' According

to

Cage,

this led music

away

rom

self-expression

nd toward

elf-

alteration

hrough

he

influence

f our natural nvironment: We

learned

rom

Oriental

hought

hat those divine

influences

re,

in

fact,

the

environment

n

which we are.

A

soberand

quiet

mind

s one

in

which the

ego

does not obstruct he

fluency

of

the

things

which

come

in

through

ur sensesand

up

through

ur

dreams."16

"Having

othing

to

say"

allows hat environment

he

opportu-

nity

to

speak.

In

Cage's

work,

partially

s

a

resultof

his

studiesof

Eastern

eligion

and

philosophy

eginning

n the

1940s,

t is a

process

of

diminishing

he role of the self

in

the

creativeact. He was

espe-

cially

nfluenced

n

this

regard

y reading

Aldous

Huxley's

nthology

ThePerennial

hilosophy.

7

This

book describes

shared

eligious

mysticism

ound

n

both Eastand West:

ThedivineGround

f all

existence

s

a

spiritual

bsolute,

neffablen

terms f discursive

hought,

ut

(in

certain

ircumstances)

usceptible

of

beingdirectlyxperienced

nd

realized

y

the

human

eing.

This

Absolute

s

the

God-without-form

f Hindu ndChristian

ystical

phraseology.

he lastendof

man,

he ultimateeason

orhuman xist-

ence,

is unitive

knowledge

f

the divineGround-the

knowledge

hat

can

come

only

to those

who

are

prepared

o

"die

to

self" and

so

make

roomas it

were,

for

God.'8

Cage,

more often than

not,

tried

to

emphasize

the removal of

separations

between

West

and East.

Consequently,

it was of

great


7/40

Silencing

heSounded

elf

317

significance

when,

after

earning

he

Indianreason

or

making

music,

LouHarrison

iscovered

while

"reading

n an old

English

ext,

I think

as old as the sixteenthcentury . . he found hisreasongivenfor

writing

a

piece

of

music: to

quiet

the mindthus

making

t

susceptible

to

divine

influences.'

19

This

approach

o

composition

wasno

longer

cultural;

t

was

universal

n the

original

ense of the word.20 ound

n

all

cultures,

uch

quietude

wasa

reaching

ut into the

worldaround

us,

a removal

f the

separation

etween elfandworld-a nondual

view

of

reality.

Thus,

although

Cage's

"Lecture n

Nothing"

s

compositionally

dual,in that formandcontentstill combinerationalandirrational,

the writtencontent

is nondual

n

nature:

"I

have

nothing

to

say

and

I

am

saying

t."

"What ilence

requires

s

that

go

on

talking.

Such

statements

re

obviously

aradoxical

nd

thus

obviously

nfluenced

y

Cage's

tudy

of

Zen. In his

introduction

o

The

Zen

Teaching

f

Huang

Po,

the

translator,

ohn

Blofeld,

writes:

"At

first

ight

Zen worksmust

seem so

paradoxical

s

to

bewilder

he reader.

On

one

page

we are

told that

everything

s

indivisibly

ne

Mind,

on another hat the

moon is

very

much

a moon and a

tree

indubitably

tree."21

And

whilesilenceas a

phenomenon

utside he self had entered nto sev-

eral

of

Cage's

musical

ompositions,

oth

in

the 1930s

and

1940s,

his

"Lecture n

Nothing"

s the

first nstance

n

which

silence

is

produced

through

uch

paradox:

within the self

via what

Cage

considered is

most

important

egacy,

"having

hown he

practicality

f

making

works

of art

nonintentionally.'"22

Nonintentionhad

become,

for

Cage,

a

new,

nondualistic

ealiza-

tion of

what silence

really

was. He usedthe

example

of his

visit

to an

anechoicchamberwhichwassupposedo produce silentenviron-

ment:

"I

enteredone at Harvard

University

everal

years

ago

and

heard wo

sounds,

one

high

and one

low. When

I

describedhem to

the

engineer

n

charge,

he informed

me that the

high

one was

my

nervous

ystem

n

operation,

he low one

my

blood

n

circulation.

Until

I die

there

will be

sounds.

And

they

will continue

ollowing

my

death. One need not fear

about

he future

of music."23

His visit

had

proved

o him

that,

in

the dualistic enseof

soundversus

ilence,

there"wasno silence."Therewere

only

intended

and

unintended

sounds.

Cage's

firstrecorded nstance of

unintended sound was

textual:

"I

have

nothing

to

say

and am

saying

it."

Having

nothing

to

say

and

saying

it

goes

an

importantstep

further

than

just having

nothing

to

say.

It

implies

what

Cage

makes

specific

in

his

"Lectureon Some-

thing"

(1950):

"This is a talk about

something

and

naturally

also a

talk about

nothing.

About how

something

and

nothing

are not


8/40

318 TheMusical

uarterly

opposed

o

each

otherbut

need each otherto

keep

on

going."24

And

whileformallyCagedoes not makenonintentional extsuntillong

after

havingaccomplished

his

in

musical

ompositions,

e does man-

age

to addresshe ideaof

nonintentional ontent

in

a text

beforehe

is

able to do so

in

music.

It is

through

hance

operations

hat

Cagebeginsmaking

unin-

tentional

music.For

Cage,

it was an

extremely

northodox

way

of

Zen

practice:

[R]ather

han

aking

he

path

hat s

prescribed

n

the formal

ractice

of

ZenBuddhism

tself,

namely, itting ross-legged

nd

breathing

nd

such

hings,

decidedhat

my

proper iscipline

as he one

to

which

was

already

ommitted,

amely,

he

making

f music.And

that

I

would o

it with

a means hatwasas strict s

sitting ross-legged,

namely,

he use

of

chance

perations,

nd he

shifting

f

my

responsi-

bility

rom

he

making

f choices

o that

of

asking

uestions.25

While those conversant

with Zen

might

not view

Cage'spractice

as

Buddhism,t didserveasa veryeffectivemethodof composing.

