Bach’s Way into the Serene Creative Life

The other day, while scrolling through Facebook, I stumbled upon a quote by Jonas Mekas, the celebrated filmmaker. It was Mekas’s photo, along with a title which reads, “For an artist, to be normal is a disaster.” I’m unfamiliar with Mekas and his work and don’t particularly know what he means to be expected here. Already having some observations into this matter, my ideas go directly opposite to what Mr. Mekas might have suggested.

The artist, indeed, has some reasoning behind his statement. Yet what seems evident at a glance is the meaning that most people relate to social media. Many famous artists, especially Picasso, advertised tumultuous lives, which helped popularise the idea that the life of an artist wouldn’t be ordinary. Dull, mundane without much disruption and unrest wouldn’t generally go well with the popular idea of a soul-searching artist. To go into the core of one’s being and the society in which he lives, one must tear apart everything, that, to take effect, all sorts of terrible events must happen to him.

What is it like to sit on your piano every night after dinner and compose short, joyful songs for your children? What is it like to be unaware that this music would later guide piano learners worldwide for the next 300 years? Well, that’s what supposedly happened with Bach. Along with having a soprano wife, Bach had quite a lot of “musical children”, and he had written several songs to teach them the art of playing keyboard instruments and instil in them a good sense of composition. This collection is called “Little Notebooks for Anna Magdalena Bach”, the name being entitled to his wife.

Evoked by the melody of this music, listening to this album always brings me a feeling of a relaxed life- a vitality for living in peace and quietness. Not that life goes in a straight line. It’s full of sorrow! But to live with sorrow and be affected by it are two different phenomena, are they not? The rhythm that comes from inner peacefulness is a sign of a life in another dimension. Without having a complete understanding, one can’t go beyond things; therefore, being ‘in peace with everything’ becomes challenging to achieve.

I have seen many Kolkata-based Bengali films where they enjoy showing the image of the artist as a total disaster. His family has left him, society has pushed him into a corner, and there is no apparent order in his daily life; drinking may have become an escape for him, yet in the middle of this chaos, what he is concerned with is his art and desperately strives to make something worthwhile out of this confusion. Federico Fellini is a perfect example. On one hand, he was a creative giant; on the other, he was a “demonic figure” in many aspects. Bergman also spoke about his demons and how he couldn’t possibly live without them.

Everything to be in its proper place is what makes something artistic. The most significant art is the art of living. When there’s order in daily life, all other factors seem to fit in their rightful position, much like nature. It moves at its speed and rhythm, trying all sorts of possible variations and accepting only what appears most befitting.

Many of you will disagree with me about all this. Man versus his art is an old debate, and most of us will undoubtedly prefer the latter as ‘A beautiful body perishes, but a work of art dies not.’ But I will go for the alive one rather than the dead one. To me, a well-lived life is far more appealing than any work of art. I’m not saying it’s the best option, but rather, it’s how I look at things. In an orderly world, chaos is uninvited. Therefore, we find a spatial presence to feel. To think is to feel. Only in that space can creativity be unleashed to the fullest.

Likhon Datta is a student from the English Department of Chittagong University.