“The situation is hopeless – but not serious” is often wrongly attributed to the Viennese writer and satirist Karl Kraus. Whatever its authenticity, it has been used to characterise perplexing times and attitudes and appears as the title of a vaguely funny American comedy movie from the 1960s. The idea of the film is based on a fictional communication with people who are prevented from verifying truth independently. In their isolation they behave like Kindergarten children. Twice removed this plot could possibly be of some philosophical interest.
Recent pandemic fears Down Under have seen the imposition of restricted movement and gathering. While the government has not mandated closure of educational institutions and allows people to travel to their work places when work cannot be accomplished at home, the Sydney Conservatorium of Music closed its doors categorically, ostensibly for the safety and protection of “our community”- a suitably vague reason to justify doing nothing for a while. As a law-abiding citizen, I always thought the government did quite well in protecting our community and no vigilante action in addition to what governments mandate is really required. After all, basic freedoms are already rigorously restricted in our community and an end is not in sight.
Be that as it may, the original reason why the building is closed interests me more. Here an earlier, official communication suggested that the Conservatorium was a hospitality venue of the University. The relevant Government Health Order defines as a hospitality venue ..”(a) casinos, (b) food and drink premises, (c) micro-breweries, small distilleries holding a drink on-premises authorisation under the Liquor Act 2007 and cellar door premises, (d) pubs, (e) registered clubs, (f) small bars.”
Although no enemy of the spiritual drop, I had no idea that the Conservatorium in Sydney had achieved such levels of sophistication and had become significant for its consumption of alcohol or perhaps gambling. Did the brass department operate a micro-brewery? The Opera School a registered club? Jazz ensembles small bars? Music education a casino? Admittedly, I work with many who resemble gamblers. Vague in their conception, hazarders tend to double their blind effort in response to “hit and miss”. The attitude to act or play without thought or sense what might happen is widespread. It is also the cause of much of our anxiety. Naturally, we must respond to anxiety with empathy. Yet, anyone with a habit of acting thoughtlessly, without competent anticipation or thoughtful intent is right to be anxious. Even if such a person is randomly successful, the cause of their achievement remains obscure and real confidence of action is never achieved. The art of musical performance is a tough and comprehensive teacher.
Talking about clear thinking: What are the results of the rigid closure of the Conservatorium in Sydney? Well, I do need to qualify. The building is somewhat accessible for staff to collect stuff or conduct work which cannot be done otherwise. In that, the Conservatorium is in agreement with its University where the main library can be accessed and work that cannot be done otherwise at home can be done with swipe card access to relevant spaces by students and academics. However, let’s spare a thought for the students at the Conservatorium. Many of them genuinely cannot practice at home either because their four flatmates, five brothers or six sisters are having simultaneous zoom meetings trading in bitcoin, watching soccer or talking to their PhD supervisor. In such closed environments, hospitality noise for four or five hours a day is just not tolerable. Students, particularly international or interstate students, also may not have a relevant instrument at their disposal. Whatever the issue- they remain locked out!
Now here is the vaguely funny turn. Paganini would be unphased by the closure. The legendary violinist was a figure of much perplexity and mystique, some of which he no doubt cultivated as it enhanced his marketing value. In particular, the popular myth that he did not practice as the devil had instructed him in the art, excited the curiosity of his frenzied public more than any pandemic media report. Some contemporaries tried to stalk and spy on Paganini during his travels to discover the secrets of his playing. In one instance, and after six months of following him around, a fanatical English admirer managed to peep through a keyhole into Paganini’s room. He saw the violinist lift his violin only to see him “barely touch the instrument’s strings: he played soundlessly , controlling his performance solely with the internal ear.” (Dina Kirnarskaya, The Natural Musician, 160). Today this method is known as silent or mental practice or sometimes as “visualisation”. It is widely applied in competitive sports, less so by musicians who perhaps prefer to gamble. So, in a vaguely funny way, the closure of a Conservatorium as a gambling venue might be a courageous act, a visionary act even, as musicians need a reminder that the practice of clear imagination, intentionality and anticipation advances performance and virtuosity. It might also be a vaguely funny way to remind “our community” that the basis of proper action must be clear thinking and integrity of communication. A serious challenge inside a microbrewery or a kindergarten, but not hopeless at a University, one should think.