Beginning

round

1950,

Cage

usedthe

I

Ching

Book

of Changes)

as

a

source

of

response

o

his

compositional

uestions.26

n

his fore-

word

o the Richard

Wilhelm

ranslation,

C. G.

Jung

writes:

The

axioms f

causality

re

being

hakeno their oundations:

e

know

now

hat

what

we term

naturalawsare

merely

tatisticalruths nd

thusmust

necessarily

llow or

exceptions.

We havenot

sufficiently

taken ntoaccount

s

yet

thatwe need he

laboratory

ith ts incisive

restrictionsnordero demonstratehe invariablealidityf natural

law.If we leave

hings

o

nature,

we see a

very

different

icture:

very

process

s

partially

r

totally

nterfered

ith

by

chance,

o

much

o

that

under

aturalircumstances

course f events

bsolutelyonforming

o

specific

aws

s almost

n

exception.

heChinese

mind,

as I see

it at

work

n the

I

Ching,

eems

o

be

exclusively

reoccupied

ith

he

chance

spect

f

things.27

And while

Jung

usedthe

I

Ching

s a meansof

discovering

he

uncon-

sciousmindwithin,

Cage

sawit as a wayof

getting

outside he mind

altogether,

way

of

allowing

nature,

he

environment,

r

whatZen

would

call

Mindwith

a

capital

M,

to

respond

o

his

compositional

questions.

As

Cage

frequently

mentioned,

the idea of a

"silent

piece"

was

conceived

earlier

than

1952,

when

4'33"

received its

premiere.

It

was

first

publicly

mentioned

in

an address

entitled

"A

Composer's


9/40

Silencing

he

Sounded

elf

319

Confessions,"

iven

on 28

February

948

before

he National

Inter-

Collegiate

ArtsConference t Vassar

College:

I

have,

or

nstance,

everal ew

desires

two

may

eem

absurd

ut

I

am

serious

bout

hem): irst,

o

compose

piece

of

uninterrupted

ilence

and ell

t

to

the

Muzak o. It willbe 3 or 31

minutes

ong;

hese

being

he

standard

engths

f

"canned"

usic nd ts

title

will

be Silent

Prayer.

t will

open

witha

single

dea

which will

attempt

o make s

seductive

s

the colorand

hape

nd

ragrance

f a flower.

he

ending

will

approachmperceptibility.28

This

"single

dea"becamea

process

f

making

music

hat

Cage

learned romAnanda

Coomeraswamy:

I

have for

manyyears

accepted,

and

I

still

do,

the

doctrine

about

Art,

occidentaland orien-

tal,

set

forth

by

Ananda

K.

Coomeraswamy

n

his

book The

Transfor-

nmation

f

Nature

n

Art,

that the functionof

art

is

to

imitateNature

n

her manner f

operation.""29

age

usedthe

I

Ching

s a

way

of

"imi-

tating

nature

n

her manner f

operation,"

nd

by

constructing

is

4'33"

through

hance

operations,

e

did indeed

inda

method

of

making

a

processparallel

o the seductivenessf "thecolor

and

shape

and

fragrance

f a flower." t

was

Cage's

use

of chance

operations

hat

made

possible

a

formal

design

o

place

the silence in.

And when

one

listens o the

silenceof

4'33",

one

hearsnature.

However,

ollowing

nature

n

her

manner f

operation

roved

o

be

problematic

or

Cage.

He

realized hat even

though

4'33"

was

made

solely

of

nonintended

ounds,

he

was still

providing

he frame.

Even

if,

as

in

the case of

4'33",

the

length

of that

framewas

chosen

nonintentionallyhrough hanceoperations,Cagewas stillmakinga

fixed

object.

This

eventually

an

counter o

Cage's

notion that

things

"become"

n

processes

ather

han as

fixed

objects:

"You

ay:

he

real,

the

worldas it is. But

it is

not,

it

becomes t

moves,

it

changes

t

doesn'twait for us to

change.

. .

It

is

more

mobile han

you

can

imagine.

You

are

getting

closer o this

reality

when

you

say

as

it

'pre-

sents

itself';

that

means hat it is

not

there,

existing

as

an

object.

The

world, he real is not an object.It is a process."30

4'33"

also

insufficiently

ddresses

age's

professed

ondualism,

where

"something

and

nothing"

are

unopposed.

4'33"

allows

the unin-

tentional into music.

The

performer imply

sits

and listens

as the

audience listens. As

such,

this

piece

exemplifies

a movement

toward

the silence of

"nothing"

and the

acceptance

of

nonintentional

sounds.

But what

about intentional sounds?

Are these

accepted?

At

what

point

in

4'33"

does

Cage

allow the

performer,

or the

composer,

for


10/40

320 TheMusical

uarterly

that

matter,

to

produce

the

"something"

of intentional sounds?How

can somethingand nothing be unopposedif only "nothing" s

allowed?

These

are,

of

course,

rhetorical

questions,

and as

such their

answers

are

obvious.

Something

and

nothing

can

be

only

unopposed

if

both

intention and

nonintention

equally

coexist.

This sent

Cage

in

the direction of

indeterminacy,

and

in

1958

he

began

his famous series

of

Variations:

The

firstone was nvolved

with the

parameters

f

sound,

he

transpar-

encies

overlaid,

and each

performer

aking

measurementshat would

locatesoundsn space.Then, while I was at WesleyanUniversity,n

this first

piece

I had had

five lines

on

a

single

transparent

heet,

though

I

had had no

intentionof

putting

hem the

way

I

did,

I

just

drew hem

quickly.

