Music Inspired by Art

By Staff Sgt. Thomas Dell’Omo

March 10, 2010 - Last week, on Fort Myer, the U.S. Army Ceremonial Band performed a concert unlike any they had previously performed. It came from a seedling of an idea, really: to perform music that was inspired by art. I was tasked with using this general idea and doing something with it, something larger, and something that would get folks to attend who don’t normally come to an Army Band concert. My mind reeled. I learned early on in my study of music that I loved collaboration with other musicians and artists of other disciplines. Being on stage alone, while mesmerizing in it’s own way, is truly a death-defying act: life under the lights is only for thrill seekers and those of their ilk. Not me.

I decided to seek out local artists. People who, similar to the members of the Army Band, hail from all over the US but who create here in Northern Virginia and who serve our local community. A few cold calls later and I had some interested parties. Four local artists (don’t laugh) actually agreed to create new works inspired only by the music I would supply. At our event on March 4th, the live music would unfold and the works would be unveiled. Perhaps, through this collaboration, we could shed light on the elusive “muse”, explore that guiding spirit, dare I say….celebrate it?

The artists all create at The Torpedo Factory in Old Town Alexandria. They rent space, create art and sell it all right there under one roof. It’s hardly a gallery, mostly a place where things are fabricated: where nothing becomes something. That’s fitting because it’s actually an old torpedo-making factory. When you walk in, it still has that “cold war feel”. One of the goals of this concert was to draw from their membership (or any art-loving membership for that matter) and bring them to us. People who go to art museums, who mingle with the artists, who discuss the concepts I want to explore, should attend an Army Band function. But the reality is that our events are held on Ft. Myer and drawing a crowd willing to be searched upon entrance requires a firm commitment. I understand that coming onto a military instillation is weird for most people. Military folks are used to it, but to civilians, their desire to be artistically quenched is easily squelched by the car search. It doesn’t feel like a nice night out. It doesn’t feel like a place for music. It feels stifling. Honestly.

One important outgrowth of this partnership is our recital to be held at The Torpedo Factory on April 22, 2010. It’s important for as ambassadors of the Army to meet our prospective audience halfway. That’s what the recital at the Torpedo Factory is all about. It’s also about communion with other artists and being in an artistically charged environment.

So what’s the point of the collaboration? I wanted to track that which the Greeks first called the “muse” and to see how the muse morphs from music to art. Our mediums share terms and concepts like texture, density, color, saturation and use devices that define our structure. It was also a chance to show the normal gallery go-ers that Ft. Myer IS a place for music.

Music is fickle. Its lack of transparency and permanence both contribute and detract from my enjoyment of participating in it. Live music takes place in the moment and it exists only for those who witness it first hand. You can’t DVR it for further scrutiny and the very nature of recording often fails to capture much of what is translated. Everyone knows this. That’s why great artists have waiting lists, exorbitant ticket prices: indeed their own benefactors and subscribers. Those that go to see live music are usually addicted to it. I would argue that the live experience and the recorded artifact are two distinct events that may have little to do with each other. This is the tragedy and beauty of music: you’d better prepare your self for the inevitable let down after it’s done. I’ve compared it to the thanksgiving meal, prepared with care the day of, planned for for weeks or months and done for in 20 minutes: everyone looking at each other blankly five hours later for the next meal. Freeloading. Savages. The nerve.

This event was different because of the very phenomenon of painting. I’m not afraid to tell you that it’s a difference that I have always envied. THEY get to make SOMETHING. THEY have this artifact that remains behind after the music has faded from the hall and every last clap has been squeezed out. They have these works and they last. It’s not a copy of the painting that remains, no. Not the representation of the object, but the very object indeed. It’s what he French philosopher Jean Baudrillard referred to as “simulacra and simulation” which is the philosophical idea that the copy of the object can, through time, replace the very object it was intended to represent. Even worse for our transparent media, the CD remains, the live performance gone and you missed it. Evidence of this is all around us, a preacher who replaces nearness to God, an “authentic” Tuscan restaurant in a city mall for many people who never have gone to Tuscany IS Tuscany. To my point, we weren’t left with a copy of what Ann Barbieri, Connie Slack, Gloria Logan, and Betsy Anderson did. As I look at them now, I am thankful that I am close to something that was made with our collective purpose for this event. Not to get tongue tied, but if I were to really be a stickler, couldn’t the art represent the EVENT and now perhaps the EVENT itself is really the art? Enough.

Lastly, to the question of why I went through all this. I have a mission statement and I won’t reveal the bulk of it here. I sat and wrote it just after I arrived at the FT Myer, a new young member of “Pershing’s Own.” I can boil it down to one simple statement: I want to be a part of something great. I don’t consider any single part of my duty here my job. I consider it my life’s work and I think there’s only one way to go about that. I could never be casual about my work here. I’m just not built that way.