The tie it all up part 6 of the TOE.

The theory: Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six
Part Six - The final thoughts upon the Theory of Cohry Osborne and Eric strauss.

Note: To any reader who finds himself here first. Please, if you are willing, begin at the beginning of part one.

Note: To any who has read all preceding parts of the theory, thank you very much. There is no greater indulgence you could have afforded me than to read all of the theory from start to finish.

I am not guilty of choosing overly grand language if I say that this six part work - no greater than forty pages, and composed entirely in the blogger window - represents the culmination of my life's purpose and destiny.

It's frightening. I worry that, having reached this end so young, some aspecified and illogical supernatural force will rob me of my life or vitality. It doesn't make any sense, of course. It is just superstition run amok. I reassure myself thus.
But do not allow the above to mislead you into believing that these ideas belong to me. These truths belong to no one, though their origins lie in conversations between Cohry and myself. Where convention attributes authorship, then, let it bestow said conceit upon both he and I equally, for insofar as any conceit can be true, that division of credit is true and accurate.

It may yet prove that we were not widely read enough. Perhaps these ideas have already been deliniated elsewhere. It is possible. I attest with utmost force of conviction that the concepts contained within the work that concludes in this part 6 are of entirely original construction, and derived from no other specific writings. (Equally, of course, do I confirm that without myriad other specific writings, none of the preceeding truths could have been manifested in this mortal text.) So if there is another author who has arrived at these conclusions before us, I wish to know him, and to celebrate with him the presentation of these truths unto the people, credit be damned.

So, finally then, what are the ideas? They are simple enough, and deserve a final presentation.

Art is the act of manifesting immortal truth into mortal form, or the artifact born of such an act. A true, and therefore great and compelling, artwork is one which manifests an immortal truth, or an amalgam of immortal truths comprising a larger immortal truth, faithfully.

Immortal truths are entities of one of four Articles of Existence. These articles are time, light, space and agence. Each article expresses its truths through a specific medium. The media are, music, visual arts, mathematics, and text, respectively. Moral truths, though of the article agence, do not have an art medium, and can never be generalized, as it is not their nature.

There is much to be said regarding each of the arts. Music is the least well understood of all media, and a great deal about the strategies by which an artist can faithfully manifest the immortal truths of time can be taught and can be learned. Text, and mathematics, too are easily taught and learned. Each is much more well understood than either music or visual arts. Visual arts are particularly difficult to speak meaningfully about. Ironically, the visual arts have the most developed body of theory written about them.

Regardless, no specific strategy will ever provide adequate understanding of any art. No words will ever do more than point to any understanding at all. This is so because the truths of agence are not truths of meaning.


Please keep this last point in mind when reflecting on this work.


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Part 5 of the theory:

The theory: Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

Part 5:


Ok. So what's all this about Agence?

Well, let's revisit our set of truths again, shall we? Remember those?

Let's imagine that the set of truths contained in it a fairly wide array of truths. In other words, let's suppose that it didn't merely contain "objective facts" but that it contained examples of as many different kinds of truths as possible. Let's say that having reached this point in our work, we go back and add to the set based on our new understandings.

The set will now contain mathematical truths, musical truths, true images and other visual truths (ie, images that resonate as true art and declarative statements about color and luminence) and of course observational truths. What are observational truths? Observational truths are either mathematical or visual truths. They take the following forms: This dog is bigger than that peach. Or, Carrots are orange. The former is mathematical and the latter is visual.

But there remains a type of truth that has heretofore been left undiscussed. Namely, moral truth. This is one that has confounded thinkers for ages. This is the one that causes all the trouble. The fact is that there are moral truths. Undeniably so. The culturalist - the moral relativists who assert that moral truths are merely varying but fundamentally equal cultural standards - are wrong. And their really obviously wrong. No matter what your culture, or my culture might say, it's immoral for me to grab your infant from your arms and throw it against a brick wall.

Moral truths are usually expressed through language. At least that's the intent. Many truths have a language equivalent. Two plus two equals four is as true as 2+2=4. Neither is the real mathematical truth of two objects in space being grouped with two other objects in space to make a set of four objects in space. Both are symbolic representations of that truth, just as saying that a flower is orange is a symbolic representation of seeing orange. Music has assorted symbolic representations of it's truths as well. They include things like sheet music notation and the image of a wave form. There are also auditory symbols for these things. By this I mean that I can speak the names of notes and rests and such. I can speak the color of an object.

What I'm getting at here is that language is how explicit meaning becomes portable. It is the way in which entities communicate with one another. It is not the meaning itself, however. The meaning itself isn't contained with the mortal manifestations of truth at all. A song doesn't contain meaning. It describes the immortal, intangible meaning of the musical truth that it manifests into mortal form. Language, then, describes the description of a musical truth. It is twice removed.

But there are some matters about which language is only once removed. Are these matters are moral truths?

Wikipedia says:

"In linguistics, a grammatical agent is an entity that carries out an action."

And it is in this sense that I use the word "Agence" and "agent." Agence is as fundamental a building block of the universe as time, space and light. Agence is what distinguishes entities from objects. Do plants have it? I'm not sure. But things that move - things that have volition - certainly do.

Now it seems like Agence is less necessary - less fundamental - than time, light or space. After all, you can imagine time, light, and space existing without agence, but not vice-a-versa, right? No. You literally can't imagine anything without agence. Agence is the source of all imagine-ing. This is not merely a semantic ploy. Any conception of reality is predicated on our ability to conceive. There's just no getting around that fact.

Heretofore, all known agents have been alive. But there is no reason to believe that only living things can possess agence. AI may yet prove that, in fact, non-living things can be agents. Hence we don't use the word life, which falls short in other ways too. We use Agence.

Here's an arbitrary fact. There can never be just one agent. There has to be at least two. I don't know why. But I do know that it is so. Because the characteristic that each agent necessarily possesses is the will to interact. Light refracts. Agents interact. It's what they do.

The highest form of interaction between agents is language. And the truths of Agence are moral truths. They are the truths of interaction between agents. The art of Agence is text. Text is closer to it's immortal truth than any other medium. Because visual distractions aside, text is really embodied "voice." Actual voices have built in duration. The are presenting the truths of agence in the media of space (sound traveling across particles) and time.

Text, on the other hand, has no duration. I know this seems counter-intuitive, but it is true. The reason that text will never be replaced as the primary communicative mechanism between people is because it is the only medium that allows "scanning." I can flip through a given piece of writing and find the bit I want to read. I don't have to listen to the whole thing, or risk not hearing the part I'm looking for by fast forwarding.

Text exists all at once, with no beginning, middle or end. A live speech does not. It can only be experienced as a linear path from point a to point z. Even when recorded, it can only be dealt with that way. Why? Because sound is the currency of time. And time must be dealt with on time's terms.

Human limitations are such that most of us can't process text in sentence or paragraph sized chunks. But speed readers, apparently, do exactly that. That's how they can read so fast. They've trained themselves to transcend the human HABIT of linear processing. The reason that they are able to do that is because text has no fundamental duration. The reality is that text exists in the domain of Agence. Just like light, space and time, Agence can't be pinned down by any of the other articles.

It is communicated through each of the other articles. Brail, speaking, sign language, and text each use either time or light or space to convey language. This is no different than sound using particles as a medium through which time conveys it's truths to humans.

There are other manifestations of Agence besides text, of course. Physical affection is one, for example. It too has no duration, or math, or color. True, it can only exist in time and space
and with light. But "inter-dependent" does not mean "indistinct." And one can argue that physical affection ought to be considered an art of Agence. Certainly, it manifests the truths of the article.

But not every manifestation of the currency of an article is an example of an art of that article. Noise is not the art of time. It is sound, but it is not art. Because noise is not an entity of time. A true melody is such an entity. I know this bit is troubling, logically. I'm just going to leave it as is, though. Maybe I'll get back to it at some point.

