Shoe Strings & Timing Part Deux: The Reckoning

Quick recap from the earlier post - are "shorties" (groupings of short plays) of less value than full-length plays? At the end, big questions were asked - what is the value of art? Is it tied to length of the performance? Ultimately, does bang + buck = time + quality?

Last weekend I had an opportunity to view Andras Schiff perform a number of Beethoven's Sonatas. The performance consisted of 3 pieces and an encore performance of Bach's Chromatic Fantasia and Fugue in D Minor. The central performance was, at most, eighty minutes long - not much "value" for the insane cost of Carnegie Hall tickets, no? But such a statement discounts the value of experiencing one of the greatest pianists tackle Beethoven. Absolutely breathtaking. I want to also note that the man did all the pieces from memory - which, I'm sure you can agree, is totally insane.

After the performance, I thought about my earlier questions. Did I get what I paid for? Was it worth it? Ultimately, I decided that, despite the "short" time I was in the theater, the experience was more than worth the dollars paid. The experience wasn't tied to the time spent in the hall, it was tied to the performance itself. I would have liked it to be longer, but I certainly didn't feel short-changed just because it didn't last another hour. As for the idea that "short"performances are less worthwhile than full length one? Preposterous. To my mind, Schiff's performance was as "valuable" as watching one of Beethoven's symphonies - probably more so, considering how often those symphonies are performed.

I'm going to have to abandon my rapidly collapsing comparative analysis - to continue to compare Schiff's performance to our "shorties" would entail us putting our work on the level of Schiff's - not something I'm willing to assert under any circumstances.

In the end, I feel value isn't tied to time but to quality. If you'll allow me another poor comparison, a 1940s Loony Toon short is better than a full-length late-70s Disney feature, right? Of course, now I'm just digging a deeper hole by breaking my own Granny Smith Apples to Golden Delicious Apples rule. A better example - a tight one-disc OutKast album versus the terrible Speakerboxx/Love Below.

So length doesn't necessarily equal value. Rather, quality is value. "Of course!" you say, "I didn't need to read all that to realize this! I knew that all along!" But what if that OutKast album was only 5 (the best 5) songs long, instead of 14? Would it still be worth your money? Or would you hold out for the "full" album even though you know the content isn't as strong as the already-released 5 songs?

BOOM - Do people have certain preconceptions regarding length regardless of value? Stay tuned to part 3!

The Painted Bird

From Jerzy Kosiński's "The Painted Bird"

"Sometimes days passed and Stupid Ludmila did not appear in the forest. Lekh would become possessed by a silent rage. He would stare solemnly at the birds in the cages, mumbling something to himself. Finally, after prolonged scrutiny, he would choose the strongest bird, tie it to his wrist and prepare stinking paints of different colors which he mixed together from the most varied components. When the colors satisfied him, Lekh would turn the bird over and paint its wings, head, and breast in rainbow hues until it became more dappled and vivid than a bouquet of wildflowers.

Then he would go into the thick of the forest. There Lekh took out the painted bird and ordered me to hold it in my hand and squeeze it lightly. The bird would begin to twitter and attract a flock of the same species which would fly nervously over our heads. Our prisoner, hearing them, strained toward them, warbling more loudly, its little heart, locked in its freshly painted breast, beating violently.

When a sufficient number of birds gathered above our heads, Lekh would give me a sign to release the prisoner. It would soar, happy and free, a spot of rainbow against the backdrop of clouds, and then plunge into the waiting grown flock. For an instant the birds were confounded. The painted bird circled from one end of the flock to the other, vainly trying to convince its kin that it was one of them. But, dazzled by its brilliant colors, they flew around it unconvinced. The painted bird would be forced farther and farther away as it zealously tried to enter the ranks of the flock. We saw soon afterwards how one bird after another would peel off in a fierce attack. Shortly the many-hued shape lost its place in the sky and dropped to the ground. These incidents happened often. When we finally found the painted birds they were usually dead. Lekh keenly examined the number of blows which the birds had received. Blood seeped through their colored wings, diluting the paint and soiling Lekh's hands."

Wednesday Whimsey

Wither would William wander
When wife Wendy whines?
To the Ten Tramps Tavern
Tripping toward titillating times.

- BOOM; A Nate Root original

A Thought for the Day

"Je ne sais pas d'autre bombe, qu'un livre." - Stéphane Mallarmé

(for those of us who don't understand french: "I know of no bomb other than the book.")

Isn't that a wonderful quote?

Why don't we co-opt it into "Je ne sais pas d'autre bombe, qu'un théâtre."

-S.