The idea of which we speak, or don’t, is a fundamentally desired experience in which we don’t feel as we do most of the time. And it’s nice. We like it. We are not mired in the concerns that prevent our perception and enjoyment of the present moment. Those concerns are usually memories of actions past that caused, and continue to cause, upset. Or projections about the future which cause upset. To be free of these and thus, unfettered, released into the present moment—that can be said to be spiritual. It happens in time.
But we are talking about the pursuit of pleasure. In some form. Even in martyrdom. My body being torn apart by wolves. God will fix that. He will make it a pleasure. This is a judgment. It is good, not bad. It is born of a value system. It is a box.
We are really chasing a good thing. That’s okay.
In 1999 in New York City I spent an evening that altered the way I experienced the world. I was in the audience for the performance at Cooper Union of Feldman’s six-hour work, String Quartet No. 2. Of that, I wrote:
The music seemed to float and expand, abolishing typical notions of time and scale. … By 1 a.m., the 75 or so listeners who remained had surrendered to the thing. They sat or stretched out on the floor in Trappist silence. As time wore on, I traversed the music listener’s version of the runner’s wall. Dissonant and sweet harmonic patterns shifted on the quiet surface. Plucked figures emerged and receded. There was a pulse, but little narrative or forward motion. In Feldman’s universe, time needs no prodding—it moves on its own, leaving the pure sound free to unfold.
I went outside. There was still traffic. Headlights. The streets were still shining, still divided in grids. But it was different.
Feldman once asked: “Do we have anything in music for example that really wipes everything out? That just cleans everything away?”
I am supposed to know about these things but I don’t.
I keep thinking about the request for my views. So I send in this.
But it is too late. I’ve missed the deadline.
And it is not what they were looking for anyway.
*Mel Day, Study Guide for Experimental Contemplatives: Volume One (Performative Exchange), 2011 | dimensions variable | unique archival print | (Coat: Miriam Dym for Dymproducts; cover photo: Jeffrey Cross) | The artist would like to acknowledge the support of the Stanford University Experimental Media Arts Visiting Artist Program and the Stanford University Office for Religious Life.
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