z Kostelanetz, Richard – Conversing With Cage, 2nd ed (2003)
cage, 83
I’m on the side of keeping things mysterious, and I have never enjoyed
understanding things. If I understand something, I have no further use for it. So I try to make a
music which I don’t understand and which will be difficult for other people to understand, too.
cage, 85
I like art to remain mysterious. I find that as long as a book or a painting or a piece of music is
not understood by me that I can use it. I mean use it in order to employ my faculties. If I
understand something I can put it on a shelf and leave it there. In the past I thought it had to do
with the feeling in Europe of a tradition or the history, whereas we here in America have very
little sense of history.
!!! cage, 72
I have from time to time, either for myself or for others, made statements that are like manifestos.
You know this is popular in the field of the arts—to say in a manifesto-style statement what
distinguishes the contemporary or modern thing from what isn’t. The first time I was asked to do
it, I did it with regard to painting.
I said that a painting was modern if it was not interrupted by
the effect of its environment—so that if shadows or spots or so forth fell on a painting and spoilt
it, then it was not a modern painting, but if they fell on it and, so to speak, were fluent with it,
then it was a modern painting.
Then, of course, I have said the same thing about music. If the music can accept ambient sounds
and not be interrupted thereby, it’s a modern piece of music. If, as with a composition of
Beethoven, a baby crying, or someone in the audience coughing, interrupts the music, then we
know that it isn’t modern. I think that the present way of deciding whether something is useful as
art is to ask whether it is interrupted by the actions of others, or whether it is fluent with the
actions of others.
What I have been saying is an extension of these notions out of the field of the
material of the arts into what you might call the material of society. If, for instance, you made a
structure of society that would be interrupted by the actions of people who were not in it, then it
would not be the proper structure.
^ aliens, my art, open work, participative, ….theory building
cage, 77
I think the history of art is simply a history of getting rid of the ugly by entering into it, and using
it. After all, the notion of something outside of us being ugly is not outside of us but inside of us.
And that’s why I keep reiterating that we’re working with our minds. What we’re trying to do is
to get them open so that we don’t see things as being ugly, or beautiful, but we see them just as
they are.
cage, 66
Formerly, one was accustomed to thinking of art as something better organized than life that
could be used as an escape from life. The changes that have taken place in this century, however,
are such that art is not an escape from life, but rather an introduction to it.
cage, 1978 – on improvised jazz
Aside from the question of rhythmic regularity, one of the reasons for my reticence regarding
jazz has to do with its conception and use of improvisation. This matter of improvisation has
always greatly concerned me. What I have never appreciated in improvisation is the return to
memory or to taste: the return of things that have been learned or to which one has become
accustomed—sometimes consciously, deliberately, sometimes insidiously. Phrases thought to be
original are only articulations heard a long time ago. In improvisation, when you think you are
following your own direction, most of the time you are following someone else’s line. At the
most, that is not what bothers me so much as the desire for uniqueness that appears in the act of
improvising. Once you realize the number of obstacles and of more or less deliberate references
that the improviser is struggling with, you can only smile at the claim to originality. The desire
for originality seems to be one of the great myths of jazz (and of a good part of contemporary
music in the classic tradition as well, for that matter). And it seems that not even “free jazz”
escapes this. I am bothered by these disproportionate assertions of the ego when I hear them. For
my own part, I do not look for originality. Whether or not my music is original does not concern
me. I would prefer to find a music separate from my memory and my tastes, which would in
some way be a discovery for me, and that has nothing to do with originality, because intention is
not involved. (Originality is always an effort, a state of tension. ) With an open-mindedness
toward the unintentional sound, I want not to control sound events but simply at most to write
instructions. That is why I’m against improvisation as it is usually understood (even if I
sometimes use it, because nothing should be prohibited!). [..]
The problem that jazz raises for me, at the level of rhythm, I repeat, is that I am bothered by its
regularity. I prefer the rhythm of what I call silence where sound can be born at any time.
cage, 1979 – silence & there’s always sound
I made a decision in the early fifties to accept the sounds that are in the world. Before that I had
actually been naive enough to think there was such a thing as silence. But I went into an
anechoic chamber in Cambridge, at Harvard University, and in this room I heard two sounds. I
thought there was something wrong with the room, and I told the engineer that there were two
sounds. He said describe them, and I did. “Well, ” he said, “the high one was your nervous
system in operation and the low one was your blood circulating. ” So that means that there is
music, or there is sound, whether I intend it or not.
cage, 1979 – silence & composing
What silence is is the change of my mind. It’s an acceptance of the sounds that exist rather than a
desire to choose and impose one’s own music. That has been at the center of my work ever since
then. I try when I make a new piece of music to make it in such a way that it doesn’t essentially
disturb the silence which already exists.