At

Wesleyan

while

talking

o some

students

t

suddenly

occurred

o

me that therewouldbe

much

more reedom

f I

put

only

a

single

ine or

a

single

notationon

a

single

sheet. So

I

did that with

Variations

I

but it still

involvedmeasurement.31

Next

followed

a

piece

without measurement

entitled

Variations

II,

written in the short

period

of two months, fromDecember 1962 to

January

1963. Richard Kostelanetz

mplies

that

Variations

II

solves

some

inherent

problems

with the

published

version of

4'33",

one of

which,

of

course,

is the measurement

of time:

Since

Cage

invariably

akes

he intellectual

eaps

his

radical deas

imply,

he

subsequently

oncluded hat not

only

were

any

and

all sounds

"music,"

ut the

time-space

rameof

4'33"

was

needlessly rbitrary,

or

unintentional

music

s indeed

with us-available to

the ear that wishes

to

perceive

t--in

all

spaces

andat all times.

(Variations

II

[1964],

he

once

told

me over

dinner,

s so

open,

"Wecould

be

performing

t

right

now,

if

we

decided o

do

so"

.

.

.).32

The

published

score

includes a title

page

with

the

statement,

"Variations

II

for

one or

any

number

of

people performing

any

actions."

There are no

prescribed

genres,

either

in music

or

any

other

medium,

except

for

the fact

that it

is to

be

"performed."

The

actions

themselvesare also undeterminedexcept for the possibilitythat there

will be actions.

The instruction

page

then reads:

Two

transparent

heets of

plastic,

one

having

forty-two

undifferentiated

circles,

the other blank.

Cut the sheet

having

circles

in such

a

way

that

there are

forty-two

sheets,

each

having

a

complete

circle.

Let these fall

on

a

sheet of

paper

8

x

11. If a circle does not

overlap

at least one

other

circle,

remove it. Remove also

any

smaller

groups

of

circles that


11/40

Silencing

he

Sounded

elf

321

are

eparated

rom he

largest

roup,

o thata

single

maze f circles

remains,o one ofthem solatedrom tleastoneother.Place he

blank

ransparent

heetover

his

complex.

Starting

ith

any

circle,

observe

he numberf circleswhich

overlap

it. Make

n action r actions

aving

he

corresponding

umberf

interpenetrating

ariables

1

+

n).

This

done,

moveon to

any

one of

the

overlapping

ircles

gain bserving

he numberf

interpenetrations,

performing

suitable ction r

actions,

nd o on.

Someorall of one'sobligation aybeperformedhroughmbient

circumstances

environmental

hanges) y

simply

oticing

r

responding

o

them.

Though

no meansare

given

for

the measurementf time

or

space

(beginning,

nding,

r

questions

f

continuity)

r the

specificnterpen-

etration f

circles,

uch

measurement

nd

determinationeans renot

necessarily

xcluded

rom he

"interpenetrating

ariables."

Some actorshough otallofa given nterpenetrationrsuccessionf

several

may

be

planned

n

advance. ut eave

oom or he useof

unforeseenventualities.

Any

other

activitiesare

going

on at the

same ime.33

The

following

brief

analysis

Will how

that

in

this

piece

Cage

pro-

duceda

truly

nondual

composition

hat allowsboth

something

nd

nothing

to

equally

oexist.

Cage'suse of transparenciess one of the bestmethodshe ever

devised o

insure

an indeterminate

omposition.

The

usual

score,

even

one

where

chance

procedures

etermine

t,

is

fixed. Once

printed,

he

notation

by

nature

s

unchanged.

This

produces

n

object,

and

Cage

fully

realized hat.

Even in

his Music

or

Piano

eries or

example,

where he

notationsare

merely

his

observations f

imperfections

n

the

score

paper,

or

in

the

elaborately

onstructederiesof

chance

operations

sedto makeWilliams

Mix,

"[A]II

he

cutting,

all

the

splic-

ing

of the WilliamsMix is

carefully

ontrolled

by

chance

operations.

This

was characteristic

f

an old

period,

before

ndeterminacy

n

per-

formance,

you

see;

for all

I

was

doing

then

by

chance

operations

was

renouncing my

intention.

Although my

choices

were controlled

by

chance

operations,

I

was still

making

an

object."34

Through

transparencies,

however,

the score need not be

initially

fixed. For

example,

in Variations III one

drops

circles

on a

page,

which

results

in

a collection of

interpenetrating

circles.

However,

there are


12/40

322 TheMusical

uarterly

multiple possibilities

regarding

how

many

circles

remain,

if

they

inter-

sect, and how many must be removedif they do not. The composer

certainly

does not

determine

that;

nor does the

performer.

Even

though

the

score is

eventually

fixed,

it can be fixed

differently

or

each

performance.

Furthermore,

f

there

is more

than

one

performer,

there can also

be more than one determined

score.

While

fixity

still

exists

in

Cage's

transparency

cores,

the variables

are

so

multiple

(hence

the title

"variations")

t would

be next to

impossible

to

determine

what

exactly

will be

fixed and

what

will remain

open.

If

the

score itself seems

variablydetermined,

the

performer's

interaction

with the score

is

even more

variable.

By

looking

at one

circle,

one

simply

observes

how

many interpenetrations

here are

between

it and

any

other

connecting

circle and then

performs

an

action

for

each observed

interpenetration.

