Thoughts on Invention and Performance

Here's something to consider. I was listening to a superb 1987 rendition of Paganini's "Violin Concerto #1". It was by the London Symphony Orchestra conducted by Leonard Slatkin and the solo violinist was Midori–at the time she had attained the ripe old age of sixteen. (This prodigy debuted on New Year's Eve, 1982, with the New York Philharmonic under Zuban Mehta when she was only eleven years old.) The Paganini recording is an inspiring performance. (Click on any image for larger versions.)



I have been impressed with both the linear and transient nature of music: sequential notes over time that until the advent of recording were experienced only during the performance.


There are no recordings of Paganini himself playing his own music, since his career predates recording technology. We have only contemporary reports of his artistry which was so spectacular that it was commonly thought that he had entered into a pact with the devil. In fact he was afflicted with Ehlers-Danlos syndrome which caused excessive flexibility of the joints of his wrist. (The interpretation at left is by photographer William Mortensen.)





Musicians were unable to leave a record of their virtuosity until Thomas Edison invented the cylinder phonograph in 1877. Interestingly, a more primitive device that predates Edison is the Phonautograph invented by Édouard-Léon Scott de Martinville and patented in 1857. Check out the recording that researchers were recently able to reconstitute that Scott made of his daughter singing "Au Claire de Lune"–from 1860, the earliest recording of a human voice.

Once a performance was concluded, it was only a memory. Such a different concept relative to Visual Arts, where the object or image attests to the creativity of the author. Past musicians could not be heard unless, like Paganini, they were also composers and left written scores for others to perform.


A connection to music (Performance Art) and photograpy (Visual Art) was made by Ansel Adams when he described the negative as the score and the print as the performance. Adams of course was trained as a concert pianist coincidentally to his study of photography. Adams did not limit the production of his images and always printed open editions. There were over 600 copies of "Moonrise, Hernandez" by his count. As anyone knows who had attempted to make prints in the darkroom, there are many tools in the arsenal of the printmaker that affect the appearance of the final print; not least of which are exposure controls including dodging and burning, chemistry of processing, processing times, toning, etc. It is very difficult to achieve the same quality in each print and Adams kept extensive notes on how he interpreted each negative. Nonetheless, as he matured as a printmaker he revised his rendition of the same negatives so that the later prints were often more dramatic than the earlier examples. The following is a chart of the the sequence of how "Moonrise" was "performed". The date at upper right indicates that this print session was made on February 22, 1980. The word "Last" indicates that these were the notes for the final version of the print during that session. He notes that the name of the subject and then that he was using the 24" lens on his 8 x 10 inch enlarger with a basic aperture of f/32-3/4. He printed on Ilford Galerie #3 paper and developed in Kodak Dektol diluted 1:5. "Factor 12" refers to his factorial method of development described in his book "The Print". 9/60 refers to the basic print exposure of 9 seconds. Reading across from upper left, the first three exposures were at f/32-3/4 with negative numbers indicating dodging (blocking light from reaching the print). The subsequent exposures were at f/11 and involved burning (adding exposure to light) in various patterns to achieve the effects of the darkened sky without darkening the moon.



Here is the interesting comparison for me. Adams recreated his prints many times over. In a way he was performing his own music. But how does this compare to other visual artists. Monet, for example, revisited the same subjects multiple times. He painted 30 canvases of the Cathedral at Rouen in the 1890s. But Monet was searching for new insights each time; while Adams was attempting to recreate the same image each time. Can you imagine a painter attempting to paint the same painting repeatedly?

Take this a step further. We've all been to museums or galleries where an artist has set up an easel and is laboriously transcribing a painting to his own canvas. This is a useful learning exercise and one that was utilized by some rather famous historical figures. Michelangelo's father sent him to study grammar in Florence as a young boy, but he preferred instead to copy paintings from churches and seek the company of painters. At what point, however, does allegiance to the grand masters become forgery or plagiarism?

This is a basic difference in some of the Visual Arts. Media such as etching, engraving, printmaking, photography and even some forms of sculpture and ceramics (technically Plastic Arts) all thrive on their ability to produce multiples from an original matrix. Drawing and painting, however, are prized for their prime execution and copies are considered diminished renditions.

How different this is in the Performing Arts, where the repetition of notes or lines is demanded and the value is placed on the interpretation of the original. Midori or Pavoratti or Jack Nicholson are given awards for their restatement of works created by others. The edition of work in printmaking or photography is prized for its unvarying reproduction throughout, whereas the performance artist's work is valued for the nuance and interpretation provided by the artist.




Then there is another dimension to consider: should the photographer print her own images? Certainly Adams employed assistants even in his closely controlled printing environment. But there are photographers (Henri Cartier-Bresson and Sheila Metzner, for example) that were never involved with the printing process. Andy Warhol and David Gilhooly also come to mind as artists who were responsible for concepts but removed from the execution of the art.

And finally, there is the question of "postmodern appropriation" where artists borrowed historical ideas, imagery and even authorship from this history of modern photography. Sherrie Levine simply made copy prints of several Walker Evans photographs from the 30's and exhibited them with her name underneath. Could a person get away with this as an author?

So this rambling dissertation is an attempt to consider the conventions and limitations of creativity, and to point out that the medium used by an artist imposes its own restrictions which vary throughout the spectrum of expression.