Upload
joel-fagerberg
View
6
Download
0
Embed Size (px)
DESCRIPTION
An application of Barthes and Foucault's work on the death of the author to Stravinsky's Rite of Spring.
Citation preview
1
Joel Fagerberg
31 October 2014
Schoenberg and Stravinsky
Allen Shawn
Barthes, Foucault and Le Sacre du printemps: Severing the Hand of the Composer
I. Introduction
Igor Stravinsky's monumental 1913 composition, Le Sacre du printemps, is a work that
crossed through the threshold of Romantic era music to deliver a new set of groundbreaking aesthetic
considerations for the future. By prioritizing internal relationships over lyrical, expressive development in
the music, and ritualized forms of collective action (oppression?) over the life of the individual in the rite
itself, Le Sacre du printemps may be said to have prefigured a new way of seeing art in which the role
of individual expression has changed. This new way of seeing art which Le Sacre may be said to
prefigure was articulated by French literary critic Roland Barthes in his 1967 essay, “The Death of the
Author.” Barthes’ attack against biographical interpretations in literary criticism unveiled a new symbol
of creation in which no individual is present, one which may also be seen in relation to Le Sacre: “...the
hand, cut off from any voice, borne by a pure gesture of inscription (and not of expression)” (Roland
Barthes The Death of the Author 146). In this image, the individual artist has been transformed into a
severed hand that gestures, unable to express because it is not connected to an individual voice. Two
years later, in his article "Authorship: What Is an Author?," French philosopher Michel Foucault would
develop support for this new image further, alluding to the work of Samuel Beckett by positing the
question: “What matter who’s speaking?” (Michel Foucault Authorship: What Is an Author? 115). This
2
question, for Foucault, speaks to an indifference towards older questions of authorship, questions which
are not applicable to the severed hand.
Although an attempt could be made to trace the multiplicity of historical developments linking Le
Sacre’s 1913 premiere to the aforementioned work of Barthes and Foucault half a century later, such
an attempt is beyond the scope of this essay. Instead, this essay will seek to show how a trend in
midtwentieth century literary criticism, and a piece of music composed over 50 years before this trend,
may display some of the same aesthetic concerns. That is to say, it is with Barthes' and Foucault's
writings in mind that we may see how Le Sacre severed the hand of the composer, prefiguring his death
along with the author. This is not show that Stravinsky intended this, nor to show which events in history
made clear this amputation and subsequent disappearance. Rather, it is to look at Barthes and
Foucault’s ideas and to see, upon further inspection of Stravinsky’s piece itself, the initial violence that
Le Sacre committed by virtue of its aesthetics.
II. The Death of the Author: Barthes’ Severed Hand and Foucault’s Response
In order to start building a more detailed image of the Death of the Author concept, one must go
further in analyzing Barthes’ quote regarding “the hand, cut off from any voice” (ibid). Barthes’ refers to
this vision to make clear that the writer is now only the scriptor, or in musical terms, the composer is
now only the transcriber. These roles do not entail expression. They instead entail gestures. Barthes
writes that “Succeeding the Author, the scriptor no longer bears within him passions, humours, feelings,
impressions, but rather this immense dictionary from which he draws a writing that can know no halt”
(Barthes 147). Although one may be inclined to see Stravinsky’s work in Le Sacre as exceedingly
passionate, with his later neoclassical pieces fitting this Barthes quote more clearly, this would be an
3
oversimplification of both Barthes and Stravinsky’s efforts. The following Barthes quote extends his
thoughts towards the type of technical aspects of art that this essay will explore later in regards to Le
Sacre: “...life never does more than imitate the book, and the book itself is only a tissue of signs” (ibid).
It is with this move that we see that Barthes is not only referring to collage or pastiche techniques, but
also to the fact that writing is always made up of gestures, or signs, not passions. The same may be said
of the material of Le Sacre in terms of both the music and the rite, as will be explored more fully in
Section III of this paper.
Why may one be inclined to say that Le Sacre is work full of feelings and impressions anyways?
