Christopher Small IV- Musicking 1927 - 2011

Christopher small was a gracious host when we visited him in Sitges,Spain last year.http://bit.ly/oncVfY

He changed our understanding of the meaning of music and offered the philosophical ground for the active arts program of the l.a. music center

this from http://www.musicked.com/

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 2011

Christopher Small - Musicking 1927 - 2011

Christopher Small, a New Zealand-born writer and musicologist who argued thatmusic is above all an active ritual involving those who play and listen to it and only secondarily a matter of “black dots,” as he once called written music, died on September 7th in Sitges, Spain. He was 84.  


He coined the term 'musicking' and argued that music is a verb rather than a noun.  He wondered about the most basic questions of music: why we pick up instruments or raise our voices together in the first place and stressed that all people involved in a musical performance — the musicians, audience, roadies, publicists, cleaning crew — are part of its ritual.


Those of you who are familiar with the Dallas School of Music may remember that we call our adult student performances 'musicking' and that our original online music learning site was called MusickEd.com - both an homage to Small's work. 


Read the full New York Times article here: http://goo.gl/f6hpn

Spain: Meeting Christopher Small, III

This is the final post of our meeting with Professor Christopher Small in Sitges, Spain.  Again, those of you with an interest in the Arts in Our Communities may find this particularly interesting.  Next we move on to Madrid and Andalucía.


Once in Barcelona, I telephoned Small and arranged a day, time and location where we would meet.  He said he would be waiting for me at the train station.  Instead of the giant man of letters I expected to meet, I found a small, somewhat shy, graying older man holding a cane; a gentleman of delicacy and reticence, ready to receive strangers from abroad as his guests.  It was this meeting of Christopher Small, the person, that explained the "heart" I had seen in his work -- its deep core of humanity and compassion that is evident throughout.


As we gathered in the living room of his apartment filled with books, artwork and a piano, Chris (at his initiative, we quickly moved to using our first names) talked about Sitges, a charming seaside village, where there is always something interesting to do, usually something connected with the arts.  He also talked fondly of his long-time partner, Neville, who died in a local hospital some four years ago, from a brain tumor.  He dedicates Music of the Common Tongue -- which I think is his most passionate work -- to Neville, writing: "To Neville Braithwaite, who taught me what it was all about."  Chris praised the Spanish healthcare system, thankful that their European Union passports gave them both access to it.


Sitting comfortably in the living room and sipping the good local red wine Chris brought out, we began talking about his work, and I gave him the letter of gratitude Irvine Foundation's Director for the Arts, Josephine Ramirez, had asked me to deliver.  As he read, it was clear that he was moved.  He quietly said he is pleased that his work is being put into practice, not limited to being read in academia.  It has been only in the last ten years that his books have received much attention, which still surprises him, he said.  He pointed out, too, that none of the books have ever gone out of print.


Chris seemed reluctant to talk much about the substance of his work, seemingly satisfied with my simple -- perhaps simplistic -- summary of it.  He refuses to be pigeonholed, however.  When I asked if he considers himself a musicologist, he simply said, "I'm a musician who thinks about his music," refusing, even, to contend that his music is art -- maybe because even that would be too much of an abstraction.


He did venture one strong opinion:  He said he doesn't much care for the music of John Cage.  He said music requires "human intentionality" that is missing in the chance and random ambient-sound orientation of much of Cage's work.  He didn't say this, but from his comments in Music of the Common Tongue,  I think Chris might have added, if given the chance, that Cage is too much the precious and disingenuous elitist for his taste.


Chris disagreed with me on one point.  I had suggested that lagging ticket sales at performing arts centers would make for a good reason to apply his ideas.  My argument was the more "everyday" people are encouraged to engage personally in the arts, the more likely they will also increasingly support and attend professional performances that arts centers promote.  He wasn't specific about his reasons for challenging this, but Josephine Ramirez agreed with him in a later letter to me, saying "[E]verybody wants to do that but, at least originally, when we created it, our [Active Arts] program was never supposed to do that."  Further, she said "In my years of looking at these things, there's no data yet to solidly suggest that programs like Active Arts ... are helping to remedy falling attendance at PACs."  She also expressed concern that the acceptance of that argument might even lead to giving undue attention to "the old butts in the seats" model of PACs.


