Tuesday

“I find the music of Stravinsky artificial and chimerical, rather like the house of a wizard.

Claude Debussy, 1911

The spectra of colors and the music of the spheres sang in their eyes and ears, and all their senses, charmed, combined with one another, melted into the infinite harmony. The eddies of waves and crowds and the beating of their hearts were all a rhythm.

Louise Michel, 1888

Thursday


“One evening, I remember—it was one of the last times I saw her—she talked to me about peacocks. She hated them, and could never bear their presence in the peaceful and silent places in which we lived so inexplicably. I remember that evening, our meeting and the bleak river on which my boat encountered hers. She was there alone. She was weeping. A peacock had perched on the prow, its head and neck mirrored in the water while its tail filled the entire boat with its dazzling profusion. The sad, pale passenger was sitting among the plumes. The longest were dangling in the water at the rear. 

“And as that memory, composed of bleak water between old trees, a slow boat, an imperial bird in the dusk, an unknown and silent woman, was dear to me, I put my head, for the sake of melancholy and tenderness, on Eurydice’s knees. She supported it with her beautiful hands; she seemed to be weighing it. 

 I looked into her eyes; an immemorial sadness veiled them, and I heard her say to me, in an ancient voice, so distant that it appeared to be coming from the other side of the river, the other face of Destiny, she said, in an ancient and veridical voice, so faintly that I could hardly hear it, so faintly that I shall never hear it again: 

“'It was me who, on the river’s edge, one evening, lifted up in my pure and pious hands the head of the murdered Singer, which I carried for days on end, until exhaustion halted me. 

“'On the edge of a peaceful wood where entirely white peacocks were wandering in the shade beneath the trees, I sat down and went to sleep, sensing through my slumber, with grief and joy, the burden of the sacred head that rested on my knees. 

“'But when I awoke, I saw the dolorous head directing the gaze of its red and empty orbits at me. The cruel birds that had pecked out the eyes were stretching their supple necks around me, and smoothing their plumage with their bloody beaks. 

“'My reaction was of horror and sacrilege, and as I started, they had rolled among the frightened and taciturn peacocks, which deployed and displayed, without being aware of it, the extraordinary prodigy that they had become, for their plumes bore, from then on and forever afterwards, instead of their whiteness, imaginary eye-spots and vindicatory gemstones, the veridical emblem of the sacred eyes whose mortal slumber they had profaned...'”

Henri De Regnier, 1897

translated by Brian Stableford

Tuesday

 


“The terrestrial globe is surrounded on all sides by the rustling of the mysterious Ocean, with its powerful waves, and enveloped in the undulating curves of the atmosphere. In the same way it is flooded from one pole to the other from a sea of infinitely diverse sounds, generated by nature. 

“On the eternal snows of the mountains, where the cold has long numbed all life, the icy storms roar, like the sounds of a gigantic organ. In the depths of the earth, the miner hears the rustling of underground currents, the hiss of gases, the monotonous fall of the drop formed by humidity. For thousands of years, from its dark cradle, the human race has heard the voices of creation; but how much has science been powerless until now to explain the origin and purpose of an infinity of these voices?”

Georges Kastner, 1856

Friday

 


Grownups tend to forget that as children they were forbidden to open the insides of their dolls–a crime of high treason against the cause of mystery. Without their dolls to break open they still try to explain things, dismantle them and quite heedlessly kill all their mystery.”

Claude Debussy, 1902

Tuesday

 


“The cries that Doctor Colombat transcribed are of several species and systematically classified.

“There is first the cry determined by the application of fire (PI. I, series A, no. 1), a serious and deep cry running through the interval of a third, followed by the interjection 'ah!'

“There is then the cry determined by the action of a sharp instrument, a very rapid first sound and a very high of the falsetto register on which it extends.

“Nothing is more moving, more terrible than the cry produced by throbbing pain (no. 5). The voice in the high-pitched tremolo is one that the most indifferent man cannot hear without emotion.

“Twice in our life cries of distress of the most heartbreaking effect have struck our ears. The first by a man who voluntarily killed himself, a few years ago, in Versailles, by falling through a window the height of a third floor.

“We passed near the place where he had just come to fall, his fall had been horrible; his limbs were broken: he uttered in a clear and shrill voice a sinister tremolo (no. 6).”

