Music in Art XXXV/1–2 (2010) THE JESTER OF MUSICOLOGY, OR THE PLACE AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC ICONOGRAPHY IN INSTITUTIONS OF HIGHER EDUCATION ANTONIO BALDASSARRE Mexico City c’est de cette inactualité que je voudrais faire une autre actualité Roland Barthes1 According to widespread opinion music iconography is a research field that acquires valuable knowledge on the basis of the analysis and interpretation of visual sources with musical subject matter.2 Thus any consideration of its place and function in institutions of higher education has to take into consideration a complex network of different issues, including the topics and questions music iconography deals with, its methodological plurality and its main interdisciplinary focus as well as issues concerning the structure and promotion system of academic institutions. Just a brief glance at the output of music iconography research of the last twenty years, for example, reveals an obvious topical plurality and a certain kind of methodological eclecticism similar to many other disciplines of the humanities. In this respect music iconography is in good company with musicology, art history, psychology, cultural studies and so forth. This topical and methodological plurality is the result of the development of music iconography as a research field and its specific dependence on an interdisciplinary and transdisciplinary discourse to generate useful scholarly knowledge. Music iconography cannot function successfully without an interdisciplinary focus. This focus is not a mere fashion or some promotional hype utilized by academic institutions to market their programs, but it is rather essential to music iconography. During a period in which the crucial but not always fruitful discourse on its interdisciplinarity was still in fledgling stages, Emanuel Winternitz emphasized the interdisciplinary nature of scholarly research in music iconography, and even went so far as to hope that music iconography would help “to free musicology from that isolation into which so many specialized branches of research have fallen in our overspecializing times”.3 This hope has not materialized. Musicology, on the one hand, is still shaped by virtue of being extremely specialized—a status enforced by the controversy between traditional and new musicology since the mid1980s—and music iconography, on the other hand, still experiences a kind of a feeble existence in today’s academia worldwide. Before getting into a detailed discussion about the place and function of music iconography research in institutions of higher education, however, I would like to address the development of music iconography as a research field over the last two centuries and the corresponding emergence of methodological tools to gain valuable scholarly knowledge by means of music iconography. Such a glance in the mirror may help to prevent false illusions and imaginary hopes about the potentials of music iconography research and the discipline’s place and function within today’s academic landscape. © 2010 Research Center for Music Iconography CUNY 9 Antonio Baldassarre, The Place and Function of Music Iconography in Institutions of Higher Education First attempts to study music iconographical sources with a scientific goal date back to the eighteenth century. Martin Gerbert (1720–1793), for instance, used visual sources in addition to written documents in his 1774 study of musical performance practices of the Middle Ages,4 while, three decades later, Guillaume André Villoteau (1759–1839), seems to have been the first scholar to apply visual sources within a music ethnographical study focusing on historic and contemporary musical practices in Greece and Egypt.5 Villoteau’s achievements belong to a tradition of music iconography research that focuses primarily on the analysis and interpretation of both organological aspects and music performance practices. This amalgamation of organology and music iconography is still a strong concern of music iconographers, having become widespread within nineteenth- and early twentieth-century French music iconography research.6 From the second half of the twentieth century onwards French music iconography began, however, to treat visual sources with musical subject matters more systematically and in closer connection with musicological and art historical topics.7 The other influential branch in the history of music iconography is the school established by Aby Warburg (1866–1929), primarily focusing on the premise that artworks can be read as historical documents presenting the zeitgeist of a certain period.8 He impressively explored his methodological approach in the paper on the frescos at Palazzo Schifania in Ferrara, which he presented at the International Art History Conference in Rome in 1912.9 The close connection between iconographic analysis and a theory of civilization was further developed by Fritz Saxl (1890–1948), Erwin Panofsky (1892–1968) and Edgar Wind (1900–1971).10 This historic background and the rising interest in using artworks to achieve scientific knowledge in music research, accompanied by an intensified discussion on methodological issues,11 explains not only the publication of such important books as Kinsky’s Geschichte der Musik in Bildern (1929),12 and Bessler and Schneider’s series Musikgeschichte in Bildern (1961–1989),13 but also Dent’s urge for an international inventory of iconographic sources with musical subject matter expressed in a meeting of the executive board of the International Musicological Society in 1929.14 Dent’s vision finally materialized in the establishment of the Répertoire International d’Iconographie Musicale (RIdIM) in 1971.15 RIdIM is sponsored by three distinguished international societies: the International Association of Music Libraries Archives and Documentation Centres (IAML), the International Musicological Society (IMS) and the International Committee of Musical Instrument Museums and Collections (CIMCIM) of the International Council of Museums (ICOM). It is the fourth international index project in addition to the International Répertoire des Sources Musicales (RISM, founded in 1952), the Repertoire International de Littérature Musicale (RILM, founded in 1966) and the Répertoire International de la Presse Musicale/The Retrospective Index to Music Periodicals (RIPM, founded in 1980). As the international index of visual sources of music RIdIM fulfils a twofold function. First, it is charged with the cataloguing of visual sources of musical subject matter for which it has developed the Internet-based RIdIM database that can be accessed free of charge via the RIdIM website.16 Secondly, it is supporting research activities in music iconography by different means, such as the organization of symposiums and conference or the publication of scholarly studies. d d d d d Despite the fact that both the term and the subject “iconography” have a previous history, actually dating back to antiquity17—one of the first publications that used the term “iconography/iconology” prominently in the title was the highly influential emblem book Iconologia by Cesare Ripa, of 159318—the introduction of an elaborated methodological perspective for research in iconography is the merit of Panofsky. In his 1939 Studies in Iconology,19 Panofsky developed a three-step model for the study and analysis of the iconographic/iconological content in an artwork.20 His concept makes clear that the acquisition of valuable results depends on the quality of interrelationship among the three different steps of interpretation. As much as the names of the different steps may suggest a qualitative distinction among the three phases of interpretation, it would be faulty to evaluate Panofsky’s concept as a mere checklist model in which one stage of interpretation simply follows the other and in which the first phase counts less then the third. Rather, the three parts are strongly connected to each other. 10 Music in Art XXXV/1–2 (2010) There are, however, a few problematic aspects in Panofsky’s methodology, and it is fruitful to briefly discuss the criticism Panofsky’s methodological premises have evoked since part of this critical reflection still shapes discussions of the role and function of music iconography research in today’s academia. The fact that Panofsky’s methodology was developed for the interpretation of Renaissance art is crucial insofar as many of the sources in music iconography are from outside the generally accepted canon of Western art, and specifically do not fall within the period of the European Renaissance. In addition, music iconography research all visual documents are valuable primary sources independent of their artistic value. Titian’s Venus and Cupid21 is as important source as a Greek vase painting, or stained glass for cabinets or images on CD booklets, for instance. Music iconography research cares about the quality and amount of information a visual object may provide, and not about its artistic value. In contrast to art history and musicology, where basic categories of research are still largely referring to the author and the artwork (despite the huge criticism regarding such a concept), the focus of music iconography is the iconographical/iconological content of the visual source itself. In this respect aspects concerning the medium, technique, author, etc., are addressed regarding their impact on the wider iconographical /iconological content. However, it cannot be denied that objects of so-called high culture were the major source material in earlier times of music iconography research,22 mainly because of three issues. First of all, early music iconography research remained strongly connected to the traditional paradigm of high culture so prominently promoted by research in the humanities for almost a century; and, secondly, the easier availability of artworks (instead of artifacts) in museum and art collections has exerted a significant influence in getting music iconography research involved with the analysis and interpretation of high art. Lastly, the majority of music iconography scholars are mostly trained in techniques of analysis that are bound to traditional epistemological models. A problematic issue with Panofsky’s concept, however, concerns the “iconological” interpretation which, although impressive, always remains blurred to a certain extent. His interpretations generally lack what I would call a social-historic or socio-cultural dimension23 that has become an important concern of music iconography research with the introduction of a socio-cultural perspective in the humanities and the establishment of cultural studies as a serious and influential yet often highly criticized field of research.24 This aspect of music iconography is prominently represented by the research of Richard Leppert.25 The lack of a social-historical or socio-cultural dimension in Panofsky’s research is primarily due to his deep anchorage in the “ideology and hegemony of Western art” that he was not able or not willing to escape, and his dependence on the neo-Platonic paradigm in his interpretation of Renaissance art derived from Marsilio