After finishing the bottle of wine, we moved from Chris' apartment to an Argentine restaurant on the water, just a half block away.  Several people warmly greeted Chris as we strolled by, asking not only about him, but also about local activities that they shared an interest in.  Chris is clearly well known and an engaged local favorite.


Returning after lunch, and as I gathered my things to leave, I snapped a few photos -- the ones you see here -- and turned to ask: "And what about your own music, Chris?", pointing to his piano.  "I'm afraid I haven't been much inspired since Neville's passing," he said.


We said our goodbyes and expressed our appreciation for each other with a big "abrazo," a bear hug.  And, as I worked my way through Sitges, back to the train station -- a tad tipsy from the wine -- I couldn't help marveling at this experience; at having come from a half a world away to meet this giant man of letters, with a heart to match.


Here are a few more photos from our time in Sitges.


--RCH 

Spain: Meeting Christopher Small, II

This post continues the discussion of our meeting with Christopher Small in Sitges, Spain.  Once again, those of you with an interest in the Arts in Our Communities, may find this particularly interesting.


Christopher Small was born in New Zealand where he studied piano and, despite difficulties locating a teacher in the then-sparcely populated country, some violin.  On the strengths of a ballet he wrote as a young man, he received a scholarship to study in England.  He completed his studies there and remained, eventually becoming a Senior Lecturer at Ealing College of Higher Education in London.  He retired in 1986 and moved to Sitges, with his partner Neville, a Jamaican-born dancer and promoter of community arts in London.

Small's life's work is reflected in three books.  They are: Music, Society, Education; Music of the Common Tongue: Survival and Celebration in African American Music; and his manifesto, Musicking: The Meaning of Performance and Listening; published in 1977, 1987 and 1998, respectively.

These are scholarly works organized around two broad questions: "What is the nature of music?" and "What is its function in human life?"  He has thought about these questions for years.  Instead of applying conventional abstractions, ideologies or theories to explore these themes, he questions old assumptions and turns to what he sees (and hears) directly in the world.  For Small, music's significant meaning lies in the vernacular.

He draws heavily on the thinking of anthropologist Gregory Bateson and his notion of the "pattern that connects," and finds the significance of music in our social processes that are much more personal, and much more pervasive than those found in the concert hall or on a CD.  Music is not a thing, he would say, not limited to the work or the score, or even the performance.  Rather, when seen broadly, music is a process that explores, affirms and celebrates human relationship.  He coined the term "musicking" to show this.


To fully appreciate these ideas, Small's books -- linked above -- need to be read.  For a quick introduction, and for a taste of Christopher Small, the man and scholar, I suggest reading his lecture given at the University of Melbourne in 1995, linked here.

The next post -- our final installment of our Meeting with Christopher Small -- will describe our actual encounter with him in Sitges, Spain.


-- RCH

Spain: Meeting Christopher Small, I

This launches a series of three posts about a meeting that began in Los Angeles and culminated, a half a world away, in Sitges, Spain.  Those of you interested in the Arts in Our Communities may find this worth reading.


Meet 83 year-old professor and much respected author Christopher Small, who devotes his life to trying to understand the meaning and significance of music in our lives.

I learned of Small at the Los Angeles Music Center where I volunteer in its Active Arts program.  Small's works, among those of others, provide the intellectual grounding for this program that promotes amateur music making in Los Angeles.


When I learned that the now-retired Professor Small lives in Sitges, just 30 minutes by train southwest of Barcelona, I resolved to visit him -- a sort of mission of our tour of Spain.  To do this, I contacted his publisher, Wesleyan University Press, then started a communication with him via e-mail, and also contacted others influenced by his work, including Josephine Ramirez, to make this visit a reality.  She eagerly offered to write a letter of gratitude to him for me to deliver -- this becoming a poignant focal point of the visit.

