The demands of art

And so as I was playing the Scarlatti Sonata no. 31, which ought to have been going pretty smoothly but wasn’t, I was stressing about how I’d have to post this shoddy performance in my concert write-up, because I’d committed to posting all the Scarlatti performances—when there suddenly occurred to me an intriguing, even compelling alternative possibility: 

What if, instead of posting every single Scarlatti rendition, I…didn’t?

This might sound silly: of course I don’t have to. But the thing about art, like most human endeavors to impose order on experience, is while nothing is necessary—this entire project is optional—that very optionality creates an existential vacuum that gives the seemingly voluntary artistic aims and conditions an urgency, a compulsory power. Having made a plan to post all the Scarlatti performances, deciding not to feels like a big deal.

This might seem like a form of perfectionism or purism, but that’s not quite it.* It’s more a concern that acknowledging that any one aspect of the project is not obligatory might open the entire project to question. It exposes the truth that none of this has to happen, which aside from anything else risks upending the sense of obligation that is sometimes necessary to keep going. 

I’m not saying that every single aspect I ever contemplated is indispensable. I’m happy with my decision to pick and choose the Scarlatti I post from now on: I think it will let me be in the moment for the Scarlatti and may well result in a better overall musical experience. I’m just saying that letting go of any of an artwork’s aspirations is not a decision that can be made lightly.

*If you’re not convinced this isn’t just perfectionism, consider instead the central goal of playing every town. What if I had set a goal of playing half the towns in Vermont? That could be a thing, I guess, but it would be a whole lot less compelling. Or all the towns of over 500 people...that would at least provide some logic, but it would be more than a little less cool.