What Happens Next? is a blog/newsletter/manifesto in which I (Jacob Schnitzer) publicly grapple for a Reimagination of the cultural output we create as makers of classical music. If you find the discussion stimulating, please feel free to share it with friends. Thank you for reading!
Ritual as Transformational Space
For almost a year, I have been on a quest to discover why live music has such visceral power. In contemplating music as performance—an action that musicians do in the presence of an audience—I began to more widely consider a similar phenomenology amongst many other genres of performance: a religious service, political rally, sporting event, or spelling bee; the coliseum, the house of worship, the classroom, the theatre . In each of these realms of human activity, the audience member walks into a space, experiences something that is dissimilar with their usual daily experience, then walks back out. In other terms, leaves their ordinary life to enter an extraordinary ritual space, bound by place and time in which a ritual act occurs, then returns to the world they left.
The anthropologist and actor Victor Turner1 attributed to ritual space a “liminal” quality. Ritual is characterized by periods of
“separation, transition, and incorporation. The first phrase of separation clearly demarcates sacred space and time…. During the the intervenening phrase of transition…. the ritual subjects pass through a period and area of ambiguity… “incorporation” includes symbolic phenomena and actions which represent the return of the subjects to their new, relatively stable, well-defined position in total society.”
“Liminality” is characterized by the dissolution of social hierarchy, norms, and taboo which—Turner defines this reversal with the term “anti-structure”; its “ludic” or playful quality; sensory experiences that fall outside of the ordinary (often in the forms of special music, incense, visual stimuli, words, or drugs); an ever-changing state of being, full of liquidity and sense of “flow”; and a feeling of togetherness with the other participants of the ritual which Turner defines as “communitas”.
Turner refers to quasi-liminal phenomena that occur in post-industrial and secular societies not as “liminal” but “liminoid”. In Turner’s lexicon, “liminoid” qualities emerge when blurring ritual with the modern arenas of work, play, leisure, and entertainment. Turner would describe sporting events, award dinners, theatre, and art as “liminoid” as compared to the purely sacred “liminal” phenomena that he documented in pre-industrial societies, most notably in his research of the Ndembu people of Zambia*.
*Turner’s research of the Ndembu people undoubtedly has a messy legacy that is worth considering. One can not help but to notice Turner’s colonialist gaze; and yet, it is clear that Turner feels a great deal of respect towards the people whose lives he documents. It is no surprise that Turner had to leave modern Britain in order to discover fundamental truths about ritual experience.
A “liminal” or “liminoid” space exists between the world we currently live in and a world we aspire to manifest. In that sense, it is true that rituals have power to create desired outcomes in the world. This may sound like high-minded, religious, or hippie stuff; I assure you it’s not. Even in modern secular life, we enact ritual for its power: consider why we offer students in black robes a rolled up piece of paper upon graduation; why a judge dons a robe and bangs a gavel to deliver Justice; why two people say the magic words “I do” in front of their loved ones to; why the citizens of Boston dress up in red, white, and navy to watch their warriors fight the black-and-white pinstriped warriors of New York; why we go to the theater; why we listen to music at the concert hall.
Concert as Ritual
This begs the question: what kind of world do we seek to manifest by performing a concert? And what are the tools we need to use in getting the job done? Fortunately, I was offered good advice by someone who knows best.
Three days before the most recent summer solstice, I met a self-identified witch who changed my relationship to art forever. Unsurprisingly, she is also an artist in the theatre whose practice is closely linked to the act of creating ritual; “making rituals is all I do”, she told me. I asked her a simple question: “how does one channel the power of ritual for an audience?”
She shared with me the following explanation which I will paraphrase for you here:
1) Intention is at the heart of every ritual and will shape the mutual experience of the participants.
2) The ritual invites the participants into a liminal space. The participant knows that they have entered the liminal space as their senses (sights, sounds, smells, tastes, feelings) change; it may be useful to give the participant a token so that they recognize they have entered.