Barthes provides us with a way of dealing with this question when he writes: “...a text’s unity lies not in
its origin but in its destination” (Barthes 148). This means that whatever unified emotional experience
one has in regards to a work of art finds its origin within oneself. Barthes explains that the reader is the
generic “...someone who holds together in a single field all the traces by which the written text is
constituted” (ibid). It is the reader, or the listener, that glues together aspects of the work in order to
form a particular impression. This process of gluing together does not follow the exact intentions of an
author or composer, but rather the actions of the reader or listener. This is what leads Barthes’ to
remark at the end of his essay that “...the birth of the reader must be at the cost of the death of the
Author” (ibid).
Picking up on Barthes’ thought, Foucault writes that “I wish to restrict myself to the singular
relationship that holds between an author and a text, the manner in which a text apparently points to this
figure who is outside and precedes it” (Foucault 115). He follows this declaration by saying that
“Beckett supplies a direction” (ibid). This brings us back to the Samuel Beckett quote mentioned
previously: “What matter who’s speaking?” (Samuel Beckett Texts for Nothing 16). Beckett’s
4
direction, the one in which Foucault is following, is one which supports Barthes’ thought: if the hand is
severed from the voice, what matter who’s speaking?
Foucault’s use of Beckett’s quote acts as a way for him to further interrogate the themes of Barthes’
work on the Death of the author, as he is is clearly investigating the same conceptual territory as
Barthes. He follows the Beckett quote with two major themes of contemporary writing and ties them
eventually to the “author’s disappearance,” making it clear enough that he is working with conceptual
material culled from Barthes’ work (ibid 121).
These two major themes are that writing has “...freed itself from the necessity of ‘expression’”
and that there is a new “...kinship between writing and death” which differs from past kinships (ibid
116117). The first theme refers to a transformation of writing into an “...interplay of signs, regulated
less by the content it signifies than by the very nature of the signifier” (ibid 116). With writing no longer
serving the function of pure expression, the writing itself does not serve to signify emotional content, but
to refer to the signifier itself. In terms of music, this indicates essentially the opposite of Romanticism:
chords and melodies are heard for the sake of themselves, not for the sake of representing an emotion.
This is also essentially what Barthes was saying when he spoke of the Author being replaced by the
scriptor and the book being a tissue of signs: there is no personal expression, just signifiers.
The second theme is further described as a transformation of the previous relationship between
writing and death. Foucault states that “This conception of a spoken or written narrative as a protection
against death has been transformed by our culture. Writing is now linked to sacrifice and to the sacrifice
of life itself…” (ibid 117). This relates back to Barthes’ remarks about the birth of the reader at the
expense of the Death of the Author. Death, in literal and conceptual terms, befalls upon the author
regardless of what or how the author writes. The same may be said for the composer. The life and the
5
identity of the author or composer cannot truly be directly spoken to through the work, and thus the life
and the identity of the author or composer cannot be directly protected through the work. It is the
reader or audience member’s voice, their life and identity, that is projected upon the work in place of
the author’s.
Through both Barthes and Foucault, one may note three aesthetic considerations: an
abandonment of authorial expressivity, the interplay of gestures or signs in the absence of authorial
expression, and the projection of the reader’s expressivity onto the interplay of gestures or signs in place
of the author’s. The author does not express emotions, but rather, arranges signs for the sake of
themselves. The reader then comes along and sees these signs lit up by their own emotional projections.
This is the outline for the Death of the Author concept, a concept which may then be applied to the
composer. The hand of the individual artist is severed, which means it does not matter who used to be
connected to that hand. Readers, listeners, audiences at large will provide a multiplicity of voices with
which the hand may align itself over and over again, leaving the artist behind the work to disappear.
