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Posts Tagged ‘Leonard Bernstein’

28 AUGUST, 2014

Leonard Bernstein’s Moving Letter of Gratitude to His Mentor and a Prescient 1943 Manifesto for Crowdfunding the Arts

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Decades before Kickstarter, a vision for how micro-patronage can help creators “ascend to new heights” and “gain in confidence, in self-esteem and in fortitude.”

As a great proponent of the mutual gift of gratitude to those who touch our lives in a meaningful way and a joyful practitioner of sending regular notes of appreciation to these generous people in my own life, I was extraordinarily moved by a letter of gratitude that legendary composer Leonard Bernstein sent to one of his big heroes and mentors, the Russian-born conductor, composer, and Boston Symphony Orchestra music director Serge Koussevitzky. Found in The Leonard Bernstein Letters (public library) — the same volume that cracked open Bernstein’s dreams — the missive is second only to Bukowski’s letter of gratitude to his first patron.

Shortly after taking Koussevitzky’s conducting classes at the Boston Symphony Orchestra’s Tanglewood summer institute in 1940, Bernstein writes:

Dear Dr. Koussevitzky,

Words are a remote enough medium of expression for any musician, but it is especially difficult for me to find words for this letter. Let it be brief.

This summer to me was beauty — beauty in work, and strength of purpose, and cooperation. I am full of humility and gratitude for having shared so richly in it. These last six weeks have been the happiest and most productive of my life. I have been able, for the first time, to concentrate completely on my main purpose, with a glorious freedom from personal problems.

It was a renaissance for me — a rehabilitation of the twisted and undefined Weltanschauung [worldview] with which I came to you.

For your creative energy, your instinct for truth, your incredible incorporation of teacher and artist, I give humble thanks. Seeing in you my own concepts matured is a challenge to me which I hope to fulfill in your great spirit.

[…]

In devotion, and in gratitude,

Leonard Bernstein

The first page of Bernstein's letter to Koussevitzky (Library of Congress)

Bernstein eventually became Koussevitzky’s conducting assistant, later dedicating the 1948 Symphony No. 2 The Age of Anxiety to his beloved mentor.

But gratitude alone doesn’t keep a roof over one’s head. In addition to his creative influence, Koussevitzky would also come to impact Bernstein with his convictions about the more tangible ways in which culture at large shows its appreciation to musicians. On May 29, 1943, Bernstein writes in another letter to Koussevitzky:

Reading your letter to the Times … I became inspired all over again; and I was very happy to find that the general reaction to your idea is so favorable and understanding. But who can resist an idea at once so bold and so simple?

The idea he is referring to had appeared in The New York Times thirteen days earlier, in an open letter by Koussevitzky titled “Justice to Composers” — a passionate plea to support creative musicians. Koussevitzky writes:

It is hardly necessary to stress the preeminent place that music holds in our world today — not alone in the world of culture, not alone in the art history of mankind, but also in the daily life of the average man.

[…]

What is being done for the composer of our day?

[…]

With the turn of centuries, how much has been done for the creative artist to whom millions of past and present musicians owe their true place in life, their happiness and their welfare? Very little — by far not enough. If the present-day composer is not dying of heartbreak and hunger, he has, nevertheless, to struggle along and to earn his living through other ways and sources than his God-given gift: as a composer he cannot make a living. He is forced to go out and teach, lecture, and crowd his days with trifling obligations which kill his time, his energies, his creative art. If his present-day life is less tragic, it is none the less hard, unfair and maladjusted.

[…]

Therefore I say the time is ripe to act.

It is no surprise that the plea stirred Bernstein, for he was living the very predicament his mentor had described: Bernstein, who had given up his apartment and was residing at the Chelsea Hotel at the time, confessed in his letter to Koussevitzky:

I go on doing my horrible chores for Warner Brothers in order to live. It is dull beyond belief, and takes much too much time; but I feel that somehow better things must be coming for me.

