Wednesday, April 29, 2015

The Instrument: Poetic Justice

   For a very long time, writing poetry had been an extremely easy process. To me, poetry was simply the creative composition of words in lines and stanzas to develop an artistic story. Therefore, the process was simple. I would first think of one story or event that I could somehow shape into a poem. Then, I would crack down on the meat of the poem itself. I dished out amazing rhymes and organized the words into neat little stanzas that made the paper seem clean and complete. And that was it; the poem would be complete in a matter of thirty-five minutes. This brief process reflects my previous beliefs regarding poetry: it was a giant waste of time. Why go through the trouble of writing a poem when there are easier ways of communicating messages and stories? However, as we began to actually study poetry in class, I realized that poetry was instrumental in its own right.

      Poetry was much more than interesting and extensive than I had previously believed. As we dissected numerous poems from various authors, I began to see the layers of thought and material that lay beyond the meanings of the words themselves. There were literary devices and methods that were present in poetry that I never knew to have existed. I began to see the use of enjambment, extended metaphors, non sequiter, juxtaposition, and even the change in tempo and rhythm of words. These techniques can all be likened to the aspects of an instrument, its various sounds and tones. Once all of these techniques became available to me, I saw the need to alter my process of writing poetry.

     As we learned how identify these poetry techniques in class, I attempted to use them in my first draft of my poem. My method in writing my poem became almost formulaic, as I analyzed each poetic skill and saw if they would fit well within the realm of my poem. This was completely different than my previous spontaneous approach. I actually took note of the placement of my words, the sound that my words would make in succession, and the layers of information that I could conceal under a few stanzas of poetry. This deep analysis and execution of poetry was completely new to me. I had always believed that good poetry was born from the random spark in the mind and instinctive writing. However, I came to realize that poetry was should be tediously crafted to truly make it beautiful. 

    At first, the formulaic approach to poetry seemed counter-intuitive. I had my doubts thinking that the approach could harshly limit my creativity. However, this was not the case. I found that inputting these techniques into the poem took all the creativity in the world. This newfound perspective allowed me to play with poetry in a very musical and instrumental sense. Manipulating the English language by using the techniques takes an extensive reserve of creativity to accomplish. In the future, I do not intend on changing this new method in writing poetry because I find the formulaic method to be rather rewarding. When I finally completed my poem, it was satisfying to look over the work and visualize the layers of information that I constructed beneath the words. I'm thoroughly surprised by this because I never thought that writing poetry, my previous bane to my existence, could be so satisfying. I'm glad that I discovered this way of thinking because it gives me a new drive and incentive when it comes to poetry, and will definitely be helpful in many other aspects of literature as well.

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

The Instrument: Birdsong

     Today, I'm going to start off this blog post a little differently; I will start by telling you a little story. It was July of 2014, July 21st, to be exact, and I had gone to a Phish show that evening. It was the best concert that I have ever been to, but that is a story for a different time. When I returned home with my brother and a couple friends, we relaxed for a little, told a couple stories, listened to some music, and just enjoyed each others company until the clock showed 3:30 A.M. It had been a long day of phenomenal music and general mental and physical stimulation, so around this time, we decided to call it a night (or a really early morning) and head to bed.

     But for some reason, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't find sleep and it surely could not find me. I tossed and turned in bed for a little until I realized that there was no point in seeking slumber; I  knew that it would find me eventually when my active mind decided to take a break. So, I climbed out of bed, threw on some clothes, and headed downstairs. I sat on my couch for a while, doodling in a notebook. I looked at the clock again: 4:15 A.M. That's when I heard the first one. A singular, subtly sharp whistle pierced the silence of the darkness outside. It was a birdsong, and for some reason, this I was captivated by this lone bird, crying out while not a single person was awake to hear it. I was startled. I never noticed how early the birds sing in the morning since I'm usually asleep by four in the morning. 