Georges Kastner, 1857

Thursday

 

“We must also observe that the pitch of cries depends on the natural timbre of the voice, and that it is therefore infinitely variable among individuals who utter them in similar circumstances. It is however not impossible, as we will see shortly, to express them approximately by numbers or musical signs. Cries and other affective inflections are, in man, composed of two distinct intonations produced with their various modifications by particular efforts and exaggerated contractions of the vocal organ. 'The sound which is at first serious,' says Doctor Colombat, 'suddenly becomes more or less acute or more or less prolonged, and these two almost simultaneous intonations, the union of which forms the cry, present tonic intervals which are always similar in individuals finding themselves in the same physical and moral conditions, but who change infinitely depending on expression and pain.'”

Georges Kastner, 1857

 


Music can lead me far, and far 

O’er mystical sad seas, 

Where burns my pale, high-hanging star 

Among the mysteries 

Of Pleiades. 


My lungs are taut of sweet salt air; 

The pregnant sail-cloths climb 

The long, gloom-gathering ocean stair. 

I don the chord-shot cloak of Time 

While the waves chime! 


Charles Baudelaire, 1857

Wednesday


"I glimpsed a great light, rather pale, and in this light a magical scene: among jets of water fluttered metallic butterflies, marvelous hangings of them, and the splendor of a strange architecture, towers billowing to the sounds of a singular music sung by men and women of tall stature, whose extreme beauty surprised me."

Charles de Sivry, 1873

Sunday

Harmony is awakening for all of us. Wagner anticipated it in his enormous choirs. Soon will come sequences of notes as intimate as the breath of the wind, and others, on a larger scale; and when, after glissandos that will no longer be audible to our ears, they cover larger distances, this will be an enormous source of musical richness. We have experienced it down here when, after the quarter-tones sounded by the cyclone to the Canaques in one of our distant colonies, a frisson caused the nerves to quiver as if they were the strings of a harp.”

Louise Michel, 1887

Tuesday

 

“The Academy of Sciences in Paris has determined the authenticity of a most surprising fact. It is henceforth established that animals destined for our nourishment, such as sheep, cattle, lambs, horses and cats, retain in their eyes, after the fatal stroke of the butcher’s sledge-hammer, the imprint of the objects of their last gaze. It is a veritable photograph of paving-stones, stalls, gutters and vague figures, among whom can nearly always be distinguished that of the man who strikes them down. The phenomenon lasts until decomposition sets in.”

Auguste Villiers de l'Isle-Adam, 1887

Wednesday

 

We are certainly reincarnated, and each of us has undoubtedly lived several previous existences. A human being dies every second, over the whole surface of the terrestrial globe. In ten centuries, more than thirty billion cadavers have been delivered to the earth and then returned to the general circulation in the form of water, gas, etc, and, little by little, have formed new beings, which the souls of the humans of old have come to inhabit. If the constituent elements of bodies drawn from nature are renewed, each of us bears within himself atoms that have previously belonged to other bodies.”

Jane de la Vaudere, 1896

 

“Do you wish to become acquainted with the hierarchy of Angels, the virtue of Numbers, the explanation of germs and metamorphoses?”

Gustav Flaubert, 1874

 

Strabo speaks of the sound of the sun setting in the sea, between Spain and Africa. Apollo in Greece, like Roudra in India, is represented in the form of an archer-god, who takes his bow and launches his arrows, from which light results. Now, the bow, strongly stretched, resonates; the arrows, crossing space, whistle.

Since Science has not, in short, yet answered our question concerning the essence of the sound phenomenon, let us open the annals of universal Knowledge, the sacred books where the thought of all humanity is condensed. There, we see the contemporary sound of the origin of Things, and all cosmogony agrees to hail it as promoter of the manifestations of the divine will.

Edmond Bailly, 1900

Saturday

 

“No one will ever know how different my music really is from what people think.  Do they realize that I've never heard what I hear in my head, and so often not even what's on the page?"

Claude Debussy, 1911


Wednesday

 

You know that hashish always invokes the magnificence of light, glorious splendors, cascades of liquid gold; all light favors it: that which flows in sheets, that which hangs like straw on points and asperities, the candelabra of salons, the candles of Mary’s month, the rosy avalanches of sunset.”

Charles Baudelaire, 1860

Thursday

 

“Debussy spoke enthusiastically of a rather vague project for which he even asked me to provide an outline. His idea was for a cosmogonic drama, without words or plot, in which invisible singers, soloists and chorus would deliver onomonopoetic syllables, to the accompaniment of lighting effects onstage. The orchestra, which would be hidden beneath the scenery, would symbolically represent clouds, the wind, and the sea.”

Jaques Emile Blanche, 1932

Sunday

A voice from outside: "Ap-raman!"

At these words, a funereal silence fell upon the room, and the door opened by itself.