Such actions

can be either

planned

or

unplanned,

although Cage

does insist

that

room

be left to

do

both. Observation

of

"ambient

circumstances"

an

either

produce

an action

or can

actually

be the action.

Because there is

no indicated

time

measurement

and because

"other activities

are

going

on at

the

same time," a performanceof VariationsII, once begun, need never

end.

One

could follow the

score

for

a

time,

enter into the

experience

of

an ambient

circumstance,

and continue

reacting

to those

circum-

stances

indefinitely.

Or

as

Cage

noted:

Just

as

I

came

to

see that

therewasno such

thing

as

silence,

and so

wrote

he silent

piece,

I wasnow

coming

o

the realization

hat

there

was

no such

thing

as

nonactivity.

n otherwords

he

sand

n

which the

stones

n

a

Japanesearden

ie

is

also

something

..

And so I made

Variations

II

which

eaves

no

space

betweenone

thing

and

the next

and

posits

hat

we

are

constantly

ctive,

that

these actions

can be of

any

kind

and all

I

ask

the

performer

o

do

is to be

aware s

much

as

he

can

of

how

many

actions

he is

performing.

ask

him,

in

other

words,

to count.

That's

all

I

ask

him

to do.

I

askhim

even

to

count

passive

actions,

such

as

noticing

hat

there

s a

noise

in

the

environment.We

move

through

ur

activity

without

any

space

betweenone

action

and

the

next,

and

with

many

overlapping

ctions.

The

thing

I

don't

ike

about

Variations

II

is

that

it

requires

ounting

and I'mnow

trying

o

get

rid

of

that.

But

I

thought

hat

performance

as

simply

getting

up

and

then

doing

t.35

On

the other

hand,

one need

not count

past

an

environmental

experience,

if

one

chooses

to remain

in

it.

And

Cage

himself under-

stood

the

difficulties:

"But

what,

how and

why

are we

counting?

Since

there

are

no

gaps

between

one action and

another

(and

many

of them


13/40

Silencing

heSounded

elf

323

overlap)

do

we knowwhen

something

s finishedand the next

begins?

The situation s irrational."36t is, in fact, the opennessof Variations

III,

whererationaland irrational

oexist

without

reconciliation,

hat

allows he

performer

o enter

into or

go

out of

the

piece

at

will,

while

paradoxically

taying

within its

notated

structure.Thus

intention

and

nonintention

qually

oexist,

while,

due to

the several

ayers

of

expe-

riences

going

on at the same

time,

a

multiplicity

f intentions ollec-

tively

produce

n

unintentional

nd indeterminate

iece.

In

Variations

III

something

nd

nothing

really

do

need

each

other;

hey

coexist

n a

fabricof artandlifecompletelynterwoven ne with another.Cage

once

spoke

of a

conversationwith

the visual

artist

Willem

de

Koon-

ing:

"I

waswith

de

Kooning

once in a

restaurant

nd

he

said,

'if

I

put

a framearound hese

bread

rumbs,

hat isn'tart.'

And what

I'm

say-

ing

is

that it

is.

He

was

saying

t wasn'tbecausehe

connectsart with

his

activity-he

connectswith himself

as

an

artist

whereas

would

want art to

slip

out of

us

into the world

n

which we

live."37

n

4'33"

Cage

placed

a framearound he

"bread

rumbs,"

hus

beginning

he

process

f

dismantling

ualistic

eparations

uch as

the one

mentioned

betweenart and life. In Variations

II,

nondual

xperience

s

complete:

the

final

mpediment,

he

frame,

s

removed.

If,

as has been

suggested

ere,

the

lectures n

both

"nothing"

and

"something"

nform he

musical

directions

Cage pursues

n

4'33"

and

Variations

II,

it

is

equally

ruethat those two

compositions oint

toward

Cage's

uture

developments

n

literature.The

gestation

period

was

long.

Richard

Kostelanetz rote

n

1968:

"What

s

conspicuously

lacking

n A

Year

rom

Monday

Cage's

econd

book]

s an

analogous

path-breakingesturehatcouldcommand s muchsuggestivenflu-

ence for literature s

his

earlier

musical'

demonstrations.'"38

his,

in

and

of

itself,

need not

matter.

Many

composers

ave also been

writ-

ers,

and there

is

usually

no

consequent

laim

asserted hat

somehow

the

writing

must

be

up

to the same evel as

the music.

Frequently-

and this

is

as trueof

Cage

as

of

many

others--the

writings

re an

explanation

f what

is

happening

n

the

music.

Thus

it

is

not a

com-

mon

expectation

hat

a

composer's ritings

must

somehow

qualify

as

literature.

However,

Cage

implies

rom

he

very

first

hat,

in

somecases

at

least,

his

writings o beyond

musical

xplanation.

As

Cage

wrote

n

his

introduction to

Silence,

"When M. C.

Richardsasked me

why

I

didn't

one

day give

a

conventional informative

ecture,

adding

that

that would

be

the

most

shocking thing

I

could

do,

I

said,

'I

don't

give

these lecturesto

surprisepeople,

but out of a

need for

poetry.'

"

He

went on

to

write: "As

I

see

it,

poetry

is

not

prose

simply

because


14/40

324

TheMusical

Quarterly

poetry

s

in

one

way

or

another ormalized.t

is

not

poetry

by

reason

of its contentorambiguityutbyreasonof its allowingmusical le-

ments

(time,

sound)

o be

introduced

nto the

world

of

words.""39t

is

in

this

context, then,

that one

might

expect

a

literary

ritic

(which

s

the

hat Kostelanetz

most

frequently

wears)

amiliar

with

Cage's

musi-

cal inventions o

expressdisappointment

n

the less

revolutionary

nature

of

Cage's

exts.