Leonard Bernstein conducting the New York City Symphony in 1945

In fact, Koussevitzky was vehemently opposed to the notion of talented, “serious” composers compromising their creative integrity by doing commercial work catering to popular taste. He actively discouraged Bernstein’s activities as a Broadway composer — indeed, after his 1945 musical On the Town, Bernstein wrote no more Broadway shows until after Koussevitzky’s death.

But what is most extraordinary about Koussevitzky’s letter is that several decades before Kickstarter, Patreon, and other micro-patronage platforms that formalized the art of asking to help support independent creators — the very concept that helps me keep Brain Pickings going — he advocated a crowdfunding solution to the predicament, calling not only on music-lovers but on the community of musicians themselves to chip in:

The appeal for the composer must embrace the whole musical world, reach the musician in every field, the music lover and sponsor, far and wide. It will be a timely and major step forward.

[…]

In this great country alone there are many thousands of performing musicians. A small annual donation of $1 each will bring in a substantial permanent income and, with the joint co-operation and contributions of other groups and organizations, will go a long way toward establishing a composers’ fund… Whatever action we take now will lay the groundwork for the impelling and just cause of the composer. Embracing that cause, we shall ascend to new heights, we shall gain in confidence, in self-esteem and in fortitude.

What a beautiful and prescient testament to the idea that “donating = loving.”

Complement the immeasurably absorbing The Leonard Bernstein Letters with Bernstein on motivation and why we create, then revisit Amanda Palmer’s eloquent modern-day counterpart to Koussevitzky’s plea.

Donating = Loving

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13 JANUARY, 2014

On Motivation: Beloved Composer Leonard Bernstein on Why We Create

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A journey to the heart of “the mindless, useless, glorious pursuit of artistic truth.”

An even greater and more enduring mystery than the question of what creativity is and how it works is the question of why we humans create in the first place. One of the most beautiful and profound responses to that eternal question comes from legendary composer Leonard Bernstein, a sage of music and a man of inner conflict. On May 26, 1964, Bernstein gave a speech at New York’s Brandeis Creative Arts Award Dinner, which was eventually adapted into an essay titled “On Motivation” and included in the wonderful 1982 compendium Findings (public library) — a composite portrait of this extraordinary creative hero painted through a selection of his letters, formal writings, speeches, and personal notes.

Bernstein begins by relaying an anecdote from another award ceremony he had attended the previous week at The American Institute of Arts and Letters:

A young composer, sitting on my left, but unknown to me, was receiving a grant; and as he rose to receive it, and bask in the glory of his citation — which was very fancy gibberish — I heard, among a welter of extraordinary phrases, this one: “a composer of deeply motivated music.” This positively riveted me; and so while the young man was gone to collect his check, I asked the fellow Institute member on my right what she thought “motivated music” might be. She had no idea, and asked the gentleman to her right; and so it went down to the end of our row and back to me, with no answers forthcoming, except some snickering witticisms, which I won’t go into.

Needless to say, this trivial incident produced a fat intellectual discussion during the postceremonial drink period; and several giants of the Institute, and the Academy, like Truman Capote, and Louis Kronenberg, put their heads together over the martini glasses to decide what motivates music or, for that matter, any art at all. The young composer himself rather waspishly said that his motivation was money — which is understandable from a man with a new check in his hand.

Bernstein considers the motive of money for a moment — a motive that drives an overwhelming majority of cultural production, or as Schopenhauer presciently argued, of worthless cultural production:

Money is a perfectly valid motivation for art, as much as we’d like not to think so; but since it’s also the chief motivation for selling shoes, or Buicks, or chewing gum, it doesn’t quite explain what motivates art in particular. The same might be said for the other low-down motivating forces, like success, fame, popularity, adulation, and the rest; they are all, undeniably, motivations for the artist, for all artists; but insofar as these ideals also motivate Senators, Beatles, and fan dancers, one cannot say that they are uniquely motivations for art — that useless, most unsenatorial endeavor called Art.

