The Artist’s Unconscious, The Metaphor of Birth and Waking Life

Every now and again during the inevitable agony of cultivating, constructing, and evaluating the creative process, the artist finds they’ve become “stuck.” Trapped in the limbo of their piece, somewhere between conception and establishment, they are striving for the “release” of sorts. Just as the actor or musician diligently prepares for a performance, somewhere between the realization and the execution, everything we’ve known and bred must be let go with the wind. This concept can seem painfully simple, cliché and worst of all, beaten to death. I can assure you, it is not the rudimentary discussion you might think.

It’s a beyond well-known fact that we as evolving humans use a shamefully small percentage of our potential intellect and brain-function capacity*; but how do we relate this to our unconscious? From beginning to end in the creative journey, how often do we actually realize to rely on and draw from unseen layers?

In this more in-depth analysis, Dr. Cheryl Arutt gives a fascinating discussion of the artist and the unconscious using the metaphor of birth that is truly carried out to the end. This article may be found here.

*Note: I am not trying to give way to the common myth that we only use ten percent of our brain (Beyerstein, 1999). However, we have approximately 100-150 billion neurons in our brain, with each neuron connecting to about 10,000 others. If every single neuron connected with every single other neuron, our brain would be roughly 12.5 miles in diameter (Nelson and Bower, 1990) and close to the size of London.

A Reflection On Grief and Fear

“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing.”

-C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

My father died two weeks ago, during this hour, today. Yesterday would have been his birthday. During the past month, I’ve flown to Seattle and back three times, to be with him, and two days ago for his funeral. I’ve never felt something quite exquisitely distressing as the loss of my dad. It’s not a stabbing, unbearable pain, as one might feel when they are hurt or abandoned by a lover… but more a confusion. A frantic, desperate confusion, and emptiness. All of the clichés I have witnessed over the years now begin to make malevolent sense with sickening clarity.

“I feel as if I’m falling and can’t see the ground.”

“It’s like I’m in a daze.”

“I roam the house, searching for any piece of them left behind, but am left ever with nothing. Not a trace.”

All of these cruel notions, I feel. I go about my days. I continued teaching lessons the morning after he died. I’ve more distracting plates spinning than I can count-but the slightest thing, like a visual in the grocery store of a father holding his daughter’s hand sends me into a silent, trapped hysteria.

But then, there is something else. There are the other clichés; the one’s that I’ve found to be far more detrimental:

“Try not to think about it.”

“You have to keep busy.”

“He’s in a better place.”

It’s not that these aren’t wholly appreciated, and stem exclusively from a caring love. But I’m learning something-it almost flawlessly separates the ones who have felt this pain from the ones who have not. The ones who have lost one such as this? They sit. They listen. They cry with you. And occasionally, you are blessed to receive those beautiful words: “You will get through this. Everything will be alright.” By saying this, instead of minimizing or overshadowing the loss, aftershock and long-lingering effects, you have not only joined the bereaved where they kneel, you have acknowledged their pain and thus bore witness to their anguish. You have given them what they possibly need the very most: the immediate motivation to continue to live.

It’s funny, what we see in movies and television. A month or so ago, I watched the first episode of Six Feet Under (which I swiftly found to be a poor judgment call at the time). But we see these. We see the woman receive the phone call alerting her that her husband has been killed. We see her throw her pots and pans, and ultimately crumple to the floor. We witness this motion in action in Hollywood and Music…and yet it can’t prepare us for when you get that call.

When my mother called me at 6:30 pm Monday, August 1st, I had readied myself, but not for so soon. I had just flown back to LA the night before! It didn’t matter. She said “Diana,” her voice cracked, and my body immediately shut down. I don’t believe I cried, I just remember immediately calling a friend, getting a voicemail, and sitting down. Around 11pm, I received a kind text from someone, and went to bed. What interests me about this? It’s not me. I am an emotional, extroverted, open person. When I feel something, I say it. I feel it to the highest degree. But this? The prospect of losing my daddy? It’s like I’m acting the one way I could not have foreseen: utterly emotionally trapped.

