Over the course of this first month of my summer research, I’ve begun hashing out the kinds of archives I want to search for at The John Cage Trust later this summer: sources that are detail oriented, demonstrating Cage’s technique and style, as well as ones that are broadly philosophical, emphasizing Cage’s artistic thinking. While deep diving into Cage’s work Eight Whiskus this summer, I not only want to apply what I find to performing this work and his other repertoire, but to allow this research to inform my daily practice as an artist.
I’ve also begun developing a program that surrounds Cage’s Eight Whiskus, and contextualizes its existence. The second word in the title of Eight Whiskus is a combination of the word “whispers” and “haikus”. The eight miniature pieces that are presented are made up of a simple chant-like melody that mimics the very short form of a Haiku. I’ve been thinking a lot about the short form in music, and although I do not know too much about the form of the Haiku other than it is traditionally associated with expressing nature and emotions in nature, I wish to explore this more. I would be interested in using the Haiku as a jumping off point for finding texts to incorporate into a selection of repertoire for the culminating multimedia performance of my thesis.
My only previous exposure to the form of the Haiku is through the poet Matsuo Basho (1644-1694). When I recently discovered the origin of the title of Eight Whiskus, I pulled out the Basho book sitting on my shelf, The Narrow Road to the Deep North and Other Travel Sketches. I had read excerpts of this work before and I flipped towards the middle:
In imagination
An old woman and I
Sat together in tears
Admiring the moon.
This poem was firstly, very silent. Secondly, it reminded me of a recent event in the musical community: Kaija Saariaho’s passing on June 2. Her passing created a large sadness among many of my colleagues and signaled the end of an era of musical development. She was a formidable composer who created a newly distinct style and era of music. Several of my colleagues and friends had worked with her in-person, and gotten to know what was her extremely kind, hard working, and generous light.
Losing such a beautiful force of art making was, for the classical music community, like losing a friend and a mentor: someone who perhaps looked at and loved the world in the same way you do. When I read this Haiku, I couldn’t help but dream up two people from different generations, vastly different geographies, somehow placed together, sitting next to each other, loving the world in the same way, hating the world in the same way. It is sad to lose that kind of ally.
The first new piece to follow Cage’s Eight Whiskus in the performance will be Kaija Saariaho’s Nocturne.