A specter entered, and what a specter! A gloomy bronze face, a somber, sinister, colossal figure that struck the resonant slabs with its bronze heels. Unlike the other ghosts, it had the advantage of being neither a chimera nor an apparition but a real, solid, and tangible horror that seized you harshly at the core. Its shadow passed slowly and coldly over the foreheads of the guests. It stopped in the middle of the table, cast livid looks over the guests, poured itself a drink into a leaden goblet, which it emptied in one gulp, and blew on the entire banquet as if to extinguish its joy. At this breath, the lights dimmed, the roses wilted in the women's hair, the masks fell, and the faces turned mournful. Indeed, it was the magician's artificial man.

Alphonse Esquiros, 1836

Monday

 

“I receive endless requests to write out lines of music along with my autograph. I don't often give them out. I rather fancy writing out false ones and distributing them. The other day I received a letter from Buenos Aires, in which an American lady made such a request and put 500 francs in the envelope for my reply. I kept the 500 francs and the reply.”

Claude Debussy, 1907


Friday

 

“I could dispense with explaining myself on the actual musicality of my reconstruction, my title of composer covering, at my risk and peril, the result obtained. If I don't stick to this easy attitude, it's because my ideas on the very nature of inspiration are quite different from those generally held. That the artist is, in the proper sense of the word, a creator, I do not believe. It is easier for me to admit the existence of some immense reservoir where, always and forever, by a volitional phenomenon which exceptionally puts in power certain mysterious springs of consciousness, it is given to draw sometimes unto the perfection, in proportion to the quality of the aesthetic sense of the perceiver.

Edmond Bailly, The Song of the Vowels in Invocation to the Planetary Gods, 1912

My thanks to Phil Legard/Larkfall for the MIDI creation

 

From the celestial vault hangs a gigantic spindle, which carries in its eternal course eight orbs of varied colors. On each of these circles sits a Siren 'uttering a single note of her voice, always in the same tone.' It is through the movement of this voice that the movement of the various celestial spheres is accomplished. The sound made by the golden axle of the world, turning on itself, accompanies their hymns. 

“This concert forms the triple voice of time, which tells of the past, the present and the future, and which wise men have sometimes heard on earth by approaching a tomb during the silence of the night.

“From the side of the moon rises a sweet concert; the sounds of the sun are admirable; a voice of thunder comes from Mars, a sweet nightingale song from Jupiter.

“The song of the Siren-birds, souls of the stars, stars themselves, belongs to this class of cosmic harmonies. We can define it even less easily than we can define the voice of the speaking statue, that is to say the sound of the rising sun and the setting sun, the sound of the moon whistling its light through space, the moan of nature shivering in contact with the morning breeze, and the music of the rain falling rhythmically on the ground.

Jean-Georges Kastner, 1858



Tuesday

“Edmond Bailly is an improbable publisher who only puts out things that are of high quality, things that please him, and therefore it is not surprising his business is not going well.”

Ernest Chausson, 1897

Wednesday

“In Wagner's operas, the singers never appear without being accompanied by their damned leitmotif; sometimes they even sing it! This is about as crazy as if someone, in handing you his visiting card, were at the same time to sing what was written on it.

“Can you imagine that in a composition the same emotion can be expressed twice? Either one has never thought about it, or else it is just laziness.

“And four evenings for a play! Does that even seem to you admissible? Don't forget that during those four evenings you will be hearing always the same things. The characters on stage and the orchestra go on exchanging the same themes, and then you arrive at the Twilight of the Gods, which is once again a résumé of everything you have been hearing.

“This is inadmissible for those who like clarity and concision.

“I would like to see, and I will succeed myself in producing, music which is entirely free from 'motifs', or rather consisting of one continuous 'motif' which nothing interrupts and which never turns back on itself. Then we shall have a logical development, concise and deductive; there will be no hasty and superfluous padding in between two repetitions of the same 'motif ' which will be a characteristic and essential part of the work. The development will no longer be a purely material amplification, a rhetorical exercise performed by a well-taught professional, but will have a wider and indeed psychic significance.

Claude Debussy, 1903

Monday

 

“Achille de Bussy does not lapse into banality nor is he platitudinous. On the contrary, he has a pronounced tendency—too pronounced—toward an exploration of the strange.”

Académie Report on Achille de Bussy, 1887



Saturday

 

“I was still on stage when the final curtain had come down, and I saw Diaghilev coming toward me, accompanied by a dark man with a sort of double forehead: it was Claude Debussy.

