The beauty of imperfection

Richard Avedon :: portrait of Marella Agnelli :: 1959

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Throughout Western history, the concept of beauty has always been associated with the idea of perfection. In ancient Greece, the definition of beautiful was structurally linked to notions of order, symmetry and clarity, and to the presence of proportions defined as harmonic. In the Middle Ages, Christianity gave beauty a symbolic dimension by interpreting it as divine attributes, such as goodness and truth – in this sense, also linked to the idea of perfection. And although Renaissance brought relativistic concepts, which incorporated cultural and socio-economic aspects to the concept of beauty, it was not until the seventeenth century that subjectivity began to permeate the notion of beauty (thus giving rise to the concept of “taste”).

 

In the second half of the eighteenth century, the social upheavals in Europe created a favorable environment for the revival of Ancient Greece and Rome’s ideals of beauty, widely used in the representative images of the French Revolution and the Napoleonic Empire. And it was precisely at that moment that Kant emerged, the first thinker to move the center of existence of beauty from the object to the subject. The division that Kant established between ‘judgment of knowledge’ (which creates concepts based on the object’s properties) and ‘aesthetic judgment’ (arising from the personal reaction of the beholder before the object) defined the foundations of contemporary aesthetics. The beauty is no longer only in what is seen, and also lies in the eyes that see.

 

The Kantian thought paved the way for the great aesthetic ruptures that took place between the late nineteenth century and early twentieth century. The ideas of uniqueness, individuality, pleasure, emotion, power, courage, vitality, and others, were incorporated into the concept of beautiful. We were able to understand that there is beauty in perfection, but also that perfection is not a prerequisite of beauty. We sharpened our capacity of perception and expanded the possibility of giving pleasure to our souls. We began to admire the crystal clear voice of Nat King Cole as much as Chet Baker’s insecure voice; the classic proportions of Grace Kelly’s face, and the exotic and voluptuous features of Sophia Loren; the dense beauty of Raushenberg’s work and the almost superficial pop art of Warhol.

 

A few decades later, the path of apparent freedom curiously ended up leading us to an imprisonment. Stimulated by an industry that is interdisciplinarily structured in mass production and overestimation of youth to generate profits, the search for a beauty ideal – for the perfect beauty – has never been as exacerbated as today. In an insane and endless process, men and women throw themselves on a journey towards that which is nothing but a collective imaginary construction. And by abandoning their own beauty to (try to) attain the other, they live eternally unhappy, wandering along this path.

 

We need to rescue the wealth of plurality and the beauty that lies in imperfection. We need to remember the weirdness of Dovima. The eyes of Serge Gainsbourg, the teeth of Lauren Hutton. The mouth of Mick Jagger, the eyebrows of Frida Kahlo and the lines of Grace Jones. And, above all, remember the words of Leonard Cohen, who, in his song ‘Anthem’ from 1992, said:
“…Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.”

Singing the spaces, building the song

Zaha Hadid :: JS Bach Chamber Music Hall, Manchester, UK :: photo© Luke Hayes

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Philosophers, historians and theorists have been long trying to establish a connection between music and architecture. Two thousand five hundred years ago, Pythagoras had already conceptualized the mathematical harmony as a cornerstone to explain the entire creation, the existence and operation of the universe. According to the Greek philosopher, the ‘pleasant relation of proportions’ would make all things vibrate in a great universal harmony, just like the notes in a song.

 

Some of these relationships of proportions established by Pythagoras came to define canonical spatial relations of classical architecture, as well as the predominant musical ‘patterns’ until the Modern Age. In architecture and western music, the beauty of a work was guided by the Pythagorean concept of harmony among its elements for centuries.

 

This understanding began to be questioned in music, with the emergence of the tonal system, which enabled the exploration of other relations of proportion and intervals, once considered inharmonious and therefore incorrect. Music went from tonality to atonality, until its dissolution and dodecaphony, with creators such as Schoenberg and John Cage. In parallel, social and political changes resulting from the rise of the bourgeoisie in Europe sparked the desire to set the formal rules of classicism free and the search for individual expression and innovation, allowing the emergence of a new architecture – which, by breaking the commitment to symmetry and the relations of proportions previously defined as pleasant (correct), culminated, centuries later, in experiences such as those of Frank Gehry or Daniel Liebeskind. Today, the notion of beauty – whether in music or architecture – is marked by new and diverse concepts.

 

Each in its own way, music and architecture are aesthetic compositions resulting from the association of different elements, organized and governed by certain principles. Height, length, proportion, alternation, repetition, arrangement, rhythm, intensity, density, texture, contrast, harmony, balance, tension… these are all elements of both musical and architectural creations. The quality of the work as well as its beauty stem from the knowledge, competence and sensitivity of its author in connecting these elements.