Ficino (1433–1499) and other humanists of the Florentine Academy.26 Within traditional university scholarship, Western art (including music, literature and the visual arts) is first of all still considered as being the result of a creation process ruled by aesthetic principles. A fundamental consequence of such a concept is an analytical and theoretical model geared to the musical and visual artwork as an “autonomous” entity, and with a hermeneutic perspective on the object. This ideology has been at work since the late eighteenth century and has so greatly shaped the academic discourse on Western art that the artwork’s cultural, historical and social dimensions are still considered as being accidental and not inevitable in nature. The increasing mistrust in such a strongly artwork-oriented concept has not caused a broadening of the traditional analytic and theoretical models but has rather resulted in what I would like to call a “schism”, mirrored in the introduction of the academic trends of New Art History and New Musicology. Another major criticism concerning Panofsky’s methodological approach that still has to be taken very seriously, and that is frequently extended to research with a socio-cultural perspective, is its logocentric nature. One can hardly dismiss the fact that Panofsky, in the tradition of the Warburg school, treats iconographic sources essentially as if they are literary documents; this is strongly connected to the idea that an artwork functions as a holder of meaning. Yet the commonly accepted opinion that artworks, in the first instance, display aesthetic values and satisfy the consumer’s aesthetic pleasure rather then convey a meaningful message, is a platitude from a scholarly point of view. For both aesthetic values and aesthetic pleasure are products “of human consciousness, itself part and parcel of culture and history”, and thus are not only “performing some functions within a given sociocultural frame”,27 but are also saturated with meaning. 11 Antonio Baldassarre, The Place and Function of Music Iconography in Institutions of Higher Education 1. James McNeill Whistler, Symphony in White, no. 1: The White Girl (1862). Oil on canvas, 214.6 × 108 cm. Washington, D.C., National Gallery of Art, Harris Whittemore Collection, 1943.6.2. Although even the most radical artistic concept of art for art’s sake challenges the iconographic interpretation, it does not substantially prevent it. The canvas The White Girl by James McNeill Whistler (1834–1903) is a striking example in this respect [fig. 1]. Painted in 1862 and re-titled Symphony in White, No. 1 six years after its completion, this painting was rejected from the Paris Salon in 1863. It became, however, the major attraction of the inaugural Salon des Refusés of the same year. It was prominently hung near Manet’s Le déjeuner sur l’herbe (1863)28 and highly criticized because of its attempt to simply present the model posing in the artist’s studio instead of sustaining the distinct narrative that critics were, by and large, used to in those days. Generally, the critics were not able to descry the shifted narrative and to understand the twofold message of the painting: the purely formal pictorial values of the painting—reinforced by the new title—present Whistler’s view of “art for art’s sake”29 by avoiding any reference outside of the painting.30 Simultaneously this avoidance gives expression to a 12 Music in Art XXXV/1–2 (2010) 2. Hyacinthe Rigaud, King Louis XIV of France (1701). Oil on canvas, 279 × 190 cm. Paris, Musée du Louvre, inv. 7492. general shift in the socio-cultural perspective of art. The primary intention of this shift consisted of the liberation of the arts in general from mimetic representation, which has to be considered with regard to specific conditions of the socio-cultural and political agenda of the time.31 Such an argument, however, leads to the crucial controversy about the usefulness of iconographic interpretation, referring to the notion of cultural homogeneity in a certain age. For both Warburg and Panofsky there was no doubt that images present or are reflections of the zeitgeist. More then half a century later, and after the replacement of the concept of cultural homogeneity by the concept of cultural diversity in the scholarly interpretation of history, culture and society, the belief in any general zeitgeist seems to be obsolete— and justifiably so.32 Indeed neither morbidity, which Huizinga has thought to be the prevailing mood of late medieval Flemish culture on the basis of his analysis of contemporary literature and visual arts,33 nor its 13 Antonio Baldassarre, The Place and Function of Music Iconography in Institutions of Higher Education 3. Workshop of Henry de Gissey, Louis as Apollo, costume sketch for the performance of Lully’s Ballet royal de la nuit (Paris, 1654). Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Cabinet des Estampes. opposite mirrors the zeitgeit of this period, as Gombrich and McFarlane have argued in rejection of Huizinga’s description of the time.34 The manifold discussions and arguments concerning criticism of the iconographic/iconological method pertain in essence to the oft-resurrected text-context controversy and the dispute of the kind of information pictorial sources reveal. According to Spiegel, there is a possible scholarly standpoint that focuses on text and context simultaneously and copes with the “double nature” of artistic products, since “text and context are collapsed into one broad vein of discursive production”.35 Thus, Spiegel has demonstrated that the historical and cultural analysis of an aesthetic subject is possible insofar as aesthetic subjects “both mirror and generate social realities”, and as they “are constituted by and constitute social and discursive formations, which they may sustain, resist, context, or seek to transform depending on the individual case [emphasis original]”.36 Similarly but with a stronger emphasis on the sociological function,37 Bourdieu has introduced an epistemology which cancels the difference between the objective and the subjective according to the concept of habitus.38 He evaluates any human expression, including art and the aesthetics, as being inescapably deter14 Music in Art XXXV/1–2 (2010) 2a & 3a. Details of figs. 2 & 3. mined by the “social space” and the antagonist dynamics that govern that space. In this respect artworks as well as judgments of aesthetic pleasure belong to the specific reality of their social space and are “distinctive signs” that emerge through specific judgments and assessments. On the other hand artworks collaborate in the development of differences. Generally speaking, the reality of artworks lies as much in their economical and cultural value as in their inherent aesthetic power (communicated by means of form and material). Bourdieu’s concept does not abolish the idea of autonomy or self-government of art but embodies this idea in the specific social space that is constituted by specific forms of capitals or combination of capitals, such as the economic, cultural, political, scientific, and literary capitals. Therefore artworks function as symbolic representations of their respective contexts, participating in the transformation of any object with distinct and distinctive signs that are, according to Bourdieu, mirrored in the concept of taste. An interesting example in this respect is the famous portrait of Louis XIV, the Sun King, painted by Hyacinthe Rigaud [fig. 2]. It is well know that Louis XIV was very well aware of the remarkable power of the arts concerning his political agenda and image, as evidenced by many descriptions in his Memoirs and the almost unrestrained promotion of the arts as the most effective means of the King’s self-portrayal.39 Generally, portraits of rulers have a very explicit narrative: to portray power, fame and prestige. Thus it is not surprising that these kinds of portraits follow more or less normative rules. Giovanni Paolo Lomazzo (1538 –1600) demanded in Trattato dell’arte della Pittura (1584)40 that portraits should display kings and princes with an awe-inspiring habitus and should not primarily care about representing the true appearance of the portrayed person.41 Is this the case with Rigaud’s portrait of the Sun-King? It is known that Louis liked this portrait very much and commissioned numerous copies.42 Although at first glance the portrait fits perfectly into the normative rules of a traditional state portrait, its narrative is extremely bizarre at a second glance. Following traditional norms, its pictorial allusions to Renaissance traditions are quite unremarkable. The depictions of a classical pillar and the figure of an allegorical Justice on the pillar’s pedestal, as well as of a red velvet curtain and the royal garment, are features connecting this particular portrait to the tradition of state portrait painting since the Renaissance. The king himself is, however, depicted simultaneously in a natural and an idealized manner. The upper part of the portrait, particularly the face, presents the king as an aging individual: a depiction most uncommon for representative portraits in those days and contradictory to the aforementioned requirement of Lomazzo.43 15 Antonio Baldassarre, The Place and Function of Music Iconography in Institutions of Higher Education 4. Jacques-Louis David, The Emperor Napoleon in His Study at the Tuileries (1812). Oil on canvas, 209.9 × 125.1 cm. Washington, D.C., National Gallery of Art, Samuel H. Kress Collection, 1961.9.15. As Hatton has pointed out, having a close look at the canvas one can even detect the tired eyes and the sunken cheeks, most probably caused by the king’s recent, and well documented, dental surgery.44 In contrast, the lower part of the king’s body, especially his elegant legs and the particular position they are placed in, allude to the period when Louis used to appear on stage as a dancer, an activity which he had, however, abandoned thirty years before the portrait was painted.45 A comparison with the famous costume sketch drawing depicting the king dancing in the role of Apollo in Ballet royal de la nuit of 1653 clarifies this interpretation [fig. 3 and details 2a & 3a]. Although Rigaud’s portrait of Louis XIV represents the explicit narrative of state portraits, its true value can only be appreciated when analyzing it with respect to its socio-cultural space and the communication process activated by the painting’s aesthetic and symbolic means in which Louis’s highly politically charged agenda on music is significantly embodied. It is surely no coincidence, then, that more then a century later, Napoléon Bonaparte, Emperor of the French at the time, was depicted by Jacques-Louis David in a manner tangibly alluding to Rigaud’s portrait of Louis XIV [fig. 4]. Alexander Douglas, the tenth Duke of Hamilton, commissioned the portrait. As a descent of James Stuart, Douglas strongly hoped to restore the Stuarts to the British throne with the help of Napoléon. 