Not all of my inspirations are alive. I dance with ghosts. The joining of, the combined effect of, partners, a duo, my collaborator, two ships sailing together: a consortium. This entry is about mystique. I am thinking of my own need for consort, along with this weird awareness of that I’ve already formed this sort of consortium with dead people! Well it’s a little odd to say it but, I don’t merely study historical figures but I imagine them listening to my music now or what they would say if they could. There may be one small problem though with all this. They’re dead.
I loved Charlie Chaplin’s work, Gene Wilder, Harry Partch. A consortium, though, (my ghosts) would be a dynamic group presumably with a sensible plan. Jacqueline du Pré, a fiercely visual cellist who died in 1987. Of course I never knew these people in real life (ghost) but to their combined sound and sight, and so weirdly passionate and playful not as entertainment but as an artistic-obsession.
This same aura was true of pianist Glenn Gould who died in 1982. He wore coats and gloves in summer, would hide out, wrote reviews about himself, and played piano with his dog. He traveled with an old chair as a spouse. He groaned while playing and would play with one hand while conducting that hand with his other hand. He was mistaken for a homeless person. He created alter egos so he could insult himself and write scathing reviews of his own work.
I read that Gould took an anhistorical view of art. This means he did not adhere to the idea that history is a simple timeline; i.e. Fluxus after Dada which came after Classical which came from… like that. They say that Mr. Gould was both in the past and in the future all at the same time. He loved and hated. He said, more or less, that he was not responsible for himself.