Art, performing

2. Works for performance

In the case of works created for performance, artists (such as playwrights, composers, choreographers and authors) produce either instructions (in oral form, or in the form of a script or score) that performers execute or a model instance that they emulate in delivering instances of the works. A work for performance is complete when its score, script or model is complete. Such pieces are instantiated in their various performances. The works are distinct from their performances; they have been variously characterized as universals, types, kinds or classes (see Art works, ontology of §2). Pieces represented by a score or script might never be performed; that is, they might have no instances. Theorists sometimes distinguish performance for an audience from rehearsal, practising or private enactments. What should be acknowledged is that the activity takes its point from generating and publicly transmitting instances of given works.

In the case of works for performance, artists’ instructions should be interpreted in light of the relevant performance practices; what can be presupposed might not be mentioned or notated, despite its being required, and not all that is mentioned or notated will be mandatory. To perform a work, performers typically produce an instance of the work by following the artist’s instructions or model, or by copying other performances derived from those. (If a gust of wind by chance produces a sound acoustically indistinguishable from some performance of a Beethoven symphony, that sound-event would neither be a performance nor would it otherwise instantiate Beethoven’s work.) A performance of a given work that contains some departures from the artist’s instructions might still be regarded as a performance of that work, provided the work remains recognizable in the performance. To the extent that it diverges (whether this is intended by the performer or not) from the artist’s determinative instructions, a performance is inaccurate or unauthentic as an account of the artist’s work.

The relevant conventions and artists’ notations underspecify or do not determine many of the features displayed in a performance of the work, and where performers emulate a model instance, the realization of many details is by convention left at their discretion (S. Davies 2001; Thom 2007). Where performers are left free, they are constrained only by the wider conventions of style or genre. The level of the performer’s creative autonomy varies within and between the performing arts; jazz dancers have more liberty in their actions than do ballerinas. But, even in those performing arts that provide highly detailed instructions, many crucial choices are left to performers; for instance, many aspects of speech delivery and gesture are not indicated by the playwright. It is by their treatment of those matters on which performers are free that equally faithful (but different) interpretations are distinguished. A single interpretation or production might receive more than one performance.

Though the work is distinct from the score, script or model instance produced by the artist, I hold that the identity of the work derives from the instructions notated or implicit in the model. These, in turn, are identified in relation to the artist and the period of creation. In that case, one cannot perform the work except by performing it as its creator’s, and doing this requires faithfulness in the relevant respects (as determined by artistic conventions of the genre at the time) to the instructions produced by the artist. A performance can instantiate a given work only if it is faithful or authentic to the appropriate degree. I claim that we are interested in performances of works as the works of their artists and that this is how they are advertised and represented. (This is not to say, though, that we shun works from unknown provenances; a speculative account of a work consistent with the conventions of its time usually provides something worth considering, if not definitively its artist’s work.)

A rather different view of what is required for authenticity in (musical) performance is presented by Peter Kivy (1995). He suggests that what matters is not what the composer indicated at the time of the work’s composition, but rather, what he would want now. The implausibility of this view is apparent in the following example: twenty-five years after its initial composition, Bruckner recomposed his First Symphony. According to Kivy’s view, an accurate performance of the new version should count as an authentic performance of the original version, but however we regard the relation between the versions, a performance of the one is not a performance, authentic or otherwise, of the other.

A common theme within current philosophy of theatre runs against my view that, where they are of prespecified works, performances are typically and characteristically to be identified and appreciated as interpretations of those works. A number of philosophers of theatre (Saltz 2001; Osipovich 2006; J. Hamilton 2008) reject the view that a theatrical performance based on a scripted play is an interpretation of that play.

We can agree that performances can be freely improvised with no play instanced, that the performance of plays is unlike the critical interpretation of literary works such as novels, and that performances display a great deal of creative freedom even when they are based on scripted dramatic works. In these respects theatrical and musical performance are similar. But just as all this is consistent with there being performance interpretations of musical works, and with its being natural and appropriate to identify musical performances as work interpretations where they have the goal of presenting a given work under an interpretation, so is it consistent with regarding theatrical performances as interpretations where they set out to present a scripted dramatic work.