He notes that the answers he and his Institute colleagues arrived at as the true motive for making art were invariable clichés which, while true, still failed to explain the creative impulse:

Communication and self-expression were voted the two real motivations for the artist; every creator is one because he must express himself and, what’s more, must share that expression with mankind. These may be platitudes, and they may also be true, as far as they go. But whether or not true, they do not explain that devil with a pitchfork who goads an artist into doing dangerous, unpopular, unpredictable works.

Bernstein points to a counterexample to these false or incomplete motivators in the work of composer Carl Ruggles, honored at the ceremony that evening, whose music “never earned him a penny, or formed him a fan club” and was “rarely, if ever, played” in public. In answering the question of what motivates people like Ruggles, Bernstein argues, lies the enigma of the creative spirit:

Ah, there’s the mystery. And in these days of explaining mysteries, these days when [psychoanalyst Lawrence] Kubie can explain the creative process by simply invoking the word preconscious — when the duration of our planet can be estimated by the rate of expansion of the universe — please, God, leave us this one mystery, unsolved: why man creates. And in that artless and unmysterious world, I would also preferably cease to be.

While the poeticism of Bernstein’s point about the mystery of art is undeniably beautiful, it’s also rather misguided in its assumption that scientific knowledge destroys the mystery of life rather than intensifying it and making it all the more enchanting. One need only hear Richard Feynman’s famous “Ode to a Flower” monologue to appreciate the unfortunate misconception.

There aren’t too many mysteries left, you know; one of these days some superbrain is going to come up with a brilliant revelation of original cause; DNA, or whatever it is, is going to explain heredity; and XYZ will remove the last veil from the chemical wonder of sexual attraction. And then what will we be let with? Man and his mystery — the mindless, useless, glorious pursuit of artistic truth. And all, hopefully, without a shred of motivation.

Bernstein returns to the question of what motivates Ruggles’s unmarketable, sublime music or the “incredible record of courageous flops” of legendary theater producer and director Cheryl Crawford, who was present in the audience that day. He concludes:

That, thank Heaven, is still a glorious mystery; and it is a mystery that enshrouds every good artist I know, rich or poor, successful or not, old or young. They write, they paint, they perform, produce, whatever, because life to them is inconceivable without doing so. And it is for that mad compulsion, that unmotivated persistence, that divine drive — it is for that that we are honoring these seven artists tonight. I ask you now to join me in paying tribute to them, and through them to all artists everywhere. They may yet save the world.

Findings, which Bernstein assembled for his 64th birthday, is absolutely fantastic in its entirety, featuring his insights on everything from music to education to politics to identity, spanning the half century since he first began writing at the age of fourteen. Complement this particular meditation with Saul Bass’s superb vintage animated film Why Man Creates.

Donating = Loving

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07 NOVEMBER, 2013

The Interpretation of Leonard Bernstein’s Dreams

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Freud, Jung, sexual identity, and the creative process.

A friend — a rather rational and highly intelligent friend — recently shared with equal parts self-consciousness and delight that she had had her chart, as in astrological chart, done. (Done, no less, by a Buddhist-monk-turned-startup-entrepreneur who also happens to be a hobbyist astrologer — one of those details that captures our era’s peculiarity so poetically.) The incident stood out as a particularly poignant embodiment of the curious allure mysticism and pseudoscience hold for even the most intelligent among us — perhaps a testament to our restlessness and longing to resolve the burden of life’s ambiguities, however essential those might be to creativity, with concrete directives and tangible answers.

In fact, a number of history’s most celebrated minds succumbed to this very human tendency: George Eliot had her head cast taken by a leading phrenologist, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle fancied himself a psychic, and Henry Miller and Anaïs Nin spent a good portion of their lengthy love affair bonding over their shared obsession with astrology. But hardly any luminary demonstrates the deeper psychological needs people seek to address through such mystical pursuits than legendary composer Leonard Bernstein (August 25, 1918–October 14, 1990), who was intensely interested in the interpretation of his dreams, believing they held the answers to his deepest and most conflicted questions.