The scariest aspect of this for me is that it’s my greatest childhood fear come to life. From as long as I can remember, to the time I was about 17, I had a dream, recurring being a mild way to describe it. It began as the typical Jungian archetype of the sensation of screaming, but no sound could be heard. Running away from something, but the use of my legs was lost. It always ended with me throwing myself on the ground, and giving up. I couldn’t cause action or motion with any of my faculties, so I gave up. Around then, I would wake, crawl back into bed from the ground, and try to forget.

If we view this from an artist’s perspective, it becomes a bit more interesting. What is the artist’s greatest need? To express themselves, regardless of the possible noble or ill intended outcome. What, then, should be the artist’s greatest fear? The inability to articulate what they deem critical. It is these thoughts that have plagued my mind in recent days, and will reflected upon again in this medium soon, hopefully with a type of resolution to my own shortcomings.

Sleep Gets Your Ghost

Since the commencement of this blog, I have attempted to somewhat remain on task (“task” being the broad field of music education, research and psychology), mainly because I have a prior blog where I’ve long expressed more personal content, including musical/artistic/poetic/academic recommendations. As The Spirit Wanes was created largely to facilitate informal research and stimulate preparation for grad school. However, I have consulted the gods, and now feel it’s okay-appropriate even-to share something of this caliber when I come across it.

The following was shown to me by an old friend a couple of weeks ago, and I must admit my initial impression was somewhat indifferent, at least as far as Dyer’s vocals were concerned. I’ve recently given it another go, and find I can now listen to little else. From intro forward, its syncopated melodies and play on a popular progression are undeniable. It is rare I find chromatically dissonant harmonies more intoxicating, creatively pleasing and yet somehow undemanding.  If that is not enough, the vocals, which I found initially unimpressive, are assertive and secure. It has reminded me of one of my greatest strengths and ultimate failures as a vocalist-I am far too harsh the critic. And for the lyrics? I’ve been slain. Beautiful.

Sleep Gets Your Ghost” – Buke and Gass

Who says i’m dying in the lack of luck and love
Convinced that seeing does a better job believe me
Feels so weak it starts to wear out at my feet
Don’t just whine about the way it works out now
You gave up, how sad
You gave up, how sad
How could you say to me I couldn’t wait for you?
I couldn’t wait for…

Ghost in my head when I dream
Ghost on my tongue in between sleep
I am afraid I’ll never wake up
I am afraid I’ll never wake up 

Wake up when the stars are high
Are you ready for the world? 

For our live-lovers, the entirety of their Tiny Desk Concert may be found here.

Channeling Emotional Intensity in the Creative Artist

Thanks to Cheryl Arutt for one of the best, most easily accessible articles I’ve seen on channeling pain in the artist, including some brief (albeit great) insight into the chemical process that stimulates fight-or-flight syndrome. Find it here.

St. Vincent on her time at Berklee

“I think that with music school and art school, or school in any form, there has to be some system of grading and measurement. The things they can teach you are quantifiable. While all that is good and has its place, at some point you have to learn all you can and then forget everything that you learned in order to actually start making music.”

-St. Vincent on her time at Berklee College of Music

“Roslyn” – Bon Iver and St. Vincent

 

St. Vincent (Annie Erin Clark) has collaborated with Sufjan Stevens, The Polyphonic Spree, Bon Iver, and The New Pornographers.

WRAMTA Annual Conference

The American Music Therapy Association (Western Region Chapter) will be holding their annual conference in Long Beach this year. While many of the seminars look to be strictly music therapy (and less my cup of tea), the last CMTE course offered on the cognitive processing of music, emotions and pain looks to be grounded strongly in psychiatric studies and scientific research.