16 Music in Art XXXV/1–2 (2010) 5. Boris Karpov, The Portrait of Stalin (1945). Oil on canvas, 285 × 212 cm. Current location unknown. Because of both Douglas’s commission and David’s lack of direct access to the French Emperor, it can be taken for granted that Napoléon did not stand for the portrait. The portrait rather has to be considered as an expression of David’s ability to transform an idealistic image into a politically powerful icon matching with the commissioner’s particular ambitions, thereby implicitly and most likely unconsciously also reproduc ing the narrative of the power of the arts so obvious in Rigaud’s painting. Generally, the allusions to Rigaud’s canvas of Louis XIV are too obvious to be missed. The almost identical leg position that appears as an iconographical quote, as well as the heraldic bees (on the chair’s arm-rest) and the fleurs-de-lys (on the chair’s seat) are pictorial aspects of symbolic power strategically placed by David to hint at symbols of French absolutism and to imply a connection between Napoléon and the monarchs of royal absolutism. In this respect David’s portrait of Napoléon can be read as a palimpsest, or—from a postmodern perspective— as the product of inter-textual dialogue. Yet, the painting’s narrative is extended according to the dynamics between the fulfillment of specific expectations and the fabrication of a distinctively new image, which can be described as a form of sous rature in Derrida’s sense.46 The sword on the chair and the display of the term “Code” on the paper also lying on the chair—unmistakably referring to Napoléon’s Code Civile47—suggest the portrayed person’s military and administrative achievements and augment the allusion to French royal absolutism. 17 Antonio Baldassarre, The Place and Function of Music Iconography in Institutions of Higher Education 6. Leonardo da Vinci, Musician (ca. 1485). Oil on panel, 43 × 31 cm. Milan, Pinacoteca Ambrosiana. 7. Attributed to Antonio Domenico Gabbiani, Musician with a Lute (1640–1700). Florence, Museo dell’Academia. Napoleon’s portrait is, generally speaking, an artful set-up of his political image and conveys him as solider, emperor, and administrator—a narrative that was, again with specific alterations, taken up in the future by many political leaders. The portrait of Stalin by Boris Karpov [fig. 5]—explicitly quoting David’s portrait, including the hand inserted into the vest for which Napoléon became famous—is one of many examples. Among the symbolic features that were included in addition to the presence of the insignia of sovereignty in state portraits, a glaring absence or omission was that of any appearance of laughter, unless the person portrayed wishes to be explicitly presented as a tribune of the people. Laughing was—and perhaps still seems to be—incompatible with the idea of political power. Interestingly enough, and with respect to the pictorial representation of Louis XIV, a striking example in this respect is the rejection of an equestrian sculpture of the Sun King by Bernini because of an unbecoming smile.48 It is striking that portraits of musicians and composers often closely duplicate the described narrative of state portraits, as portraits in figs. 6–9 reveal. These figures play with stylizations drawn from portraits of rulers. When laughing is depicted in portraits of musicians, the narrative of the depiction is shifted away from presenting a musician or composer as a person involved in serious activities, as I have discussed in my forthcoming paper, “Mapping Music Iconography”.49 d d d d d 18 Music in Art XXXV/1–2 (2010) 8. Joseph Willibrod Mähler, Ludwig van Beethoven (1804/05). Oil on canvas. Vienna, Historisches Museum der Stadt Wien, Beethoven Pasqualatihaus. The considerations outlined up to this point demonstrate that visual sources do not invite us but rather force us towards interpretation because they have—emphatically speaking—“no existence apart from any interpretation”50 or because—from an ontological point of view—they have no existence before nor are independent of cognitive processes. This is also true from the perspective of perception. In opposition to Gibson, I would argue on the basis of an epistemological theory that the world of visual sources needs to be constructed, reconstructed and interpreted by the mind or brain of a viewer to enfold the pictorial information and to be able to become part of the viewer’s world.51 If visual sources encapsulate pictorial information for perceiving—a fact that Gibson does emphasize when stating that “information provided by a picture is information for perceiving, in the widest sense of the term”52—then they inevitably activate not only psychological stimuli but also cognitive processes. In other words, from an epistemological point of view picture perception without the involvement of cognitive processes remains a subjective and prescientific experience as cultivated, for instance, in meditation classes in order to achieve a perception level free of concepts. Therefore, any perceptual/perspective approach lags behind the power of visual sources when explicitly rejecting the cognitive power of perception. Such an understanding of perception processes leads us to the communicative power of visual sources. In a figurative sense, they “cannot not communicate”, to quote the famous axiom of human communication extracted by 19 Antonio Baldassarre, The Place and Function of Music Iconography in Institutions of Higher Education 9. Arnold Schoenberg, Alban Berg (1910). Oil on canvas, 175.5 × 85 cm. Vienna, Museen der Stadt Wien. Watzlawick, Beavin and Jackson.53 This communicative aspect of visual sources makes them perfectly suitable as a means for cultural memory by storing, accumulating and transmitting human knowledge.54 However, visual sources do not tell a concluding and final story, and they do not invite interpretation because they reproduce reality or what is visible. Like photographs and soap operas, visual sources are only rarely a one-to-one transcript of reality. Furthermore, “in the image (…) the distinction between the literal message and the symbolic message is operational: we never encounter (…) a literal image in a pure state”, as Barthes has pointed out.55 From a postmodern viewpoint, images are open dialogic unities speaking—in a metaphorical sense—different languages simultaneously. Significant and, for traditional musicology and art history, the rather frightening consequences of such a perspective are both the axiomatic openness and the radical ambiguity of any conclusion. A striking example in this respect is the difference in narratives when comparing two rather similar canvases by Nicolas Lancret [figs. 10–11]. Both paintings depict concert scenes at the houses of Pierre Crozat (1661–1740) and date to ca. 1720. 20 Music in Art XXXV/1–2 (2010) The similarities of the overall setting of the two scenes are too obvious to be missed, including the depicted instruments and the arrangement of the musicians.56 Yet the designs of the rooms are notably different. While the Munich canvas, with its obvious Italianized design, sets the scene in the city house of Crozat that was built by Jean-Sylvain Cartaud, the canvas of the Michael L. Rosenberg Foundation depicts the oval salon of Cozat’s country house in Montmorency, also built by Cartaud in 1709 but clearly meeting the Classicist taste of the time. Because of the obvious similarities of the musical scenes clustered around the harpsichord, both of which include a female singer and six additional instrumentalists (violoncello, double bass, oboe and probably three violins), one can argue either that the Munich and Dallas paintings represent typical contemporary performance practices or that the depicted performances are, based on their striking similarities, not descriptive but rather evocative and therefore do not represent any real contemporary practices. An additional narrative the paintings embody would enforce the latter interpretation. The obvious Italianized and Classicist interiors of the rooms clearly imply a socio-cultural message referring to the status of Pierre Crozat who commissioned the paintings. He was a wealthy banker and art collector from Toulouse, also known as Crozat le pauvre, which was an ironic reference to his peasant descent and his enormous wealth.57 He not only became the principle patron of Jean-Antoine Watteau and built up one of the greatest private collections of paintings and drawings, but also exercised an extensive passion for music. His wealthy status connected him closely to the royal court of Louis XIV—who appointed him treasurer—and Philippe II, Duc of Orléans who was named Régent du Royaume de France (1715–1723) until Louis XV, the Sun King’s grandson, reached a majority in February 1723. The Italianized design of Crozat’s salon at his Paris home provides further insights, revealing a significant cultural-political shift. This alteration refers to the reintroduction of Italian art in France that experienced a remarkable hiatus until the death of Louis XIV in 1715. It is well known that Louis XIV displayed a major distaste for Italian art. To give two well documented examples: Louis XIV not only rejected Gian Lorenzo Bernini’s Italian Baroque-influenced proposals for the remodeling of the east facade of the Louvre (presented in 1665),58 but also demonstrated obvious reservations towards Italian opera that finally resulted in the “invention” of the tragédie en musique, the French opera genre developed by Lully and Quinault. One of the most impressive music iconographic pieces of evidence representing this cultural-political shift in France is the canvas Comédiens italiens by Watteau, Crozat’s protégé.59 d d d d d Even if scholars in the humanities today only dare to question the great benefit of visual documents as source material and seriously attack interdisciplinary enterprises when off-the-record, there is still lack of agreement on the point of how visual sources should be acquired and used. In this respect the debate in the field of history provides a striking example, which is addressed in summary in the introduction of Cohen’s inspiring study Jewish Icons.60 While some scholars emphasize the benefits of cross-fertilization between the disciplines,61 others are quite hesitant to accept the use of visual sources as evidence, arguing that art is not only formed through purposes and traditions but also to a large extent through imagination.62 I share sympathy with both positions because, on the one hand, visual sources are epistemological documents that often provide information which oral and written sources cannot express or which have been neglected or omitted by contemporary writers. On the other hand, we have to take into account that pictorial documents do not necessarily follow what is generally called historical truth or credibility. As far as music iconography research is concerned, scholars have to keep in mind that the visual source with musical subject matter is seldom a means of musical communication, meaning that criteria of music are most often not the main guiding principle in the process of artistic creation.63 Two of many interesting examples in this respect are Raphael’s Parnass fresco at the Stanza della Segnatura at the Vatican [fig. 12], and the Italian aquatint of apparently indigenous Mexican musicians by an anonymous artist [fig. 13]. 