MODERN DAY MUSSORGSKY, NO. 1

As the first installment of “Modern Day Mussorgsky,” a bit of explaining is in order. Mussorgsky was a composer perhaps best known for his piece “Pictures at an Exhibition,” a suite of 10 compositions. Each one matches a painting done by his friend. I thought this idea of setting music to art was fascinating, because I think that music can be as much a visual experience as it is an audio one. When we listen to music we tend to form mental pictures of original thoughts or memories.

It should be fairly obvious that I like music, simply by virtue of writing for Mindset. It may not be as apparent that I enjoy art. So let me tell you: I enjoy art. Art History in 12th grade was one of the best courses I've ever taken, and it really fostered my interest in art. I check out museums when I can, but living in Europe last spring gave me access to amazing art at greater levels than ever before. I was in Rome for four months, and seeing museums all over the place reminded me of this idea I had pursued a few years earlier. Now, it returns in column form.

The purpose of this column is to explore connections between the visual and auditory nature of music, just like Mussorgsky, by matching up songs with paintings. However, I will not be doing any composing or creating of my own. Instead, I will choose already existing songs that seem to relate to already existing works of art. Also, these matches are not intended as definitive. I at least think there is some semblance of a connection. I am aware of the subjective nature of my endeavor, but this is one of art and music's greatest assets: the ability to be interpreted in any way by any viewer or listener. I mentioned that I originally pursued this idea a few years ago, three to be exact, in a feature for Mindset . If anyone reading this has read that, they will realize that some of my matches have been recycled. Don't worry though, new ones will appear.

And so, let's begin...

Michelangelo & Sigur Ros

The first example, one that I did come up with a few years ago, is especially significant for me. It is the one that began this whole process. For starters, I was proud of the match - of my original ten, it was among the strongest. What sets this apart from the rest, though, is that I have been able to “test” the connection out. Sure, I usually play the song as I look at a couple pictures found at www.artchive.com, but that is not the same as playing the music in front of the real thing. The piece I am about to discuss was located about 15 minutes away from where I lived in Rome (well, a couple hours considering the lines), and I knew before I left that I would have to go with music and see how well the song and the painting worked together.

The piece in question is among the crowning achievements of the Italian Renaissance - one of the most significant and amazing in all Western Art. Everyday, as I passed by the walls to Vatican City, I could see the lines forming for entrance to the vast museums. I knew that probably half of the people would rush straight to the breathtaking finale: Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel. That's the piece, though “piece” hardly does justice to the room that is covered floor to ceiling.

You may now be wondering: What song goes with Michelangelo?

It doesn't really have a title. And it's not sung in a real language. However, if there was ever a song that could fully capture what it is like to be in the Sistine Chapel, to look at the Last Judgement, to gaze straight up until your neck hurts at the ceiling panels, or take in any other square inch of the room, that song would have to be the first track from ( ) by Sigur Ros. Sometimes I get mad when a person like Wes Anderson uses Sigur Ros in their film soundtracks (see The Life Aquatic), but I can hardly blame them, I'm just as guilty now. It feels like a cop out, because the music so easily lends itself to visualization, yet it's usually too perfect to pass up.

So even if I feel like I'm cheating a little, I'm willing to look past it because [Track 1] just works too well. To me, the song is all about the build, the slow but sure rise to crescendo. Despite its powerful swell, I also think [Track 1] dilates time; it spreads an instant over great lengths. Ever have one of those moments where something so incredible happens time seems to freeze? Sure you have. The song captures the pure emotional state of a threshold instant and its feelings of awe and wonder, which is exactly how most people feel inside this masterpiece of Michelangelo's.

I was excited to actually bring in my iPod and really find how the song worked out. I planted myself in the center of the room, surrounded by people of all kinds, and pressed play. Mesmerized, I tuned out the crowded room. There was no shortage of focal points, but I felt my eyes being drawn upward, to one of the more famous panels of the chapel: “The Creation of Man.” It matched with the song more than the rest of the scenes in the room because “Creation of Man,” is the specific visual equivalent of exactly what I talked about the song representing. It's a moment beyond words, seeing God and His greatest creation, man, meet eyes. It is more than just the gaze, though. It is also the space between two fingertips reaching for each other. They may not be touching, but the connection they convey goes beyond the physical.

And in that space, in that gaze, there is something both powerful and beautiful.

[Track 1] is a perfect soundtrack to such an epic moment. If you're ever in Rome, you will almost certainly be in the Sistine Chapel and it will almost certainly blow you away. But for an even more intense experience, try playing [Track 1] from ( ) as you look upwards. You won't be disappointed.

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