In the early 1940s, plagued by anxieties over his career and in a state of confusion over his sexual identity as he found himself falling in love with men at a time when homosexuality was classified as a mental illness and regarded as an offense as unamerican as communism, Bernstein started seeing a psychoanalyst named Marketa Morris, whom he nicknamed “The Frau.” A few years later, he turned to the Jungian psychoanalyst Renée Nell, who studied with Carl Jung himself, hoping the interpretation of his dreams would put his waking restlessness at peace. Bernstein’s correspondence with the two women is revealed in the magnificent and long-awaited anthology The Leonard Bernstein Letters (public library), for which editor Nigel Simeone painstakingly trawled through 10,000 letters to cull the 650 epistolary treasures included in the book.

Leonard Bernstein with Aaron Copland in Bernardsville, NJ

In June of 1942, Bernstein writes to Aaron Copland — by then one of the most popular voices in American classical music and young Bernstein’s greatest love — about his sessions with Marketa Morris and the opposing forces of his reluctant desire to “fix” his homosexuality and his irrepressible love for Copland:

The Frau-sessions have borne some fruit. Little green fruit, of course, but fruit. The main thing being that I can’t kid myself any more. Kid myself, that is, into thinking that I have a closeness with someone when it is all really wishful thinking, or induced, or imagined, or escape from being alone with myself, etc. And so, one by one, all the old relationships tend to fall away; and I find that I’m not at all interested in seeing anybody — really — whereas I used to run and see anybody at the drop of a hat. This all makes the trouble harder, of course; since I still hate being alone, and yet don’t want anyone in particular. And that’s where you come in; cause you’re the only one that persists and persists, come hell or high water. And I love you and miss you as much as I did the first month I knew you, and always will. Believe that, Earth-Scorcher, it’s so real. And then this wish for closeness always manifests itself in a sexual desire, the more promiscuous the better — giving rise to experiences like being taken (by Pfb [Bowles], of course) to a Bain Turc (or is it Turque?) and seeking out the 8th Street bars again. But I’m not attracted any more to any one I find there, and it’s just as horrible as if I hadn’t gone at all. One of those unpleasant stages forward.

In the 1930s and 1940s, many psychoanalysts believed that homosexuality was a disorder that could be “cured” with proper “treatment.” In this 1947 letter, “the Frau” responds to a dream Bernstein had sent her and touches on the subject, while reminding Bernstein of the vital difference between productivity and presence in one’s life and creative process:

Lenny,

I got your dream letter. You know that it is quite impossible to give a written interpretation to a dream — and more so a dream without interpretation.

Why am I living in Brooklyn?

Jimmy’s Restaurant in Greenwich Village

Why another cab to go to Brooklyn? What’s about 289?

It’s getting dark at four o’clock in the afternoon?

Switches putting on lights upstairs and not downstairs? What’s the difference between up and downstairs in this beautiful, big, expensive house?

What about the two girls blocking the exit from behind your desk?

Write me if you feel like — besides the dreams! For instance why cannot you relax and just simply not compose? Remember, you had the idea that adjustment to homosexuality could facilitate heterosexuality! Couldn’t adjustment to relaxation constitute a capacity of creative work? Of course not pretending to relax only.

Bernstein also had his personality “read” by the noted harpsichordist and pianist Rosalyn Tureck who, like our Buddhist-entrepreneur friend, had a side-interest in astrology. While she presents it with the necessary grain of salt, she does make a special note of the g-word:

Dear Leonard,

At long last, here is your “personality analysis”. I cannot take these things seriously but they are wonderful fun especially since the person who did it does not know to whom the doodling belongs.