21 Antonio Baldassarre, The Place and Function of Music Iconography in Institutions of Higher Education 10. Nicolas Lancret, Concert in the Paris Home of Pierre Crozat (ca. 1720). Oil on canvas, 38 × 48 cm. Munich, Alte Pinakothek. The depiction of the lira da braccio with nine rather than the expected seven strings, played by Apollo sitting in the center of the fresco, Raphael’s Parnass, is, as I have argued elsewhere, not the result of a true copy of existing instruments, but rather of the symbolic and ideological narrative embodied in the composition. It symbolizes the revitalized concept of the ancient poet-singer in the Renaissance, surrounded by the nine muses who are represented in the nine strings of the instrument.64 Although the Italian aquatint claims to present a detail of everyday life of indigenous Mexican musicians, figure 13 is also highly charged with an ideological narrative. The Mexican musicians are the product of a European vision of the cultivated yet exotic savages whose exoticism tends to be neutralized by shaping them as ancient Greek or Roman individuals. Striking examples of the benefits of cross-fertilization between the disciplines are provided in the already-mentioned studies by Burke, Cohen and Baxandall. Building upon this background I would like to briefly discuss the canvas Portrait of Queen Hortense by Pierre Félix Cottrau (1832), which depicts Hortense de Beauharnais in her parlor at Arenenberg Castle in Switzerland [fig. 14]. Hortense de Beauharnais was the daughter of Empress Josephine of France, Napoléon Bonaparte’s second wife, and was married to Louis Bonaparte (the brother of Napoléon), with whom she had three chil22 Music in Art XXXV/1–2 (2010) 11. Nicolas Lancret, Concert in the Oval Salon of Pierre Crozat’s House at Montmorency (ca. 1720). Oil on canvas, 35.6 × 44.5 cm. Dallas, Michael L. Rosenberg Foundation. dren, among them Charles Louis Napoléon Bonaparte, the later Emperor Napoléon III. At first sight the canvas by Cottrau is striking evidence of the status and cultivation of the sitter through explicitly incorporating signifying features well know for decades, such as the red curtain in the background. Although the musical instrument on the left side of the canvas is only a vague depiction of a real pyramid piano, it remains discernible, and is, argue, deliberately chosen, its function is symbolic, as I have explored elsewhere.65 Clearly it makes a significant difference to both artist and subject that Hortense’s left arm is elegantly resting on a musical instrument rather than, for example, on a table.66 Hortense’s appearance excludes status and success, and the musical instrument, although appearing merely decorative at first, is a support for both the sitter and the values she represents. Pianofortes were in the nineteenth century still relatively expensive, as Ehrlich has pointed out,67 and from a symbolic point of view they made a great contribution towards enhancing the owner’s prestige and status. The instrument functioned as a social, cultural and above all ideological emblem expressing the values and standards of a high-status individual, including those of wealth, prestige, and the cultivation of high educational standards.68 23 Antonio Baldassarre, The Place and Function of Music Iconography in Institutions of Higher Education 12. Raphael (Rafaello Santi), Parnass (1509–1511). Fresco. Vatican City, Stanza della Segnatura. These features of Cottrau’s canvas also give expression to an additional message. The omnipresence of icons of prestige and status in the portrait contradicts the actual role of Queen Hortense at the time the portrait was painted and omits reference to rural Arenenberg as the location. In 1832 Hortense de Beauharnais was living in exile at Arenenberg Castle, situated on the Swiss side of Lake Constance and surrounded by an environment that had been shaped by local rustic traditions for centuries and which was far away from the European cultural, intellectual, social and political centers of the time. Thus, the portrait gives expression to both a paradoxical phenomenon during Hortense’s residence at Arenenberg Castle and her attempt to go on living in the style to which she was accustomed; for instance, by copying the interior decoration of her former home at Château de Malmaison.69 Furthermore, by omitting any relation to the surrounding “real” world and by emphasizing privacy instead, time, in the real sense of the word, is suspended. In this respect Cottrau’s portrait functions as the visual equivalent of what Alfred de Musset described in his novel La confession d’un enfant du siècle of 1836 as the illness of his time: “All the illness of our century has two causes: the people who have survived 1793 and 1814 have two wounds in their hearts: everything that has existed is gone; everything that will be does not exist yet. Don’t look anywhere else for the secret of our basic evil”.70 Musset’s words and Cottrau’s potrait give expression to the feelings of a lost generation. In precisely this context the pyramid piano depicted in Cottrau’s canvas takes on an additional function beyond that of being only a status symbol. It is in fact true that at least from the third decade of the nineteenth century on, this type of pianoforte was hopelessly out of fashion, but suited perfectly the feelings of the lost generation of this period.71 24 Music in Art XXXV/1–2 (2010) 13. Anonymous, Musicos Mexicanos (probably the 18th century, Italian). Acquatint. Reproduced in Fernando Benitez, Historia de La Cuidad de México (México, D.F.: Salvat, 1984), vol. 1, 77. For the French leading generation after 1814, times apparently were out of joint. They suffered from the illness of deprivation and hoped to keep past times alive by withdrawing into privacy and celebrating a lifestyle that had once been common. They were not able to discern any possible future since their ideals of living were actually obsolete. Therefore it is not surprising that although no connection to the former court life finds direct reference in the portrait of Cottrau, it is implicitly suggested. In precisely this context, the background of the painting illustrates its function. Though the conventional red curtain alludes to typical features of state portraits, as I have already discussed, it also paradoxically reveals and partially hides the view through the window. Yet there is no real view provided, for it is dark night. Any kind of relationship to a possible reality—and thereby to a future—is avoided. What it tells is the story of an attitude to life, and how much art and music participated in establishing, transmitting, and affirming it, thus helping to maintain it without too much ambiguity.72 In this respect it is not important whether or not Hortense de Beauharnais consciously or unconsciously chose to be depicted with a pyramid piano. It is actually irrelevant because what matters is what the instrument meant to her and what she may have thought it would mean to the viewers of the image. d d d d d As mentioned, visual sources rarely follow principles of historical truth or credibility. Equally, it cannot be taken for granted that written sources are in any case faithful records. The statement of the photographer Gilles Peress regarding the Magnum project on the events of September 11, that he does not trust words but pictures, is interesting so far as it gives expression to the typical iconocentric mind of our time.73 25 Antonio Baldassarre, The Place and Function of Music Iconography in Institutions of Higher Education 14. Pierre Félix Cottreau, Portrait of Queen Hortense (1832). Oil on canvas, 160 × 115 cm. Napoléon-Museum, Arenenberg. However, scholars have always had to deal with the ambiguous or vague nature of epistemological documents. The fact that we often forget to question what we see is a typical symptom of our time caused by what Alan Trachtenberg calls the “idea of photo camera”, it also significantly shapes our perception of the past, since “the idea of camera has so implanted itself that our very imagination of the past takes the snapshots as its notion of adequacy, the equivalent of having been there”.74 This critique has been further considered and developed by Sontag, Barthes and Shapiro.75 However, even documents with a questionable or twisted nature are nothing beyond useless from a scholarly point of view.76 I would like to further discuss this issue based on two examples. The first is the woodcut engraving published in L’atmosphère: Météorologie populaire by Camille Flammarion in 1888 [fig. 15]. The engraving with the caption “A missionary of the Middle Ages tells that he had found the point where the sky and the earth touch each other ...” was not only believed to be an original medieval woodcut,77 but was also taken as an example depicting the medieval belief in the concept of a flat earth (an invention of the nineteenth century).78 This was closely connected to the idea of the Middle Ages as a dark period that destroyed ancient culture and knowledge by both the dogmatic censorship of the Catholic Church and the depredation of the Völkerwanderung (migration period). Although this stereotypical image of the Middle Ages as the “dark age” has been fundamentally revised by historians over the last century (most strikingly and influentially in the studies of Le Goff),79 histories of the reception, influence and effect of Flammarion’s engraving in the twen- 26 Music in Art XXXV/1–2 (2010) 15. Camille Flammarion, woodcut in L’atmosphère: Métérologie populaire (Paris, 1888), 163. tieth century clearly demonstrate that stereotypical ideas continued to linger because the anonymous engraving met certain cultural expectations.80 The other example I would like to mention is the photograph of the Falling Soldier, also known as the Death of a Republican that Robert Capa (1913–1954) took during the Spanish Civil war in 1936 [fig. 16].81 Philip Knightley has strongly questioned the authenticity of the photograph in his study The First Casualty.82 More challenging than the initial question of the veracity of the photograph, something that may even question the ethical integrity of Capa as a war photographer and influence the reception of his other war photographs, is, in my opinion, the fact that it can hardly be denied that this particular photograph had a great impact on both the contemporary perception of the Spanish Civil War and the historic reception of it. The photograph was part of a process that cut intellectuals and artists all over Europe to the quick and brought them to embrace the socialist movement against the fascists and to join the Civil War. It also sensitized people to the threatening danger of fascism. In addition, it has strongly influenced both the Western scholarly and non scholarly general image of war to such a degree that it is now an icon of war photographs. Thus, beyond the question of whether Capa’s photograph represents a true or contrived moment of history, it has authenticated history and authorized documents whose faithfulness is unequivocal.83 This is one out of many reasons why revisionist arguments go nowhere