Is the love between two people, as made manifest by a hug, an entity of agence? Let's get back to this later.

What's interesting about text is that it is the form, not the meaning, that is true. Lies can be faithful manifestations of the truths of Agence. In fact, such a faithful manifestation of a truth of Agence is essentially indistinguishable from the truth itself. With text, you can get it exactly right.

But again, it isn't about meaning. A poorly phrased, but highly moral, sentence is not true, artistically. In fact, it isn't art at all. Art is the manifestation of immortal truth. There are partial arts. Most writings work in spots and don't work in other spots. And there are not arts - work that manifests no truth. And there are perfect arts. Some writings are perfect.

Here's an example, by the poet Tim Steele:

FAE

I bring Fae flowers. When I cross the street, She meets and gives me lemons from her tree.
As if competitors in a Grand Prix,
The cars that speed past threaten to defeat
The sharing of our gardens and our labors.
Their automotive moral seems to be
That hell-for-leather traffic makes good neighbors.

Ten years a widow, standing at her gate,
She speaks of friends, her cat's trip to the vet,
A grandchild's struggle with the alphabet.
I conversationally reciprocate
With talk of work at school, not deep, not meaty.
Before I leave we study and regret
Her alley's newest samples of graffiti.

Then back across with caution: to enjoy
Fae's lemons, it's essential I survive
Lemons that fellow-Angelenos drive.
She's eighty-two; at forty, I'm a boy.
She waves goodbye to me with her bouquet.
This place was beanfields back in '35
When she moved with her husband to L.A.

By Tim Steele

But wait a second. Get back to that thing about meaning, right? Right. Ok. It's like this. What we are talking about here are the truths of Agence. The currency of Agence is interaction – communication – not morality. Perfect manifestations of Agence are perfect communications. Evil communications can be perfect just as easily as Good communications can be perfect. It doesn't mean that there are not moral truths. Indeed there are. And they can be pointed to by the art of Agence, text. “I love you” points to a moral truth. “We should love one another” also points to a moral truth. Neither is artistically true, at least, not necessarily. But depending on context – the surrounding text – either might be artistically true. In fact, presented as they are above, I dare say that both phrases are wholly true art.

An earnest embrace of a loved one manifests a moral truth far better than any words can, but it might not be art.

The bottom line is that moral truths are not manifested in language. At best, they are pointed to. Language can contain no truth. It can faithfully represent communicatively true form, or it can fail to do so. But morality is a different matter. Morality can't be manifested in language. The Tao that can be spoken is not the eternal Tao.

Here's the problem. Whenever two agents interact, there exists moral truth. Each SHOULD interact with the other this way or that way. It is entirely between the two agents; the truth does not generalize beyond the scope of the interaction. The guy who dropped the bomb on hiroshima? He had a hundred thousand individual interactions. Each one was between him and one other person. And he made a hundred thousand horribly wrong, immoral choices. Each of which was absolutely wrong, but each of which was applicable to exactly that individual situation only.

But humans don't like that. We have an urgent desire to make those truths portable. And language is the only mechanism available with which to accomplish that. So we end up with a situation that is destined to cause more problems than it will ever solve:

1. Absolute moral truth exists.
   
2. It exists between two agents and is applicable only to them.
   
3. We don't want to accept that reality.
   
4. Language conveys meaning.
   
5. We use this quality of language to ascribe a portability to a moral truth that it just doesn't have.
   
6. Each linguistic attempt to represent a “portable form” of a fundamentally unportable moral truth is doomed to fail.
   

Even worse than 6, though, each attempt is destined to make immorality even more common. The very worst acts that humans commit are born of a failure to understand every action as an interaction between one other being, and every action that effects many beings is really a series of actions effecting each in turn – a series of specific interactions with specific individuals.

The absolutists are right. Moral truth is absolute. But what they don't understand is that absolutely anything that they might say will fall short of that truth. It has to. Not only can language not contain moral truth, it can't even manifest it. It can't even represent it. It can, at best, point towards it.

So we find ourselves in this situation where individuals are codifying morality between individuals in the name of “portable versions” of fundamentally importable moral truths. Thus we bomb Iraq. Thus the muslim extremists behead some random American. Thus we feel passionate disapproval of gay marriage.

More importantly, thus does red become blue and tall become short. Thus does doublespeak occur. And we end up with the fiercest opponents of liberty invoking the word in all of their rhetoric. It happens because meaning is not how the truths of Agence express themselves. They express themselves via communicative form, not via communicative content.

This is why relativists must come to embrace absolute truth.
Absolute truth is far to important to entrust to stupid absolutists.

Now form, though, is a different matter. Any successful writer will tell you that there is absolutely a right way to phrase a sentence, or a series of sentences, and a wrong way. There is absolutely a single correct diction choice, and every other choice is incorrect. This is so. This is the business of the art of agence. Nothing else.

But what about the fact that the "true" phrasing a hundred years ago might no longer be the "true" phrasing today? The question is an attempt to pin down the truths of Agence with time. Agence won't be pinned down any more than Time, Space, or Light will be pinned down.

So do moral truths have an art? Well, moral truths are definitely under the domain of Agence. And they are definitely manifested in the actions of one agent within the context of an interaction with one other agent. But it's a stretch to call "action" the art of morality. I mean, what's the medium? The fact is "art" needs portability if it is to mean anything useful. And morality precludes portability. So I'd have to say no. Immortal, absolute, moral truth has no art. It's just two people being good to one another.

Just the cleanup left to go... Until then,

eric.

The theory: Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

El Theorio Grande - Part 4

The theory: Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

Here is something I found on this website.

Hume (1711-1776): Asserted that all metaphysical things that cannot be directly perceived are meaningless. Hume divided all knowledge into two kinds: relations of ideas, i.e., the knowledge found in mathematics and logic which is exact and certain but provides no information about the world, and matters of fact, i.e., the knowledge derived from sense perceptions. Furthermore, he held that even the most reliable laws of science might not always remain true.

Now Hume was not the first to tackle this issue of "Knowledge." Not by a long shot. This question of truth - what it is, how to categorize, etc, has been the subject of philosophers' inquiries for as long as there have been philosophers. Plato and his "Platonic Form" were on the right track, but took a couple of seriously wrong terms and ended up dismissing the arts as unreliable, arbitrary endeavors contrasting against truth. And the problem that has remained unresolved is that of "objective" vs "subjective" truth.

I have the audacity to state that Cohry and I have solved it. I don't make this statement out of ego, or because I want to be confrontational or controversial. Rather, I make it because I want to be perfectly clear regarding the point, purpose, and significance of these present writings. I want that understood because I believe that disseminating these ideas is a very moral act.

Having gotten that bit of unpleasantness out of the way, let us proceed from where we left off. Obviously, the question "what is the art of light" is one that follows from the previous discussions of the arts of time and of space respectively. And I don't doubt that the answer is equally obvious - visual art is the art of light.

Let me now point out a very important fact that clues us into the accuracy of the assertion that light must have its own truths, and therefore its own art:

Math is the art of space. The currency of math is the particle. Particles are objects, and many particles make up larger objects. Objects exist in space. True math - i.e. math that is resonant art - describes the truths of particles faithfully.

Music is the art of time. The currency of time is the wave. Waves are defined by their frequency. Frequency is a function of time - that is to say that they only exist in domain of time. True, we only encounter them PHYSICALLY as they manifest through a given medium that is comprised of particles - i.e. a medium that exists in space. Nevertheless, the fundamental nature of a wave is frequency, which exists only in time. And try this: "hear" a pitch in your head. Conceptually, waves do not require space any more than particles, conceptually, require time.