According to the analysis it looks as tho you must face the fact that you definitely fit into the genius category…

She then encloses Bernstein’s full personality profile, which makes it hard not to project onto these vague generalities the concrete biographical particularities of the composer’s life, such as the intertwining of his professional admirations and his love interests, his identity confusion, and his musical genius — the same trick that to this day keeps horoscopes in business:

This person’s character shows a peculiar and great singleness of purpose. The sex development is practically nil and the personality which might have started to assert itself at one stage in the man’s development has become completely absorbed by career.

The career is complex. Its division is almost geometric and the line of demarcation, very clear. For each phase of the career, there is a well thought-out and deliberate development. The dark areas indicate the creative and the white areas the mechanical. The mechanical seems to dominate the subject and he is more curious about the development of it at this stage than he is about his creative development. There is one point about the career, which seems to come early in the middle life, which indicates the great peak of success. The subject will have attained a very happy balance of creation and mechanics.

The sex symbol is interesting in that the line — the only line connecting it and the rest of the personality chart — extends right to the career symbol. This indicates that the subject’s development is completely concentrated in his career. His personality symbol shows the same direction. There is no embellishment, no additions to it, there is no sign that any development of self has been accomplished. The sign connecting it with the career is merely two extensions from the sex symbol.

It is interesting to note that, in spite of the fact that the sex symbol is not developed as a physical unit, it is present and the aesthetic aspects of it will be found in this man’s career creations later in life.

This man may not be a good mathematician, but he has an excellently organized mind. It is well disciplined as demonstrated by the complete lack of extraneous matter. It is also the mind of a purist.

This man has great ego-maniacal tendencies and will often go to bizarre ends to gain a point. By nature though, he is retiring and socially shy. His great ego, however, serves as a shield against society.

A fruitful creative life is indicated, but an extremely lonely social life will be his lot.

Leonard Bernstein seated at the piano, making annotations to musical score (Photograph by Al Ravenna courtesy of The Library of Congress)

In July of 1947, a few months after the composer announced his engagement to the Costa Rican actress Felicia Cohn Montealegre, Marketa Morris revisits the question of Bernstein’s conflicted sexual identity, still raging in his dreams:

Lenny,

Your letter stirred up lots of problems.

To go into them adequately would require an elaborate paper — and that does not agree with my vacations. I try a compromise. I have to be honest in the first place. Honest and short means usually: it hurts! I have to rely on your perspicacity and your English to translate my thoughts into a good, nice, considerate English. Will you?

[…]

Of course there is a chance that we may come to some essential clarification. No way to deny it. It’s fifty fifty — and you have to know it.

In your dreams there is confusion, you are not able to go where you have to go: two simultaneous engagements or dates and so on. You are seeing Felicia and the day she leaves you have to see a boy.

The same old pattern. You can’t give up. Very eager to resume analysis but the queer fish resistance is as big a fish as your drive to get well.

[…]

Remember that you wanted to challenge people and find out whether they would still love you. … Lenny, I hope very much that you understand what I really want to convey to you! Do you?

Bernstein did — at least for a time. His engagement with Felicia was broken off in September, but they eventually married four years later, in September of 1951. Felicia wrote Leonard shortly after they married, “You are a homosexual and may never change […] I am willing to accept you as you are, without being a martyr or sacrificing myself on the L.B. altar.” And yet, as the plethora of his letters to Felicia reveal, Bernstein really did love her profoundly — a testament to our irreconcilable, coexisting inner contradictions.

Leonard Bernstein with Felicia Bernstein and their children

But perhaps most poignant and insightful in addressing Bernstein’s dreams and his psychological tumults is this 1949 letter from Renée Nell, who relays the era’s theory of what happens while you sleep — more than half a century before modern science shed new light on the mystery — and in the process addresses the rivalry between Freud and Jung:

Dear Lenny,

Thank you for your nice letter and poem to which I have this to answer: “When the real animus and the real anima web, you can get married and take your wife to bed.”

