In a previous post, I wrote about a college assignment that had us create a narrative about a piece of art based on a 20-minute observation. In the post, I mentioned that it was one of three assignments that have continued to prove helpful for my writing in the years since.
Today, I want to share about the second part of that assignment, which required that we listen to a classical piece from the time period we were studying and paint a picture of the image the music conjured using words.
I chose Rachmaninoff’s “Isle of the Dead,” a beautiful and eery 21-minute piece that takes the listener through emotional mountains and valleys and is filled with thunderous percussion and lighting-esque brass. (You can watch the Singapore Symphony Orchestra play the piece here.)
During that portion of the assignment, we weren’t allowed to look at anything. We just had to listen to the music and write what we heard, felt, and pictured. In the end, it ended up being an incredible practice in separating me from my dependence on the eye.
Then came the third assignment. Listening to the same piece of music we’d written on while observing the original piece of artwork we’d used in our first assignment. Forgetting everything we’d written before, we had to come at both pieces from a fresh perspective and write about what we saw, felt, and heard.
The first time I’d looked at the “Dance of Life,” I saw a moonlight celebration. I’d come to it from a calm and peaceful perspective. The first time I listened to “Isle of the Dead,” I’d pictured an older man who’d lived his life and was facing his final moments surrounded by loved ones.
But, when I put the art and the music together, the scene changed. There was no peace, no celebration of life, no gentle passing into the night. Instead, I witnessed figures ravaged by their own appetites. I’ve never been able to look at the painting the same way since.
The thing I love about these exercises is that they prompt us to look at the same moment in time from different angles. In a sense, it gets us out of the way so that the scene can unfold on its own. It’s also an alternative to sitting the characters down across from each other and asking them questions when they don’t want to co-operate.
Pick a picture that resembles your scene. Pick a song that complements or contrasts it. Then forget what you think you know about your story and see where the art and music take you.
Happy adventuring!
—Jen