Well, I'm sure you see where I'm going with this. Image - visual art - is the art of light. The currency of light is, um... well it's a wave. No it's a particle. Or it's neither. Or both. Or... Well, don't look to me for a definitive answer to this. It's lightstuff, whatever that is. It's the currency of light. I don't know enough physics to even posit possible ideas of how we might better understand "what light is" in the way that we understand "what a particle is" or in the way that we understand "what a wave is."

But I do know this. The question is unanswerable in some sense. The reason it is unanswerable is because the truths of each of these "articles" or "foundations of existence" cannot be pinned down by any of the others. Quantum Physics is all about how time can't be used to pin down space and how space can't be used to pin down time. Einstein's relativity theory is all about how light can't be pinned down by time and space.

Our failure to answer the photon or light wave question stems from the fact that we are trying to pin down light with space and time respectively. Light shrugs and happily pantomimes either for us, but it's just being agreeable. It really is light. Not time or space.

And light has it's own truths. They are the truths of image. I'm hard pressed to come up with much more explanation here about this. It has to do with color, I know that much. And contrast, and all the other things that you can adjust for in photoshop. And I can tell you with certainty that visual truths are just as absolute and eternal as musical and mathematical truths. But it's really hard to say why.

The anecdotal tales of myriad visual artists attest to the fact that it is so, however. A visual artist may start with a very clear vision of what image he wishes to manifest. Or he may start with none at all. One thing, however, is certain. All successful, "true" pieces of visual art manifest the strictest possible adherance to a standard.

Let me explain. I make visual arts. And I don't have much of a natural talent for it. That is to say, I don't visualize well. I don't have a very clear inner image that I am working towards. But what I do have is a very clear sense of when something doesn't faithfully manifest that "inner image," and what part or parts of the work are at fault, and what might be a good candidate to remedy those failures. And I have perserverance. I can spend many hours on a little square of flesh trying to get it to look right.

But right according to what? Well, it isn't actually an internal image that I am comparing the work against. Some artists do visualize well, but not me. It is the truth that I am comparing it against. It is the truth that natural visual artists' "inner images" represent. That is to say, the image that artist compares against is the platonic form of the particular entity of "light truth" that he is attempting to faithfully manifest when he make visual art, if he is doing his job right.

And even though I can't see it very well, simply because I wasn't born with good "eyes," I have a very sensitive "untruth geiger counter" and it beeps every time something ISN'T truth. That's how I make good visual art. I get rid of the untruth until what's left is fairly faithful depiction of an immortal, visual truth. In other words, a successful piece of lookin' art.

The bottom line is that Hume and everybody else was barking up the wrong tree. "Hume divided all knowledge into two kinds: relations of ideas, i.e., the knowledge found in mathematics and logic which is exact and certain but provides no information about the world, and matters of fact, i.e., the knowledge derived from sense perceptions. " Is it clear now where Hume went wrong? Mathematical truths are not more exact because they're logical - "the relations of ideas." Mathematical truths feel more exact for precisely the opposite reason - because their physical! They're the truths of space - of particles and objects. In reality though, they are no more or less true than musical truths or visual truths.

And yet Hume was partially right too. Because it is so that each of these truths is closest to its true nature while still inside of the person channels it. Beethovan heard his ninth symphony perfectly in his head. He heard the melodies and tone and tempo and everything else about it perfectly in his head. And he was fortunate in that he never had to hear it's mortal manifestation fall short, which it necessarily did.

The painter knows what color that crazified sun in his picture should be. And he can mix colors for hours to try to get it just so. But chances are the shade will be just hair off when he's done, and the paint has dried and weathered a bit.

And math in the real world? Well, math approximates about as well as image or music. Which is to say, it approximates well enough to imitate the truths of stasis for a while in our dynamic universes. But no better than that.

Fortunately, that's all we need it to do. To approximate truth is all we ask of arts, because it is all we need from them.

And artists are able to produce work that gets close enough to be wholly rad. Which is really fortunate, because artists are the only connection we have between ourselves and truth. And I, for one, have no desire to live in a truth free world.

So that's it then? Space light and time are the articles. Math, music and image are the three true arts? No. There's at least one more installment. Probably two.

There's a fourth article, remember?

It is the article that I call Agence. And it's currency is language.

The theory: Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

Continued Art theory...

The theory: Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

Part three of:
A Description
of Art
as Manifestation
of the Truths
of the Articles
of the Existence
of Everything.





So having disposed of relativism on both counts - in regards to truth and in regards to art - we revist our two sets of data.

We look again at the set of truths first. What do they have in common? Well, most are what we might call "objective facts." That is to say, they deal with objects in space. 2+2=4 is saying, essentially, that two distinct objects in space, when grouped with two other distinct objects in space, well make a set of four distinct objects in space.

And we soon conclude that all "objective facts" are of the same nature. They all deal with the relationship of objects in space. There are many examples of apparent exceptions. Indulge me for a moment, please. I ask this because the theory I present here is a synergistic one. That is to say, it's truth is apparent once all the pieces are in place. It then displays an elegance an intuitive rightness that I suspect will be for many quite convincing.

To attempt to answer all challenges to every proposition is rather like an attempt to study a species' role in an ecosystem. Without studying the whole of the ecosystem, one's efforts are doomed to inadequacy. One might learn something from the attempt, but it will fundamentally fall short of the stated goal.

Regardless, this evaluation of "objective fact" suggested the notion that the truths of space are conveyed in math. But remember, our line of inquiry pursued not the relationship between truth and math, but rather the relationship between truth and art.

So we considered the notion that math was an art. Again, I'd like to withold an analysis of why. At this juncture, it is still merely a matter of semantics anyway. So. Math is the art that conveys the truths of space. Now the truths of space feel particularly, intuitively -object-ively - true to us. They do so because they deal in objects, which are physical things that we can touch.

And we certainly explored the some of the many avenues of inquiry prompted by that idea at length. But ultimately, we returned to the obvious elephant in the room. If space has an art, what about time? What about light?

Music is the art of time.

Sound is to time as object is to space. It is the physical manifestation of the "article." By this I mean that space can exist, in concept, without objects in it to define it's limits, but in practice, such a conception is meaningless. There can be no "empty space" without "not empty space." Similiarly, time can exist without sound - without rhythm - but there is no means to mark it's passing. It is meaningless.

Rhythm is ordered frequency. It is what makes all understanding of time possible. More than that, is allows time to exist, just as particles (objects) allow space to exist. This feels less intuitively true, (for neither article does the statement feel particularly intuitively true, really) but if you really think about it, you'll see what I mean.

Cohry wishes to elaborate on a couple of things here (it's a little dense, skip it if you find it dull):

This relationship between melody and time was intuited upon reflection of 2 essential qualities of melody. The first is tone which defines the pitch of a sound and the second is sequencing, which if we define melody as one or more notes played within a given period of time, defines the spacing and duration of tones within that period.

Pitch here is understood as the way in which an organism perceives it, which is necessarily a pick-up of vibrations of air within that organism's' environment. The specific vibrations which can be accepted as tonal vibrations assume a constancy for their definition. This is understood as a tone's frequency, or pitch, and is commonly measured in 'cycles per second' or 'hertz'.

For example, concert pitch is defined as 440Hz, which is to say that when the vibrations in the air achieve a constancy at 440 pulses each second, this is agreed to be the pitch 'A'.

Thanks Cohry. But why is music the art of time?

Well, why is math the art of space? Math is the art of space because it describes the truths of particles. It speaks the truths of their shapes and forms and of the distance between them. It speaks the truths of their distinctness from one another. Additionally, the truths that math manifests are immortal. Pi is and always has been pi. It is both immortal and true. The symbol we use to describe it is not - it is only a manifestation of the immortal truth into a mortal form. But because math is precisely that - a rendering of immortal truths into mortal form - math is an art. (Astute readers might cry "circular reasoning" here. I beg a bit more indulgence.)

