Garry asked:

The problem I have concerns the content of intentions.

I am a saxophone player and the music I play is mainly improvised. For an improvisation to be
creative, one necessary condition is that I intendthe sounds that are produced by pushing down the
keys on the instrument. It could be that my intention is just to press a key that I know will produce a
merely correct note, i.e. one selected from the right scale, without knowing what sound will be thereby
produced, e.g something like, 'Right I'll play a G now and then an A.' This is a sort of verbal as
opposed to musical knowledge which I think is mechanical, mere technical proficiency and not very
creative.

The question is, How can I know what my intention is at any particular time during an improvisation?
It is tempting to say that intended sounds will be pre-heard internally, a sort of inner aural image. But
we can ask the same question of the image, how did I know that was intended etc. and an infinite
regress looms. It seems as though this will be a problem for any non verbal intention that is
immediately acted on, there is no experiential or qualitative content to it that one can check to
determine whether it is merely mechanical. Can you suggest a solution or relevant reading material?

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This is a fascinating question. First, we need to get clear just where the boundaries of genuine
'creativity' in jazz improvisation are held to lie. One night, you might not feel very inspired, or perhaps
the band is not playing particularly well, and you stick to well-trodden paths. You play safe. Still, there
is an element of creativity in that you don't simply repeat previous performances note for note. I would
argue that for the purposes of our philosophical question, that is all the creativity we need. You are
following a familiar sequence of notes and come to a point where there is a choice. You can take
direction A or direction B, and without a moment's hesitation you choose A.

I am not sure about your description of the 'merely mechanical' process which you say is not
genuinely creative. Your thought seems to be this. The basic requirement for improvisation is that the
musician should play notes in the right key. Otherwise, the result sounds awful. This is a rule that a
proficient musician can do without thinking about it, without having their mind 'on the job'. And that is
where intention comes in. But I don't see how the mechanical process could be described as 'verbal'
as opposed to 'musical'. A better way of putting the contrast is that the mechanical process is musical
only in the sense of conforming to music theory.It lacks a certain qualityof musicality that you only
hear when the player's attention is focused on the music quamusic. (It is possible to improvise
silently, in one's head, so it would not be correct to say that the difference between the mechanical
and the creative approach consists in the fact that with the mechanical approach one does not need
to actually hearthe music.)

So we are talking about someone whose mind is on the music, by contrast with someone whose mind
is not on the music. The difference has got to be that someone whose mind is on the music is making
aesthetic judgements.Not, as you rightly point out, of the sequence of notes pre-rehearsed in one's
head, but of the actual performance in progress. So, in a sense, you are looking backwards. Each
new note is instantly judged in relation to what has gone before, so that the whole continues to make
musical sense. You know how you have to go on. (I am reminded here of what Wittgenstein says in
the Philosophical Investigations about language use and 'following a rule'.)

I think this is how one should understand the comparison that is sometimes made between jazz
improvisation and abstract expressionism in painting. Consider Jackson Pollock on a good day and
on a bad day. On a bad day, he merely splashes paint. On a good day, Pollock's mind is focused on
the image coming into being before his eyes. Each change is 'instantly judged in relation to what has
gone before'. One very interesting difference is that whereas one can improvise music in one's head,
it is not possible to paint an abstract expressionist painting in one's head. In the painting, there is an
ingredient that derives from the physical properties of the material that both limits the possibilities
available, but also creates opportunities, for example, in the particular way paint dribbles or spatters.

There is an element of deflationism in this account, a charge which I accept. In an important sense,
Charlie Parker, or Jackson Pollock, even when they are at their most creative, do not see where they
are going. The act of creation is an act of discovery. The music, the unfolding image, make aesthetic
demands which the jazz musician, or the abstract expressionist painter have to obey.Intention only
reaches forward as far as the next note, the next brush stroke.

Geoffrey Klempner