CMTE 6: Music, Pain, and the Brain: Research Developments and Music Therapy Applications Vanya Green, MA, MT-B

View conference program and information

2011 Annual Conference

Long Beach, CA Mar 31 – Apr 2

The Queen Mary Hotel

Institutes & CMTEs

Mar 29 – 31, Apr 3

Passages Conference Apr 3

The Queen Mary Hotel

Hegel and The Philosophy of Art : Part 1

It has somewhat violently come to my attention over the past couple of years that my ideas on Diana's old art cornerthe origin and meaning of art in general result in a bit of a clash and breakdown not only theoretically, but pragmatically in everyday practice. Though my gut reaction has typically been to tread lightly on the visible exterior and remain privately faithful to my own stubborn intuitions, it is not difficult to predict the inevitable destruction that not-so-patiently awaits me there. It proves dangerous territory not only in terms of intellectual risk, but in that as a musician and professional the implications and repercussions of the outcome are tremendous. The time has come to devastate my philosophy: it cannot only suffer the dismantle/repair, it must be rebuilt from the bottom up.

What is art, then? Where does it come from? It is action or motion, necessarily existent ex-something or other, or reaction? Can it be borne solely via some lofty internal emotion, or must it come from a type of universal awareness and harmony?  One question is easily answered: it is not derived simply of motion; it is action. At it’s very base art requires consciousness, therefore it cannot lie in the solely biological and animal aspect. It must assemble from the neurological and symbolic: the heart of dramatism.[i]

One catastrophic event in particular that has become almost the norm for some is the temptation to jump ahead of oneself and ask the “what may” and “what should” questions before coming to grips with the act and the purpose (the “what is” and “why”). As in any philosophic, psychoanalytic or scientific quest, if one does not set out from the very beginning with all unfounded assumptions aside, the task’s entire integrity becomes vulnerable to limitation and error. If the terms of the hypothesis are not clearly understood, by the time one attempts at an end result the outcome can only be adulterated.

So I find myself here again: Where does art originate?  In Hegel’s Lectures on Aesthetics, he states the following:

“At the very origin of art there existed the tendency of the imagination to struggle upward out of nature into spirituality. But, as yet, the struggle consisted in nothing more than a yearning of the spirit, and, insofar as this failed to furnish a precise content for art, art could really be of service only in providing external forms for mere natural significations, or impersonal abstractions of the substantial inner principle which constitutes the central point of the world.”[ii]

He goes on to express that though it may have begun this way, it does not remain so. His notions on Classic Art assert that spirituality now realizes the basis and principle of content: it becomes external form. By the union of the spiritual and idealization of the natural, it would seem that “Classic Art” makes up the perfect and absolute personification of the ideal.

But already I am ahead of myself. I am yet unequipped to venture into the differences in Classic, Romantic, Symbolic Art or formalism until I better understand where (on or apart from earth) it comes from. As I work my way through Hegel’s Philosophy of Art[iii], I will continue to share my findings and ideas (and hopefully one day, a re-born concept of what art should be).

For now, I leave you with a glimpse of inexpressible significance to me as I sort through these issues. Poor is what I am, but if I am forced to take what I cannot yet afford, I shall continue to steal from the richest-


[i] Kenneth Burke. The Philosophy of Literary Form. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1973.

[ii] Hegel, G.W.F.. “Of the Romantic Form of Art.” Lectures on Aesthetics. Trans. Bernard Bosanquet. Ed. and intro. Michael Inwood. Harmdondsworth: Penguin, 1993.

[iii] Hegel, G.W.F. The Philosophy Of Art. New York: Barnes and Noble, Inc., 2006

Neural Differences Between Musicians and Non-Musicians

Nature or Nurture, the Chicken or the Egg? The following paper has certainly given me much to think about, and will be addressed in posts soon to come.

Excerpt taken from Enhanced brainstem encoding predicts musicians’ perceptual advantages with pitch.