Similarly, music is the art of time because it describes the truths of waves - of frequency. It describes the entities of time, just as math describes the entities of space. Now that great song on the radio is not an immortal truth, just as the symbol for Pi is not an immortal truth. The great song, provided it really is melodically true, is merely a faithful, but mortal manifestation of the immortal truth.

In math we can get our brains around this easily. We can pick up the rock that math describes. And if the math is bad, and the description of the rock is false, we can easily test that and see that the false math is a lie.

The entities of time are melodies. And just as there is a single true mathematical description of two rocks, and myriad false descripitions of two rocks, so too is there a single true rendering of each distinct melody and myriad false ones. The true rendering gets the rhythm and pitch sequence of the immortal melody exactly right. And it approximates tone as best it can.

The important thing to see here is that the entities are immortal and specific. Just as Pi is and always has been Pi, so too for a true melody.

Now we didn't always know about Pi. That doesn't mean it didn't exist. It just needed to be discovered.

And we didn't always know about the melody to "white christmas." That doesn't mean it didn't exist. It just needed to be discovered.

Of course music has its 2+2=5's as well. In fact, music is comprised almost exclusively of 2+2=5's. The reason for this is rooted in the impermanance of time. Time, necessarily, is like a river. The water won't stay still. It's never now, and it always is, but regardless, you can't hear a song in stasis. You can look at the wavform. That's very useful, and is a testimony to or ingenuity. But it is not the same as the holding a rock. Space is about touching things. And it is about stasis. So it's easy to "grasp." Just like a rock is easy to "grasp." It deals in particles.

Time deals in waves. You see? And waves are about frequency. As soon as you pin down a peak, the wave is no longer a wave. Because it is defined by series of peaks, not by any individual one distinct from the others. It, unlike space, is not fundamentally about "distinction."

But it nevertheless has distinct entities within it's dominion. And those distinct entities are called "melodies." Most every melody that you hear is a 2+2=5. Because people don't understand what they are doing when they "make" music. People believe that they "create" music. Usually they are right. The problem is when people create music, they create bad, untrue music. Just as it is much easier for me to create math than it is for me to discover it, so too with music.

2+4-3+8-7 x 6 x 4-8+0+10/3 = 12

There. That was easy. Much easier than discovering Pi. And it's just as true, right?

Of course not.
(I haven't actually crunched those numebrs. Watch it turn out to actually equal 12, ha ha.)

Same thing with music. I can "make up a melody" just like I "made up" that equation. And it will be an example of false art, just as is the equation.

True melodies are discovered. They come to you all at once, or sometimes in pieces. You have to learn to recognize them and embrace them when they arrive. How can you tell? True melodies sound familiar. They feel intuitively right. Just as 2+2=4 just feels right. They are the ones you find yourself humming after a listen or two.

But don't take this to mean that you should rely on memory to hold them!!! Absolutely do not do that. Even the slightest inaccuracy in rhythm - a subtly different cadence - or a single wrong pitch, will pervert the truth of the melody. And I know from personal experience the pain of losing a great melody. You should always carry around a tape recorder with you. Record all ideas. Evaluate them later. After a couple of years of this, you will be able to tell the true ones apart from the false ones with realtive ease.

Don't expect this task to be easy right away. And don't expect to do it alone. Find another artist or two who will provide objective feeback. Non-artists, provided they tell you the truth - good or bad - are usfeful for feedback too. But here's the tricky thing. You have to be able to stick with an idea even if all the feedback says it's a bad one. Because sometimes everyone else, given that your pool of everyone else is small, is wrong.

If you find someone who is an accomplished artist who is willing to give you honest feedback, and who proves himself right consistently, milk that person dry. Hit him up for feedback to the very maximum extent possible. Learn to like negative responses better than positive ones. There is no finish line. One's truth compass, when it comes to music, never reaches maximum accuracy.

Now most folks are so afraid of plagarism, or even the suggestion of it, that they will almost surely kill any great immortal melody they are fortunate enough to receive. They change it or throw it away.

Can you imagine the guy who discovered Pi saying, "Nah, this seems too true. I'm gonna change it to something else. Maybe 4.0 That's a nice round number."

Don't kill the melodies that come to you from nowhere. Don't kill them because they sound too familiar. Don't kill them because they're "goofy" sounding, or because they're "too catchy." Don't kill them because they aren't "hard" enough or because they aren't "your style." Don't kill them for any reason.

At the very least, capture them in their true form and set them aside for later. Let them live, even if you don't let them see the light of day for a couple of years.

As artists, we must learn to embrace truth. Embrace the true melodies that come to you. The "that sounds familiar but I can't place it exactly" melodies. They are the only ones worth keeping. They are a gift from the immortal, and you have a responsibility to manifest them into mortal form, so that they may bring joy to the people.

The theory: Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

The continued exploration of the issues and the theory

The theory: Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

A Continued Description
of Art
as Manifestation
of the Truths
of the Articles
of the Existence
of Everything.


So.

The art of time is music.

Before I get too deep into explaining why we believe this and what it means to believe it, I think that you deserve to look down upon the whole of the theory, to get a sense of its scope and purpose. There is a writing strategy that suggests that a writer ought not to reveal his hand too early, but these matters are too important to let style influence presentation. If I purport to present truth, and I do, I must be wholly honest and hold nothing back.

The following assumptions underlie the theory:

1. Quality in art is absolute. Some art is better than other art.

2. These states of high and low quality are not "just a matter of opinion." People undeniably do have opinions about the quality of respective artworks, and those opinions do undeniably differ, but that is simply a reflection of the fact that some opinions are more true than others.

3. Aesthetic Relativism, though born of noble, egalitarian urges, is a mythology that denies the existence of truth, befuddles artists and thinkers, and gives birth to aesthetic nihilism.

(I have presented a more complete definition of aesthetic relativism, and a rebuttal of it, elsewhere. And for now, I don't want to get off task, so I'll leave it at that.)

The root questions that have driven and continue to drive the development of the theory are:


1. What is good art?

2. Where does art come from?

and

3. How can we make better art?


So before we get to the articles, Time, Space, Music, Light, and Agence - which constitute the exciting part of the theory, I must ask you to indulge me the following description of the path by which why reached the truth at the center of the tootsie pop.

The theory is our response to these root questions. It (the theory) has evolved over the course of the past several years, piece by piece, and the development of it was marked by as many missteps as it was marked by insights. The key to its development has been persistant adherence to dialectic. If Cohry and I can each lay certain claim to competency in any one skillset, that skillset is dialectic.

Dialectic is a term that means "communication, (between two or more people) the purpose of which is to distinguish truth from untruth." Although the descriptive meaning of the word "dialectic" is used to distinguish a specific conversation from other, non-dialectical conversations, the word in reality describes the intent of the people engaged in the communication. A dialectic conversation is one in which neither party takes ownership of any position. Rather, each party examines every position in terms of its truth value and rejects those which are untrue. A party participating in dialectic, then, if he is to feel no ownership of any position, must either:

1. Have little or no interest or association with the topic discussed, in which case he likely, but by no means necessarily, will produce little insight on the matter,

or

2. He must have and display a high capacity for objective self-criticism and a tolerance for, and even appreciation of, the honest criticism that others may voice regarding the participant's behaviors and work. Such a participant must genuinely wish to know the truth, even when - especially when - that truth indicates that his own thinking is wrong, or that his work fails.

Dialectic is distinct from "rhetoric," the purpose of which is to use language and inflection to persuade another person or persons to behave in a specific way. Often the specific behavior sought from the listener is simply "voiced agreement" or even "tacit agreement" with the rhetoritician's position. (I point this ought to clarify what I mean by "behave.")