Cage's

extualwork

n the

1960shad moreto do with his

devel-

oping

sensibilities s a

poet

than

it

did with

trying

o

equal

his

achievements

n

music.On the other

hand,

two textual nventions

are

worthy

of

note:

his

mesostics nd

his

diaries,

only

one

of

which

(the

diaries)

oncerns

his

analysis.40

The

diary

orm

was

used

by

Cage

for

many

years,beginning

n

1965 and

ending

with

his

eighth

diary

n

1982.

His

Diary:

Audience

1966,

while not a

part

of this

series,

s shortand

uses

the

same

ormal

structure s his otherdiaries. also received

permission

rom

Cage

to

use

photocopies

f

pages

rom he

stenographic otepadCage

used

to

compose

his

piece.

These wereobtained rom he

John

Cage

Literary

Archive,WesleyanUniversityLibrary,ndserveas the rawmaterial

for

this

analysis.

While

Cage

did

not leave detailed nformation bout

how

those materials

were

used,

he did leave

a

trail,

in

various

ources,

through

which

I

will

try

to reconstruct

he

compositional rocess.

The first

place

to check for

clues is the introductiono the

text,

where

Cage frequently

rovided

nformation bouthow

his

pieces

werewritten:

This extwaswritten n thehighwayshiledrivingrom n audience

in

Rochester,

ew

York,

o one

in

Philadelphia.

ollowing

he

writing

plan

hadused or

Diary:

mma

ake,

formulated

n

my

mind

while

driving

statement

aving given

numberf words.

When

t

had

jelled

and

I

could

epeat

t,

I

drew

p

somewhere

long

he

road,

wrote

it

down,

and hen

drove n.

When

arrived

n

Philadelphia,

he text

was

finished.41

The full

title of the source

Cage

mentions

s

Diary:

Emma

Lake

MusicWorkshop965.This introductioneads:

Just

before

etting

out for Saskatchewan

o conduct

a music

workshop

at EmmaLake

n

July

1965,

I

received

a

request

rom he editorof

Canadian

rt for

an article

having

ifteen

hundredwords.Since

I was

busy

with a number f

projects,

was

on the

point

of

replying

hat

I

had

no

time,

whenI noticed hat

I would

be

at

the

workshop

or

fif-

teen

days

and

that

if

I wroteone

hundred

words

a

day

it wouldn't e


15/40

Silencing

he

Sounded

elf

325

too

much orme

and he

magazine

ould

et

what t wanted.nstead

of differenttype faces, I usedparenthesesand italics to distinguishone

statement

from another.

I set the text

in

a

single

block like

a

paragraph

of

prose.

Otherwise

used

he

mosaic-discipline

f

writing

escribedn

the note

preceding

iary:

How o

Improve

tc.

1965.42

The

above-mentioned

iary

ntroduction

eads:"It is a mosaicof

ideas,

statements,

wordsand

stories.

It is also a

diary.

Foreach

day,

I

determined

y

chance

operations

ow

many

parts

of

the mosaicI

wouldwrite

and how

many

words

herewouldbe

in

each.

The num-

berof wordsperdaywas to equal,or, by the last statementwritten, o

exceedone

hundredwords."43

With the information

rovided

y

these

introductions,

nalysis

can

begin.

The first

page

of

Cage's

notebook

Figure

)

includes he

working

itle "On Audience" nd showsa seriesof numbers

o

the

left

of

the

roman

numerals

-VI.

These romannumerals

orrespond

o

the

six

large

ectionsof

the text. As

will

be

seen,

everything

ut the

six is

explainable

ccording

o the

proceduresreviously

escribed.

How-

ever,one thingthat characterizesll of Cage'swork s thatevery

compositional

ecisionhad a reasonbehind

t,

even

if

the decision

was not to decide.

Why

six?

Two

clues

offer

a

plausible

nswer.

First,

Cage

claims

o have

followed

he same

procedure

n

writing

"Audi-

ence"

that

he

used

for EmmaLake.

That

diary

had

fifteen

parts,

one

for each

day

of the

workshop.

econd,

in

Cage's

ntroductiono

"Audience" e

writes

hat

it

was

composed

while

driving

rom

Roch-

ester

to

Philadelphia.

And

(not

coincidentally,

believe)

in

1965 the

approximate

riving

ime fromRochester

o

Philadelphia

as six

hours.44

Thus,

the

large

tructure

may

have been conceived

by

writing

a hundredwords

per

hour

The first

page

also has thirteen

Ching

derived

hexagrams,

with

some

(but

not

all)

of the

corresponding

umberswritten

out below.

Cage

described ow

he usedthe I

Ching

n

"To Describe he

Process

of

Composition

Used

in

Music

of

Changes

nd

Imaginary

andscape

No.

4":

What bringsabout this unpredictability s the use of the method estab-

lished

n

the

I

Ching

Book

f

Changes)

or he

obtaining

f

oracles,

that

of

tossing

hreecoins

six times. Three

coins tossed

once

yields

our

lines: three

heads,

broken

with

a

circle;

two

tails and a

head,

straight;

two heads

and

a

tail, broken;

three

tails,

straight

with a circle.

Three

coins tossed thrice

yields eight

trigrams

written

from the base

up):

chien,

three

straight;

chen,

straight,

broken,

broken; kan, broken,

straight,

broken;

ken, broken, broken,

straight;

kun,

three

broken; sun,


16/40

326 TheMusical

Quarterly

V3V

'S~i~

\/

\(

~y

2.3

_..

(.

-_

,T"h

v

..

v

-

to

;L

"

y6

m

92-

^

n

(I

f,

@,@....

o?.

k~?s

(;

.t.,"

. L

L C

;j,,

rs

..,==.

