Blog 5
Reading through the definitions again has helped me to clear up any previous confusion between the terms. When I first read these in the fall, I was confused about the difference between autograph and holograph, urtext and facsimile, etc. I now understand that the difference lies within the origin of the source. For example, if a manuscript was written directly by its composer, it is an autograph. If the same manuscript was (re-)written by a copyist, it is a holograph. I also enjoy reading the historical context of the terms. It seems fascinating that original prints can be examined and recreated as facsimile. I find it interesting that in the definition of urtext, the author questions the value in searching for the urtext. My question is: what if there is material written on the urtext that was not re-written by a copyist? Is it even common for copies of the original manuscript to omit certain markings made by the original author/composer? I guess I still have some questions regarding the differences between the source types.
The mentioning of Bruckner's music in the "sources" definition makes me wonder what kind of rationale people would use to either omit or reinstate features of the original pieces. There have been numerous works that either have never been finished before the composer's death or lost somewhere. I imagine only expert musicologists are allowed to go in and make alterations to these works. Regardless, it is rather upsetting that we will never truly know what could have been or was meant to be. I also wonder how many works were lost through war, especially World War II. The "editions, historical" definition mentions how there was a revival in publications of historical editions after WWII. It is sad to imagine the number of works that were either lost or destroyed in the wreckage of war. Conversely, it seems that original works from this era are still being discovered to this day.
Along with new works being discovered, new revisions of original material are also being discovered. As mentioned in Oppermann's "What's the shelf life of urtext?", autographs of the works of Beethoven, Mozart, etc. have been found after years of searching. This prompts musicologists to look at the original manuscripts to see if any changes need to be made. The next two articles are prime examples of this: The "new finds" of Brahms's "Hungarian Dances" by Struck show that Brahms intended to make changes to the work, but the revisions were lost in translation throughout time. Thanks to Struck's deciphering and written notes, pianists can perform the piece as Brahms intended it.
The videos "The Art of Making a Book" and "Upside Down, Left to Right" were very enjoyable to watch for multiple reasons. Personally, there is something calming about watching engravings and paper form into the books we pick up on the shelves. It also puts things into perspective for me; we are very lucky to have quick, mass-produced books that are available to be read at an incredibly fast pace. Watching engravers only be able to print eight pages at a time makes me wonder how long it takes to publish a single book (same length as the one in the video). The whole process seems painstakingly slow, and if there are any errors, they have to scrap everything and start from scratch. Back when this was the most efficient way of printing, I imagine that print sources would be published at a much slower rate than they are now. Because of that, I assume that people were not able to get access to as many works, nor were they able to access them quickly. Imagining that scenario makes me very thankful to have local libraries nearby. I also admire the workers/engravers who have the sleight of hand and patience to take part in this process.
One comment specifically struck me in the video "Upside Down, Left to Right." Towards the end of the video, Paul Collier mentioned how people still yearn to work with printing presses and engravings. I am curious: is this because of a nostalgic feeling in the back of people's minds, or do they see the products of handmade prints as more valuable than digitally-constructed prints? Personally, I would prefer having sources more readily available for me, especially at a faster pace. On the other hand, it does seem therapeutic to witness books get printed. The quality of the handmade prints also seemed terrific; perhaps there is a difference in the quality of books developed by hand and mass-produced books.
That is all I've got for this blog (it's quite a lot to digest, even the second time). Enjoy the night, everyone!
The mentioning of Bruckner's music in the "sources" definition makes me wonder what kind of rationale people would use to either omit or reinstate features of the original pieces. There have been numerous works that either have never been finished before the composer's death or lost somewhere. I imagine only expert musicologists are allowed to go in and make alterations to these works. Regardless, it is rather upsetting that we will never truly know what could have been or was meant to be. I also wonder how many works were lost through war, especially World War II. The "editions, historical" definition mentions how there was a revival in publications of historical editions after WWII. It is sad to imagine the number of works that were either lost or destroyed in the wreckage of war. Conversely, it seems that original works from this era are still being discovered to this day.
Along with new works being discovered, new revisions of original material are also being discovered. As mentioned in Oppermann's "What's the shelf life of urtext?", autographs of the works of Beethoven, Mozart, etc. have been found after years of searching. This prompts musicologists to look at the original manuscripts to see if any changes need to be made. The next two articles are prime examples of this: The "new finds" of Brahms's "Hungarian Dances" by Struck show that Brahms intended to make changes to the work, but the revisions were lost in translation throughout time. Thanks to Struck's deciphering and written notes, pianists can perform the piece as Brahms intended it.
The videos "The Art of Making a Book" and "Upside Down, Left to Right" were very enjoyable to watch for multiple reasons. Personally, there is something calming about watching engravings and paper form into the books we pick up on the shelves. It also puts things into perspective for me; we are very lucky to have quick, mass-produced books that are available to be read at an incredibly fast pace. Watching engravers only be able to print eight pages at a time makes me wonder how long it takes to publish a single book (same length as the one in the video). The whole process seems painstakingly slow, and if there are any errors, they have to scrap everything and start from scratch. Back when this was the most efficient way of printing, I imagine that print sources would be published at a much slower rate than they are now. Because of that, I assume that people were not able to get access to as many works, nor were they able to access them quickly. Imagining that scenario makes me very thankful to have local libraries nearby. I also admire the workers/engravers who have the sleight of hand and patience to take part in this process.
One comment specifically struck me in the video "Upside Down, Left to Right." Towards the end of the video, Paul Collier mentioned how people still yearn to work with printing presses and engravings. I am curious: is this because of a nostalgic feeling in the back of people's minds, or do they see the products of handmade prints as more valuable than digitally-constructed prints? Personally, I would prefer having sources more readily available for me, especially at a faster pace. On the other hand, it does seem therapeutic to witness books get printed. The quality of the handmade prints also seemed terrific; perhaps there is a difference in the quality of books developed by hand and mass-produced books.
That is all I've got for this blog (it's quite a lot to digest, even the second time). Enjoy the night, everyone!
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