A World That Starts With Art
I was struck by the Post's writeup yesterday of Helen Vendler's talk. It is clearly right that the arts (and I'd say, specifically, music) provide the most “basic, most fundamental, first access to the world.” It is also clearly right that music and poetry are part of our physical worlds in ways we don't sufficiently acknowledge. Listening to the world with the same intensity and attentiveness we devote to the arts (if we do — let's hope we do) would be transformative for us.
When we read a line slowly, or listen attentively to a beautiful song, we are changed by this experience. We understand suddenly how the words create the impression of the line and how the richness of the song is built on many layers, each with its own meaning. Our minds work out these puzzles with delight, alternately filtering and focusing, awake to the contextual and structural relationships streaming by. The work of art becomes a living synecdoche, standing (in that moment) for human experience.
If we listened to the world in the same way, we'd understand it and ourselves better. We'd grasp why a particular platitude in a speech felt so empty to us. We'd see the context of the speaker and understand why the speech was being made. We'd be alert and curious and wise, listening attentively, hearing both the constant caustic and the bland banality and understanding why each had taken its place on the stage.
If you listen to the world, you have to treat each note, each speaker, with respect. If we were attentive, we would be empathetic, because we would have learned to appreciate and take on board the depth and complexity of those around us. And we would be humble, because the music that had taught us all of these skills would always be greater than ourselves.
So — good for Helen Vendler, a new hero, and good that such a report can make its way into a major newspaper (an admittedly unedited newspaper — maybe that's how this writeup got in). It's nice to read about the eternal at breakfast.