 

If, throughout history, architecture and music reveal parallel paths (and not just with regard to the evolution of knowledge, but also in their relationship with society), they currently seem to be following divergent paths: whereas the quality in a work of architecture is being increasingly perceived and required socially, one does not seem to care that our musical production is increasingly devoid of attributes. Today, we pursue and exalt the quality and beauty of homes, buildings, theaters and arenas, but to discuss the quality and the beauty of the music performed in these spaces is off the agenda.

 

At some point, our society has ceased to understand music as an aesthetic composition, and simply relegated it to the territory of entertainment. It’s a shame. By dispensing with the quality and beauty in our music production, we are increasingly missing the opportunity to expand our pleasures and the meaning of our existence.

Listening to one’s own voice

Bobby McFerrin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Is this what you want to do? Is this how you picture exploring music?” These were the questions Bobby McFerrin says he asked himself when still very young and thrilled by listening to Keith Jarrett’s piano performance. The vulnerability of a person alone on a stage had always fascinated him, and made him wonder if he could, as Jarrett, capture the essence of a song, its harmonies, and capture his own essence – and only then, sing the same way Jarret played the piano: with his heart and in his own unique and personal way.

 

He spent almost three years alone, singing, writing, listening and getting acquainted with his own voice. During the first two years Bobby did not listen to other singers – he was afraid of being influenced by some other singing style, convinced that this would make him turn away from his own style. He needed to discover himself, learn and take ownership for the sound he created, get to know and explore the possibilities of his own voice.

 

His ability to improvise was also a challenge to overcome. He wanted to discover the pleasure of moving without knowing exactly where to go… of letting himself go as a child does, without being guided by theoretical knowledge. He then spent many other years working out his own way to improvise – in his words, overcoming the fear of improvisation, the fear of taking risks, of looking like a fool and not having enough ideas.

 

Today, over 30 years later, Bobby McFerrin is known worldwide as one of the greatest talents of contemporary music. In addition to the musical genius in every note his voice sings and every gesture he makes, rare plainness and elegance become evident from the perfect harmony of what he does, what he looks like and who he really is.

 

Bobby McFerrin’s truth can also serve as an allegory for each of us. After all, there is nothing more beautiful, elegant and enjoyable than being and acknowledging oneself as unique, listening to one’s own voice, expressing one’s essence, not fearing the unknown and experiencing the joy of keep moving. And that’s what really matters.

 

To learn more: http://bobbymcferrin.com/
To listen to: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ktotbE4rN2g (interview)

The planet blue on the sun road

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is the title of an acoustic show that Milton Nascimento performed at the Cultura Astistica Theater, in São Paulo in October 1991. Only three performances resulted in a CD under the same name, unfortunately too little known by the public and, today, off the shelves in Brazil (it can be found at amazon.com).

 

Milton always favored the interpretation of his own songs. Here, in contrast, he performs as an interpreter, singing and playing (guitar, piano and accordion) songs of other composers – only four out of the 11 songs in the CD were written by him. And in this surprise lies a huge enchantment.

 

Milton’s singing transcends all expectations. A musician with unique sensitivity and a clear voice, his interpretations are both passionate and exciting. With a firm identity on the essence of each song, he, through the filter of his emotion, reveals such essence in a surprising and overwhelming way. And in his voice, we listen to once familiar songs as if they were new songs.

 

Milton sings not only his voice – above all, he sings his soul. And every word sung by this soul touches our souls with rare delicacy. Milton has the exact measure of the pleasure every song can and must provide to people.

 

For a taste of it: Hello Goodbye (Lennon & McCartney)

Bewitched

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘A cidade enfeitiçada’ (‘The bewitched city’) was the first song by Paulo Gusmao I ever heard. And such was my delight – by the title (so inspiring!), the composition and his arrangement – that I decided to immediately search information on this composer I didn’t know.

 

The song title baptizes the CD – and no less inspiring are the titles of other songs in it: ‘Flor de outono’ (‘Autumn Flower’), ‘O brilho do vagalume’ (‘The firefly’s glow‘), ‘Sua silhueta sutil’ (‘Its subtle silhouette’)… not to mention ‘Romance em Vila Humaitá’ (‘Romance in Vila Humaitá’), gently broken into three acts.

 

The album’s 15 songs captivate, enchant and thrill. Melodies and harmonies reach our ears lightly and gently, seeming to float. Arrangements establish subtle dialogues among the accordion, the flute, the guitar and other instruments, creating an atmosphere that exudes grace and elegance. You can’t get enough of it.

 

‘A cidade enfeitiçada’ (‘The bewitched city’) is indeed bewitching. High quality Brazilian and contemporary instrumental music, touching the ear with sweetness, the soul with beauty, and fills us with pleasure.

 

Enjoy it at www.paulogusmao.com.br.