Two Scenarios

Two Scenarios. Both of these were interesting to think about today.

Setting 1: At a hospital in Garches, France, located in a Western suburb of Paris. In the hospital is a blue, sensuous, and relaxing room designed by Italian artist Ettore Spalletti.

Characters: A composer who has experiences with death from a young age – brother, relatives – and in whose work he has explored the idea of memorializing someone with music. He has attempted to capture a moment in a relationship with a person so that he would never forget it. He has thought about expressing through music a feeling of rage at finding out that someone died and knowing that time will eventually temper the heat.

A group of doctors, momentarily removed from the clinical elements of their profession, had decided to provide a space for a certain subclass of mourners. They commissioned a space, essentially a morgue, where the last memory of your loved one wouldn’t be in a bright white sterile light peddling an image of eternal defeat.

These mourners didn’t have time to prepare for their loved ones instantaneous deaths on the road, on the way to work or the store. They essentially didn’t have a chance to grieve.

What does the music in the room sound like? How would I approach such a commission?

David Lang P.O.V. – three cellos, has unending vocal parts that no singer can sing (no breath), mourners can turn off the music, music lasts a certain amount of time, accomplishes its tasks, and then stops and, for mourners that want to stay longer, well, that is a negotiation between the mourner and the silence. The environment (space and music) does not tell you how to feel but it may loosen your resolve enough to give yourself permission to feel whatever you want at the moment. It’s ok if you don’t want to be strong or if you do.

The interview made me think of Maya Lin’s entry for the Vietnam War Memorial, what she had hoped to accomplish and staying with her vision.

Setting 2: First paragraph of Nabokov’s “Speak, Memory.” The abyss, our common sense, and existential panic from watching home movies of our world before we even existed.