Some short remarks on your dream: when you are unconscious (“taking a nap, sleeping”), you find that your rather undifferentiated feeling is playing tricks on you, bringing people into your psychology whom you do not want to have in there. Rather than finding out what these people really want from you, or why they were invited, you get angry at that side of yourself who played the trick on you. You get in touch with that side by hurting it, then you regret. You would know more if you would try to make her understand why you don’t want these people anymore. Then, when you do get away from the unwanted collective, you get into an even less desirable one, a very pedestrian collective (street). Being alone now, without anything but yourself, you are eager to make contact with some other side, contact in the usual average pedestrian way — sex — which is the substitute for human relationship. When you find that that is impossible you are caught in some very dull, past aspect of your own bourgeois-side. That shows very nicely why you are so eagerly seeking homosexual contact in reality, it seems the way out or the escape from the fear of being caught in bourgeois patterns, and seems to symbolize the free and non-bourgeois life. They talk about your work in the dream; your fear always seems to be that being a conductor and being set in a profession is the same as being dully married and leading a middle-class life. I am sure it could be that way, but must not be that way, and will stop to look to you that way the moment you get some real color into your life; then you can give up to the so-called “colorful life” you are leading.

Freud’s definition: Id — subconscious; Ego — conscious; Super-Ego — conscience. Ego is the whole of consciousness. Jung: has the same concept of the Ego, he terms it the center of consciousness, the difference between F[reud] and J[ung] is in the way [the] use and function of the Ego are seen. With F. it is the censor and adaptor to reality. With J. it is understood as the channel for the forces that want to flow from the inside to the outside, and vice versa, it has a consciously screening function and serves the forces of the Self or the unconscious. With F. it is supposed to master them. To F. the Ego is the human being as such, therefore it has a very high value; to J. it is an aspect of the human, subordinated to the Self, which means the unspoiled essence of the human being. The Self is to J. the highest value in a human being. I hope that does not confuse you more.

I wonder if you have enough contact with my way of analysis yet that the long distance dream-interpretation means anything to you. Generally it is difficult to get anything out of such answers in such an early stage of work; later when one is more attuned to each other it is easier. Let me know. I hope you have a fairly good time, not too many tensions.

Kindly, Renée

Bernstein soon dropped out of his sessions with Nell, but his subconscious summoned her in a dream he describes to his sister Shirley in April of the following year, noting how Nell helped shepherd his disjointed unease into a more unified direction of living:

Last night I dreamed at length that I had found her and solved our problems together. It was a hard dream, but full of richness. And, on awakening, I was desolate at the thousands of miles that still lay between us, and the grayness of doubt and not-knowing. My day-dreams are of her flying to Israel, and our being married in Jerusalem. Renée, of course, would be the uninvited fairy who would pronounce the curse. Strangely, though, I think she’d be delighted. I was not at all surprised at your news of Renée: I had always seen these things, but had always diminished their importance in the light of her values and of my affection for her. Of course, I have no intention of returning to her, or, I hope, to anyone, if I can begin really to live my life (as I can now) and not only live on the circumference of it. And, willy-nilly, Renée has helped to that point — a point where my world changes from one of abstractions and public-hungry performance to one of reality, a world of creativity, of Montealegre-Cohn, of Spanish & French and travel and rest and love and warmth and intimacy.

Leonard Bernstein conducting

Complement The Leonard Bernstein Letters, which peels away at layers upon layers of the beloved composer’s complex psychological constitution, with Carl Jung’s Memories, Dreams, Reflections and the science of dreams and why we have nightmares.

Donating = Loving

Bringing you (ad-free) Brain Pickings takes hundreds of hours each month. If you find any joy and stimulation here, please consider becoming a Supporting Member with a recurring monthly donation of your choosing, between a cup of tea and a good dinner:





You can also become a one-time patron with a single donation in any amount:





Brain Pickings has a free weekly newsletter. It comes out on Sundays and offers the week’s best articles. Here’s what to expect. Like? Sign up.