Ramirez is the individual most responsible for the creation of Active Arts and is the former Vice President for Programing and Planning for the Music Center.  She is now the Arts Program Director for the Irvine Foundation, administering more than $20 million each year for the arts in California.  (You can see her on the video at the Active Arts Web site linked above.)  She discovered Small's works while on a year's sabbatical at Harvard in 2002-03, and from that created a loose theoretical framework about building arts policies and programming with "everyday" people as its focus.

The Active Arts program at the Los Angeles Music Center is putting Christopher Small's ideas into practice, as the Center broadens its mission from being a performing arts center to becoming a civic cultural center for the city.  The program challenges our passive, detached-connoisseurship orientation to music, so often encouraged by performing arts centers, and exhorts us to personally engage in the arts -- to unleash the artist in each of us.  It encourages us to step back to an earlier time of parlors and dusty porches, when we actually made music, rather than simply purchased it.  Small's work provides both a catalyst and rationale for this.

A couple of years ago, I was asked to give brief remarks to the Music Center board of directors, to share what Active Arts means to one of its volunteers.  At the meeting I heard one of the directors ask, "How does this relate to our core programs?"  Josephine Ramirez, who was moderating the meeting, replied spontaneously, "This is a core program."

In our next post, we will present some background on Christopher Small and try to summarize his thinking.


-- RCH

Spain: Humor and Generosity at the Tobelos Winery in La Rioja

While dining at the Restaurante Echaurren in Ezcaray, we tasted a fine white wine from the  Bodega Tobelos.  Once we learned that it was bottled in Briñas, a small village alongside the River Ebro (seen here), just a few kilometers from our hotel in Haro, we decided to see if we could find it; maybe do a little tasting there, even purchase a few bottles.

Maria knocked on a locked door of an imposing, modernist and very functional building.  A silver-headed gentleman  shouted out of a second-story window, "May I help you?"  "We were hoping to taste some of your wines," Maria answered, in Spanish.

Then we heard, "I was hoping you wanted to buy the winery; everything has its price, you know."

We were lucky to meet Ricardo Reinoso Casado, Director and Manager and part owner of the Bodega Tobelos, who soon appeared at the first-floor entrance.  We imagined that we had given him a welcomed break from some dispiriting bookkeeping.

He gave us an hour-long tour, even providing some glasses for tasting wines in their fermenting process, directly from the large stainless steel vats and the French oak "gaining," or aging barrels you see here.  After tasting one ripe red wine he said, "This lacks a few weeks before it is ready for the oak barrel."  Similar evaluations were made at each of four or five other stainless steel vats we sampled.

Throughout the tour, Ricardo--who has family in the United States--showed the Spanish humor, generosity and grace we had seen in Barcelona and Ezcaray.  He knew we were typical tourists and that his company had little to gain financially from us.  Nonetheless, he engaged with us and welcomed our curiosity and appreciation for his craft.

When he learned that Larry does not speak Spanish, he took pains to include him with his own, halting English.

Bodegas Tobelos produces various wines of Garnacha and Tempranillo grapes grown locally.  They export to England and Germany, as well as distribute domestically, within Spain.  We learned that the white wine we tasted at the Restaurante Echaurren had been left there by the bodega's marketing team a couple of weeks earlier.  Ricardo said the bodega is better known for its reds.

They are exploring the possibility of exporting to California and elsewhere in the U.S., a potentially large but difficult market, due to the competition and the various import fees that vary state by state.



The wine grapes come from small plots of vineyards located around the bodega, near the Rio Ebro and at the foot of the Sierra and Obarenes Mountains.

In the photo to the left you see, through a window that is the entire wall of the tasting room, some of the bodega's vineyards, with the mountains in the background.  Grape vines are deciduous, so the cool, fall weather was bringing out a palate of oranges and reds, much like the beautiful change of colors you see in New England in the fall.

Click here to see a few more photos, with captions, of our visit to  La Rioja.   ---  RCH                                                                                  

Spain: The Spanish are "Muy Cultos."

Our Seattle friend Gene Nutt says the Spanish are muy cultos, meaning very cultured, refined, civilized.  He would know, being a Spanish speaker himself, raised in Latin America and a seasoned traveler in Spain.  We agree with him.

We'd add "warm-hearted," "eager to engage" and "generous" to Gene's observations, after meeting Carlos, Cristina and their one-month-old daughter Inés, in a sunny plaza in Ezcaray, a Basque-influenced village (the name comes from the Basque language) in La Rioja.