III. Severing the Hand and Prefiguring the Death of the Composer in Le Sacre du
printemps
Using both Barthes’ image of the severed hand and Foucault’s quotation of Beckett, we may
see the link between Le Sacre and the Death of the Author (or composer) through the presence of
Barthes’ and Foucault’s three shared aesthetic considerations in the piece itself. Stravinsky’s 1913
masterpiece severed the hand of the composer by removing personal expression and replacing it with
pure gesture, a là Barthes. In the wake of this violence, Foucault’s indifference seems imminent. With
the link between the sign and the author’s voice severed, the relevance of the identity behind that voice
6
recedes. This leaves the beholder to project expressivity of their own onto the work as the artist
disappears, as Barthes describes in terms of literature. The rite speaks to this loss of identity, and thus to
the transformed link between artistic creation and death as mentioned by Foucault.
There are numerous ways in which Le Sacre may be said to abandon authorial expressivity. For
example, the opening bassoon passage does not establish a definitive author’s voice, as Nicholas
McKay points out: “...the famous (asthmatic) bassoon solo opening of The Rite of Spring appears to
eskew any sense of authorial voice altogether” (Nicholas McKay ‘One for All and All for One’: Voicing
in Stravinsky’s Music Theatre 3). He goes on to say that “True, it is built from a Lithuanian folk song
fragment, and in that sense is potentially expressive of the ‘voice of the folk,’ but both its ‘primordial’
associations and its rigorous, if subtle, additive construction principles render it stark and ‘voiceless’ at
another level” (ibid). The opening of Le Sacre does not make clear who is speaking through authorial
expression. Instead, it evokes an ambiguous combination of collective, folk origins and impersonal,
mechanized functions.
Le Sacre also abandons authorial expressivity by subverting the establishment of a continuous
voice beyond the scope of its opening. Of course, the piece may be said to work as a whole for a
number of reasons, reasons which may be further supported by a fastidious analysis of Stravinsky’s
meticulous composing. However, the piece itself does not display this singular voice of this meticulous
composer (if such a thing exists) as much as it may be said to portray restless interruption of a continual
form. This restless interruption is evident in the structure of the work. Kenneth Gloag writes that:
“The Rite of Spring, while ultimately resisting the drift towards the incoherent, takes the preference of the discontinuous over the continuous to a new extreme. Each of the two parts of the ballet, ‘Adoration of the earth’ and ‘The sacrifice,’ consists of several distinct parts, each of which has its own descriptive title and identity. This sectionalisation challenges any notion of continuity” (Kenneth Gloag Russian Rites: Petrushka, The Rite of Spring, and Les Noces 88).
7
Gloag’s conception of Le Sacre as a piece concerned with discontinuity is reaffirmed by the endings of
Part One and Part Two respectively. He notes that “The Conclusion to Part One is defined by the
sudden cessation of the music during a crescendo, but this signifies neither harmonic arrival nor closure.
The material simply stops...a gesture which suggests interruption” (ibid). Furthermore, he notes that Part
Two does not end in the same way as Part One nor does it provide the “satisfaction of resolution”,
emphasizing a lack of continuity once more (ibid). Part One is interrupted by Part Two, establishing
discontinuity in one manner. After this, Part Two does not seem to be interrupted nor does it seem to
provide closure at its end. It instead provides a “...rather arbitrary concluding gesture to the work as a
whole” (ibid). This subverts any notion of an expressive, continuous voice, ending the work with a
gesture that seems to be there for the sake of itself rather than for the sake of emotional expression. It
does not resemble the end of Part One nor does it provide a resolution, thus making the work feel very
discontinuous.
With the endings of both Part One and Two, we see an emphasis upon gestures in and of
themselves, outside of the confines of a continuous, expressive, authorial voice. This resonates with the
first two aesthetic considerations from Barthes’ and Foucault: the abandonment of authorial expressivity,
and the subsequent interplay of gestures in place of that authorial expressivity. This interplay of gestures
occurs in terms of distinct, discontinuous moments in Le Sacre. Martha M. Hyde explores this
approach to form: “Commonly termed ‘moment form’ and often cited as Stravinsky’s most significant
innovation in his early Russian works, these forms exploit fragmentation, discontinuity, and abrupt
changes” (Martha M. Hyde Stravinsky’s Neoclassicism 106). Le Sacre is a perfect example of a piece
which displays moment form, as highlighted particularly by the endings of Part One and Part Two.
