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The yearly Congress of the International Double Reed Society held in Frankfurt, Germany, provided an opportunity to hear and observe some of the finest double reed artists in the world. Performers from Europe, Japan, the former Soviet Union, the United States, and other countries furnished evidence that no single country or performer can claim musical supremacy, rather many speak with musical authority. This idea of artistic pluralism, however, is controversial even in this day of global commerce and international relations.

I was fortunate enough to observe the fine artistry of Klaus Thunemann. His performances contained a wonderful blend of tasteful musicianship, well-conceived ornamentation, and flawless technique. The man is charismatic both as a performer and as a speaker. My qualms rest not with Klaus Thunemann the performer, but with Klaus Thunemann the philosopher. The following comments concern Professor Thunemann's Saturday morning lecture, subsequent conversations with one of his former students, and observations made during the convention.

Professor Thunemann chose the topic "From Student to Artist" for his lecture. During the speech he made many observations which at face value are indisputable: to become an artist a student must develop an artistic personality not just technique, music is not a gymnastic display- it must be "sung," to properly ornament one must study the other parts of a composition, the artist must build himself-a teacher cannot make an artist, the artistic inner beat cannot be cultivated simply by use of a metronome, reed making should not be dogmatic, and music is speech. Professor Thunemann advocated artistry as a universal concept, however in doing so he failed to indicate just who decides what is artistic, and how it is determined. The issue of aesthetic judgment is essential if one wishes to differentiate a .student" from an "artist."

Ludwig Wittgenstein, a philosopher born in Vienna, dealt with the subject of aesthetic judgment in a, number of his writings. The topic is complex, but we will draw upon a few of his ideas. Wittgenstein distinguishes between scientific validity and aesthetic validity.1 The truth of a scientific explanation rests upon mechanics; the explanation is corroborated by physical evidence. An explanation in physics is validated through its ability to predict something successfully over and over again. Aesthetics, however are validated by different criteria. In the arts, aesthetic judgement is not objective, rather, it is subjective. Aesthetic statements are authenticated not by the laws of physics or natural phenomena, but by something else--a community, or a culture. Wittgenstein clarifies the issue in the following statement:

For how can it be explained what 'expressive playing' is? Certainly not by anything that accompanies the playingWhat is needed for the explanation? One might say: a culture.--If someone is brought up in a particular culture--and then reacts to music in such-and-such a way, you can teach him the use of the phrase "expressive playing."2

Wittgenstein makes an important point here: aesthetics are culturally dependent. The concept of "expressive playing" is not a universal ideal held immutable from the tip of Africa to the shores of Siberia. Likewise the definition of an "artist" does not exist apart from a cultural community. People earn the "artistic stamp of approval" solely by convincing a community of their peers of their merit, not by emitting eternally sacred tones of beauty. Although we are are rapidly moving towards a worldwide musical community, the artistic ideals of one country or one community do not necessarily agree with all others.

But some say, surely there must be one thing universal, one thing sacred! Well, let us examine fundamentals of performance--intonation and rhythm--to see if these are subject to communal preferences. We cannot discuss intonation without addressing a tuning system. Should we use well or equal temperament, just intonation or something else? This issue is particularly thorny for the Baroque period of music. Even if we can settle on a tuning system, microtonal variations of tuning are an important part of many performances. Musicality in many traditions (including Western) depends upon slight pitch inflections. The distinction between inflection and bad intonation is an aesthetic judgment. Rhythmic variance also forms an important component of musicality. Few, if any, would call a performance with mechanistic precision "artistic," how then do we ascertain what is artistic and what is distorted rhythm? Pablo Casals' recordings of the Bach Suites for Unaccompanied cello were considered by many to be an artistic ideal, yet now at least one author considers them overly sentimental.3 Aesthetic "right" and "wrong" will vary from one community to the next. Only the Omniscient One can claim eternal authority, the rest of us must appeal to a community of musicians to validate our viewpoint.

In the lecture Professor Thunemann made a statement to the effect that the artist should strive for music, not public approval. No one would deny that altruism is a noble attribute for a musician. The issue here is determining just what this "music" is, and what role the community has in defining it. If this "music," this artistic interpretation, is something which resonates throughout the cosmos and a sensitive musician hears it, are we to assume that this "music" will be appreciated by all? If this "music" is something our modern ears hate, certainly we would not call it "artistic." Perhaps the "music" Professor Thunemann speaks of is a devotion to "authentic performance practice," say of the Baroque period. But if Baroque bassoon performances sounded truly hideous in their day, would a person devoted to that performance practice now be considered an artist? We have no recordings of authentic Baroque bassoon playing. Authentic performance practice is at best an educated reconstruction, and in essence a new form of modernism.4 In spite of whatever Baroque scholars discover, today's musicians perform for contemporary audiences, and they must seek to please them. The label "authentic performance practice" is a modern judgment of artistry and a contemporary assessment.

There is a certain irony to Klaus Thunemann's lecture. Here is a man who has attained the status of an "artist," but can only loosely articulate just what an artist is, and how this artistry can be achieved. Had Professor Thunemann been born French, or Japanese, or American, he would not sound identical to the German Thunemann. The French Thunemann would have no doubt internalized features of the French aesthetic culture, and with the perception of a true artist sculpted his sounds to another artistic ideal. The artists' genius lies in their ability to draw elixirs from a cultural well and quench the thirst of their audiences. Artists such as Klaus Thunemann and others possess the ability to convince, cajole, and beguile their listeners. But without an audience there is no concert; without a community there is no artist.

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