Above is another photo that says it all:  Carlos, Cristina and Inés in the town's premier restaurant Echaurren.

We had departed the big city of Barcelona, enthralled by the Art Deco genius of Gaudí and others we saw there.  First, by high-speed train, we headed west to Zaragoza, and then north to Haro in a rented car, looking for some open countryside and a little wine tasting.  On our second day there, we visited Ezcaray, on the western edge of  La Rioja.

It was a bright and sunny day as we drove through the town and up to a hilltop overlooking the village.  This is La Rioja's only ski area but snow had yet to fall.  At this elevation, though, it was chilly enough to seek out a sunny spot on the town's square, when we dropped back down to visit  Ezcaray and get a bite to eat.

As we struggled over a menu of unfamiliar tapas, we heard "May we help you," in very good English.

After we ordered the tasty tapa suggested by Carlos, we learned that he has long been spending his holidays on his grandfather's farm in the area.  Originally from the northern Basque city of Bilbao, he now lives in Madrid where he works for a Swiss bank.  His wife Cristina, also in the financial services business, is employed by J.P. Morgan.  She is now on parenthood leave, however, and will continue for some time.  Carlos, himself, took a leave of a couple of weeks after Inés was born.

Learning this led to a discussion on the expanding role of the Spanish husband in the birthing and parenting process.  I told the couple of the data showing this nascent trend presented by Giles Tremlett in his fascinating book  "Ghosts of Spain: Travels Through Spain and its Silent Past."   Back in the 1990s, he reports, "Only some 5,000 men a year ... take up their right to up to ten weeks' paternity leave in Spain, compared to 250,000 women who take maternity leave."  Carlos and Cristina indicated that the larger role for the father is just now seems to becoming a norm for their generation.  We also briefly talked about our observation of how calm the Spanish child is, in comparison with the anglosajón, the anglo saxon,  and the Latin American child, a point also made by Tremlett.  Tremlett points out that the Spanish child is less likely to rebel than his/her Latin American or American counterpart.  (Pick up a copy of "Ghosts of Spain" and read Tremlett's chapter "Men and Children First," for a discussion of the Spanish family, the  medical profession, death and dying, and the Spanish communal spirit since Franco; it's fascinating.)

As we gathered ourselves to leave our little sunny spot on the plaza, Carlos recommended dinner at Restaurante Echaurren.  We took him up on it, and as we later entered the restaurant, we were greeted by them again, as you see in the above photo.  Not long after settling in at our own table, the waiter arrived with a plate of croquettes, compliments of our new friends.

Muy cultos indeed.

We are now Facebook friends.

Click here for a few more photos of Ezcaray, with captions.

Spain: Barcelona's Guerrilla Art

Barcelona is a visual feast, a center of the arts.  After all, Pablo Picasso spent his formative years here, the genius of architect Antoni Gaudí is seen throughout the city, and the Palau de la Música Catalana is a sight to behold.  But like most big cities, Barcelona is plagued or blessed--depending upon your perspective--with graffiti.  We saw a lot of graffiti, especially along the rail to Sitges as it passed through rougher neighborhoods, tenements to the south of the city.

The most interesting street art--guerrilla and otherwise--is seen on the security doors of storefronts around the city.  The artists, using the corrugated steel doors as their "canvas," often leave the surrounding stonework of ancient buildings untouched.

Graffiti is often frowned upon and seen in America--especially among those who support the "Broken Widows Theory" of criminology--as a precursor to increased crime and the lowering of property values.  If the infamous and mysterious street artist known as Banksy can be believed, some of his work is actually having the opposite effect.  In his book "Wall and Piece,"  he publishes a plea received on his Web site asking him to cease working in a London neighborhood because it is leading to its gentrification.  In other words, it is raising rents because it is becoming so cool to be living near his artwork.

I don't know how the residents of Barcelona take to the guerrilla art around them (It's probably mixed), but it does appear the art is co-existing very well with the tourists of the city.

At the least, the creative spirit, laced perhaps with a dose of the rebel's thrill, cannot be suppressed.

