One Hand
Clapping:
The Taoe of Music
WholeArts and
The Psychic Internet is proud to present the
"Preface" and "Part One" of this
remarkable book by Daniel d'Quincy. "One Hand
Clapping: The Tao of Music," originally published by
WholeArts in 1991, is a book-length essay on the
performance of music from the perspective of Eastern
philosophy and religion. Mr. d'Quincy is a noted
composer, musician, author, inventor, educator, speaker,
and photographer. Please visit his unique music sites at WholeArts: syNThony, and the WholeArts Online Music Conservatory.
Page 15
In short, let us
speak to our actual experience as people and as
musicians. Let us speak in terms that reflect our own
immediate perceptions. It’s true, we shall also have
to consider the factors of conditioning that color those
perceptions. But, first and foremost, we want to remember
the living reality of making music, and our
all-encompassing aim ultimately is to make ever more
beautiful and meaningful music.
The aspiring
musician asks, then, “How do you play music; how
should I play music?” This is a very personal way of
putting it, and so lets get personal in trying to answer
it. There is no approach more direct than this. Let us
ask first:
“Who is
asking the question?”
Or, to put it
another way, “Who is playing the music?” The
importance of this question may not be immediately
apparent. Consider, then, the possible difference in
practice between regarding yourself, for instance, either
simply as a natural talent, or rather instead as a
product of culture and education. Differing rights and
privileges might accrue to one or the other of these
positions. Which are you? Both? If both, is one of these
to be considered of greater significance than the other?
We want to be
careful about this question. Facile answers of any kind
won’t do. And there are many. For instance, we may,
with very little thoughtful consideration, regard
ourselves to be mere vessels of a force from above or
beyond the earthly plane. How often do we hear the
celebrity crooner declaring in interviews that
“It’s God making this music, not me”? This
is a lot of blame to attach even to divinity, which may
or may not be able to take it.
Moreover, this
position leaves us once again to deduce that art and
music reflect a private kind of revelation. Accordingly,
God speaks to me, and then I convey the substance of it
to you (interpreting where necessary, filling in the
blanks, etc.). Writ large, this is the Wagnerian approach
to art, and it is not for just everybody and anybody.
Even the Super Hero himself barely carried it off, dying
bitter and defeated. The role requires immense reserves
of dramatic self-importance, and they are inevitably
mostly squandered to no effect whatever. But, in lesser
degrees, and with various qualifications, it nevertheless
constitutes a common ground of thinking on this subject
for artists in general in western culture. It will be
seen that this attitude is the categorical opposite of
the attitude that arises quite naturally in the artistic
consciousness of the East.
But what is most
disturbing about a hasty conclusion such as this is that
it presents an obstacle to further inquiry. If we begin
and end with God, the aspiring musician is left with a
dazzling hope, but with not much more. Making great music
is explained as a matter of “Amazing Grace,”
and that’s that. Of course, this is an idea that has
some merit. From the aesthetician’s point of view,
one could presumably go on to probe the nature of God as
revealed in art. But this would take us right into the
domain of pure abstraction that we have determined to
avoid here. (Next
Page)
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