A pretty good maxim for all artists

From the visionary composer Terry Riley

Last week, I was lucky to attend a live performance of Terry Riley’s “In C,” a foundational work of musical minimalism, which the California–born composer got the idea for in 1964, while riding the bus to his job playing ragtime piano at the Gold Street Saloon, in San Francisco.

Riley at San Francisco’s Gold Street Saloon in 1961. (Terry Riley Archives via NPR)

In a 2022 interview, Riley described what happened:

I used to ride to work on the bus from Potrero Hill to North Beach. And one night … I was on the bus and I just heard “In C” kind of coming into my consciousness. And I got quite excited about it. And of course I had to play a six hour shift before I could go home and start writing it down. But, you know, that’s kind of the story. It did find me. Maybe the only piece I’ve ever written that is like that.

(Side note: Of course the idea for “In C” arrived on Riley’s way to work instead of on his way home! Isn’t that so like inspiration to force you to complete some kind of weird trial before you’ve earned its fruits?)

Riley performing in London in 2018 (Robin Little/Redferns via Getty Images)

Riley is now 90 and no longer travels internationally, so I didn’t get to see his glorious wizard beard in person. But the performance (featuring his son Gyan Riley and the Bang on a Can All-Stars, among others) was mesmerizing—and, anyway, “In C” hardly requires its creator’s personal involvement.

Famously, “In C” is a musician-led performance that’s different every time it is played. The score is a single sheet of paper showing 53 melodic patterns. The musicians are instructed to work their way through these patterns at whatever pace feels right to them, listening to what their fellow musicians are doing, trying to create something interesting together without trying to predict or control what that might be.

The one-page score for “In C.” Click here to view a larger version and also to read Riley’s performing directions.

Letting go of control is a big theme in Riley work. In 2022, he told the Louisiana Museum:

If you know what you’re doing in the arts, then you’re doing it wrong. That’s a pretty good maxim. If you don’t know what you’re doing, then you’re on the right track, because you’re open to the whole world of possibilities. You don’t want to already have the possibilities in you; you have to invite them in. So as an artist you have to create a culture that invites ideas in.

This is an idea I keep coming back to in the newsletter, probably because, as a writer, I have always wanted to control things! At least with bigger projects, I have always wanted to come up with a plan and then execute my plan. And for a time that worked out pretty well—but it really did not work out with my most recent book, where the original plan proved faulty and then I sort of short-circuited as I tried to pivot from one new plan to another, and each subsequent plan proved faulty in a different and surprising way, and—well, I eventually got it done, but only after innumerable meltdowns and crises of confidence.

Granted, writing a general-interest nonfiction book is different than being an experimental composer. Still, I have to wonder: If I had gone into my project without a plan, or with a much less fixed plan, would the whole thing have proceeded more smoothly? That’s what I’m hoping to test out with my next project, whatever it might be. In the meantime, I’ll be keeping in mind another piece of Riley wisdom, from a 2014 interview: “The best thing I think you can do in your life is keep yourself as loose as you can.”

Terry Riley in Japan, where he has lived since 2020. (Mark Swed via the Los Angeles Times)

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LIVE WITH SARAH FAY

Last Friday, I had a really enjoyable conversation with Sarah Fay, who publishes Substack Writers at Work, and who asked me a lot of interesting questions about what I’m trying to do with this newsletter. Which got me thinking about, yeah, what am I trying to do? Transcribing the Terry Riley quote above made me realize, belatedly, one answer: that this newsletter is my way of “creat[ing] a culture that invites ideas in.”

Anyway, you can watch our entire conversation here. Also, an apology: I did not intend to email-blast everyone as this conversation was going live! That was a default setting that I failed to disable in the heat of the moment. Sorry about that. In general, I strive not to send more than one email every two weeks, out of respect for everyone’s overflowing inboxes.

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SCRIVENER WORKSHOP WITH JENNIFER S. BROWN

Also last week: The novelist Jennifer S. Brown gave a really wonderful Scrivener workshop to the participants of my weekday Worm Zoom accountability group. I learned so much! I truly had no idea about most of the functionality Jennifer walked us through; now I’m almost wishing I could go back and re-draft my book knowing all the ways that I could have been tagging, keywording, color-coding, cross-referencing, and annotating it.

If you missed the live workshop—or if you want to revisit it—the recording is here. As with the weekday Worm Zoom, this is for paid subscribers only—but I offer a seven-day free trial, so feel free to take advantage of that.

And if you enjoyed Jennifer’s presentation, please join me in subscribing to her newsletter and ordering one (or both) of her two novels: Modern Girls and The Whisper Sister.

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BOOK CLUB!

The Subtle Maneuvers Book Club is now underway! To participate, simply pick up a copy of Sally Mann’s new memoir, Art Work: On the Creative Life, and start reading (or start listening to the audiobook, which I’m told is very good.) I’ll be sharing my impressions in the Group Chat and I encourage you all to do the same—then, on Sunday, October 12, at 4pm Pacific / 7pm Eastern time, we’ll meet on Zoom to drink wine and discuss the book (wine optional).

Again, the Group Chat and the Zoom meeting are for paid subscribers only—but if you want to participate and you truly can’t afford a subscription at this time, just reply to this email and I’ll add you to the comp list, no questions asked.

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Thanks for reading! This newsletter comes out every other Tuesday—and you can help keep it coming by upgrading to a paid subscription, pre-ordering my next book, forwarding this email to a friend, or even just clicking the “like” button below. 🙏