when they deny actual historic occurrences because of the questionable authenticity of certain documents. Furthermore, postmodern theory of photography considers photographs as a narrative transcending the “so it has been” stigma. They take part in defining realities as they are shaped by their socio-cultural context.84 27 Antonio Baldassarre, The Place and Function of Music Iconography in Institutions of Higher Education 16. Robert Capa, Falling Soldier (Death of a Republican). Photograph published for the first time in Vu on 23 September 1936. d d d d d Against the background of this glance into the mirror, the question concerning the place and function of music iconography in institutions of higher education may appear irrelevant, particularly due to the general acceptance of its potential to provide insights and enrich our understanding and knowledge about topics with which the humanities are concerned and which significantly shape both culture and society as well as discourses about them. It can, however, hardly be denied that music iconography is still treated rather poorly within the canon of the humanities.85 The acceptance of visual documents as important source material is mirrored in the role of and function music iconography in institutions of higher education today, particularly in the context of musicology. With the exception of Brown’s Musical Iconography: The Manual for Cataloguing Musical Subjects in Western Art Before 1800,86 major textbooks dealing with musicology or music history have generally little or no substantial reference to music iconography.87 Thus, it would be naive to assume that music iconography is a significant part of the curriculum of academic musicology or music history. Its plurality and methodological eclecticism still arouse a suspicion of promoting relativism although both aspects are also quite characteristic for musicology and many other well-established disciplines in the humanities.88 The neglect of music iconography research is quite surprising when taking into consideration that pictures are often used in classrooms or in books on musical topics. The non-reflective application of pictures in classrooms and books is more than alarming—illustrations are treated extremely carelessly and are not seriously considered as relevant source material for scholarly consideration; rather, they satisfy the needs of commercial consumption. 28 Music in Art XXXV/1–2 (2010) 17. Jan Matejko, Stanczyk during a Ball at the Court of Queen Bona after the Loss of Smolensk (1862). Oil on canvas, 88 × 120 cm. Warsaw, Muzeum Narodowe, MP 433. Nevertheless, to lament about the actual status of music iconography in institutions of higher education is, if anything, a pitiable act. I would rather argue that the almost total neglect of music iconography in the academic curriculum can be considered as an advantage for music iconography research in general, espe cially when taking into consideration that any institutionalization embodies the danger of neutralizing and domesticating innovations as, for instance, the proponents of New Musicology had to learn the hard way.89 Today’s university system tends, on the one hand, to have success by a certain disciplinary reduction and, on the other hand, by a limitation of the growth of interdisciplinary and transdisciplinary scholarship which are essential to music iconography research. What particularly puts music iconography at a disadvantage here is that “the reward system … by which universities” still “hire, promote, and remunerate their faculties tends to measure scholars by their output, as if we were producing identical commodities”90 and strongly sponsors specialization. The humanistic tradition of the freedom of teaching and of scientific research has been a chimera for a long time now, as the intense defense of this assumed principle of academic life proves. The argument of the historian Paul Veyne, that “a culture is already dead when one tries to defend it”91 seems to me at least worth a second thought in a figurative sense. 29 Antonio Baldassarre, The Place and Function of Music Iconography in Institutions of Higher Education Today, we are far beyond what Adler and Bukofzer and later Dahlhaus and Kerman proposed as being the central concern of musicology.92 This change in perspective is not caused by any fundamental progress within musicology but rather by a culture that has changed, as Korsyn has convincingly argued.93 An interesting example in this respect is the introduction of popular music research in the 1970s and 1980s as, for instance, John Shepherd has demonstrated.94 This change was not without a dramatic effect on the university. According to Readings, what is left of Humboldt’s ideas about the university are today only “ruins”,95 in which the “old humanist ideals survive … but [are] often reduced to the rhetoric of commencement addresses and the like”.96 As much as I do agree with Readings’s analysis of the contemporary status of the university, I do not share his plea for the “University of Excellence”97 because of its high tendency for solipsism and fragmentation. It is true that in our modern culture Humboldt’s idea of bildung is as obsolete as are the principles of accumulation and acquisition of knowledge that correspond to the concept. Yet the alternative is not Readings’s “University of Excellence” even if many scholars may agree with him. The University of Excellence has, as Korsyn has pointed out, “opened a vacuum in terms of values, leading to a crisis of legitimation, not merely in musicology, but for the university and the humanities in general”.98 If the contemporary university is anything else than favorable to music iconography, then what kind of function should music iconography display within such an environment? On the basis of the increasing tendency of authoritarian positions within musicology, mainly caused by the anxiety about the shift in culture and ideology experienced over the last three decades, music iconography can perform the role of a critical observer similar to the traditional function of the court jester.99 In such a role music iconography can express thoughts and ideas that courtiers do not have the heart to articulate. The jester generally personifies a nation’s conscious—an idea that is so strikingly captured in the canvas Stanczyk during a Ball at the Court of Queen Bona after the Loss of Smolensk by Jan Matejko (1838–1893) [fig. 17]. This canvas was painted in 1862 and presents Stanczyk, the most celebrated court jester in Polish history, with the features of Jan Matejko. Stanczyk sits solemnly in a chair aside from the court society and is the only one who realizes that the events of the war with Russia would eventually end in a tragic catastrophe. Stanczyk, who lived from ca. 1480 to 1560 and served under King Sigismund (1437–1548), became famous because of his criticism of his fellow-countrymen and his warning against the temporary and lasting consequences of their actions. The particular function of the jester consisted of being part of the court without abiding by its rules, customs and rituals. He held a mirror up to his master and the court society and invited them to consider his advice and suggestions. Last but not least, he functioned as mediator by constantly crossing and challenging the set standards. This amalgamation of political acumen, wisdom and humor may explain the high inspiration jesters held for artists like William Shakespeare, Victor Hugo and Giuseppe Verdi. I strongly believe that music iconography can play a significant role within “the struggle for the cultural authority to speak about music that musicology is experiencing at the moment, by adopting features of a court jester.”100 On the basis of its inherent interdisciplinary and topical pluralism and a methodology that promotes axiomatic openness and ambiguity, music iconography seems to be predestined to demonstrate that speaking about music is an affair that can only benefit from diversity, continuous examination of viewpoints, and critical thinking. Generally I would like to make an argument for what is called in psychology and science education the “tolerance of ambiguity”.101 This concept incorporates the willingness to accept ambiguous situations not as a threat but as a chance to understand differences and diversity and to reflect upon given situations. It furthermore embodies the potential to start investigating music beyond “privileged contexts”.102 From such a perspective the often underestimated or dismissed research of music iconography would achieve a different status of actuality as pointed out in the opening quote of this essay. 30 Music in Art XXXV/1–2 (2010) NOTES 1 Roland Barthes, “Le chant romantique”, Roland Barthes. Œuvre complètes, 1974–1980. Ed. by Éric Marty (Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 1995), vol. 3, 694. 2 The following considerations are partly based on, reconsidering, and further exploring ideas that I have discussed within my forthcoming paper “Mapping Music Iconography”, Proceedings of the International Conference of IAML/IAMIC/IMS, Göteborg 2006. Ed. by Chris Walton. Some of the latter paper’s ideas have also been reconsidered in my paper “Music Iconography: What’s it All About? Some Remarks and Considerations”, presented at the XVII Congresso da Associação Nacional de Pesquisa e PósGraduação em Música in Salvador de Bahia on 2 September 2008 and published with a selected bibliography in Ictus IX/2 (2008), 55-95. 3 Emanuel Winternitz, “The Iconology of Music: Potential and Pitfalls”, Perspectives in Musicology. Ed. by Barry S. Brook, et al (New York: W.W. Norton, 1972), 90. 4 Martin Gerbert, De cantu et musica sacra a prima ecclesiae aetate usque ad praesens tempus (San-Blasianis: Monasterium Sancti Blasii, 1774). Reprint ed. by Othmar Wessely (Graz: Akademische Druck- u. Verlagsanstalt, 1968). 5 Guillaume André Villoteau, De l’État actual de l’art musical en Égypte, ou Relation historique et descriptive des recherches et observations faites sur la musique en ce pays (Paris: Impr. impériale, 1812), and Description historique, technique et littéraire des instruments de musique des Orientaux (Paris: Impr. Impériale), 1813. See also Guillaume André Villoteau, Dissertation sur les diverses espèces d’instrumens de musique que l’on remarque parmi les sculptures que décorent les antiques monumens de l’Égypte, et sur les noms que leur donnèrent en leur langue propre les premiers peuples de ce pays (Paris: Imprimerie de C.L.F. Panckoucke), 1822. 6 See, for instance, Auguste Bottée de Toulmon, Instruments de musique en usage au Moyen Age (Paris: Impr. de Crapelet, 1838), and Dissertation sur les instruments de musique employés au Moyen Age (Paris: Impr. de Duverger, 1844); Charles-Henri-Edmond de Coussemaker, Memoire sur Hucbald et sur ses traites de musique, suive de recherches sur la notation et sur les intruments de musique (Paris: J. Techener, 1841), and “Essai sur les instruments de musique au Moyen Age”, Annales archéologiques III (1845), 76-88, 147-155, 269-282; IV (1846), 25-39, 94-101; VI (1847), 315-323; VII (1847), 92-100, 157-165, 242-250, 326-329; VIII (1848), 241-250; IX (1849), 289-297, 329-334, and XVI (1856), 98-110; Paul Lacroix, Mœurs, Usages et costumes au Moyen Ages et à l’époque de la Renaissance (Paris: Firmin-Didot frères, fils et Cie., 1874); EugèneEmmanuel Viollet-Le-Duc, Dictionnaire raisonné du mobilier. 