Commentary
Many lament the collective decline of critical thought among young people, not just here in Australia but throughout the Western world.
It seems to me that there are a variety of contributing factors to this very real crisis, not least of all social media, an agent which has significantly impaired the concentration of so many of our children, leaving them bereft of interests and skills.
But there can be no excuse for the failing standards of education, be those failures in our primary, secondary or tertiary learning institutions. Most faculties within universities now privilege ever-arbitrary “feelings” above truth and empiricism.
I have never subscribed to the post-modern diktat that truth does not exist, that in itself is a paradoxical sentiment issued with hypocritical Foucauldian certainty. The sun always rises in the east, and a circumference always accompanies a circle.
The ability to think critically allows one to perceive the craft of a manmade product or artwork. If a table’s four legs are level, the carpenter’s craftsmanship is duly appreciated. On the other hand, a fault with our television or smartphone has us unashamedly cursing its manufacturer.
In the case of art, inherent artistic abstractions, which vary in complexity, demand finely-honed critical thinking skills, lest an artwork’s craft be indistinguishable.
For example, one might ask: “What mood does the concluding prestissimo of Beethoven’s Ninth evoke in relation to the work as a whole, and how do you draw any such conclusions?”
For the credible musician, this question is more concrete than it is abstract.
Rather, the more perplexing—and, indeed, popular—inquiry is simply: “What makes Beethoven’s Ninth a good piece of art?”
In attempting an answer, one can only argue the merits or shortcomings of the symphony’s craft, derived through thinking critically about the artwork. Not, I hasten to add, thinking critically of Beethoven’s identity.
If critical thought is now taboo, then, by extension, so is craft. And if the craft cannot be perceived, it cannot be employed.
Appalling State of Modern Art
We were in a situation in Australia where a major Australian ensemble commissioned a high-profile Australian composer to compose a work of significant proportions. The work, financed at the expense of the taxpayer, is sadly a work of little talent.
While rhythm is its strongest musical parameter, it is riddled with pedestrian melodies and contains little to no harmonic interest or contrapuntal writing. It is formless, resembling nothing of a coherent or convincing musical argument.
The orchestration is particularly cumbersome, so I was shocked and appalled to learn that an orchestrator had co-written the work.
Simply put, an orchestrator completes what a composer cannot. Often, the orchestrator is a trusted and vital companion to the film composer, whose artistic practice is inherently curtailed by deadlines.
Composer John Williams, for instance, enjoyed a close collaboration with Herbert Spencer, himself an adept composer, for more than 20 years. Williams would conceive basic musical material, and Spencer would accordingly score it for orchestra.
Soundtracks to films like Star Wars and Raiders of the Lost Ark are a testament to their method.
But the orchestrator is not a phenomenon to be found in the concert hall, and for good reason. The orchestrator is functionally commercial, not artistic.
If the contemporary composer of art music cannot complete that art music, has he truly composed it? This seems to me an important philosophic question to ask, but it was not asked in the case of the above work in question.
Rather, it received a particularly complimentary review in a high-profile Australian culture magazine—but, of course, the review did not actually critique the work’s music. It critiqued its extra-musical premise (or, as is more often the case, the crutch).
Here, then, we see fundamental absences of critical thought and, consequently, an understanding of and an application of the craft.
How low we have sunk to accept that some, for whatever reason, are entitled to depend upon orchestrators.
Could a student of composition complete his conservatorium studies with a similar dependence? I suspect not.
And it may be that some consider my views as “antiquated” or “privileged” or perhaps even reflective of the quintessential stale, pale male.
But surely no one can deny that art is more important than the artist?
Art, not the artist, is the highest form of human expression. And surely only a second-rate artist would prefer, for example, their identity be judged ahead of what it is they actually produce?
I have thought for some years now that artists’ reliance upon traditional institutions to support them may be misplaced, particularly as many cultural institutions have become weaponised for the purposes of certain agendas, many of which are political.
There are still so very many composers and painters, and actors who are capable of discerning an artwork’s craft or lack thereof. But the perceptive masses, I fear, are frightened to voice their concerns—and, again, for good reason.
Enterprising peoples must support a cultural recalibration, one that prides craftsmanship above identity and expedience. Should new artistic infrastructure be required to realise this recalibration, so be it.
As the Anglosphere rests on the cusp of what could be a post-pandemic renaissance, investing in the future of culture—whether financially, socially, or even spiritually—seems an attractive proposition.
Here in Australia, I do hold that great things could be accomplished if like-minded individuals banded together.
Views expressed in this article are the opinions of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of The Epoch Times.
