question 1
question 2
question 3
question 4
question 5
a conversation
between
MICHAEL GANCZ
and
ANDREA MAZZARIELLO
Michael, hello! This is Andrea and I’m grateful to get to speak with you, however unconventionally, about the questions that you sent. I’m going to answer them just by talking to you. I maybe had aspirations to do something fancier but I think this will be best—both because they’re really interesting questions, and because I have to go to a Super Bowl party, you know, and I don’t know that I have time to Frankenstein something more fun together. So here’s what I’ve been thinking about:
You asked what I pay attention to when I look at an image. And I thought about this a lot. And it’s kind of a gross answer. I think I pay attention to my own reaction, especially when it’s in a more rarified museum kind of environment, where we’re being asked to regard an image and I find that I get really swept up in something, and I think that something is probably my own visceral emotional or associative responses to the image. And I think I try to sort of move around from the totality to give it details, sort of intricate close-up back to the whole picture.
You asked how I curate my experience of memory. I think: through narrative, through story. Presumably there is so much that I have encountered and that I remember, somewhere, that without that narrativizing it would be completely overwhelming. Just too much information, just an infinite amount of memory, right? So the curation of memory is through storytelling, and I think stories come from culture and we tell the stories of the culture through our own particular lens and that is what allows us to avoid being completely overwhelmed by our memories which I’m sure are, again, just infinitely abundant.
My definition of detachment—that’s a really good question. There’s a word, ‘equanimity,’ that I’ve been thinking about a lot. I don’t think it’s the same thing as detachment. But when you ask about detachment I automatically think of its opposite, which is attachment, and the attendant suffering or difficulty facing the loss of things we’re attached to and the persistence of things we’re maybe not attached to. So I think I associate detachment with almost a positive state of mind, but the more proactive way to say it might be equanimity, balance, and perspective, I suppose.
Where I’ve felt the most comfortable in the past week—this is a great question. I’ve had moments of real comfort and happiness at the piano this week. I’m doing a project where I improvise every day and record it. And the last two days of improvisation have been really wonderful, and I don’t know why that is. But it’s been a place of engagement and comfort, and maybe even healing and nurturing, I think, in the last couple of days.
What is something that fascinates me, but that you suspect might dreadfully bore your
friends? Oh, I think all manner of inner conditions. I guess I only know my own. And I’m
pretty fascinated by them, and I think it must be insufferable to others to hear me talk
about what I dreamed about, and why I think what I think is what I think. So those kinds
of internal realities are probably pretty boring to others. Though I think that there are
ways to make them legible and interesting, though I don’t necessarily know how to make them
legible and interesting. I once had someone tell me that they hated hearing other people’s
dreams. And I remembered telling so many stories about my dreams, and becoming very sheepish
and embarrassed about that. So that whole category of experience, I think, is very fascinating
to me—especially in this kind of sort of self-focused way—but must be just a real [laughter] real
problem for anyone who’s unfortunate to be my audience at that time.
I really hope that this has been helpful, Michael, and I hope that it’s been what you’ve needed
for your project. It’s great to get to connect, and I hope that our paths cross soon and often. Bye-bye.
ANDREA MAZZARIELLO is a musician and educator at Carleton College.
His work ranges across a wide variety of media and genera; he
blends practices in acoustic and electric composition,
songwriting, poetry and prose. I met Andrea online at the 2021 Sō Percussion
Summer Institute, where he serves as the director of the composition
program. Over the course of some weeks, we met for regular videochat lessons
that devolved into conversations regarding aesthetics, ethics, and the
nature of a good creative life. Partially in fulfillment of an assignment
for an art class, and partially in order to reestablish content with
a mentor and positive online presence, I reached out to Andrea again last
month over email. I proposed a small project: I'd send him five questions
to which he could respond in any fashion, at any length—but only via audio.
His responses, and my transcriptions thereof, are navigable above. I designed
the navigation interface such that it resembles a vinyl record. The user may place
their needle down on any of several concentric grooves and in turn access
one of several tracks. And, of course, these are the retro liner notes.
Andrea's website is
https://www.andreamazzariello.com/
-michael gancz 2-22-22
My first question for Andrea reflects an attempt to bridge the cognitive divide
between seeing and hearing, an examination of how that divide might manifest
for an artist working with invisible media. What is the role of the image in
the mind of the composer? What, to the composer, are its component parts?
My second question is an investigation of memory and narrativization. Music, like
memory, unfolds across time—how, then, is the memory of the composer linked to their
experience of time? How does narrativiziation, aestheticization, compartmentalization
serve to process and digest one's experience of time?
My third and fourth questions are more personal. Detachment and comfort are, to me,
related elements of one's experience of self. How do presence, absence, experience,
and vulnerability coalesce into a sense of being? How much can one be in a space, time,
or state of mind?
My fifth and final question is a catch-all, an opportunity to wax poetic (or boring)
about a topic of choice. Here Andrea gives some insight into the nature of dreams, and
the potentially isolating nature of introspection.