6 vols. (Paris: E. Martine, 1858–1874); new edition in 3 vols. (Bayeux: Heimdal, 2003–2005). 7 See, for instance, Eugénie Droz and Geneviève Thibault, Poètes et musiciens du XV siècle (Paris: E. Droz, 1924); Geneviève Thibault, Bibliographie des poésies de P. de Ronsard mises en musique au 16e siècle (Paris: E. Droz, 1941); and Albert Pomme de Mirimonde, Saint-Cécile: Métamorphoses d’un thème musical (Genève: Minkoff, 1974); idem, L’iconographie musicale sous les rois Bourbons: La musique dans les arts platiques (XVIIe–XVIIe siècles) (Paris: Picard, 1975–1977); idem, Astrologie et musique (Genève: Minkoff, 1977). As far as Florence Gétreau’s recent publications are concerned, see: “Philippot le Savoyard: Portraits d’un Orphée du Pont-Neuf mêlés de vaudevilles, d’images et de vers burlesques”, “L’esprit français” und die Musik Europas: Entstehung, Einfluss und Grenzen einer ästhetischen Doktrin (“L’esprit français” et la musique en Europe: Émergence, influence et limites d’une doctrine esthéthique). Ed. by Michelle Biget-Mainfroy, et al (Hildesheim: Georg Olms Verlag, 2007), 269-288; “L’iconographie du clavecin en France, 1789– 1889”, Musique ancienne: Instruments et imagination. Actes des Rencontres Internationales “harmoniques”, Lausanne 2004. Ed. by Michael Latcham (Bern: Peter Lang, 2006), 169-191; “Romantic Pianists in Paris: Musical Images and Musical Literature”, Music in Art XXIX/1–2 (2004), 188-202. General information on the history of French music iconography research is provided by Tilman Seebass, “La contribution des chercheurs français à l’histoire de l’iconographie musicale”, Musique, images, instruments I (1995), 820. 8 In this respect Warburg proves to be an inheritor of his teacher Karl Lamprecht (1856–1915) who interpreted artworks as indicators of a universal historic process. Warburg mustered this process in the concise formula “per monstra ad sphaeram” (see Aby Warburg, Per monstra ad sphaeram: Franz Boll zum Gedächtnis, Vortrag vom 25 April 1925 (Hamburg: Dölling und Galitz Verlag, 2008). Lamprecht was a leading figure in the establishment of the tradition of reading artworks as documents of a particular zeitgeist. His studies caused the famous and polemic “Lamprecht debate” on the relation between the science of history and weltanschauung (view of life) at the end of the nineteenth century. Lamprecht lost this case not only because of the numerous crucial mistakes in his analysis but also because of the monistic nature of his theory. The “Lamprecht debate” had a significant effect on the long lasting negative image of and general mistrust in cultural scientific analysis models. Warburg’s other influential teacher was Anton Springer (1825–1891), the first professor of art history at Leipzig University who treated art history in dependence on historiography as source study, emphasizing exact description and the development of scientific criteria. See Anton Springer, Handbuch der Kunstgeschichte (Stuttgart: Alfred Körner Verlag, 1855); idem, Bilder aus der neueren Kunstgeschichte, 2 vols. (Bonn: Adolph Marcus, 1867); idem, Raffael und Michelangelo, 2 vols. (Leipzig: E.A. Seemann, 1877); idem, Grundzüge der Kunstgeschichte (Leipzig: E.A. Seemann, 1887–88); idem, Albrecht Dürer (Berlin: G. Grothe, 1892). 9 See Aby Warburg, “Italienische Kunst und internazionale [sic] Astrologie im Palazzo Schiafanoja zu Ferrara”, L’Italia e l’arte straniera: Atti del X. congresso internazionale di storia dell’arte in Roma (Roma, 1922; repr. ed., Nendeln: Kraus, 1978), 179-193. 10 See for instance Fritz Saxl, “A Battle Scene without a Hero”, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutions III (1939– 1940), 70-87, and Edgar Wind, Pagan Mysteries in the Renaissance (London: Faber & Faber, 1968). As far as reference literature by Erwin Panofsky is concerned see footnotes 19 and 23 of this paper. 11 For a selected bibliography on music iconography see Antonio Baldassarre, “Music Iconography: What is it all about? Some remarks and considerations with a selected bibliography”, Ictus IX/2 (2008), 55-95. In this respect I would like to mention at least the following studies: Otto Erich Deutsch, “Was heisst und zu welchem Ende studiert man Ikonographie?”, Schweizerische Musikzeitung C (1960), 230-233; Erwin Panofsky, Studies in Iconology (New York: Oxford University Press, 1939); Geneviève Thibault, Bibliographie des poésies de P. de Ronsard mises en musique au 16e siècle (Paris: E. Droz, 1941); Emanuel Winternitz, Musical Autographs from Monteverdi to Hindemith (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1955); Erwin Panofsky, Meaning in the Visual Arts (Garden City: Doubleday, 1955; reprint ed., Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1982); Jan Białostocki, “Iconography 31 Antonio Baldassarre, The Place and Function of Music Iconography in Institutions of Higher Education and Iconology”, Encyclopedia of World Art VIII (1963), 769–785; Emanuel Winternitz, Musical Instruments and their Symbolism in Western Art (London: Faber & Faber, 1967); idem, Gaudenzio Ferrari, la sua scuola e la protostoria del violino (Varallo Sesia: Società conservazione opere arte monumenti Valesesi, 1967); idem, “The Iconology of Music: Potential and Pitfalls”; Howard Mayer Brown and Joan Lascelle, Musical Iconography: A Manual for Cataloguing Musical Subjects in Western Art Before 1800 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1972); Pomme de Mirimonde, Saint-Cécile: Metamorphoses d’un thème musical; idem, L’iconographie musicale sous les rois Bourbons; idem, Astrologie et musique; James McKinnon, “Iconography”, Musicology in the 1980s: Methods, Goals, Opportunities. Ed. by D. Kern Holoman and Claude V. Palisca (New York: Da Capo Press, 1982), 79–93; Tilman Seebass, “Prospettive dell’iconografia musicale: Considerazioni di un medievalist”, Rivista italiana di musicologia XVIII/1 (1983), 67–86; Febo Guizzi, “Considerazioni preliminary sull’iconografia come fonte ausiliaria nella ricerca etnomusicologica”, Rivista italiana di musicologia XVIII (1983), 87–101; Carlotta Giucastro Longo, “Iconografia musicale: Il metodo, i problemi, la scheda”, Venezia arti: Bollettino del Dipartimento di Storia e Critica dell’Arte I (1987), 45–50; Florence Gétreau, “Collectionneurs d’instruments anciens et ensembles de musique ancienne en France (1850–1950)”, Musikalische Ikonographie. Ed. by Harald Heckmann, et al (Laaber: Laaber-Verlag, 1994), 73–82; Tilman Seebass, “La contribution des chercheurs français à l’histoire de l’iconographie musicale”; Ellen Rosand, “Music and Iconology”, Meaning in the Visual Arts: Views from the Outside. Ed. by Irving Lavin (Princeton: Institute for Advanced Study, 1995), 257–264; James Haar, “Music as a Visual Language”, Meaning in the Visual Arts: Views from the Outside. Ed. by Irving Lavin (Princeton: Institute for Advanced Study, 1995), 265–284; Leo Treitler, “What Obstacles Must be Overcome, Just in Case We Wish to Speak of Meaning in the Visual Art”, Meaning in the Visual Arts: Views from the Outside. Ed. by Irving Lavin (Princeton: Institute for Advanced Study, 1995), 285–303; Horst Bredekamp, “Words, Images, Ellipses”, Meaning in the Visual Arts: Views from the Outside. Ed. by Irving Lavin (Princeton: Institute for Advanced Study, 1995), 363–371; Seebass, “Musikikonographie”, Die Musik in Geschichte und Gegenwart (Kassel: Bärenreit; Stuttgar: Metzler, 1997), Sachteil vol. 6, 1319–1343; Antonio Baldassarre, “Reflections on Methods and Methodology in Music Iconography”, Music in Art XXV/1–2 (2000), 33–38; Elena Ferrari Barassi, “Il metodo di schedatura proprio del Catalago Italiano di Iconografia Musicale”, Il far musica, la scenografia, le feste: Scritti sull’ iconografia musicale. Ed. by Francesca Zannoni (Roma: Nuova Argos, 2002), 223–230; and Baldassarre, “Mapping Music Iconography”. 12 Georg Kinsky, Geschichte der Musik in Bildern (Leipzig: Breitkopf und Härtel, 1929), and in English as History of Music in Pictures (London; Toronto: J.M. Dent; New York: E.P. Dutton, 1930). 13 Musikgeschichte in Bildern. Ed. by Heinrich Besseler and Max Schneider (Leipzig: Deutscher Verlag für Musik, 1961–1989). 14 See minutes of the Directorium meeting of the International Musicological Society, 1929, at the archives of the International Musicological Society in Basel, Switzerland. 15 This was on the initiative of Barry S. Brook (1918–1997), Geneviève Thibault Comtesse de Chambure (1902–1975) and Harald Heckmann (b.1924) and with the strong support of Howard Mayer Brown (1930–1993), Walter Salmen (b.1926) and Emanuel Winternitz (1898–1983). See “Actes du Neuvième Congrès International des Bibliothèques Musicales, St. Gall, 22–28 aoùt 1971”, Fontes artis musicae XIX (1972), 196–203; Barry S. Brook et al, “RIdIM: A New International Venture in Musical Iconography”, Notes XXVIII/4 (1972), 652–663; Victor Ravizza, “Zu 32 einem internationalen Repertorium der Musikikonographie”, Acta musicologica XLIV/1 (1972), 101–108; Antonio Baldassarre, “Looking Back and Forward”, RIdIM Newsletter 1 (2006), 2-4; and idem, “Quo vadis Music Iconography? The Répertoire International d’Iconographie Musicale as a Case Study”, Fontes artis musicae LIV/4 (2007), 440-452 (particularly 441-443). 16 This can be found at: www.ridim.org. 17 See Roelof van Straaten, Einführung in die Ikonographie (Berlin: Dieter Reimer Verlag, 1997). Also in English as An Introduction to Iconography (Langhorne: Gordon and Breach, 1994). 18 Cesare Ripa, Iconologia overo Descrittione dell’imagini Universali cavate dall’Antichità et da altri luoghi (Roma: Heredi di Gio. Gigliotti, 1593). 19 Erwin Panofsky, Studies in Iconology (New York: Oxford University Press, 1939). See also his Meaning in the Visual Arts (Garden City: Doubleday, 1955; repr. ed., Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1982). 20 Peter Burke has discussed the dependence of Panofsky’s methodological model on Friedrich Ast’s model to analyze literary sources as developed in Grundlinien der Philologie (1808) and Grundlinien der Grammatik, Hermeneutik und Kritik (1808) and as applied in his translations of Plato’s writings. See Peter Burke, Augenzeigenschaft: Bilder als historische Quallen (Berlin: Klaus Wagenbach, 2003), 41; in English as Eyewitnessing: The Use of Images as Historical Evidence (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2001). Further information about the historical and intellectual context of Panofsky’s methodology is provided in Baldassarre, “Mapping Music Iconography”. 21 Titian (Tiziano Vecellino) (1488–1576), Venus and Cupid with an Organist, ca. 1548, oil on canvas, 217 × 148 cm, Museo Nacional del Prado, Madrid. 