Here are three photos of the best we saw.  Click here to see a few more.

If someone has a link to a good, balanced discussion on this topic, I'd be pleased to consider including it here.


              --- RCH

Spain: Being a Tourist is Tough Work

We arrived in Barcelona a day earlier than Larry and Maggie.  Hoping for a comfortable bed, we ended up seeing the early action of morning delivery trucks on the night-lively Placa Reial, just off La Rambla, Barcelona's famous promenade.

The flight had been a long one, crowded and noisy, with mediocre food and cramped seating; your typical Atlantic air crossing.  But we held hope of some rest in a comfortable bed in our comfortable apartment, right off the Rambla.  But it didn't work out as planned.

We had arrived early at the nearly-abandonded Barcelona Airport, greeted by sleepy Spanish customs officials who dutifully stamped our passports.  We exchanged some dollars for Euros and hopped on the A-1 bus to downtown, and arrived at our apartment about 8:30 a.m., before its reception staff.  After an hour wait, we got the word: We could not move in until 3:00 p.m.  What do you do for six hours, dragging around luggage and in dire need of sleep and a shower?


What to do?  We staggered over to a nearby plaza.  It turned out to be Barcelona's most lively square, and one of our favorite sites of the city.

We had stumbled upon the Placa Reial.  Built in the 1850s, it is adorned with palms and carriage
lanterns designed by Gaudí.

"Placa" is Catalan for Plaza, and the "C" should have a little serif at the bottom to be accurate.  We were confused at first by the reference to Placa Garibaldi, the famous Mexico City gathering space, but figured some enterprising city planner arranged for some sister city exchange with the "Ciutat de Mexic," catalan for Mexico's capital.

There is something magical in these old 19th century plazas.  You feel it as you dine in the chilly night air, yet warmed by the musical sounds of buskers playing everything from gypsy violins and accordions to familiar American Rock tunes on acoustic guitars.

One evening the rain made everything glisten.

Click here for more photos of the Placa Reial.


We made it through that first day in Barcelona.  After convincing apartment staff to keep watch over our luggage.  We kept awake by walking the streets of old Barcelona--the Barri Gotíc, tasting tapas along the way, falling asleep while sitting up, and at one point, I even stumbled to my knees.

As we said many times during the tour, "Being a tourist is tough work."

Barcelona is a visual feast.  Click here to see some photos of Gaudí's work and other photos from Barcelona.

       --- RCH

Spain: A Secular Pilgrimage

We spent most of the month of October in Spain.  We wanted to experience the country's cultural, political and artistic diversity, so we moved around a bit.  We rented apartments for a week each in Barcelona, Madrid and Sevilla.  Also, in a rented car, we visited the Rioja wine district in the north not far from Pamplona, and later the historic cities of Córdoba and Granada to absorb the Moorish-influenced Andalucía in the south... and many points in between.

A big part of travel, we've found, is what the traveler brings to the experience:  What is your perspective, what are your interests, what are your intentions?  What is your "mission"?  One writer has identified tourists in two groups: 1) Those who are consumers and 2) those who are pilgrims.  Pilgrims, as I understand it, are those--secular and otherwise--who take risks in new lands, often experience mild discomforts and leave a little of themselves behind, as they explore new depths in unfamiliar worlds. Speaking of visitors to that great, sacred city Kyoto, Preston L. Houser, in the Forward to Japanese Garden Design by Marc P. Keane, said: "... the pilgrims come to gain a sense of artistic heritage which will expand and enrich their cultural identities... For the shoppers, on the other hand, traveling is a kind of consumption called 'doing,' as 'doing' New York or 'doing' the Louvre..."

We were fortunate to be traveling with long-time Sacramento friends (and pilgrims) Larry Baird and Maggie Jimenez, who joined us in confronting the unfamiliar, and brought a lot of their own experience, research and perspective to the trip--sharing their unique ways of viewing the world.  Larry has a Ph.D. in Political Science and is currently doing research in alternative energy for the California State Senate.  (Spain, we learned is in the vanguard of wind power development, among other sources of alternative energy, and we saw wind farms everywhere.)  In addition to Larry's  jovial manner, we all benefited from this knowledge, and from his general curiosity and interest in philosophy and history.

