@craigmod

In A fantastic essay on the impact of iPad on the literary world of printing, Craig Mod draws a distinction between Formless and Definite Content.

Formless Content can be reflowed into different formats and not lose any intrinsic meaning. It's content divorced from layout. Most novels and works of non-fiction are Formless.... 

Content with form — Definite Content — is almost totally the opposite of Formless Content. Most texts composed with images, charts, graphs or poetry fall under this umbrella. It may be reflowable, but depending on how it’s reflowed, inherentmeaning and quality of the text may shift. ...

A designer may, of course, working in concert with the author, imbue Formless Content with additional meaning in layout. The final combination of design and text becoming Definite Content. ...

In the context of the book as an object, the key difference between Formless and Definite Content is the interaction between the content and the page. Formless Content doesn’t see the page or its boundaries. Whereas Definite Content is not only aware of the page, but embraces it. It edits, shifts and resizes itself to fit the page. In a sense, Definite Content approaches the page as a canvas — something with dimensions and limitations — and leverages these attributes to both elevate the object and the content to a more complete whole.

Is Opera Definite or Formless? In many new European opera productions we have embarked on a dangerous journey to wrestle with the relevance of opera in the modern world. (Oh, how I loathe the word "relevance" but its true.) On Facebook lately I had an American friend ask with dripping disdain: "Why are they always mucking about with opera over there?! Can't they just leave it alone? Those Eurotrash productions are the death of opera."

A few years ago I would have agreed. But after living in Berlin, with it's three major opera houses, and struggling to carve out time in my own performance schedule for home, hearth and family, I realized the "mucking about" is indicative of something: Opera happens here...A LOT! Outside of NYC and London, much more so than just about anywhere in other place in the world. There are so many performances on any given Sunday that the populace's priorities have shifted. They want something that not only engages their ears but also their minds. ("Why IS Parsifal carrying a toy truck? And is he blind? Klingsor is right there!") Love him or leave him, there is pleasure in watching a Bieito production such as this, whether it be Perverse or Proud. I remember how wonderful it felt to stomp out of the Kommische Oper Butterfly. And I also remember how incredible it felt to see and hear the Lulu in Basel. Like watching a trainwreck, you just couldn't turn away from the carnage onstage.

The question remains: Do we do a disservice to our Heilige Kunst playing around with the form of opera to so great a degree that its inherent meaning and its ability to enrich a person's life is lost? Is opera something to be consumed or allowed to be held in holy museum temples and revered? I've come to see the "mere" majesty of Wagner's music seems to encourage this mindset of reverence. Never having listened to a complete Wagner opera or seeing one, I didn't realize how heavenly it could be. Its very inherent nature nearly demands it be treated with velvet gloves.

If gloves are worn here onstage, they would be more suited for baseball. But that is by design, to provoke and to demand. What people will see perfectly reflects Calixto's desire to "tear down the temple." Still, I worry that we are trying to change something on a quantum level, from Definite to Formless. For me, up til now, Opera is Definite. It allows itself to operate within fixed parameters (Hi C's not generally sung simulating sex in bed with Butterfly). It operates in a world that has form and concrete meaning. My personal tastes are more Rembrandt to Pollack. As a art viewer I don't "get" abstract painting. It doesn't touch my soul. But after my exposure to this Parsifal, and receiving numerous emails from Bieito fans I realize this dialogue is a worthy one, there are those who prefer Pollack. The Freedom granted by Formless is an intoxicating thing, so I wonder if Bieito isn't brilliant in his method, getting people to think hard about what we are ingesting.

This evening is the first sitzprobe. I suspect if Wagner's inherent intent is to be achieved it will be there by Honeck. (There is a wonderfully professional antagonism between the two, each with their priorities sets and always a fantastic report and respect for each other. Quite surprising, actually.) I'm terribly excited about today, a first in my life: Singing Wagner with an orchestra. I will never forget singing "Vittoria! Vittoreeeeee-ahhhhh" for the first time in that Detroit Tosca Sitzprobe, and I doubt I'll forget this evening as well. I cried like a girl then, and I'll probably be a blubbering idiot tonight as well.


Craig Mod writes:

I propose the following to be considered whenever we think of printing a book: 

• The Books We Make embrace their physicality — working in concert with the content to illuminate the narrative.
• The Books We Make are confident in form and usage of material.
• The Books We Make exploit the advantages of print.
• The Books We Make are built to last.

The result of this is:

• The Books We Make will feel whole and solid in the hands.
• The Books We Make will smell like now forgotten, far away libraries.
• The Books We Make will be something of which even our children — who have fully embraced all things digital — will understand the worth.
• The Books We Make will always remind people that the printed book can be a sculpture for thoughts and ideas.

Anything less than this will be stepped over and promptly forgotten in the digital march forward.

Goodbye disposable books.

Hello new canvases.

Sounds good to me!