22 As is still the case, for instance, with the Study Group for Musical Iconography in European Art of the International Musicological Society, founded in Ravenna (Italy) in 2006 23 This is also the case in Panofsky’s late study on Gothic architecture although he explicitly attempts to connect artworks to concrete social circumstances. See Erwin Panofsky, Gothic Architecture and Scholasticism (Latrobe: Archabbey Press, 1951). A first and exhaustive attempt to achieve a social history of music with broad references to the visual arts is given in François Lesure, Musica e società (Milan: Istituto editoriale italiano, 1966); and in English as Music and Art in Society (University Park: Pennsylvania State University, 1968). 24 See for instance Lawrence Kramer, Music as Cultural Practice, 1800–1900 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990); Rose Rosengard Subotnik, Developing Variations: Style and Ideology in Western Music (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1991); Susan McClary, Feminine Endings: Music, Gender, and Sexuality (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1991); Lawrence Kramer, “The Musicology of the Future”, Repercussions I (1992), 5-18; Marcia Citron, Gender and the Musical Canon (Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 1993); Musicology and Difference: Gender and Sexuality in Music Scholarship. Ed. by Ruth A. Soli (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993); Lawrence Kramer, Classical Music and Postmodern Knowledge (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995); Nicholas Cook and Mark Everist (eds.), Rethinking Music (Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 1999); Martin Clayton, Trevor Herbert, and Richard Middleton (eds.), The Cultural Study of Music: A Critical Introduction (New York: Routledge, 2003); Lawrence Kramer, Critical Musicology and the Responsibility of Response: Selected Essays (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2006); and Susan McClary, Reading Music: Selected Essays (Hampshire: Ashgate, 2007). Music in Art XXXV/1–2 (2010) 25 Of the numerous studies published by Richard D. Leppert, I would like to mention at least the following: The Theme of Music in Flemish Paintings of the Seventeenth Century (München: Katzbichler, 1977); Music and Society: The Politics of Composition, Performance, and Reception. Ed. by Richard Leppert and Susan McClary (Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 1987); Music and Image: Domesticity, Ideology, and Socio-Cultural Formation in Eighteenth-Century England (Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 1988); The Sight of Sound: Music, Representation, and the History of the Body (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993); Art and the Committed Eye: The Cultural Functions of Imagery (Boulder: Westview Press, 1996); Beyond the Soundtrack: Representing Music in Cinema. Ed. by Richard Leppert, Daniel Goldmark and Lawrence Kramer (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2007); and Sound Judgment: Selected Essays (Aldershot; Hampshire; Burlington: Ashgate, 2007). 26 This theoretical dependence is also a very characteristic feature of the later Warburg pupils as evidenced by their neohumanistic interpretation of Renaissance art. 27 Leppert, Art and the Committed Eye, 3. 28 Oil on canvas, 214 × 269 cm, Musée d’Orsay, Paris. 29 See for instance Whistler’s letter to The World of 22 May 1878, reprinted in James McNeill Whistler, The Gentle Art of Making Enemies (New York: Dover Publications, 1967), 127-128. 30 See in this respect also James McNeill Whistler, Arrangement in Gray and Black (Portrait of the Painter’s Mother), 1871, oil on canvas, 144.3 × 162.5 cm, Musée d’Orsay Paris, Harmony in Grey and Green (Miss Cicely Alexander), 1872–74, oil on canvas, 190.2. × 97.8 cm, Tate Gallery, London, Nocturne: Blue and Silver — Cremorne Lights, 1872, oil on canvas, 50.2 × 74.2 cm, Tate Gallery, London, and Arrangement in Yellow and Grey (Effie Deans), ca. 1876–78, oil on canvas, 194 x 93 cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam. 31 Further information on this socio-cultural shift and its consequences concerning both visual arts and music and their interrelationship is provided in Antonio Baldassarre, “The Musicalization of the Visual Arts: Considerations of 20th-Century Music Iconography Research”, Musique, images, instruments X (2008), 142-169. 32 See for instance the review of Arnold Hauser’s study of the same title by Ernest H. Gombrich, “The Social History of Art”, Art Bulletin XXXV (1951), 79-84, reprinted in Meditations on a Hobby Horse, and Other Essays on the Theory of Art (London: Phaidon, 1971), 86-94, and “Aims and Limits of Iconology”, Introduction to Ernest H. Gombrich, Symbolic Images: Studies in the Art of the Renaissance (London: Phaidon, 1972), 1-25. 33 Johan Huzinga, Herfsttij der middeleeuwen: Studie over levens- en gedachtenvormen der veertiende en vijftiende eeuw in Frankrijk en de Nederlanden (Haarlem: Tjeenk Willink, 1919); and first English edition: The Waning of the Middle Ages: A Study of the Forms of Life, Thought, and Art in France and the Netherlands in the XIVth and XVth Centuries (London: E. Arnold & Co., 1924). 34 See Ernest H. Gombrich, In Search of Cultural History (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969), and Kenneth Bruce McFarlane, Hans Memling. Ed. by Edgar Wind and G.L. Harriss (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971). 35 Gabrielle M. Spiegel, “History, Historicism, and the Social Logic of the Text in the Middle Ages”, Speculum LXV (1990), 68. 36 Spiegel, “History, Historicism”, 77. 37 As far as Bourdieu’s value for music iconography research is concerned see Baldassarre, “Mapping Music Iconography”. 38 See Pierre Bourdieu, Les distinction: Critique sociale du jugement (Paris: Les éditions de minuit, 1979), in English as Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1984); Chose dites (Paris: Les Éditions de minuit, 1987), in English as In Other Words: Essays Towards a Reflexive Sociology (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1990); Les règles de l’art: Genèse et structure du champ littéraire (Paris: éditions du seuil, 1992), in English as The Rules of Art: Genesis and Structure of the Literary Field (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1995). 39 Louis XIV, Mémoires. Ed as Mémoires du Louis XIV by Charles Dreyss, 2 vols. (Paris: Didier & Cie, 1860), and as Louis XIV: Mémoires. Ed. by Jean Longnon (Paris: Jules Tallandier, 1927; reprint ed., Paris: Tallandier, 2001). For further information on Louis’s fabrication of his political image see Peter Burke, The Fabrication of Louis XIV (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1992). 40 The Trattato dell’arte della pittura is Lomazzo’s chief work. It appeared in seven volumes in Milan in 1584. Its enormous success finds evidence in English and French translations that were published soon after the Italian edition. 41 See Enrico Castelnuovo, “Il significato del ritratto pittorico nella società”, Storia d’Italia Einaudi V/2 (Torino: Einaudi, 1973), 1033-1094. 42 See Werner Willi Ekkehard Mai, “Le Portrait du roi”, Staatsporträt und Kunsttheorie in der Epoche Ludwigs XIV (Ph.D. diss., Universität Bonn, 1975). 43 Another striking example depicting Louis XIV as an aging individual is the famous portrait bust by Antoine Benoist (1706, wax and other materials, Château de Versailles). 44 Ragnhild Marie Hatton, Louis XIV and his World (London: Thames and Hudson, 1972), 101. 45 See Anthony Blunt, Art and Architecture in France (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1980), 401. 46 Jacques Derrida, Of Grammatology. Trans. by Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak (Baltimore; London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1976), 19; 60. 47 The Code Civile (also know as Code Napoléon) or the French legal code, was established under Napoleon and emphasized the rule of law. This code, which was enforced on 21 March 1804, strongly influenced the legal system of many other countries because of its diffusion during the early nineteenth century by French rule throughout Europe. 48 See Rudolf Wittkower, “Vicissitudes of a Dynastic Monument”, Studies in the Italian Baroque. Ed. by Rudolph Wittkower (London: Thames & Hudson, 1975), 83-102. 49 Baldassarre, “Mapping Music Iconography”. 50 Leo Treitler, Music and the Historical Imagination (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1989), 69. 51 See James J. Gibson, “The Information Available in Pictures”, Leonardo IV (1971), 27-35. This article by Gibson is part of the famous dispute that he had with Ernest H. Gombrich on picture perception, which is well documented at <www.gom brich.co.uk/dispute.php> (accessed 12 March 2008). 52 Gibson, “Information Available in Pictures”, 33. 53 Paul Watzlawick, Janet Helmick Beavin, and Don D. Jackson, Pragmatics of Human Communication: A Study of Interactional Patterns, Pathologies, and Paradoxes (New York: W.W. Norton, 1967), 49. 54 See Pierre Nora, Les Lieux de mémoire (Paris: Gallimard, 1984); Jan Assmann, Das kulturelle Gedächtnis: Schrift, Erinnerung und politische Identität in frühen Hochkulturen (München: C.H. Beck, 1992); Aleida Assmann, Erinnerungsräume: Formen und Wandlungen des kulturellen Gedächtnisses (München: C. H. Beck, 1999). 55 Roland Barthes, “Rhetoric of the Image”, Image, Music, 33 Antonio Baldassarre, The Place and Function of Music Iconography in Institutions of Higher Education Text. Trans. by Stephen Heath (New York: Hill and Wang, 1977), 42. 56 The harpsichords have been identified referring to instruments stated in Crozat’s last will. In addition, it is likely that the harpsichord player on the Dallas painting is Anne Jeanne Bouçon (married in 1739 to the violinist Jean-Joseph Cassanéa de Mondonville) who frequented Crozat’s salon during the period the painting was made. The Munich and Dallas paintings also include the first representation of the double bass in French art. See Florence Gétreau and Denis Herlin, “Portraits de clavceins et de clavecinistes français”, Musique, images, instruments III (1997), 77-79; André Tessier, “Madame de Mondonville ou la dame qui a perdu son peintre”, La revue musicale (1 July 1926), 1-10; Julie Anne Sadie, “Musiciennes of the Ancien Régime”, Women Making Music: The Western Art Tradition, 1150–1950. Ed. by Jane Bowers and Judith Thick (London: Macmillan Press, 1986), 191-223; and Watteau, Music, and Theater (New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art; New Haven: Yale University Press, 2009), 55. 57 The nickname can also be interpreted in reference to Pierre’s brother Antoine Crozat, who founded an immense fortune. He was the first private proprietary possessor of French Louisiana from 1712 to 1717. 58 Bernini seems to have left Rome for a longer period only once in his life, and just for this prestigious project in Paris in 1665. He finally lost the French court’s sympathy as he started publicly praising the art and architecture of Italy. Yet, his great bust of Louis XIV set a long-time standard for royal portraits. See Roger W. Berger, The Palace of the Sun: The Louvre of Louis XIV (University Park: The Pennsylvania State Press, 1993), 20-22; and Michiel Franken, “‘Pour mon honneur et pour vostre contentement’, Nicolas Poussin, Paul Fréart de Chantelou and the Making and Collecting of Copies”, The Learned Eye: Reading Art, Theory and Artist’s Reputation (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2005), 181-189. 