The Point of Art

I have been involved with my son Jack’s music studies since he was a toddler going to GymMusic classes. More specifically, I have been part of his piano career since his first lesson on January 24, 2009, just over 17 years ago.

Jack was recently talking to me and exploring “the point of art.” Jack’s thought (above)
is very much a work in progress, and I am sure that he will continue to ponder the personal question: “What is the point of art?” or additionally, “What is the point of being a performing artist…or classical pianist?”

At the outset, I should clarify that I am not a musician. However, I am an engaged parent who has literally attended hundreds of Jack’s piano lessons, oboe lessons, and performances.

I find Jack’s observation about “the point of art” to be intriguing due to what it fails to mention.

There is nothing in Jack’s observation about getting art “right,” doing art “correctly,” or “fixing” art.

That really piques my curiosity given that Jack spends most of his time as a pianist trying
to fix his playing, to get it right, or to do it correctly. Over the years, this has become progressively more draining and diminishing for him. Jack believes on a deep, fundamental level that this elusive “right” exists. I have attended hundreds of piano lessons, listened to countless practice sessions, and watched Jack visibly wilt as he tried harder and harder to achieve “right.” I have witnessed Jack struggle to reconcile his own, innate desire to express himself in a unique way with “right.”

Cynically, I have observed how teachers advise students against striving for perfection. But “right” is a pretty sneaky substitute – different word, same emotional load.

I think that this is part of being a performing artist in general. There is a lot of pressure on all performing artists to get it right.

However, my observation is that this pressure is heavier in classical music. It is built on
centuries of trying to do right by composers who lived hundreds of years ago. Jack is going to eventually write his own Substack articles on this topic, so I am going to leave the scholarly discussion of classical music to him.

As someone who seeks to understand others, I do feel the need to make one observation
here. I personally think that composers like Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven, to name only a few, would be very disappointed to know that, in today’s world, people are trying to play their music “correctly” according to ideas about what they might have wanted in centuries long gone. It is my understandingthat Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven (and many other well-known composers) were rule-breakers themselves. Do music scholars and teachers really know how composers from bygone eras would enjoy hearing their music today, in the present moment? I don’t think so.

I recently came across a piece of music that Jack played many years ago from a set called 3 Hommages by the American composer Robert Helps (1928-2001). Jack played the first piece in this set: “Hommage à Fauré.” Talk about a gorgeous piece of music! Here is what Helps wrote in his “Notes” about his set:

“I am often unhappy in committing myself to definitive ‘expressive’ markings, and I feel
much more strongly about this in some of my pieces than in others. In the present 3 Hommages, for instance, I felt quite uncomfortable about No. 1[“Hommage à Fauré”]. The theme and its three variations present so many possibilities that I would like to urge the performer to feel the piece out a great many different ways and then perhaps let each performance dictate the expressive conditions for him as it unfolds.”

Wow…what abreath of fresh air! A pianist could perform “Hommage à Fauré” differently over time. There is no one “right” way – at least according to the composer. Ironically, when Jack learned this piece, he spent a lot of time “fixing” things in order to get it “right” for a competition.

Before Jack started at CIM, I commissioned Israeli pianist and composer Guy Mintus to
compose a piano piece for him. It’s called “Home Anchored Within.” Hopefully you have heard Jack play this piece (it’s on his YouTube channel). Guy included an improvisatory section as part of the piece. This means that every time Jack plays it, the piece will be different, because he will never improvise the sameway twice.

To me, this is the point of art…to perform with creativity, imagination, and spontaneity.
Not to be locked tightly in a box of “right,” “correct,” and “need to fix.”

It goes without saying that Jack is my favorite musical artist. With that being said, my favorite band is Nirvana. One of Nirvana’s most beloved performances was MTV Unplugged in New York. I have so many favorite moments from that performance. One of my top favorites occurred before Kurt Cobain played “Pennyroyal Tea.” Before playing, Kurt said, “Am I gonna do this…by myself? Okay, well, I think I’ll try it in a different key. I’ll try it in the normal key, and if it sounds bad, these people [the audience members] are just gonna have to wait and we’ll do it over, okay?”

Kurt then proceeded to give one of the most raw, haunting, beautiful performances of all
time, in my opinion. It touched – and continues to touch – the souls of many, many people.