Musicians have different brains – that fact we have known for a long time. The study of musician and non-musician brains is probably one of the first stories in the science of neural (brain) plasticity; the idea that our brains respond and become modified by the things we experience in everyday life. Nowadays the existence of neural plasticity is beyond doubt: We see regular, remarkable examples of how the human brain, at any age although particularly in childhood, is able to re-organise itself in response to circumstances. For example, we know the brain can adapt after stroke or serious injury, after the loss of any of the senses and even as a result of our career choices. As for the latter, my favourite example is that of London Taxi drivers. Dr. Eleanor Maguire and her team found that the drivers show enlarged posterior hippocampus structures (the memory centre of the brain) which correlate with their possession of ‘the knowledge’, the mental map of London streets that they use to navigate.  As a result of such evidence we take it as a given that our brains will adapt to the world around us and to the demands that we make of it every day. And it therefore makes sense that musicians’ brains would adapt as a result of their exposure to and engagement with music.

But the ease with which we today accept brain plasticity as a result of musical practice is a result of over a century of research, which at first did not have the benefits of the sophisticated brain imaging tools. In fact the evidence goes back to Victorian scientists. Sigmund Auerbach (1860-1923) was a very popular German surgeon and diagnostician who contributed numerous works on the operative treatment of tumours of the brain and spinal marrow/cord, nervous damages, and epilepsy. At the beginning of the twentieth century he conducted a series of post-mortem brain dissections and reported that parts of the temporal and parietal lobe (in particular the superior temporal gyrus) were larger than normal in the brains of 5 famous musicians of the time (1911). However, the problem with simply noting differences between musicians and nonmusicians brains in this way is that you have no evidence for causation – how do you know their musical practice caused these changes? Maybe their brains were different to start with and that is the reason they became successful musicians?

The only way to solve this kind of riddle is with longitudinal, developmental studies. You measure kids’ brains before they start music (or choose not to – that is your control group) and then you determine whether the changes that occur to their brains as they learn match those that we see in adult musicians. I know of only one group braving this kind of study. Gottfried Shlaug’s lab’s results are starting to confirm that the neural differences we see in adult musicians are not present when children start learning – so logic suggests they must be a response to their environment. It is not conclusive yet, but it is a good indicator that musician/non-musician brain differences are largely the result of neural plasticity.

So what are the neural differences between musicians and non-musicians ? Well there are quite a few of them and I want to focus on just one recent study in today’s blog. So you will forgive me, I hope, if I say that if you want to know more about differences in general then I can recommend an article by Dr. Lauren Stewart which gives a great summary of this subjectToday we are interested in the brainstem. This is the oldest part of the brain and the part that is largely in charge of pre-conscious processing.

I first heard about brain stem studies about 4 years ago when I saw talks by Dr Nina Kraus and Dr Patrick Wong. Up until that point I had heard a lot about studying the higher centres of the brain with fMRI, PET and EEG but I have not been introduced to subcortical measures of musical processing. I found it fascinating. Both authors had perfected the technique of measuring the Frequency Following Response (FFR), an evoked potential generated in the upper portion of the brain stem. What happens in an FFR experiment is that a small number of electrodes are placed on the scalp (nowhere near as many as in a typical EEG scan) and then a series of simple sounds are played to one ear. As a participant you don’t have to do anything, in fact you can even fall asleepYour brainstem follows the frequency of the sounds that it hears, even when you are unconscious. It becomes ‘phase locked’, meaning that it displays a characteristic waveform that follows the individual cycles of the stimulus (i.e. its frequency).

Before the FFR paradigm came along we knew that musicians could unconsciously detect smaller changes in pitch than non-musicians (see work by Stefan Koelsch) but we didn’t know where this ability came from; was it coming from the lower pre-conscious levels of the cortex or the much older brainstem regions?  Use of the FFR paradigm has shown that long-term musical experience changes how the brainstem responds to sounds in the environment, and that this correlates with performance in behavioural tasks. For example, Dr Patrick Wong (Wong et al., 2007) showed that musicians show enhanced brain stem responses to tones within speech (in Mandarin Chinese). What about skills that are critical to performing musicians though, such as detecting minute pitch variations thereby being able to tell whether you are in tune?