Igor Stravinsky, 1910

Friday

 

“What he saw happening as he stood back in a detached way was every individual disappearing, dissolving into the mass, melting together with millions of others. Suddenly overnight a young, mighty, titanic being grew into existence, das Volk.

Hanns Heinz Ewers, 1921

Wednesday

 

“In former times, the bells had their role to play in the forbidden sciences. The art of predicting the future from their sounds is one of the least known and most neglected branches of the occult.

J.-k. Huysmans, 1891

Sunday

 


I recommend the bookseller Edmond Bailly to you, that fellow! If you only knew what that little man harbors within himself— eminent knowledge and really very artistic ideas; and he has a tenacity that at times makes mine pale in comparison.”

Claude Debussy, 1893

Wednesday

 


“For years and years, amidst all the problems I have been concerned with, this one has kept me brooding over its mystery. Today a radiant intelligence, Pythagoras, has held out his hand to me across the twenty-five centuries that separate us...”

Edmond Bailly, The Song of the Vowels as Invocation to the Planetary Gods, 1912

Sunday


“The possibility of a war preoccupies everyone. All of Europe is moving toward solutions of violence. We are breathing the oppressive air of l’avant-guerre.”

L'Anarchie, 1912

Tuesday

 


“In the music of Claude Debussy, these chords do not represent a continuity of musical thought; they merely exist in space, or more precisely, in musical time, as if drawn to each other by some astrological influence.”

Edward Lockspieser, 1962

Saturday

 


“I don't see a circle: I only see circles described in one direction or another, what are called cycles. The problem is therefore reduced to this new statement: What are the pleasant directions? What are the unpleasant directions?  In other words: What directions do we associate with pleasure and pain?”

Charles Henry, 1885

Monday

[Victor-ÉmileMichelet says Paul Adam was one of the three or four minds of the Symbolist generation who really grasped what a symbol was and could thereby vivify his work with that perception; the others apparently only acceded to the 'threshold of allegory.' Adam swam deep into 'the oceans of gnostic intellectuality' and knew how to penetrate beyond appearances. 

“'Possessed of prophetic powers, Adam could read into the subterranean wefts beyond nature on 'which were embroidered the events of 1914 and the following years.' That is to say, he predicted World War I and subsequent events. 

“Paul Adam constructed his stories, the lives of his characters, the twists and turns of his dramas that link them into logical sequence, on the tarot. His dramas are the eruptions of invisible reality, symbolized by any manner of combination of the tarot’s seventy-eight cards. And if this all sounds implausible, Michelet reproduced a letter in his Companions of the Hierophany in which, in the most charming French prose, Adam congratulated Michelet on having penetrated his secret: that yes, the tarot had been for him a constructive key, indispensable to a 'thousand intutitions': 'I remain a docile disciple having received the highest recompense of his zeal, that of your approbation. Paul Adam. June 1919.'

Tobias Churton, 2016

Sunday

 

PAUL ADAM

French novelist (1862-1920), important for his LETTERS FROM MALAYSIA (1898) and for having sprinkled his work with small utopian and anticipatory sketches. A dozen of his stories interest us in whole or in part.

In chapter XVI of CLARISSE (1907), a floating factory off the coast of Brest uses the perpetual movement of the sea to produce electricity, which is then stored in “liquid accumulators, jugs of energy which are conveyed worldwide for all purposes.

In USEFUL HEART (1892), we find a communist utopia with phalanstery. Locomotives pull harrows, plows, etc. The workshops are decorated and “functional” music lightens the work.

THE FUTURE TALE (1893) presents in 55 pages a coming war in which, very soon after the start, the combatants fraternize and establish an era of perpetual peace.

Under the title “Future Grandeur de l'Avare (in the collection CRITIQUE DES MOEURS (1893)), we read this: [..] machines which will feed, clothe, heat, refresh and gladden the world by means of the tappings of index fingers on the ivory of motor buttons, and this again, which surpasses everything, in terms of energy: The muscular contractions aroused by the yawns of strolling pedestrians will suffice to produce the initial force immediately stored, condensed, multiplied in receivers established everywhere.

Monday


“There are moments when human genius slumbers. There are others when it is exalted by the fever of creation. Chemistry, physics and biology evolve with a miraculous rapidity, translated before our eyes into such miracles as the ancient poets revered. Without harness, chariots run with a magical speed. Tritons plunge into the bosom of the sea with the submarines. Icariuses fly. Jupiters by the millions manipulate the lightning. Phaetons pass in a day through the spaces of the European sky. Swifter than Iris, the message-bearing thought, entrusted to the waves of an aerial vibration, spreads from Europe to Africa, Asia, America in a fraction of time. 

