I do have to say, however, that my irritation with the original comment had less to do with whether works of art always have worthwhile, precise, and meaningful points to be conveyed, and the perception that the person who wrote the comments (and the play which elicited them) seemed to be saying (yes…seemed) that he could write something where he didn’t make a point. I simply do not think that’s possible, because if one has nothing to say (even if it’s “See how well this works as unobtrusive dinner music?”) then one shouldn’t bother. As you say, some points are ephemeral, and need only be made once before they wear out their welcomes, but still, the attitude that “I make no point” is somewhat ridiculous for any artist to assume.

As to whether the audience sees the points or not…well, that’s a completely different discussion.

But to play Beelzebub’s barrister, one issue that regularly troubles me is determining if a piece of art not only has a point but whether the point, if perceived, amounts to one which is worthwhile and which justifies the existence of the work in question.

John Cage’s notorious 4’33″ undoubtedly makes a point but, once made, has lost its value. By the same token, there are countless examples of music which were never intended to make a point – they provided convenient background noise to royal banquets or underscored movies – instances where not making a point is actually a virtue.

The same smudged border exists between art and craft – when does a design cease to make a point and become mere wall-paper? “Social cowardice” is not the judgement I would make in such cases – the anonymous music, the characterless designs have a different purpose and raison d’être. I admit that this takes the argument some distance away from the world of drama and literature where works stand or fall by the points they make or fail to make. But that, perhaps, is why the argument becomes less persuasive when it is applied to less concrete forms of art or creativity, where it is less easy to perceive and determine with any precision the point(s) in question.

Re-read this with interest. I would argue that ‘exquisiteness’ is largely a function of age and at what point in their lives we fix on an image of a given composer or artist as being representative. RVW was very much a dashing young blade in his early years. As was William Walton. Mahler seduced his future wife, Alma, a beauty who in due course had a string of male admirers. Brahms, in his youth, was as striking a young man as you may imagine, before beer-halls and bushy beard took over. They may have been house wrens in their twilight years but were certainly closer to peacocks in their youth than your blog might suggest. It is surely this dichotomy which gives some of their music such poignancy and pathos.

Interestingly, the common image of Mozart, as conjured up in ‘Amadeus’ was that he was never ‘exquisite’ – it was always his music that claimed that epithet.

Cheers,

Cedric