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From: Al G.
Date: 11 Mar 2004
Time: 03:31:15 -0600
Remote Name: 216.192.45.5
Frances ~ Well, you took my silliness seriously, so now I must respond in kind. Ya know, I agree with you that you do not need to understand something on every level to appreciate it. I also agree with you about how curiosity can be sparked by the intellect or a response to the harmony or beauty of the work (although I would also add that it can be sparked by intuition as well). Yet what happens when the door is closed to both the intellect and the beauty of the words? (Here, I admit, Yeats was probably writing to an audience that would well understand all the back story - in fact would have been steeped in it and feed it for afternoon tea. So in some respects, no fault lies at his door, for I do not think he thought about writing for an audience that would not know the sources and allusions he drew so well from.) . . . Yet my experience is that his poetry (and many others) is, indeed a door firmly closed to many - a mismatch of symbols and a lack of training in symbols. And so no tempting light shines through the keyhole to arouse our curiosity and get us to want to amble on over and open the door.. . . . . You asked if it is different if the "nuances and references are contained in a poem, rather than a picture, or, as in your example, music?" My first impression is yes. Words in English are really groups of letters that exist as squiggles and scratches on a page. These marks are so abstract that have no inherent meaning. However, the layers of meaning, the nuances, the references that words abstractly represent can be many and profound. It is just that they are not carried within the scratches themselves, and so are not immediately (or easily for that matter) accessible. To get it you have to go to other sources of "scratches" (dictionaries, encyclopedias, and long mythical stories) that will require a significant amount of time and mental processing power to find, read, absorb and piece together. If curiosity is not sparked, who wants to invest the time? And what does Yeats offer us if we do? Of what use is the treasure buried in his words? Is it priceless or just a pretty bauble in the sand? . . . . . . I sense that the musical notes carry the harmony and beauty within them. I can immediately access the way I feel when I listen to music. I do not have to intellectually process the notes or dissect the harmonies. The energy is carried in the vibration, inherently part of the sound. The lyrics carry the message, the meaning, but it is layered on top of the vibrational energy. Sound not only streams through the keyhole, the door is not even locked. In fact, it is probably more like an open doorway, if truth be known. Even children can start humming a tune without being taught how to make noise or recognize the alphabet. . . . . . Visual pictures may lie somewhere between. There is energy in the light bouncing off the colors, a visual play amongst the space, texture, colors and layout. I do not need to know the history of burnt umber, or its name, to appreciate the interplay of it. It is the color of dirt. (nice dirt, mind you.) Dirt has universal meanings and personal associations. My food comes from the dirt, my ashes will be scattered there (well, maybe). I do not need a dictionary to tell me that, nor can it express the feel of rough warm sand or cakey mud oozzing up between my toes. Maybe the problem lies with words, and how they get us into our heads and out of our bodies and senses. And Yeats is just a good example of what happens when we get disconnected from the everyday symbols and ideas and draw instead on allusions and nuances that are specialized and woven from a cloth not many of us wear anymore. Hope this was along the lines of the thought you wanted to spark. Al P.S. If you are taking the cure, how about "he goes, she goes, we all go for Argos" to drive away the burnt umbers?