Maggie, an energetic artist and photographer, was constantly alerting us to colors, shapes, textures and the way light played off the landscape. Thanks to her, we saw more of the visual marvels around us--from the works of turn-of the-20th century architect and designer Antoni Gaudí's in Barcelona to the those of the ancients that crafted the Mezquita of Córdoba and the Real Alcazar of Sevilla.   Maggie is--among other things--a mosaic artist. 

If you click on these two links immediately above, you'll see a few photos that will tell you why Maggie was in her element.      -- RCH

We Love Spaniards

It' been more than two weeks since we returned from our three-week tour of Spain, and its time to reflect.

We love Spain; but better yet, we love Spaniards.

This photo says it all.  Taken on Barcelona's Avinguda de Gaudí by our friend, traveling companion and artist Maggie Jimenez, the photo reminds us of the Spanish openness, eagerness to engage and generosity we found wherever we traveled.

These gentlemen, who were probably chatting in Catalan, might not identify themselves as primarily Spaniards.  Nonetheless, the Spanish spirit is there.

Spain is a beautiful country with a fascinating history which connects with our own in many ways.  And its art, architecture, cuisine and music are wonders to behold.  These next several blog posts will attempt to share some of that with you.  But what we most want to share is the Spanish spirit that captivated us so.

Much of our focus, then, will be on relationships we formed with Spaniards. In these posts, we want to explore, affirm and celebrate relationship--to borrow from a favorite writer who'll you soon meet here.

We'll be using links to photos and Websites to focus on details or broaden perspective.   If you have the time and interest to pursue a theme further, we invite you to click on the links we provide.   --- RCH

Spain: Olé, Olé; It's Heating Up for the Trip to Spain

It's heating up around here, in more ways than one. Sure, this week the all-time heat record for downtown L.A. was set at 113 degrees (this was before the official thermometer broke), but just a few days earlier, the sounds of Latin music had things really steaming on the L.A. Music Center Plaza.

In celebration of Latino Heritage Month, the Music Center's Active Arts program presented A Taste of Dance on Saturday. The hot dance sounds of mambo, rhumba, afro-Brazilian, among others, could be heard throughout the day. But the genre that really got my juices flowing was FLAMENCO.

We're gearing up for our trip to Spain--reading, planning, making reservations, all of which seems a bit abstract. But a brief flamenco lesson, from a professional flamenco dancer, and teacher suddenly makes it more real.

Our teacher, Linda "La Matadora" Andrade, dressed in gypsy garb and full of inspiring attitude, encouraged us to "stand erect, chest out, show some pride," and then introduced us to one of flamenco's simpler rhythms, the rumba flamenca. She talked of the energy of "palmas," rhythmic hand-clapping, and spontaneous and heartfelt shouts of encouragement--Olé, a gypsy's equivalent of "bravo."

She also told us of the centuries of migrating gypsies, who much like the American blues singer and the Argentine tango

dancer, came to express their souls in their art form. If everything clicks and you're in the groove, when you're feeling the vibe deep in your soul, then you're said to have "duende," she said. Then she got us moving... some of us only moderately "deep in our souls."

To recorded music, she had us clapping hands held high, clicking heels, and turning as we gyrate hips, our arms snaking to the sky.

Finally, she placed us in a circle to create our own version of the gypsy jam session, a " juerga," clapping and clicking heels and shouting olés of encouragement to the brave souls who dared show their stuff in the center.

"Matadora" is Spanish for female bullfighter, but the term is derived from the word "matar," to kill, which is what a matadora does to the bull at the end of the elaborate display of gore and grace we know as the bullfight. Just between you and me, I doubt that Linda "La Matadora" Andrade has ever killed a bull, but I do know from direct observation, that she is a killer flamenco dancer and teacher. She also has a killer Web site and Blog.

And she inspired this old gringo to pack his laptop in order to be able to blog from Spain--to make the trip a sort of pilgrimage where engaged creativity trumps detached connoisseurship.

More about this later.

                ---  RCH

(Click on "Active Arts" and "Spain" labels for related posts.)