Against these claims it might be argued that dramatic performance typically allows the producer and actor far greater creative latitude than is usual for the musical conductor and performer of, say, a nineteenth-century symphony. For instance, it is not uncommon for performances not only to go beyond both what is explicitly indicated in the script and what is conventionally expected by way of its presentation but also intentionally to depart from these. Consider the contemporary treatment of Shakespeare’s plays or Mozart’s operas: lines – even whole sections – are cut, new dialogue is added, directions for staging are ignored, the play’s historical setting, costuming, and props are altered, in Shakespeare the roles of women are played not by boys but by female actors; female sopranos replace the castrati for whom Händel and Mozart sometimes wrote.

Four responses to such observations are possible. It might be that the work is indefinite in the respects that are treated in this fashion, with what is ignored being merely recommendatory and not work-determinative. In that case, the interpretation not only instances the work but also is faithful to it, despite departing from more staid renditions. That boys played women’s roles in Shakespeare’s time does not suggest their use is required now, given that the convention was more socio-moral than theatrical in origin. We do not expect musicians to wear powdered wigs when they perform eighteenth-century music. Besides, even if it is desirable to use castrati where the composer called for them, there are others reasons why we no longer approve of the social practice that led to their production. Secondly, it could be that the interpretation is sufficiently closely related to the work that it qualifies as of it while at the same time being inauthentic to the extent that it ignores or subverts some of the playwright’s work-determinative instructions. To this one can add that authenticity is not the only virtue in performance – they are evaluated also in terms of the life, coherence, variety and interest they bring to the work – so that a less than fully faithful performance might qualify as highly valuable for other qualities it displays. And one could argue as well that authenticity sometimes imposes unacceptable costs. For instance, modern audiences might be unable to follow a style of language that to them is archaic, or might be disinclined to sit through a four-hour drama, or might not share the interests and values presumed by the author in his intended audience. What is apt by way of interpretation depends not only on what the author intended but also on the experience, attitudes and tastes of the audience that the interpreter hopes to attract (as Jerrold Levinson has argued 1987). To return to the Shakespearian example again, the fact that the plays are already so well-known licenses more adventurous and less accurate performances than is usual in other cases. Because much of the performer’s duty of faithfulness has been discharged already by others, different desiderata, such as contemporary relevance, novelty and verve, become more prominent. By contrast, if the performance were the first of a new play by a famous dramatist, the audience might be highly disconcerted if the producer took the kinds of liberties mentioned above. Thirdly, where none of the previous considerations accounts for the performance’s treatment of the play, it may be better to see the performance as an interpretation of an adaptation rather than as an interpretation of the original work. Examples of this are the musical transcription, which recomposes a work created for one instrumental medium to another, and the adaptation of a novel for the screen. Such works acknowledge their sources in their titles, but inevitably depart from them in suiting them to their new performance circumstances. Finally, if the point is to emphasize the artistry and originality of actors and stage producers, we can do this (as I argue in the next section) without denying of their performances that they can or should be identified as interpretations of the works they present.

I have suggested that, where performances are of works, the default goal is to deliver the work to its audience. Besides attempting to execute the artist’s work-determinative instructions (or, at least, enough of these to make the work recognizable within the performance), other conditions are necessary for the integrity of the performance. For the case of live performance, Stan Godlovitch (1998) identifies the following: only one work is performed at a time; its proper sequence is respected, as is the indicated rate of delivery; the performance is continuous, without unjustified breaks; performers comply with the appropriate roles (and do not, for example, swap parts midway through the work). Also, the audience should be in a position to receive the entire performance in every detail.

When musicians or actors move to the recording studio or film set, the conditions for performance alter: the parts of the work can be taken out of sequence and can be repeated until the best result is achieved, for instance. In adapting a work of drama for the screen, cinematic techniques that move beyond what is possible in theatre are typically employed: close-ups, pan and dolly shots; effects such as slow motion or split image; a variety of sets and outdoor locations; and so on. The same is not the case when classical musical works are recorded; for them, the goal is the creation of a virtual performance such as one might encounter in the concert hall (S. Davies 2001). But other kinds of music exploit the technological possibilities that the sound studio provides, including multitracking, filtering, tape reversal, and the like.