Rhetoric very often presents itself as dialectic. In fact, only rarely does rhetoric present itself as anything but dialectic. Because the intent of a participant in a rhetorical conversation is to persuade, it is in that participant's best interest to depict his words as dialectic - interested in truth - as a listener is more likely to be persuaded by an argument not driven by any agenda.



,,,,,,,




In the first installment of the theory, posted a couple of days ago, I discussed "the art of space" - mathematics. I began my presentation of the theory in this way because I hoped to induce in you, the reader, an intuitive grasp of the connection between a given art, in that case math, and a given fundamental building block ("article"), in the case of math, space. I hope I succeeded in doing so, and that you agree, or at least withold judgement, regarding said connection.

But what are these terms I am using? What do I mean by "art," and by "fundamental building block," and by "article?"

Because the root question that we hope to answer with this theory is one regarding the relationship between truth and art, we must begin by separating art from that which is not art, and by seperating truth from that which is not truth. To do so we look at two sets of data. The first set is comprised of examples of great art.

At this point in the development of the theory, we will not presume an ability to define "art." We will, however, presume that we can accurately point to at least some examples of great art. The accuracy of our evaluation is not one that can be decisively determined. Certainly, the agreement of a majority of others is not a criteria by which the accuracy of a given evaluation can be judged, but in most instances, most individuals who are comfortable, confident and happy with themselves and the work that they do, will be in agreeance regarding great art. Regardless, the accuracy of the evaluation cannot be proved.

Any individual work within the set of "great art" is necessarily also an example of "art." ("Great art" is, of course, a subset of the latter.)

The second set of data contains examples of truth. Again, we do not presume to be able to define truth. We do, however, presume to be able to point to definitive examples of truth.

In the first set of data, then, we will find specific artworks from various media. In the second, given that we begin with the least controversial definition of truth, we will find basic mathematics equations and similar statements of fact.

If we now compare the two sets, we see that no items appear in both. It would appear, at first glance, that the two criteria - truth and aesthetic quality - not only do not intersect, but also that they may be in some sense exclusive. Certainly this appearance conforms with conventional wisdom, which holds aesthetics and empiricism to exist in distinct and even oppositional realms.

Having established these two sets, parties engaged in dialectic naturally become curious to determine what can be learned from them. Specifically, the parties seek to determine by what criteria a component of a set "gains admittance" to that set.

We begin with the set of truths, as that seems more likely - or at least conventional wisdom holds that it is more likely - to produce answers.

Why is 2+2=4 in the truth set, while 2+2=5 is not? Well, our first instinct perhaps is to say that the former is reproducable. If I take 2 things and add them to 2 things, and you take 2 things and add them to 2 things we will both come up with an answer of 4 things. The can be reproduced anywhere, by anyone. But what does that mean? I could just as easily conclude that I have 5 things. And I could repeat the experiment 1000 times and come up with 5 every time. And I might get my friend to do the same. It still wouldn't make it the truth. So an inquirer into these matters is left to say, "but the vast majority of people DO come up with 2+2=4." So is consensus, then, the criteria for truth status? Surely not. History provides us innumerable examples of consensus on the surety of a given fact that is later "proven" untrue.

The reliability of an outcome accomplished by way of a given truth, perhaps, is a quality that offers more potential as a criteria. The reason that the bridge I drive across doesn't fall down is because it was designed by someone who embraced the truth that 2+2=4, and who embraced the myriad other mathematical truths needed in practicing bridge design. Bridges designed by the 2+2=4 camp are consistently more reliable than are the bridges designed by those who believe that 2+2=5.

Indeed, such "truth" bridges are more reliable. But they are not invariably reliable. (Because they do not exist in stasis.) And even if they were, this "reliability of outcomes acheived by way of the truth in question" standard does not seem like a criteria by which a candidate can be called "true." Rather it seems like a symptom that corrolates well with certain kinds of truths.

To consider it a criteria presents a number of problems. If that is the criteria we are to use, all moral truths are excluded from our set, as are all other truths that can't be isolated into an testable outcome in an observable context. And in the stasis free world, how much predictability of outcome is required before a truth reaches the necessary threshold, and for how long? And who determines that?

Ultimately, when one tires of searching in vain for firm criteria, one is left to conclude either that

1. truth does not exist

or

2. that it does, but that there are no specific criteria by which one may determine the truth value of something.

To any who conclude that the former option is the better one, I encourage you act as though you really believe that. Drive across 2+2=5 bridges, and jump from the tops of tall buildings. After all every possible outcome of any action is equally likely to be true. Or rather, no possible outcome to any action will ever be true. So every action is equally wise, or rather no action is at all wise. One quickly sees the absurdity of the this position.

There may be who seize upon the idea that there are gradations of truth, and present this fact as some middle ground. It is of course no middle ground at all, as it acknowledges that there are indeed things that are wholy true, and things that are wholy untrue, and that these things are distinct from one another. Spectrums, after all, have two ends as well as a middle.

Thus, among those who care about such things, the second option is generally regarded as the only viable choice.

So let's temporarily accept this latter conclusion - that truth exists but that there are no criteria that one can use to definitively indentify it. and turn our attention to the other set of data.

Now when one looks at the works of great art in the other set, they seem to offer even less promise than the items in the set of truths. This issue of quality in aesthetics has been discussed ad nauseum, so let's skip to the chase here. One is left with an equivalent pair of choices as in the first example.

1. Either there is no distinction between good art and bad - merely a range of individual preferences dictated wholly by random whim,

or

2. There is a distinction but it defies definitive criteria.

When regarding truth, persons tend to find the former of the two possiblilities absurd, and to settle upon some variant of the latter. Strangely, however, when regarding aesthetics, at least in recent decades, people choose number 1. The most able-thinking, reasonable and educated people consistently choose to argue the first position. Even more strangely, very many artists themselves often assert the truth of aesthetic relativism, and go so far as to vigorously defend it.

This is typically born of a noble and pro-human worldview. It is the misguided voice of a very worthwhile dislike of hierarchy.

But ultimately, the desirable reflex against heirarchy only serves a person well when it is a response to heirarchies of people. It is not desirable when applied to heirarchies of work. The former are indeed a very bad thing. The latter can be a bad thing, but only to the extent that a person transfers the positive regard he feels for a given piece of art onto the artist who made it. It is a very natural, almost automatic, response to liking art, so this problem is common. But is a problem with the perceiver, not with the heirarchy of work (provided the hierarchy is accurate).

To dismiss accurate rankings of artworks in the name of relativism or fairness or most commonly, in the name of the equality of the people who made the works, is a mistake. It is an attack by friendly fire. By calling all art equal, a person gives undo credit to very many works made by artists who really need criticism. Only when a work is flawless, and stunning, ought an observer voice unqualified praise. If the observer notes a specific flaw, or thinks he or she does, the observer ought to voice that.

It's the artist's responsibility to desire to hear honest negative criticism.
It helps him improve faster.

And the art itself, of course is not hurt by criticism, unless the artist responds to the criticism by making ill-advised changes to the art. Granted, praise, too, does not hurt the art. And it is unlikely to prompt the artist to make any change at all, good or bad.

In either case, it is the artist, in making or in failing to make changes, who is responsible for the harm or improvement to the art. It is not the criticism or praise itself.

Nevertheless, a critic (anyone who provides criticism) ought to be careful with his words, and try to speak only truth. Human nature being what it is, artists may be swayed by the words of others to make decisions. Dishonest feedback, whether it be motivated by hating, or by friendship, or by any other issue of personal relationship, increases the likelihood that the decision being made will be a poor one.

The greatest risk - the most commonly damaging one - is praise. Relativism is for most artists a form of praise, for a few it is unfairly dismissive, and for none is it accurate. The artist in need of improvement will take solace in the reassuring, but false, equality of relativism. He may never escape the coddling clutches of it.