59 The painting was, however, commissioned by Richard Mead, an English physician, and painted ca. 1719–20. Today it is preserved at the National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C. 60 Richard I. Cohen, Jewish Icons: Art and Society in Modern Europe (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998), 1-9. 61 See for instance, Theodor Raab and Jonathan Brown, “The Evidence of Art: Images and Meaning in History”, Journal of Interdisciplinary History XVII (1986); Michael Baxandall, Painting and Experience in 15th Century Italy: A Primer in the Social History of Pictorial Style (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988); Burke, Fabrication of Louis XIV, and Augenzeigenschaft: Bilder als historische Quallen (Berlin: Klaus Wagenbach, 2003), p. 41; and Bernd Roeck, Das historische Auge. Kunstwerke als Zeugen ihrer Zeit: Von der Renaissance zur Revolution (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2004). 62 See for instance Francis Haskall, History and Its Images: Art and Interpretation of the Past (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1993). 63 See Seebass, “Prospettive dell’iconografia musicale”, 71. 64 Antonio Baldassarre, “Die Lira da braccio im humanistischen Kontext Italiens”, Music in Art XXIV/1–2 (1999), 5-28. 65 Antonio Baldassarre, “Music, Painting, and Domestic Life: Hortense de Beauharnais in Arenenberg”, Music in Art XXII/1–2 (1998), 49-61. 66 This assumption is further confirmed by a significant number of other depictions of Hortense in which she poses with musical instruments or in which she is clearly associated with musical activities. Ibid, 49-61. 34 67 See Cyril Ehrlich, The Piano: A Social History (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990). 68 See Leppert, Music and Image, and idem, Art and the Committed Eye. 69 See Valérie Masuyer, Mémoires, lettres et papiers de Valérie Masuyer, dame d’honneur de la Reine Hortense. Ed. by Jean Bourguignon (Paris: Plon, 1937). 70 “Tout la maladie du siècle present vient de deux causes: le people qui a passé per [17]93 et par 1814 porte au cœur deux blessures. Tout ce qui était n’est plus; tout ce qui sera n’est pas encore. Ne cherchez pas aillieurs le secret de nos maux”. Alfred de Musset, Confession d’un enfant du siècle [1836] (Paris: Édition Garnier Frères, 1968), 20. 71 See Heinrich Welcker von Gontershausen, Neu eröffnetes Magazin musikalischer Tonwerkzeuge (Frankfurt am Main: Heinrich Ludwig Brönner, 1855), and Baldassarre, “Music, Painting, and Domestic Life”, 55. 72 Quite a similar case is investigated in Leppert, “Music, Domestic Life, and Cultural Chauvinism”, 63-104. 73 “I don’t trust words. I trust pictures”. Gilles Peress as quoted in New York September 11. Ed. by Steve McCurry (Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 2002), 64. 74 Alan Trachtenberg, “Albums of War: On Reading Civil War Photographs”, Representations IX (1985), 1. 75 See for instance Susan Sontag, On Photography (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1977), and Regarding the Pain of Others (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2003); Roland Barthes, La chambre claire: Note sur la photographie (Paris: Gallimard, 1980), in English as Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography. Trans. by Richard Howard (New York: Hill and Wang, 1981), and Michael J. Shapiro, The Politics of Representation: Writing Practices in Biography, Photography, and Policy Analysis (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1988). 76 It is well known that retouching of photographs, for instance, is a common practice, not only in today’s press and in high glossy magazines. It was also historically used in political contexts and with respect to altering the pictorial representation of leading figures in culture and economy. 77 The astronomer Ernst Zinner, for instance, claimed still in 1957 that the woodcut dated to the German Renaissance although he was not able to find any evidence published earlier then than 1906. He was obviously not aware of Flammarion’s publication. Ernst Zinner, “Ein merkwürdiger altdeutscher Holzschnitt”, Börsenblatt für den deutschen Buchhandel Frankfurter Ausgabe XXVII (3 March 1957), 363-364. 78 See Jeffrey Burton Russell, Inventing the Flat Earth: Columbus and Modern Historians (New York: Praeger, 1991). 79 See for instance, Jacque Le Goff, A la recherche du Moyen Âge (Paris: Louis Audibert, 2003), L’Europe est-elle née au Moyen Âge? (Paris: Seuil, 2003), in English as The Birth of Europe. Trans. by Janet Lloyd (Oxford: Blackwell, 2005); Un autre Moyen Âge (Paris: Gallimard, 1999); La civilisation de l’Occident Médiéval (Paris: Flammarion, 1997), in English as Medieval Civilization, 400–1500. Trans. by Julia Barrow (Oxford: Blackwell, 1988); L’imaginaire medieval (Paris: Gallimard, 1985), in English as The Medieval Imagination. Trans. by Arthur Goldhammer (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1988); and Pour un autre Moyen Âge (Paris: Gallimard, 1977). 80 Bruno Weber pointed out that the spherical heavenly vault separating the earth from an outer realm shares certain similarities with the first illustration in Cosmographia (1544) by Sebastian Münster. Bruno Weber, “Ubi caelum terrae se coniun- Music in Art XXXV/1–2 (2010) git. Ein altertümlicher Aufriß des Weltgebäudes”, GutenbergJahrbuch (1973), 381-408. 81 The picture was published again in 1937 in Paris-Soir, Life and Regards. See Caroline Brothers, War and Photography: A Cultural History (London: Routledge, 1997), 179, 241-242. 82 Philip Knightley, The First Casualty From the Crimea to Vietnam: The War Correspondent as Hero, Propagandist, and Myth Maker (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1975), 209-212. See also Brothers, War and Photography, 58-60. 83 The historian Paul Veyne has pointed out that the “authenticity of our beliefs is not measured according to the truth of their objects … it is we who fabricate our truth and it is not ‘reality’ that makes us believe”. Paul Veyne, Did Greeks Believe in Their Myths? An Essay on the Constitutive Imagination. Trans. by Paula Wissing (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1988), 113; original French edition as Les Grecs ont-ils cru à leurs mythes? Essai sur l’imagination constituante (Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 1983). 84 The current exhibition Realtà Manipolate: Come le immagini redefiniscono il mondo at Palazzo Strozzi in Florence is focusing at this interesting topic (until 17 January 2010). 85 It goes without saying that the concept of “musical iconography” as applied by Michael Chanan is not further considered in this respect. He uses the term with respect to the mimetic and semiotic references in music (such as trilling to imitate a bride’s voice or the sound of trumpets as a signifier for military music) and in contrast to a concept of “pure” music. See Michael Chanan, Musica Practica: The Social Practice of Western Music from Gregorian Chant to Postmodernism (London; New York: Verso, 1994), 43-44. 86 Brown and Lascelle, Musical Iconography. 87 See, for instance, Joseph Kerman, Contemplating Music: Challenges to Musicology (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1985); Ruth Solie, Musicology and Difference; Richard Taruskin, Text and Act: Essays on Music and Performance (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995); Konrad Küster, Studium: Musikwissenschaft (Stuttgart: UTB, 1996); Cook and Everist, Rethinking Music; Nicole Schwindt-Gross, Musikwissenschaftliches Arbeiten. Hilfsmittel, Techniken, Aufgaben (Kassel: Bärenreiter, 1999); Helmut Rösing and Peter Petersen, Orientierung Musikwissenschaft: Was sie kann, was sie will (Reinbek; Hamburg: Rowohlt, 2000); Henning Eisenloher, Einblicke in das Studium der Musikwissenschaft (München: OPS, 2000); Clayton, Herbert, Middleton, Cultural Study of Music; David Beard and Kenneth Gloag, Musicology: The Key Concepts (New York: Routledge, 2005). 88 Eliane Sisman, “President’s Message to the AMS”, American Musicological Society Newsletter XXXV/2 (August 2005), 5. 89 See, for instance, Ian Biddle, “On the Radical in Musicology”, Radical Musicology I (2006), <www.radical-musicology. org.uk/2006/Biddle.htm> (accessed 15 April 2008); Kevin Korsyn, Decentering Music: A Critique of Contemporary Musical Research (New York: Oxford University Press, 2003); and idem, “The Aging of the New Musicology”, paper delivered at international symposium Approaches to Music Research: Between Practice and Epistemology (Ljubljana, 8–9 May 2008). 90 James Anderson Winn, The Pale of Words: Reflections on the Humanities and Performance (New Haven; London: Yale University Press, 1998), 116. 91 Paul Veyne, L’Inventaire des différences: Leçon inaugurale au Collège de France (Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 1976). 92 Guido Adler, Der Stil in der Musik (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1911); Manfred Bukofzer, The Place of Musicology in American Institutions of Higher Learning (New York: The Liberal Arts Press, 1957); Carl Dahlhaus, Grundlagen der Musikgeschichte (Köln: Hans Gerig, 1977), in English as Foundations of Music History. Trans. by J. Bradford Robinson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983); Joseph Kerman, “A Profile for American Musicology”, Journal of the American Musicological Society XVIII/1 (1965), 61-69, and Contemplating Music. 93 Korsyn, Decentering Music. 94 John Shepherd, “Music and Social Categories”, The Cultural Studies of Music: A Critical Introduction. Ed. by Martin Clayton, et al (New York; London: Routledge, 2003), 69-79, and idem, “Music, Culture and Interdisciplinarity: Reflections on Relationships”, Popular Music XIII/2 (1994), 127-142. 95 See Bill Readings, The University in Ruins (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1996). 96 Korsyn, “The Aging of the New Musicology”, 7-8. 97 Readings, The University in Ruins, 46. 98 Korsyn, “The Aging of the New Musicology”, 9. 99 See, for instance, Sisman, “President’s Message to the AMS”, 5; Ludwig Finscher, “’Diversi diversa orant’. Bemerkungen zur Lage der deutschen Musikwissenschaft”, Archiv für Musikwissenschaft LVII/1 (2000), 9-17, and Laurenz Lütteken, “Vorwort” and “‘Und was ist denn Musik?’ Von der Notwendigkeit einer marginalen Wissenschaft”, Musikwissenschaft: Eine Positionsbestimmung. Ed. by Laurenz Lütteken (Kassel: Bärenreiter, 2007), 40-66. 100 Korsyn, “The Aging of the New Musicology”, 16. 101 See for example, Adrian Furnham and Tracy Ribchester, “Tolerance of Ambiguity: A Review of the Concept, its Measurement and Applications”, Current Psychology XIV/3 (1995), 179199; Michael J. Kirton, Adaption-Innovation: In the Context of Diversity and Change (London; New York: Routledge, 2003); David J. Wilkinson, The Ambiguity Advantage: What Great Leaders are Great At (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006). 102 Kevin Korsyn, “Beyond Privileged Contexts: Intertextuality, Influence and Dialogue”, Rethinking Music. Ed. by Nicholas Cook and Mark Everist (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 35-54. 35