A paper out in the European Journal of Neuroscience by Gavin Bidelman and team recently looked at this  question using the FFR paradigm. They looked at the properties of the FFR in response to tuned (major and minor) and detuned chordal, triad arpeggios in eleven musicians (vs. 11 controls). Detuning was accomplished by sharpening or flattening the pitch of the chord’s third. Following each note onset the authors took a ‘snapshot’ of the phase-locking in the FFR which occurred 15-20ms post-stimulus onset. Peaks in the FFR were identified by the researchers and confirmed by independent observers. FFR peaks were then quantified and segmented into three sections corresponding to the three notes heard. The authors then completed a separate, standard pitch discrimination task to determine whether the musicians had better responses at the perceptual level. What they found was amazing.

FFR waveforms (image from G. Bidelman’s site, link below) 

Results

1) For the perception test: musicians showed better discrimination performance, and their enhanced ability was the same for major and minor distinctions, as well as for tuned-up vs. tuned-down manipulations of pitch.  The nonmusicians could distinguish major from minor, but could not reliably detect the detunings.

2) For the FFR data: musicians showed faster synchronisation and stronger brainstem encoding for the third of the arpeggios, whether the sequence was in or out of tune (notice the enhanced peak size and regularity in the image above) Nonmusicians on the other hand had much stronger encoding for the major/minor chords compared to that seen for the detuned chords.

The close correspondence between these two results supports the theory that musicians’ enhanced ability to detect out of tune pitches is rooted in pre-conscious processing of pitch that occurs in the brainstem, and specially in the enhancement of phase locked activity.

Conclusion

The thing that fascinates me is that this kind of evidence fills in some of the much needed gaps in our knowledge about how the so-called ‘lower’ centres of the brain are involved in processing jobs that it is very easy to causally attribute to the ‘higher’ centres of the brain, namely the cortex. In reality our perception of music starts at the level of the ear and all the way along its journey to our conscious minds it is carefully dissected, pre-processed and shaped. And it seems that our experience of the world can shape destinations all the way along this pathway, contributing to the overall behavioural differences we see in musicians and nonmusicians when they listen to music.

Bidelman, G.M., Krishnan, A., & Gandour, J.T (2011) Enhanced brainstem encoding predicts musicians’ perceptual advantages with pitch. EJN, 1-9.

Many thanks to Vicky at Victoria Williamson Psychology UK for post.

Knowledge is Power

I still do not pretend to have any type of adequate knowledge or understanding of what is going on right now in Egypt, but thanks to a friend in the blogosphere, a couple of hours glued to CNN, and the genius of Tweets like these I’m starting to have a firmer grasp. So briefly, a couple of initial thoughts on the events of the past couple weeks:

In terms of revolt, it is almost incomprehensible to see the way youth are banding together. I cannot fathom the ways in which social media and networking are being used for good, and the general forwarding of awareness and connectedness throughout Egypt and the rest of world. With the majority of the demographic landing at age 30 and under, it’s nothing short of incredible as to what young people are accomplishing. Even as the government tries to establish a silence of the people, for maybe one of the first times in history it has become impossible. President Mubarak’s address this evening seems to be just what the foreign correspondents are saying: defiant and frustrating. It will be interesting in the very least to watch the events unfold tomorrow in light of his public decision to remain in power. For one of the best up-to-date providers of real-time info, take a look here.

The following may or may not be accurate representation of what is happening, but I found it incredibly powerful, and worth sharing nonetheless.

“The greatest revolution of our generation is the discovery that human beings, by changing the inner attitudes of their minds, can change the outer aspects of their lives.”

-William James

 

Thanks to http://ktar.com, http://enduringamerica.com, http://ctv.ca, and http://theatlantic.tumblr.com respectively for the photos.

Protège-Moi

Fall 2007, first attempt at directing a music video.

Protège-Moi

Song written and performed by Placebo.

Written and Directed by Diana Hereld.

Photography by Dave Sweetman.

Feat. Luca Sgroi

Story follows young woman’s realization and endurance of schizophrenia.

English translation of the French found here.