Very little art is perfect and when art is imperfect, the artist should understand where, how, and why. Sometimes, he might be well served to attempt to remedy the imprefection. He is always well served to know about it. Any approach that doesn't involve telling him possibly difficult truths about his work, undermines his ability to make, or to continue to make, successful art.

So this "no greatness in art" perpsective is not the egalitarian generousity that most subjectivists see it as. Rather than afford more artists the chance to be good, it only undermines every artist's attempt to be good.

There is none of the "moral imperative" that is sometimes called upon to testify on relativism's behalf. Additionally, there is absolutely no evidence to suggest that relativism is right. People defend the position in conversation and in text, but once the (almost always rhetorical) communiation ends, they behave unfailingly as though some artworks are better than others.

Few people choose to drive to work every day playing a cd of me incompetently practicing solos on the tuba for 45 minutes. I don't doubt at all that the consensus naysay of my tuba-ing is as great a one as that regarding 2+2=5

If you believe all art is equal, play a cd of my 45 minutes of labored tuba practice in your car for 6 weeks , everyday, on your commute to work and back.

The theory: Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

It is time to do serious work.

A Description
of Art
as Manifestation
of the Truths
of the Articles
of the Existence
of Everything.

by eric strauss

here rendering into text
the beliefs
of cohry osborne and eric strauss


Introduction

It is time - well past time really - to lay out as many of the specifics of the theory as possible. As the theory is very involved, this is not a task to be undertaken in a single column. But it is certainly a task to be begun in one.

I will start with the concrete, and even when turning to more ephemeral matters, I will ask you, generous reader, to shoulder no conceits. Not in this column. The time to do serious work is now. So I will lay it out as plainly as I can.

My name is Eric and it is my intention to effect massive change in the world. I have long desired widespread recognition, but in recent years the shape of this desire has morphed. The transformation of my very human yearning for fame into a somewhat more noble, though of course equally human, desire to manifest significant, worldwide, trans-generational Good began about 12 years ago. It was then that I first met Cohry.

........

At the time both he and I had largely ignoble motivations. We lived together in a house in Eagle Rock. We partied and pursued women and cool, and occasionally we made art.

Six years later we each were married and living in Temple city. We each worked professional jobs. We each made good money. We eventually started making more art, and doing more drugs, or different drugs anyways, and at long last providence found us each blessedly laid off.

Cohry began recording music in earnest, and so did I. Soon it became clear that Cohry produced extremly compelling recordings, wrote genius songs, and generally kicked ass in the medium of music. Pop Goes Lethal was originally conceived of as a record label to disseminate his work. Our thinking lacked scope.

But our attention became somewhat diverted before we could implement our small ideas. We often spoke about art. We often made art, but we even more often spoke about art. Day in and day out we talked about it. For months and years on end. Specifically, we talked about when, why and how it worked, and when, why and how it didn't. We continually bumped into aesthetic relativism in our conversations.

Eventually we discarded it.

........


Part One -

How the Art of Space shows us what truth looks like.

A very long time ago Cohry noticed something important. It is something that many of us have probably noticed at some point. The best songs, the most cathcy ones, share a quality. The first time you hear such a song, you say to yourself - "I know I've heard this somewhere before." I remember saying that to myself on many occasions regarding many different great songs.

But unlike me and you and everyone else, Cohry didn't shrug that realization off. He was not content with leaving the strange commonality unexplained. Eventually, after many hours of thought and conversation, he concluded the following: "When you write a song, and you think it sounds familiar, that's a sure sign that the song is a keeper. Chances are, all your best songs will 'sound familiar' to you. And it is critical that you embrace those songs, and not kill them or distort their true identity in anyway."

This was a piece of practical advice. And it proved an invaluable rule to me and to a few other people who were paying attention when they heard it spoken aloud. But more importantly, it opened up an area of inquiry that gave birth to the thinking behind Pop Goes Lethal.

Why do these good songs sound familiar when we first hear them? The only conventional wisdom on the subject held that it is because they are familiar. They are "less different" than more complex and counter-intuitive songs. They therefore sound more familiar. Implicit in this is also a belief that they are somehow less valuable. Our society places a great deal of importance on innovation and originality. The implication of the conventional wisdom is that intuitive music is less original.

The reality is that more intuitive music is more true. Something that is true is entirely original, and entirely unique. But it is also perfectly adapted to human consciousness. So it fits. And because it fits so well, it feels familiar. In romantic stories you'll often hear the following dialogue in a scene between a man and a woman on a first or second date. "I feel like I've known you my whole life."

That dialogue reflects the natural human response to truth. We gravitate to truth. We want to hear and see and touch it. We want to read it. We want to smell it. And when we do, it feels so perfect that we can't imagine a time before the truth existed.

I read not too long ago an article (I can't recall about what subject) in a magazine in which the writer commented that it was hard to believe that 60 years ago the song White Christmas didn't exist. And it is, isn't it? It's hard to imagine that song not existing. That's because such a world has never been. White Christmas has always existed. It was just waiting to be manifested into mortal form.

Does that sound too new-agey for you? Are you inclined to dismiss such nonsense out of hand? I don't blame you at all. For most of my adult life I was exactly the same way. But I entreat you to read a little further before finalizing that assessment.

Let's say I have a triangle with two short sides and one long side. The two short sides are 4 inches and 3 inches, respectively. How long is the long side?

It's 5 inches, right? If you remember a bit of math from high school, you probably got that one. How did you figure it out? You used the Pythagorian Therom. a squared + b squared = c squared.

Who made up the pythagorian therom? Pythagoris of course. But who made up the fact that a squared + b squared = c squared? Pythagoras sure as hell didn't. That always was and always will be. No matter where you are or what you are doing, if you have a triangle, the square of one short side, plus the square of the other short side, will equal the square of the long side. Pythagoras manifested that truth into a mortal form - into an equation - but he didn't invent that truth, by any means. He discovered it.

Surely no one will dispute the above fact. The mathematical relationship between the sides of a triangle that Pythagoras describes in his therom is a relationship that was discovered, not invented.

So why is so farfetched to imagine that musical truths work the same way? Why do we have such a strong aversion to thinking of art in these terms?

Well the answer lies in the fact that mathematical truths are demonstrably true. I can use a ruler and show that the therom works every time, in every situation. Therefore, the reasoning follows, mathematical truths deserve to be afforded the special status of "discovered" rather than "created" truth. I cannot demonstrate whether this or that melody is true, therefore I have no reason to believe that it is.

The reality is that melody is just as demonstrably true as mathematics. It just isn't as measurable.

Mathematics is the art of space. It is about nothing but the relationships bewteen objects in space. At it's core, 1+1=2 is an equation that begins with the fact that two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time. Every object, everyTHING, is a thing precisely because of this fact. This fact is the essence of "distinctness." And mathematics is the art that manifests the truths of distinct things co-existing in space in stasis.

In practice, math often is applied to the mechanical interactions of objects. Because of this, it seems like math has as much to do with time as it has to do with space. This is so because "mechanics" implies time. Mechanics implies something, anything, other than stasis. Mathematics is only true when it describes things in space in stasis. It is absolutely true then. But it isn't very useful. The truths of mathematics are much more useful when they are applied to objects existing in time as well as in space. And for our rough human purposes, the truths are sufficently powerful to be useful even though, in such a context, they are no longer really true.

Does this claim seem outrageous? Surely it cannot be true. There are many demonstrable instances of math accurately predicting outcomes later than now, right? Nope. There are only demonstrable instances of math predicting such outcomes accurately enough. Quantum mechanics is the study of the fact that once you throw time into the mix, math is no longer true. Chaos theory, and systems theory in general, are also studies of this fact. In no real system, ever, no matter what, will mathematics be able to accurately predict the future. Only in virtual systems, can math predict future outcomes.

Well what about that, then? If math can predict outcomes over time in any situation, even a virtual situation, then surely such an occurrance disproves any claim that time necessarily spoils mathematical truths, right?

