When art hits you in the gut

If there's anything I've learned from this semester in school, it's that there are three kinds of art: art that's intellectually clever/adventuresome/innovative, art that's driven by emotion and spirituality, and art that brilliantly combines the two. The whole divide between the intellect and emotion is a real one. Art that exists solely for intellectual display (I put a lot of 20th century composition in this category!) comes off as distant and cerebral. It soudns inhuman. And guess what. From what I've read about post-modern composers, that was the whole point of their art! To distance it from their personalities and emotions. Take John Cage's I-Ching chance operation stuff. In Un Ballo Maschura, Verdi would never have left the melody of Riccardo's cabeletta up to chance operations. Verdi's music--and Italian opera in general--can sound almost drunken with emotion. It's so passionate. That isn't to say that it's unintelligent, but emotional expression is the priority. I think Chopin brilliantly combines the two worlds. He admired Bellini and Italian Opera and his melodies are inspired by that tradition. However, he unites this with intellectually rigorous counterpoint, or, more often, implied counterpoint. The texture of his music is super sophisiticated, while the melodies are always singing and cantabile, expressive and accessible. And that's when art hits you in the gut. It celebrates both the intellect and emotion.