Keramos and Melos (Ceramics and music)


by Mauro Castellano



Why music and ceramics? Since 1950 there has been a blurring of the confines between the various arts brought about by the artists themselves. It is interesting to recall a fundamental piece by John Cage, written in 1952 and always erroneously referred to as Silence. Its correct title is instead 4’33” (Four minutes and thirty-three seconds), referring to its duration. If you think back to the old typewriters, below the numeral 4 was the apostrophe sign, while below the 3 were the double inverted commas. For this wholly casual motive, Cage chose this duration. The piece is divided into three movements and obliges the pianist to remain silent for 4’33” while the audience listens to what is going on around them. From that moment, music became what we wanted it to be rather than a structure with a beginning a middle and an end, to put it in Beethovian terms. The way music evolved in the 20th century led to the emergence of innovative techniques that meant new signs had to be expressed on the written page. This occurred above all because instrumental techniques saw enormous development and required new characters to describe events that were previously unimaginable. For example, the pianoforte is no longer played exclusively via the keys but also internally by acting directly on the strings and striking its each and every component. As these techniques are still being perfected, they place a great responsibility on the interpreter who is continually called upon to integrate a score that frequently cannot be as precise as in the case of the traditional repertoire. There are actually pages that drawn up freehand and taken to the interpreter as a hermeneutic exercise. At this point one may play anything whatsoever: a postcard, an image... But how? We need to invent a code for reading. It has to be decided that a certain type of sign corresponds to a certain type of sound and that each time the sign recurs that particular sound is played. It is out of this situation that a challenge such as Music and Ceramics may derive and it is here that a relationship is born that has been on-going for over half a century between the visual arts and music. Moreover, I have found that I have played contemporary repertoires more frequently, or with better audience response in art galleries rather than traditional venues. This is also partly due to sociological motives: it is hardly the “done thing” for a formally dressed pianist in a theatre venue to climb into his instrument or lie beneath it and beat on the bottom of the case with the heel of his shoe... All these actions nonetheless correspond to precise sounds that could not be produced in any other way. The challenge I have taken up along with Leonardo Gensini is to create sounds in a very precise fashion. We shall write a musical score in the true sense of the term that will also leave room for extemporaneous interventions for which we shall be calling on the students from the Savona School of Music. We shall be doing our best to put the sounds within a frame, as with all works of art. As far as I am concerned, a piano will be present and I shall be taking liberties with the musical repertoire and the literature evoked by such an apparently nineteenth century instrument. However, considering that it is also an instrument made of wood, cast-iron and steel — a percussion instrument — we shall be creating a work based on amplification that will attempt to establish a relationship between the piano itself and the ceramic “instruments” that Gensini has created at Albisola. I leave you with numerous question marks pending and an invitation to listen to what we produce.



Excerpt from the Proceedings of the “Local ceramic traditions and globalisation of contemporary art” conference, 19/20 October 2002, Fortezza del Priamàr, Savona