No. The answer to why lies in the fact that we are using the wrong term to describe a virtual "system." A virtual system - a computer game, for example, is not a system at all. It is instead a series of static frames. Those static frames are programmed to appear in a certain order. That order is programmed to change in static, predefined ways to specific, predefined inputs, each of which is one of a specific, limited set of possible inputs. A virtual system is no more a system than a film is. It may be a film (or more accurately a huge variety of slightly different films) that no one has watched yet, but it is a film nevertheless. Likely, some of the many slightly different films that make up a virtual system will never be watched. But every frame of every film nevertheless already exists, and each frame is absolutely static.

The dominion of math over space and only space is not only not disproven by the fact that math can predict "future" outcomes of virtual systems, but said accurate predictions are, in fact, proof that the "systems" are actually static. I apologize for the circular reasoning. But my goal here, remember, is descriptive, not deductive.

So math, the art of space, is definitely not the art of time. And math, the art of space, definitely does manifest discovered turths about space. About these two facts, no reasonable person ought to object. The only matter that I have presented so far that might ring at all controversial is my use of the word art. People are unaccostomed to thinking about math as an art. Typically, it is tossed in with the sciences. And you will hear no argument from me if you say "Biology is definitely not an art." And I agree that Geology is definitely not an art. But if you'll indulge me this nomenclature for now, I think you'll increasingly find, as we continue on, that the term art, for mathematics, is the only correct one.

But what, then, is the art of time? All this talk about the art of space kind of begs that question, doesn't it?

The art of time is music.

Think on this for now, if you feel so inclined. I will explain it in full next time.

Until then,

Thanks very much for your attention,
and I promise the discussion will get more lively as we proceed.

Eric.

The theory: Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

Music is the least well understood of all media.

This column offers artists working in music little useful information.**

Music is the least well understood of all media.

It is. For sure. And I am not entirely sure why, except to say that it is the most difficult to understand, which is not very illuminating. I don't claim to understand the medium very well as a creator. On the contrary, I often find it frustrating. In particular, this is the case because I do understand music very well in the abstract, and as a listener. I can tell you what works and what doesn't with a high degree of certainty. And I can even tell you why.

But for some reason that doesn't always transfer over to the creative end of things. I mean, I won't ever make big mistakes when making musical art. I am objective enough that I nix those misteps that I do blunder into well before presentation. But that doesn't mean that I can come up with the right alternative to the mistake, you know?

Here are some facts about music:



1. It is all about the song.

This is critically important. Artists in this medium are best served to think of the song only and always. What I mean by this is that the artist's job is to manifest the work as truely as possible. Each work is a distinct individual. Each should have its own identity.

Which means the following:

a.) having a style is bad.

Don't try to develop "your sound." That is foolish. It places the emphasis on the artist and what he does. The emphasis instead should be on the individual entity (the song) that the artist manifests.

b) chops don't matter at all/chops matter a lot.

Technical skill is very important. It is important in that the artist's job is to manifest the truth of the entity that is his song as precisely as possible. However, chops in and of themselves don't matter at all. They should be developed as the need for them arises. When you make music, you should be playing exactly what the truth tells you. Sometimes that will prove technically challenging. When it does, you should develop technically to meet that challenge. Don't bother developing skills in anticipation that truths might come along that require them. Do jam out for kicks and happen to develop skills in the process.

2. With melody, perfection is possible.

A melody is a very specific thing. This is something that it took me years to understand. It is something that I never would have understood at all without Komputadora's insight and his interest in sharing that insight with me. I was always, and will likely always be, attracted to noodling.

My gut instinct is to change things up a lot; to play things differently than I did last time.

No no no!

That urge must be resisted. A melodic phrase, which is a procession of notes played in a specific rythmic pattern, with a specific approach to attack and release, is exactly that. If you have a melodic idea, you must not think of it as something fluid. It is not at all fluid. It is rigidly and precisely exactly what it is and nothing else. Don't noodle. Don't play around with it. Don't doubt it one day and decide to produce "variations" on it. Respect its identity.

Think of the songs you like to listen to and imagine how different they would sound - how much worse - if just one note in the melodic phrase was changed, or if the cadence of the phrase shifted the accent from the downbeat to the offbeat. It would irritate the fuck out of you, if an artist pulled that shit on you. Have you ever listened to a live performance by an artist you like and been mad because they "aren't singing it right"? I bet you have. I know I have. Well, we were right to be mad. The artist wasn't singing it right an shame on him for disrespecting the melody that way.

3. Melody is not the same thing as music.

Melody is like writing. It is either perfect or it is flawed. As artists we aspire towards perfect. Usually we fall at least a little short in a couple of places. And those spots can be pointed at, described, and usually fixed.

For example, take the following sentence:

"I don't know about y'all, but I would like some of those pie shaped pastries over there by the range."

The problem with this sentence is that it mixes voices. It also tries to do too much, and has at least one diction issue.

"I don't know about y'all, but I'm gonna get me some of them apple pies there by the stove," is better.

"I don't know about y'all by I'm gonna git me a coupla dem der suger-treats on dat cooking thing over der in the kitchen, yuk yuk," is way too much.

I can't tell you what perfection is in this example because the answer is contigent on the context of when, where and how the sentence appears. But the bottom line is that in a given context, there is a perfect way to write that sentence. One and only one perfect way to write it.

Melody is the same way as writing. But music is not. Music is melody presented in conjunction with a number of other elements. Production choices are very important and bad ones can kill a track stone dead. Live music is different than recorded music, and is successful or unsuccessful according to different criteria. These criteria include performance and other intangibles like room energy.

Recorded live music is almost always a bad idea as art. However, there are exceptions, and one should always record live performances if one is in the habit of freestyling ideas - musical and/or narrative. It is important to capture inspired ideas. Memory cannot, and should never be, trusted.

4. One can be fully artistically successful with incomplete musical truths.

Very few of my own artistically successful tracks are built on complete musical truths. Complete musical truths are gifts, not creations. They are gifts that are probably fairly common, but it is extrodinarily difficult to develop into someone who is capable of:

1. receiving them in their entirety without interrupting the transfer,
2. recognizing them for what they are,
3. respecting their sanctity,
4. capturing them on media for future reference/develpment, and
5. manifesting them into a useful mortal form.

What is much more common, although still extremely rare, is for artists to successfully capture parts of melodic truths and to construct, by way of a deft understanding of the mortal arts of music, successful tracks.

Here are examples. Please listen to them as, having read this preceeding text, you have an opportunity now to gain enormous insight into this whole business. Listening to these two examples will make what I am saying exceedingly clear, as the differences between these two songs - though each is slow and pretty - is very obvious.

	Fully successful track made of incomplete musical truths. - by yours truly.
	Fully successful track made of a complete and significant melody - a true song. - by Komputadora

5. When a melody comes to you, and you think you've heard it before, DO NOT KILL IT.

At some point I will do a column on the subject of pitfalls. There are many reasons why so few people succeed artistically in music, and they deserve a column unto themselves. But this one, a truth that Komputadora stumbled upon years ago, is one that cannot be repeated too much, and that must be highlighted here.

When a melody comes to you, and you think you've heard it before, DO NOT KILL IT, it is your best idea.

People typically kill their best ideas.

Ours is a culture in which there is hardly any more egregious failure than plagarism. Any musician's worst nightmare is to write a song, present it to their friends, and then hear somewhere down the road --- hey! you didn't write that song! That's the same exact melody as America the Beautiful.

Here's some good news. It never happens. I don't know why, but it just doesn't. But what does happen a lot is that someone will tell an artist, "I think I've heard that before but I can't place where exactly." When someone tells you that, don't change your melody. For god's sake don't change it. What they are really telling you is: "Hey! That's a really inpired idea! Can I please hear it again?"