8
Beyond the purely gestural nature of Part One and Part Two’s respective conclusions, one may
also note the purely gestural nature of the music and it’s construction elsewhere in the piece. This is
particularly evident in the way that much of Le Sacre functions on the basis of single, melodic cells or
chords. “Augurs of Spring,” for example, finds its harmonic grounding in the repetition of a single F flat
major with a dominant seventh on E flat. This leads to a sense of “harmonic stasis” as Gloag calls it
(Gloag 88). A similar phenomenon dominates the opening of “The Glorification of the Chosen One,” as
Gloag notes: “Here it is A that is repeated as the bass, but the focus on G elsewhere in the texture
combines with this to create a distinct image of a dominant seventh harmony on A” (ibid 8990). Once
again, harmonic stasis is established through the repeated gesture of a dominant seventh harmony devoid
of any further progression. Meaningful development and expressive progression are resisted, with
harmonic stasis highlighting pitch collections without developing them in a continuous, lyrical fashion.
As the music of Le Sacre suggests Barthes’ inexpressive, severed hand, the rite itself suggests
Foucault’s almost brutal indifference. The fate of the Young Girl selected as the Virgin Sacrifice for
Spring (The Chosen One), and the means through which she is selected, represent a violent, impersonal
ritual. The Circular Game is a combination of repetition and chance, two concepts which, together,
block meaningful change or development. Furthermore, the identity of the The Chosen One is not
explored, nor are any personalities really explored at length: each dancer is an archetype within the
ritual, not an individual within a story. They do not display sympathy for the Young Girl, nor does the
Young Girl express selfpity. Instead, the dancers simply carry out the moves.
The dancers in Le Sacre function without individuality as they are beholden to a collective ritual.
Even the Young Girl that is chosen, a potential candidate for the development of an individual character,
is in fact killed through this very process of selection. As McKay writes: “Personal subjectivity is
9
subjugated to collective ritual” (McKay 10). The rite is, in a way, a ceremonial evocation of Beckett’s
“What matter who’s speaking?” in that it dismisses the voice of the individual. Moreover, the rite and
the music which supports it are concerned with materiality over expression, an element subtly suggested
by the choice of “matter” over “matters” in Beckett’s quotation. The rite moves forward according to a
material, physical process that does not seek to display the dancers’ emotions. Similarly, the music
moves forward according to a technical process in which the authorial expressivity of the composer is
kept largely in check by the way the musical materials function.
IV. Conclusion
Pulling on Barthes’ and Foucault’s shared aesthetic considerations regarding the concept of the
Death of the Author, one may see that Le Sacre evokes not the voice of a composer, but a
disembodied hand working with musical materials. Consequently, one may also see how the rite itself
dismisses the voice of the individual, prefiguring the death of the composer. The composer could not
remain in the face of this impersonal approach, just as the Chosen One could not remain in the face of
the rite. Le Sacre severed the hand of the composer, dismissed the voice of the individual, and thus
prefigured the death of the composer.
10
Work Cited
Barthes, Roland. "The Death of the Author." ImageMusicText. Ed. and trans. Stephen Heath.
New York: Hill and Wang, 1977. 14248. Web.
Beckett, Samuel. Texts for Nothing. London: Calder & Boyars, 1974. Web.
Foucault, M. "Authorship: What Is an Author?" Screen 20.1 (1979): 1334. Web.
Gloag, Kenneth. "Russian Rites: Petrushka, The Rite of Spring, and Les Noces." The Cambridge
Companion to Stravinsky. Ed. Jonathan Cross. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2003. 7997.
Web.
Hyde, Martha M. “Stravinsky’s Neoclassicism.” The Cambridge Companion to Stravinsky. Ed.
Jonathan Cross. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2003. 98136. Web.
McKay, Nicholas. “‘One for All and All for One’: Voicing in Stravinsky’s Music Theatre.” The
Journal of Music and Meaning 5 (2007): 130. Web.