I’m bringing this up because Kurt was deciding in the moment the key in which he was going to play. He was also not bothered about potentially having to start the piece over from the beginning. I can’t believe anything remotely like this would ever be done at a classical piano recital. For example, at Jack’s Junior Recital in 2025, what if he had paused before playing his Bach “Fugue,” and addressed the audience? What if he had been honest and said, “I feel terrified about playing this fugue, so I’m going to take a breath and play it a bit slower than the usual tempo.” Bach’s works do not have tempo markings, after all. Why isn’t any tempo acceptable? Or what if you could change the tempo depending on how you were feeling in the moment? Who has decided how fast Bach’s fugues need to be played anyway? Why couldn’t Jack address the audience and bring them into his world as Kurt did that day? And let’s not forget another important question: How can Jack truly express himself creatively if he is terrified?

I have gone to many rock/pop concerts in my life. One of the best parts of any live
performance in these genres is that the performers purposely do things differently from the recorded versions of their songs. They are constantly improvising. As an audience member, it’s exhilarating to hear something new and different that you will never hear again. There is no “right,” – only music happening in real time. It’s a tangible feeling of aliveness.

One of my favorite pieces of music that Jack has played is Mozart’s Piano Sonata No. 14
in C minor, K. 457. The third movement is my favorite – it has a bit of a “Nirvana” vibe for me. Anyway, I don’t like that it has to be played so fast. As a listener, you miss so much due to the speed. I’m lucky – I got to hear Jack learn this piece, so I heard it played slowly. Why can’t Jack play that movement more slowly sometimes? It is insane to think that Mozart would be bothered. How can there be one “right” tempo for everyone in every situation?

When musical artists cover the songs of other artists, they create entirely new versions of
the songs with their own signature stamps. Think of Johnny Cash’s cover version of Nine Inch Nails’ “Hurt.” Or, indeed, Nirvana’s cover versions of the Meat Puppets’ songs during the Unplugged performance. The Meat Puppets wereliterally on stage with Nirvana, and the songs were completely different from their original versions. The Meat Puppets were not offended! And they certainly were not telling the Nirvana members to “fix” anything. Why can’t Jack cover Mozart’s K. 457 in this spirit? Why does he have to play it the same way it was played hundreds of years ago…and the way it is played by thousands of pianists in today’s modern times? Jack should at least have the option to interpret it in
his own way without feeling terrified to do so.

There are many pieces of music that, to me, are the epitome of “art”: “Pennyroyal Tea” is one and another one is Jack’s performance of Alexander Scriabin’s Piano Sonata No.
2 in G-sharp minor, Op. 19, “Sonata-Fantasy.” Now I know that you have not heard Jack’s Scriabin performance, because he is too insecure about its “rightness” to post it publicly on YouTube.

It’s such a shame, because his performance truly transcends words. The vibe is remarkable – real, sensitive, tortured, triumphant and still standing at the end – like Jack
himself at that time (and now, frankly, as he works to complete his bachelor’s degree).
Jack recorded this piece in March 2020, right before the pandemic hit. It will forever be imprinted on my soul, and I could not care less about whether any human being, including Jack, would judge it as being “right.” The mere thought of anyone giving Jack things to “fix” about this piece makes my blood boil. It is so much more than “right” could ever be.

That’s something there: Art is so much more than “right” could ever be.

My feelings about “Pennyroyal Tea” and Jack’s Scriabin performance tie back to Jack’s
observation at the beginning of this article. When I listen to those pieces, I deeply feel something about humanity that cannot be expressed easily in words. The music exists as it is – it does not need analysis or fixing.

Again, I think that the pressure to “get it right” is very real for all performing artists. Before playing “Pennyroyal Tea,” Kurt also said, “Okay, but here’s another one [a song] I could screw up.” This absolutely breaks my heart, because Kurt did anything but “screw up” that song. My heart breaks even worse when I hear my son, who has created so much joy, gratitude, and beauty with his piano playing since age five, be so caught up in “fixing” and “getting it right.” This mindset has caused Jack a great deal of pain and anguish since he was in middle school and continues to the present day, no matter how golden his smile after a performance.

We need to encourage all performing artists to orient toward creativity, imagination, and
possibilities. That is when they will be most open energetically to learning new things and to exploring their understanding of their art more deeply. When artists, especially students, orient toward “getting it right” and “fixing,” there are mostly limitations and the opinions of others. Of course, students have things to learn and skills to gain, but they cannot do so when they are drained and diminished (or terrified).

Bottom line: During performances, I believe that the music will come out in the only way
that it can in the moment anyway. Why does there have to be so much suffering during the learning process? What if this suffering is optional?

I encourage Jack and his colleagues to see if they can take a few steps back from “getting
it right” so that they can unlock the unique possibilities that exist in art. Every artist adds their singular magic to our human experience – it is inspiring when you remember that.

I will look forward to Jack’s own articles on this tender subject that absolutely needs to be brought to the light and discussed in a supportive way.