""?

Figure .

broken,

traight, traight;

i,

straight,

broken,

traight;

ui,

straight,

straight,

broken.Threecoins

tossed

ix times

yield sixty-four

exagrams

(two

trigrams,

he

second

written

above

he

first)

read

n

reference

o

a

chart

of

the

numbers to

64

in

a

traditional

rrangementavingeight

divisions

horizontally

orresponding

o the

eight

lower

rigrams

nd


17/40


18/40

328 TheMusical

Quarterly

,odiY3r

AUDIENCE966

I.

Are we an audience for

computer

art? The answer's not

No;

it's

Yes.

What

we

need

is

a

computer

that isn't

labor-saving

but,

which

increases

the

work

for us to

do,

that

puns

(this is McLuhan's idea) as

well

as

Joyce

revealing

bridges

(this

is Brown's

idea)

where we

thought

there weren't

any,

turns

us

(my

idea)

not "on" but into

artists.

Orthodox

seating

arrangement

in

synagogues.

Indians

have known

it

for

agess

life's

a

dance,

a

play,

illusion.

Lila,

Maya.

Twentieth-century

art's

opened

our

eyes.

Now

music's

opened our ears. Theatre? Just notice what's around. (If what you want

in India

is

an

audience,

Gita Sarabhai

told

me,

all

you

nee

,

is

one or

two

people.)

II.

He

saids

Listening

to

your

music I find

it

prorokes

me.

What

should

I

do

to

enjoy

it?

Answer:

There're

many ways

to

help

you.

I'd

give

you

a

lift,

for

instance,

if

you

were

going

in

my

direction,

but

the last

thing

I'd

do would

be

to

tell

you

how to use

your

own

aesthetic

faculties.

(You

see?

We're

unemployed.

If not

yet,

"soon

again

'twill

be." We

have

nothing

to

do.

So

what shall we

do? Sit

in

an audience?

Write criticism?

Be

creative?)

We used

to

have

the artist

up

on

a

pedestal.

Now

he's

no more

extraordinary

than

we

are.

III.

Notice audiences at

high

altitudes

and

audiences

in northern

countries

tend to

be

attentive

during

performances

while

audiences at

sea-level

or

in

warm

countries voice their

feelings

whenever

they

have

them.

Are

we,

so to

speak,

going

south in

the

way

we

experience

art? Audience

participation?

(Having

nothing

to

do,

we

do

it

nonetheless;

our

biggest

problem

is

finding scraps

of

time

in

which

to

get

it

done.

Discovery.

Awareness.)

"Leave

the

beaten

traik. You'll

see

something

never

seen

before."

After the first performance of my piece for

twelve

radios,t

Virgil

Thomson

said,

"You

can't

do that

sort

of

thing

and

expect people

to

pay

for

it."

Separation.

IV.

When

our time

was

&iven to

physical labor,

we

needed

a

stiff

upper

lip

and

backbone. Now that we're

changing

our

minds,

intent

on

things

invisible,

inaudible,

we have

other

spineless

virtues:

flexibility, fluency.

Dreams,

daily

events,

everything

gets

to and

through

us.

(Art,

if

you

want

a

definition

of

it,

is

criminal

action.

It

conforms to

no

rules.

Not

even

its

own.

Anyont

who

experiences

a

work

of art is as

guilty

as

the artist. It

is

not

a

question

of

sharing

the

guilt.

Each

one

of us

gets

all

of

it.) They

asked

me

about theatres

in

New

York.

I said

we

could

use

them.

They

should

be

small

for

the

audiences,

the

performing

areas

large

and

spacious,

equipped

for

television

broadcast

for those

who

prefer

staying

atrtom?.

TLzr

-hol._d-be-af.cfe

in

Figure

2.


19/40

Silencing

he

Sounded

elf

329

number f words

equired.

Afterhe had worked hem into a formhe

couldremember, e pulledover and wrotethemdown.Accordingo

his written

ntroduction,

he text was finished

by

the time he

arrived

in

Philadelphia.

his

story

seemed o remarkable

hat DavidRevill

actually

omments

pecifically

bout t

in

his

biography

f

Cage:

"With

characteristic

elf-discipline,

e

ascertained t the start

of each

leg

of

the

journey

how

many

wordswere

needed

or the

next

state-

ment

of the

text,

formulated

t

and revised

t in

his head as

he

drove,

pulled

over and wrote t

down,

checked he

length

of the

next state-

mentand droveon. Bythe time he reachedPhiladelphia,he piece

was

finished."49

his

may

seem somewhat

edundant,

ince when

one

looks

up

the author's eferencet

is,

in

fact,

the text

itselfas

pub-

lished

n A Year

rom

Monday.

However,

when

one

compares

he

stenographic

otebook o

both

Cage's

ntroduction nd

Revill'sbio-

graphical

laboration f

it,

certain

hings

do not

add

up.

If

Cage

were

writingaccording

o the number f words

equired

n

each

statement,

one wouldassume hat the first ext in the

notebook

would

correspond

to the first

I

Ching-derived

exagram

umber

ixty-three.

nstead

we

find thatthe firstwritten ext in the notebook s

fifty-one.

There

s,

in

fact,

no

correlation

etween he

orderof

hexagrams

rawnon the

first

notebook

page

and

the

orderof texts

found

n

the

notebook.50

It

is

unlikely

hat

Cage

really

inished he

Diaryby

the

time he

reached

Philadelphia

nd even

less

likely

that

he wrote t

in

the

way

Revill describes.The

following

s a more

ikely

scenario.