3) This is where the magic goes. The magic should have a beginning, a middle, and an end. In the magic there is repetition. It often builds to a climactic/cathartic release.
4) The participants leave the space having been changed by their experience.
Is this list missing anything? I’ve wracked my brain for months about it, and can’t think of anything. If you can, please comment on this post or write to me at jacob.schnitzer@gmail.com. I’m eager to learn from you.
It’s not hard to see how this all applies in the concert hall or theater. Mentally walk through the doors of the last concert hall you went to. You must have gone for a reason, with some intention. You walked through the doors and found your seat. Something happened on stage. In the end, were you changed? If so, why? If not, why not?
Now, let’s see how each of these ritual components apply to the act of experience concerts:
1) Intention is at the heart of every ritual
Some audience members come with an intention to share an experience with others. Others come with the intention to have a nice evening with a loved one (or to impress a date). A few might come because they were told it was good for them. A rocky start.
If you measure success by attendance, some of the most successful concerts come with very clear intentions. Think of the Boston Pops Fourth of July at the Esplanade (to celebrate a holiday), the BBC Proms (to celebrate the creativity of a nation), Woodstock (peace, love, fuck the patriarchy/government/suburbia/society), Queen at Wembley Stadium (to glimpse Freddie Mercury, a living god on earth). But in classical music, few concerts concerts are motivated by clear intention.
Here’s our first big question to ponder: how might we as concert producers shape the intention of our audiences? It requires immense programming discipline to build shows that have purpose, but it is possible. Once the purpose is clear, then it becomes an exercise in marketing, communications, and the overall framing of an event so that audiences come into their experience with intention. Difficult. But just imagine what it could mean to truly harness this power.
2) The ritual invites the participants into a liminal space.
A liminal space in ritual is situated between two worlds, the world of the participant before the ritual and the world of the participant afterwards. In classical music, the liminal space is a concert hall.
Recall that “the participant knows that they have entered the liminal space as their senses change”. Think about how unimaginatively this plays out at a classical concert. The room, like many places of worship, is prettier than the world outside of it. That’s about all we do well. We “give the participant a token so that they recognize they have entered”, though it is unfortunately a cheaply printed booklet filled with luxury watch advertisements, essays about tonight’s program, and a little envelope with which you can make a donation, pretty please. The room might smell like carpet shampoo. It tastes like three year old cough drops.
What would it mean to invite an audience into a space that means something? How would one modulate the senses of the audiences in a way that carried that intent? How would it look, sound, taste, smell, feel? Take a few moments to think about the possibilities (or go back and read one of my previous essays that addresses some of this topic). Now we’re cooking with fire.
3) This is where the magic goes
This is what classical musicians do best. We sing, we play, we make music together. But we must never lose sight that we make music for the audience! Whatever our magic is, we should create it with the aim of transforming our audience in some way; that, after all, is what ritual is for.
For our music/magic to have its greatest power, it should retain a sense of unity, have “a beginning, a middle, and an end… repetition… [and often] cathartic release”. Once again, this requires great immense programming discipline. At its best, a program can feel like a unified object, the inevitability of a singular narrative thrust. Very difficult. But worth it.
4) The participants leave the liminal space having been changed by their experience.
Now comes the measure of our ritual. Simply put: when the audience walks out of the hall, have they been changed? It’s a brutal standard to measure to. But think of how different the world of classical music would be if we aspired to truly change people through their experiences with our work! We would make deeper artistic choices. Aim higher. Include the audience. Have something to say. Dig in. Do the work. Change lives.
That’s art I can get behind.
Jacob Schnitzer is a conductor, composer, director, producer, and interdisciplinary collaborator. He is Co-Artistic Director and Executive Director of Density512 in Austin, TX, and a Doctoral student at the UMKC Conservatory. Find him on social media @JacobSchnitzer or at jacobschnitzer.com.
Turner, Victor. From Ritual to Theatre: The Human Seriousness of Play (1982), PAJ Publications paperback: ISBN 0-933826-17-6