Did the nymphs of the waterfalls know that they would one day deliver up the force of their waves to the power of a dynamo, that would change them into electric lightning glowing over whole regions?

Paul Adam, 1894


Wednesday

 


“I suppose that a moon-man or an alien from some distant planet, upon arriving at our world, and wearied by his long travels, might seek to refresh his palate and warm his belly.” 

Claude Debussy, 1912

Thursday

 


“Debussy was such an unusual personality. With most geniuses their work, their dreams, color the rest of their lives. It was not so with him. It was as if someone had taken a bit of genius, put it in a box and thrown it violently at his head. It stuck, yes, but it was not a part of him, of his everyday life, his modes of thought.”

Maggie Tetye, 1958

“In the films I made with Liška there wasn’t much action as such. It was he who put all the main action into music. Rhythm was always very important for me, and he found rhythms in them I had no idea were there. It was fascinating. He’d pick out a whole lot of subtler rhythms I was quite unaware of. ‘Unconscious rhythms’ he called them.

Jan Švankmajer, 2000


Link: The Fantastic Mr. Fox: a biographical essay by David Herter

Monday

 

“Debussy was a very, very strange man.”

Mary Garden, 1951


Friday

 


It is the spirit of anarchism that reigns in France in the artistic moment, a need for destruction, a sort of delirium that wants to abolish everything that exists.”

Gabriel Mourey, 1899

Saturday


“'Even with all of this, professor,' he said, 'I still don’t understand, how so suddenly your horrible myth of the stars can somehow become living.'”

Hanns Heinz Ewers, 1921

 


“Imagination is decidedly a very good thing: it allows you to credit people with ideas even more stupid than those they undoubtedly already have.”

Joris-karl Huysmans, 1879


Friday

 

“Debussy uses chords like Mallarmé uses words, as mirrors which concentrate the light from one hundred different angles upon the exact meaning, while remaining symbols of that meaning and not the meaning itself. These strange harmonies are not the end, but the point of departure of the composer's intentions. They are the loom upon which the imagination must weave its own fantasies.”

T.E. Clark,  1921


 

Tuesday



“The Epoch to come will be mystical. Mystic and theistic. It will inaugurate the miracle of man disdaining pain, abstracted in imaginative dreams, in the habitual hallucination, returned to the primitive and divine essence, become also creator, creator of his ecstasies and his Heavens.”

Paul Adam, 1893

Wednesday

 


It had come to this: no one was safe from inventions that leapt out from ambush onto humankind. The sporadic arrival of new inventions was like the epidemics of earlier centuries that had ravaged humanity, emptied cities...The tamed masses conducted themselves peaceably in the zones; were allowed to shout: 'Down with new inventions!' Their hostility made it easier for the new rulers to reintroduce quotas for incoming technologists and scientists, and to secure their own position. A circle of cities and regional zones emerged. London, ever watchful, kept a close eye on them. But the rulers of the cities, handed great power by popular support, sat there scornful and arrogant, men and women both, and laughed. Laughed at the trust the people placed in them; of course they’d help to ensure that the ground the cities stood on would not be undermined by new inventions. Laughed: 'We won’t let them undermine you. If only you knew what ground it is you stand on.'

Alfred Doblin 1924


Please remember, monsieur, that the triangle is not a sentimental instrument.” 

Claude Debussy, 1909

Tuesday

“Where am I?”  

“Very far from your tottering globe, which you will never see again, very far from your sad sun, which is dying slowly in the bosom of its cold planets. Your worlds have fallen into the gaping depths of the immensity, and you would search in vain for Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn and Uranus. All those children of darkness have returned to eternal oblivion.”

Jane de La Vaudère, 1893


 

“She seemed to be undulating in the caresses of the nocturnal star, a jealous watcher.”

Édouard Schuré, 1897

Friday

“Verlaine, Mallarmé, Laforgue brought us new tones, new sounds. They cast glimmers on the words that had not yet been seen; they used methods unknown to the poets their predecessors; they conceived the verses or the prose like musicians and, like musicians again, combined the images and their sound correspondence.”

 Paul Dukas, 1921


Thursday

“O solemn procession of magnificent suns

Knot and unknot your great, golden masses,

Gently, sadly, to somber music

Conduct your sleeping sister's slow cortege.

Jules Laforgue, 1890

Wednesday

“It’s devoutly to be wished that this ardor for finding ways of bringing art before the public should be cooled, otherwise there will soon be more fake artists than real art—and I’m not even certain this moment hasn’t already arrived.”

Claude Debussy, 1891