Cage

formu-

latedcertain

tatements,

ome

of

which were

directly

elated

o the

topic

of the

conferencewhere he

speech

was to

be

delivered

"The

ChangingAudience or the ChangingArts").Whenlookingat the

initialnumbers

most of them are

large-51,

50,

43,

33, 46,

and so

on-and at

the

very

end

there are

fournumbers

left--24,

17,

10,

and

5

(see

Figure

).

And

Cage

does

indeeddo these

last four

n

order

from

arge

o

small

(see

n.

50).

Thus,

Cage

probably egan

hinking

of

things

eitherthat he

wanted o

say

or

that

independently

ame into

his

head,

paying

attention

o whether

hese statements

were

ong

or

short

approximatelyccording

o the

I

Ching

numbers

e,

in

all

likelihood,generated rior

o the

trip.

How do we know

that

they

were

approximations

nd

that

Cage

did not have an

exact number

f words

n

his

mind?

First,

here

is

a

disparity

between

generated

numbersand written

texts.

The

only

other

possibility

is

that

Cage

worked out of

another

notebook first

and

then rewrote

everything

into the

notebook found in

his

archive. This

is

extremely

doubtful.

Anyone

who visits either

of

Cage's

archives is

immediately

mpressedby

the fact that he

appears

o

have

saved


20/40

330

The

Musical

Quarterly

cl

,

Niv.

"1

I

I

ifI

p,?lne

~W

Figure

.


21/40

Silencing

heSounded

elf

331

everything,

nd saved

t in

an

orderly

ashion.

This is

particularly

rue

with the materialsound n the literary rchiveat Wesleyan,mostof

which were

eventually

published.

n

all

probability,

his

notebook

s

what

Cage

usedto

initially

write

down

these texts.

Lookingagain

at

Figure

1,

one notices as further onfirmationhat the numbersisted

to the left of the romannumerals re circled.

I

would

suggest

hat

these

were

circledas

Cage completed

hat

particular

ext.

If

accepted,

this

reasoning

lso

helps explain

both the fournumbers

24,

17, 10,

and

5)

on

the last

four

pages

of the

notebook

and

the fact that nei-

ther

10

nor

5 is

circled: ince

these were

probably

he

last-completed

texts,

circling

was therefore

nnecessary.

Second,

the notebooks how

that

Cage verycarefully

ditedeach

of the

statements

ntil

they

did

match

exactly.

And

although

t is

questionable

hether

or not

Cage

couldboth writeand

edit each

of

these texts while at

the

same

time

driving

o

Philadelphia,

uch

issues,

unlikethe

previous peculations,

o not

directly

affect his

analysis.

What

matters

s

the

editing

tself.

Figure

showswhat

readsas num-

ber

sixty-one

but

is

actually

ixty-three

nd

is

thus

the

very

first

tate-

mentin the publishedext. Forcomparisonandforreasons f

legibility)

t

is

reproduced

elow

(parentheses

orrespond

o

text

Cage

crossed

ut):

(Stet)

61

(Could

we

do it witha

computer?

(Not

art,

but)

I

don'tmeanmake

computer

rt

Are we an

audience

or

computer

rt?

butCan(cd.)5'we sit in an audience

computer

rt

and

enjoy

(it)

once it

(was)/is

made?)

not

(Don't

think) (T)the

answer's

o;

it's

(inevitably)

es.

What)W(w)e

need

(is)

a

computer

hat

isn't abor

aving

utwhich

increaseshe work

orus

to do, that(asMcLuhanays)

this

s

McLuhan'sdea

(can)

puns

as well

as

Joyce

(this is)

this is

Brown'sdea

revealing ridges

wherewe

thought

there weren't

(none).

any,

turns

us

my

ideanot "on"but

into

artists.


22/40

?of

.

.

,A.

4, 4

IA1L

.

. . .

-Il

Figure

.


23/40

Silencing

heSounded

elf

333

Compare

his to the

published

ext:

I.

Are

we an audience

or

computer

rt?The

answer'sot

No;

it'sYes.

Whatwe need s a

computer

hat sn't

abor-saving

utwhich

increaseshe work orus to

do,

that

puns

this

s

McLuhan's

dea)

as

well

as

Joyce evealingridges

this

s

Brown's

dea)

where

we

thought

hereweren't

ny,

urns s

(my

dea)

not "on" ut

nto

artists.52

The differences

remarkable,

nd the finalresult

even

if

the

original

somehow eemsmorepoetic)doescloselyresembleCage'sviewof

poetry

as "formalized"

rose.53

This

leads

o the

following

question:

Did

Cage

edit the text

simply

o meet

the

prescribedixty-three

words,

or did he

also

edit for

reasons f

personal

aste

By

comparing

script

and

differingways

of

crossing

ut

wordswe can

reproduce

hat

Cage originally

wrote:

Could

we do

it witha

computer?

I

don't

mean

make

omputer

rt

butcd. wesit in an audience

and

enjoy

t once t wasmade?

Don't hink he answer's

o;

it's

nevitably

es.Whatwe

need

s

a

computer

hat

isn't

abor

aving

ut

which

increases

he

work or

us

to

do,

thatas McLuhan

ays

can

puns

as

well

as

Joyce

revealingridges

herewe

thought

thereweren't one.

This

excerpt,

as

is,

totals

seventy-two

words.

f

one

looksat

the

top

of

the

page (Figure

)

one

can

distinguish

wo

crossed-out

umbersol-

lowed

by

"-1."

These

numbers

re first

9,

then

4.

The

text

repro-

ducedabove

minusnine words

wouldhave

equaled

he

requiredixty-

three.