If you take nothing else from this column, please trust me on this point. We owe it to the world to let inpired melodic truths live. We owe the world that because such truths are purely good. Their whole purpose is to move people, to provide joy or consolation or some other deeply felt and worthwhile experience.

And, by decree of the pantheonic gods, you get to take credit for them, even though they are really no more yours than any other truth is yours. You can't own 2+2=4 any more than you can own a melodic phrase.

That's going to do it for today. I left unaddressed here a number of topics, including the aforementioned "pitfalls of music" and the whole subject of "live music." I'll get to them at some point, but not today.

good luck in your artistic endeavors,
keep your eyes and ears pointed towards truth.

mr strauss


**april fools.

Due to fail...

A Failed Prophesy of Failure or...
A Successful Prophesy of Failure or....
A Successful Failure Prophesy or....
A Failure to Succeed at Failure Prophesy or...

Some Other Outcome....

You Decide!
by mr strauss


According to the dictates of what is admittedly a biased, uncertain and, dare I say, arbitrary, set of criteria, I'm due to fail here tonight.

By the above I mean simply that I have been pleased by my produce (vegetables, tomatoes, etc) here at PW. Not all posts were born equal, and some, naturally, have tickled my self-satisfaction bone more than others, but none yet has left me squirming or needing to shower.

So having begun with the above weak intro, I see that I'm well on my way to proving myself prophetic. This column is sure to suck.

Good, good I feel it coming back to me. Prophecy has always been my true dream job. When the counselors in high school brought me in to discuss my future career options, and suggested I go to college, I gave their suggestion serious thought. But ultimately, I stuck to my guns. "No," I told the counselor. "No, I really want to be a prophet. I think it's my calling. And the job requires no degree or other training, so I'd like to jump right in, as soon as I graduate, you know? Maybe I can find a good internship as a way to get my foot in the door."

Well, I was naive to say the least. Intenships proved few and far between. Good ones did anyways. Most of the ones I took on just involved a lot of yardwork, with maybe only 5% of my time actually spent learning to prophesize. But eventually, I did manage to finagle some connections and I landed an entry level job at one of the bigger phophecy firms downtown. The pay was shit, but I was doing work that I loved, and I didn't care.

Everything went great at first, but then things started rolling downhill. The trouble was I didn't get along well with my immediate supervisor. He was this guy who kept prophesizing that Thursday would be declared Corn Dog day, which I just thought was assinine. "By whom?!" I kept asking him, but I never got an answer.

Well, eventually our petty bickering attracted the attention of the manager. And we were called into his office. I went into the meeting feeling pretty smug. Right as it was starting, I boldly prophesized that the manager was about to lay into the supervisor. Needless to say, it didn't prove to be my proudest prophesy. I was way off. Of course the manager sided with the guy with more senority. The manager was our union rep, so I really hadn't stood a chance. And since I had made the mistake of soothe-saying about it, in front of the manager, well... it wasn't pretty.

After I had my ass handed to me good and plenty, the company took some pity and offered to demote me to parking lot attendant, instead of just firing me. As a bone, they tossed in the added duty of prophesizing which car's alarm would go off everyday, but I just said fuck it and quit. There was no way that I was going to put myself through going to work everyday and seeing that smug supervisor drive in and sneer at me and then have to hand him his parking stub. I wouldn't be able to live through the injustice. I mean, if you compared our records, mine was way better. He was the one who should have got demoted, not me! I had successfully prophesized almost all of the major holidays in 1993. To the day! I just barely missed Easter (I called it falling on a Monday) - that was the only blemish on my record. Meanwhile, the supervisor had prophesized three times in one month that a "plague of grapefruits would destroy old town and all of its boutiques." And he was only right one of those times, and even then the so called "plague" only took out like 4 or 5 buildings!

So I just quit. And the experience so disillusioned me that when shortly thereafter a local brothel offered me a high-paying fortune telling gig as part of their public health campaign ("Preventing Sexually Transmitted Diseases Through Tarot and Tea Leaves" or "PoSaTiDoTiTAToL," for short) I just turned them down on the spot. I hadn't even predicted the job offer, and, once I had heard it, I was absolutely certain that I would gladly accept it. In retrospect, it's clearly a good thing that I didn't. Because that wrongness about my willingness to take the gig is a pretty strong indicator that had I, in fact, done so, I'd have shortly found myself reading the palms of a very syphallitic group of whores indeed. Of course, had I taken it, I'd have been right, but whatever.

So I guess the question at this point is straightforward enough?
Is my soothe-saying still unrecovered from my workplace trauma?
Did this column actually turn out great?
Or have I regained the old prophetic touch, eh?
I'll leave y'all to answer that one as you see fit.
And I make no predictions as to your response.

None at all.

Hi fellow artists....

Strung out across a great many chasms....
Once a man begins to think freely, and to challenge every standard and expectation, and to claim his right to test each for fitness , the whole of his life becomes infected, and there can never really be any return to health.

It's art scrutiny that's to blame. It's a shadow film of lint that we habitually try to brush off our sleeves. Right now, at least in this country, it is in such stark opposition to convention that it can be easily ignored, but it's not going anyplace for any of us, and if we let it start chillin' around us, we get very sick, very quickly.

Of course, this is a disorder that potentially is hugely good on balance. Like getting the chickenpox is supposed to be, but without the ageism. Or, then again, maybe it's more like alcoholism, a made up disease that serves to excuse us from having to deal with the the facts of human nature: People like to get drunk. They always will. And the how's, why's, when's and whether's of that are as unclean as humanity itself. Sure, some answers are truer than others, but declaratives fail every time. Such are the quantum mechanics of truth. We're dealing in shades of grey that perpetually defy absolutist declarations and yet, simultaneously, that scoff at the relativists and their games of rhetorical Chinese firedrill.

But this art scrutiny disfunction is unlike both of the above examples, really. It's potentially much more good. Of course nobody really chooses to catch this disease anyways, although many try. It is one of those things that only reveals itself upon completetion. So it's not a matter of choice. It's like making a baby. You know you want to fuck, and maybe you even know that you want a baby (or that you don't), and you sure as hell can actively encourage or discourage that outcome in powerful ways, but ultimately, it isn't up to you.

Sperms don't swim where and when they're told.
They just swim where and when they can.
My sperms, incidently, are especially fond of the breaststroke.

But let's turn back away from the metaphor for a minute and back towards the point. Wait. No. I guess we're sticking with the metaphor, actually. Not the disease metaphor, though. The baby metaphor. Art scrutiny is like the baby, see? Art scrutiny is it's own entity, once conception occurs. And you can abort it, or you can ride it out. But there's no middle ground. And if you ride it out, soon there is this screaming baby. You can either get rid of it entirely - give it up to religion or authorities or pragmatism - or you can pick it up and meet its needs. And meeting the needs of art scrutiny, at first, is a real bitch. Cause it suckles directly at the tit of your ego.

It says, "Hey. You suck. That shit you're making? You're fooling yourself. It sucks. There's a good chance you'll never really be artistically successful. You're way too caught up in competition. You resent successful art because it's better than yours. You resent it so much that you can't learn from it. You praise mediocre shit in the name of relativism because it hurts less than admitting that there is truth and that your shit, along with almost all of the shit that you say you like, is a big morass of stinky lies, self-indulgence, and fear."

But if you can sit through the abuse and neither go all drama "Waaaah I'll never be any good," nor go all ballistic "Oh yeah, fuck you Art Scrutiny, what do you know?!!" then it's all happy cruising from there. You might have to weather the shit storm for a while, but if you do, you and your truth meter will become good friends, and you'll thank it for calling bullshit on you. Most of the time anyways.

So the moral of the story is:

Affirm me for my fine column.
If you point out flaws, I'll attack you on a personal level.
I get very defensive.



mr strauss