Happy Academic New Year; do you have any resolutions?
My main resolution is to maintain a superstitious suspicion towards volunteering, so that I don't take on too much. I'm again involved with the School for Designing a Society in Urbana, and also working (probably as a substitute teacher, which is its own creative performance project(!)), and also maintaining & agitating long distance collaborations & mere communications with many.
I shall articulate a resolution implicit in the title, "Xenharmonic Praxis," which was a title I came up for a class proposed back in January and which I'm finding more and more to be the title of a larger scale project.
I ususally say, "I am interested in microtonal music," which often elicits the question, "What is microtonal music?" The best answer I have found was written by Margo Schulter, and rather than paraphrase I'll refer you
to it. I realize now that I do prefer the term "xenharmonic," and, for someone so interested in getting the words right, surprise myself at my reluctance to use it.
"Xenharmonic," as you'll soon know, was coined by Ivor Darreg, otherwise a "microtonalist", to use instead of the term "microtonal," which had overly nitpicking connotations, and besides, drew irrelevant distinctions, like how big or small the intervals are. "Xenharmonic" comes from the greek xenos "strange/foreigner" AND ALSO xenia "hospitable," appended to the usual harmonikos "articulation/agreement/harmony".
In some interpretations even this term falls short, like when you take "strange" to mean "not normal" and end up with a negative definition: "Xenharmonic music is all music except that music tuned in 12 tone equal." Yet if we remember to be hospitable to the strangers, it is likely that the strangers will be hospitable to us, and that we can go on to inhabit, or at least visit, many a faraway (that is, unknowable from our current ear-locations and thus inevitably impactful) musical land.
I also notice how the musical concept of "harmony" shows its origin as a social metaphor, of articulated agreement. To design new musical tunings is to design new systems of agreement, that is, to design society. (Not to say that what-is-agreed-upon is all that defines a human society.) And not merely a new society, but a new kind of society, whose newness is formed by the newnesses of its members, who are in new kinds of relationships with one another, inextricably linked with each one's new identity. The metaphor runs deep.
Turn now to the word "praxis." I understand praxis as a way of speaking wherein theory and practice need each other. From Paolo Freire, I read that action without reflection makes dialogue impossible, and reflection without action reduces to idle chatter. I hear from bell hooks about the act of theorizing as a legitimate and essential practice. A criterion for languaging: Name something in order to change it. I am currently addicted to this way of speaking; therefore, I consider it important.
What is a xenharmonic praxis, then? I first think of a space or time for the construction and playing of xenharmonic instruments. This happens to be an uncommon, or at least hiding, sort of space; I know of only
one public place in the world with such an aim. So I'll begin with a space—the basement at La Casa—and a time—Thursday evenings, at least—in the hope that those constraints are enough for a praxis to emerge.