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Musica che affronta il silenzio - Scritti su Toru Takemitsu - Pavia ...

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156<br />

Giangiorgio Pasqualotto<br />

which everything opens out onto the garden and the outside space. This was indeed absolutely<br />

revolutionary, as the Bauhaus architects were quick to perceive.<br />

This perspective – by which the empty background is never seen as a static or inert<br />

reality but as the inexhaustible matrix of forms – can be recognised just as clearly in<br />

poetry, and in particular in the haiku, where, as in the music of Takemit<strong>su</strong>, the interrelationship<br />

between underlying s<strong>il</strong>ence and ‘<strong>su</strong>rface’ sound is fundamental. In its simplicity<br />

the haiku manages to present the event in Nishida’s or Takemit<strong>su</strong>’s perspective of pure<br />

experience, without the intervention of a commentator. This interrelationship is communicated<br />

with a particular and highly original efficacy through the use of linguistic terms<br />

known as kireji, cutting words, <strong>su</strong>ch as ya, kana, kamo, keri, which have no specific<br />

meaning but indicate a pause, a <strong>su</strong>spension, an ‘emptiness’ in the body of the poem. 7 In<br />

haiku poetry linguistic formalization leads the imagination to conceive of something<br />

which is not a complete representation, a ‘picture’, but rather the dissolution of the frame.<br />

Take, for example, this haiku by Bash:<br />

kane kiete the bell fades away,<br />

hana no ka wa t<strong>su</strong>ku the blossoms’ fragrance ringing:<br />

yube kana early evening – (Bash 2004: 32)<br />

In the translation of these extraordinary lines, the <strong>su</strong>spension is indicated by the dash, but<br />

the meaning is well caught in the verb ‘fade away’. The s<strong>il</strong>ence which follows on from<br />

the sound of a bell is not absolute, but fraught with the gradual fading out of the bell’s<br />

vibrations. This progressive fade away of the sound is what in fact connects the sound<br />

itself with s<strong>il</strong>ence, in other words with what underlay it and gave it origin, just as it generates<br />

every other sound, noise or musical note. There is no connotation of melancholy in<br />

this ‘movement towards s<strong>il</strong>ence’, in spite of the typical Japanese stereotype of yearning<br />

for the ephemeral. Instead, it is the attention to nuance of fading away, of transforming<br />

itself, moving towards a background in the form of nature, s<strong>il</strong>ence or the blank sheet<br />

which is truly Japanese.<br />

In his music I believe Takemit<strong>su</strong> pays particular attention to these links connecting<br />

sounds to their s<strong>il</strong>ent underlay. It is <strong>su</strong>rely not a coincidence if Takemit<strong>su</strong> was<br />

greatly interested in John Cage’s investigation of the dynamics of s<strong>il</strong>ence. In this<br />

context I would recall the episode – recorded by Cage himself (1961: 8) – which occurred<br />

at Harvard in 1951. Isolated in an anechoic chamber, Cage found that he was<br />

hearing two sounds, one high-pit<strong>che</strong>d and the other low. The sound technician told<br />

him that he was hearing, respectively, the functioning of his own nervous system and<br />

his blood circulating. Clearly this experience goes to dissolve the opposition between<br />

sound and s<strong>il</strong>ence, demonstrating that there is in fact a tangible continuity between<br />

7<br />

Translations of this verse into Western languages tend to render these kireji (cut words) using dots or<br />

brackets or a dash.

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