     I then thought of the hundreds of birds that would soon rise and answer the call of this early bird, and in a moment of curiosity and boredom, I draped a blanket around my shoulders to keep me warm, and I walked out onto my balcony and sat down, just listening. I heard another whistle, and it was the very same progression of sounds that I had heard earlier. The tonality of this birdsong was so unique that I thought to myself, it must be the same bird. 4:35 A.M, and a few birds had answered the first bird's call. Either that or they were starting up new conversations with other birds. Now, the calls were all different, and if I put my mind to it, it was quite easy to differentiate the songs of the different birds. I noticed the shrilly whistle of the original bird, but I also noticed a soft, wind-like birdsong. I heard a deeper, guttier coo of a presumably larger bird. Then, I noticed a melodic voice, a bird that would almost run up and down our musical scale, forming sentences from whistles. 

     Soon enough, I was sitting out there at dawn, listening to something like this...

Just listen, and continue reading.

     I must have sat out there for almost two hours. The sun had just broken over the horizon and shades of orange and yellow began dancing amongst the trees across from the balcony. By this time, the birdsongs were abundant, and the hundreds of birdcalls were instruments in a grand avian symphony. It wasn't until I was sitting out in the balcony in my pajamas that I realized that instrumentation is just as prevalent in nature as it is in our lives. Through a variety of melodies, tones, and pitches, all species of birds are able to express themselves and are understood by others. They are able to communicate fear, anger, happiness, the desire to mate, and every emotion in the spectrum of feeling through their calls, their instruments. Isn't this exactly what we do? As artists, musicians, and intellectuals, don't we take the tools made available to us to make sense of the world and to tell our own stories? Well this shouldn't come as a surprise. After all, human beings are from nature too. We just seem to have forgotten that. 

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

The Instrument: Peter and the Wolf

      Chances are, you have heard the tale of Peter and the Wolf. And when I say heard, I mean exactly that, as Peter and the Wolf is no ordinary story. It is a very well known children's story, but it is quite unique in the sense that the tale of Peter and his adventures in the forests is grounded to the musical world. Although since its birth and inception as a story, Peter and the Wolf has been adapted into almost all forms of media ranging from live action adaptations to Disney animations, Peter and the Wolf was originally just a soundtrack. Written by Russian composer Sergei Prokofiev in 1936, this unique composition told the story of a young pioneer named Peter and his interactions with all the animals of the forest near his home, and it does so solely with instruments and an accompanying narration. Just as a picture book relies on images to fabricate an imaginary world, Peter and the Wolf relies on sounds to provide the substance of the story. How are the themes of nature and the relationships between man and animal portrayed through sound? How does Peter and the Wolf accomplish this feat? Well, based on the lens of this blog, I'm sure you have already guessed the answer: instrumentation.

Record cover of Disney's adaptation of Peter and the Wolf

     The score of Peter and the Wolf is performed by a fully fleshed out orchestra, consisting of string, wind, brass, and percussion instruments. You have probably seen an orchestra perform before, and if you haven't, just trust me, they're big. It's quite an awesome experience to see the sea of musicians and their instruments, all swaying to the motions of the conductor. Anyways, this massive collective of music serves as the foundation for the story of Peter and the Wolf. It also presents a challenge. How can the emotional content of a story be portrayed by such a variety of instruments and components? And, since Prokofiev was commissioned to create this piece to "cultivate musical tastes in children from the first years of school," how could this be done in a way that could be appreciated by children? Well, before I delve into this, I suggest that you give this recording a listen. The introductory narrator will begin to paint you a picture of what really makes this piece tick. The entire piece is roughly around thirty minutes long, but just pay close attention to the opening couple of minutes and continue reading. 


     So, clearly, instrumentation really plays a vital role in Peter and the Wolf. Instead of solely composing a piece that contains the emotional connotations of certain musical modes and keys, Prokofiev does something extremely intriguing. He assigns instruments, and their distinct sounds, to the numerous characters of the story. Prokofiev did not do this randomly, either. He connected instruments to animals based on the relationship between the instrument's sound type and the personality of the animal. For example, the high, lightly fluttering sound of the flute represents the bird in the story. Meanwhile, the lower and more meandering sound of the oboe represents the waddling duck. There was definitely a method to his madness.