Consequently,Cage

needed

o remove

nine words. t

wouldbe

verydifficulto determine he order n whichCagemadethese

changes,

o

instead

we will

follow

them as

they

occur

n

the text.

Cage

crosses ut all

of "Couldwe do it with

a

computer?

don't

mean

make

computer

art but

cd.

we sit iri

an audience

and

enjoy

it

once

it

was made?"

and

changes

it

to "Are we an audience

for

computer

art?"

The

original

has

twenty-seven

words while

the

change

has

seven,

leaving

a

difference of

twenty

words.This is not

exactly

a

time-saving

method

of

removing

nine

words. It means

that

Cage

would

have

had


24/40

334

The

Musical

Quarterly

to

come

up

with eleven

more

words f

he

accepted

he

change,

which

seemsunlikely.

What if

Cage

instead

beganby

crossing

ut

unnecessary

ordsas

follows,withoutan alteration f the text: "inevitably," what,"

"is,"

"asMcLuhan

ays,"

"can,"

"none."This

showsa

remarkable

imilarity

to

the

crossed-out umbers.

Removing"inevitably,"

what,"

"is,"

"can,"

and "none" eaves

our;

removing

"as

McLuhan

ays"

eaves

one.

And,

although

am

by

no

meansa

handwriting

xpert,

t

also

appears

o be consistentwith

Cage's

various

noticeable

tyles

of cross-

ingout words. fsuch werethe case,bycrossing ut "Don't hink"

and

adding

"not" o make"Theanswer's ot

No;

it's

Yes,"

Cage

wouldhave madea statementwith

sixty-three

words:

Couldwe do it witha

computer?

I

don't

meanmake

omputer

rt

butcd.

we

sit

in

an audience

and

enjoy

t once t was

made?

Theanswer'sot

No;

it'sYes.

We need a computerhat isn't

labor

aving

utwhich ncreases

the work orus to

do,

that

puns

aswell

as

Joyce

evealingridges

wherewe

thought

hereweren't.

I

believethe

evidence ndicates hat

Cage

initially

made his text

and

then

changed

t.

It was

purposely

lteredat

great

additional

expense

of

time,

especially

onsidering

he fact that he

reportedly

as

in a hurry.The reasons ouldbe several,but twoareprobable nd

important

o this

analysis.

One,

he

may

have

wished

o alter he

orig-

inal

meaning:

"any,

urns

us

(my

idea)

not 'on' but

into artists"

s

clearly

a text added o

suit the additionof

"this s McLuhan'sdea"

and

"this s Brown'sdea."

Two,

he

may

simply

have

not likedthe

results

f

his initial

editing

and

one

could

say

that

the

final

product

does

read"better."

Looking

t the

manuscript

s a

whole,

one

sees

that

thereare

alterations

madeon

everypage.

The five-word

age

"Orthodox

eating

arrangement"

see

Figure

)

was

originally

Ordinary

0th

Century

human

beings."

n

addition,

here

are two

versions,

of

which

only

one

is

selected,

for both numbers

orty-three

and

forty-six.

The texts

respectively

have to do

with

Cage's

mother

and with television and

were,

in

all

likelihood,

omitted

for the same reason

"Ordinary

0th

century

human

beings"

was

changed:

because

they

are

not

directly

related

to

"audience,"

he

subject

of

the

speech.


25/40

Silencing

heSounded

elf

335

I.

Are we

an

audience

for

c

mputer

art? The

answer's

not

No;

it's

Yes.

What we

need

us

a

computer

that

isn't

labor

saving

but which incre ses

the

work

for

us

to

do,

that

puns

(this

is McLuhan's

idea)

as well as

Joyce

revealing

bridges

(this

is

Brown's

idea)

where

we

thought

there

weren't

any,

turns

us

my

idea)

not "on" but

into

artists,.

-

....1

Indians

have

known

it for

ages:

life's

a

Lance,

a

play,

illusion. Lila.

Maya.

Twentieth

century

art'

opened

our

eyes.

Now

music's

opened our ears.

Theater?

JLst notice what's

around. (If

what

you

want

in

India

is

aniaudience,

Gita

Sarabhai

told

me,

all

you

need

is

one

or

two

people.)

II.

He said:

Listening

to

your

music

I

find

it

provokes

me.

What

should

I

do to

enjoy

it?

Answer:

There're

many ways

to

help

you.

I'd

give you

a

lift,for

instance,if

you

were

going

in

my

direction,

but

the

last

thing

I'd

do

would

be

to

tell

you

how to

use

your

own aesthetic

faculties.

(You see?

We're

unemployed.

If

not

yet,

"soon

again

'twill

be."

We

have

nothing

to do.

So

what

shall

we do? Sit

in an

audience?

Write

criticism?

Be creative?)

We

used

to have

the

artist up on a pedestal. Now he's no more extraordinary

than

we

are.

III. Notice audiences at

high

altitudes

and

audiences in

northern

countries tend

to

be

attentive

Figure

.


26/40


27/40

Silencing

heSounded

elf

337

And that'swhat

linksme the most

closely

with

Duchamp

nd Thoreau.

In bothof them,as different s they maybe, youfinda complete

absence

of interest

n

self

expression.

Thoreauwanted

only

one

thing:

to see

and hearthe world

around

him.

When

he

found

himself nter-

ested

in

writing,

he

hoped

to finda

way

of

writing

whichwouldallow

others

not

to see and hear

how he had done

it,

but to see whathe

had

seen

and to hearwhathe

had heard.He was not

the

one

who

chose

his

words.

They

cameto

him

fromwhat there

s to see and hear. You're

going

to tell

me that Thoreau ad a definite

tyle.

He has his

very

own

way

of

writ

cage and the intentionality of nonintention - shultis

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