Meaning What Exactly?

"I don't want to be a tree, I want to be its meaning"

(My Name is Red by Ohran Pamuk, from the chapter "I am a Tree", p. 61).

'I want to be.[the tree's] meaning' concludes the painting of a tree in Pamuk's fascinating story of murder and intrigue set amongst the world of the miniaturists and illuminators of Istanbul in the mid 16th century. The depicted tree of the story complains that there is too much emphasis on representation and not enough emphasis on meaning in the paintings of the time. This 'issue' is central to the book's plot and through exploring it Pamuk weaves an engaging tale of nihilism, greed and desperation in a war between ideological positions.

I sense at times a similar tension in music therapy (without the resorting to the extreme of murder I should add!). In my previous column I suggested that music therapy might offer our patients and clients opportunities to experience music in many different ways and that staying open to the needs and responses of patients while being critically aware of our own 'dogmas' or traditions might help us in pursuing developments within the profession of music therapy as well as our own growth as clinicians. Of course, I mostly direct these remarks at myself, since my own thoughts and inadequacies are the basis for my experience of what might be going wrong at times, rather than suggest the profession as a whole is not doing this.

In my work, music has sometimes seemed to function for patients as directly representational of something extra-musical and many times patients and clients have attributed meanings to different experiences in music therapy that have not been suggested or proposed by me but that I have been prepared to listen to and explore with them, musically and verbally. I am interested in what they think and experience but, because of my interest in postmodern thought and in particular ideas of intertextuality proposed and explored by Kristeva, I am also open to the possibility that the 'music improvised.is not understood with reference to some underlying structure of the music or to the biography of the patient but to the musical code developed throughout the previous sessions.' (Ruud, p. 229). Openness to all of these possibilities in the listening and learning of the therapist with and about the patient is what I believe is at the heart of useful work. However a recent challenge to my own openness gave rise to a turn in my thinking that I now want to discuss in the second half of this column.

At the Nordic Music Therapy Conference in Bergen in May this year, I attended a presentation by Professor Leslie Bunt on a music therapy research project at the Bristol Cancer Centre. During the presentation he indicated the ways that the research had been conducted, some of the obstacles to the research and the responses of the participants, all cancer patients, to being involved in the study. One issue that caught my attention, and certainly the attention of other members of the audience if the questions that followed were indicative was the use of saliva samples in measuring changes before and after sessions in IgA levels (immunoglobulin A is present in saliva and its levels within the saliva are an indication of immune system functioning).

As issues in measurement preoccupied me in my PhD studies, especially as a student in a Faculty of Medicine where emphasis on changes at the biochemical level were considered primary indicators of benefits in medical care, I pricked up my ears. I argued strongly in my PhD thesis against the use of any kind of human samples taken for measurement from children in the course of my music therapy research. I argued this sample collection was intrusive, at its essence non-therapeutic and of little benefit to uncovering the changes we were interested in as music therapists. I suggested that since the practice of music therapy focussed on offering gentle, non-intrusive, person based work with a member of staff who was not associated with medical procedures, it actually compromised the role of music therapy to research in this way. I found a number of studies to show that IgA research lacked standardisation for collection and measurement (Mouton, Fillion, Tawadros & Tessier, 1989) and that in the opinion of some researchers IgA could not even be reliably used (Stone, Cox, Valdimarsdottir & Neale, 1987).

After attending Leslie's talk however I am not entirely convinced that I should dismiss this approach to measurement, particularly with regards adult participants in research. I was quite struck by the reference to the fact that the group members wanted to be notified when the saliva samples came back and what the results were. While Leslie seemed concerned as to audience responses to the use of this test and was perhaps a little sensitive about presenting its inclusion in the study it is worth noting that, as Ken Aigen commented after the paper, if any of us were being treated for cancer, we would want to know the results of our immune tests and would be vitally interested to know whether music therapy helped boost our immune levels.

Kenny (1996) has described postmodern thought as expressing 'despair and disillusionment'. In my own journey of dissatisfaction with dogma as a means to promote thinking, I have appreciated some of the ideas within current European thought and have been interested to see this thinking emerge in some writings in music therapy. Perhaps if postmodern thinking can be used to approach music therapy issues and even what we might think of as 'problems' in the work, in an engaged rather than despairing way, perhaps the struggle with issues around meaning and the position meaning occupies in our work with our clients might be further elucidated. I would like to think I can find ways to stay open to the new and the sometimes difficult aspects of developments without giving rise to either an all embracing dogmatism 'this is the new way and there is no other way' or fall into a position of experiencing the new as so inevitably difficult and diffuse that we cannot engage with it as real or meaningful or dare I say beautiful.

When I think about how I want to continue to explore ideas, or write or think in music therapy about music therapy practice, I remember a little line I have used many times with my students whether about their written scholarship or their musical skills or therapeutic awareness when they complain that they are trying so hard and I am still not happy with their work, I offer them the line of the singing coach interviewed in an essay for 'Secrets' -

'don't try hard.try gently' (Lohrey, 1997, p. 191).

References

Kenny, C. (1996). The story of the field of play. In Mechtild Langenberg, Kenneth Aigne & Jörg Frommer (Eds.). Qualitiative music therapy research: Beginning dialogues. Philadelphia: Barcelona Publishers.

Lohrey, A. (1997). The clear voice suddenly singing. In Druisella Modjeska, Amanda Lokrey & Robert Dessaix. Secrets. Melbourne, Australia: Macmillan.

Mouton, C., Fillion, L., Tawadros, E. & Tessier, R. (1989). Salivary IgA is a weak stress marker. Journal of Behavioral Medicine, 12, pp. 179-186.

Pamuk, O. (2001). My Name is Red. [Transl. Edrag M. Göknar.] London: Faber & Faber.

Ruud, E. (1996). Interpretation and epistemology in music therapy. In Mechtild Langenberg, Kenneth Aigne & Jörg Frommer (Eds.). Qualitiative music therapy research: Beginning dialogues. Philadelphia: Barcelona Publishers.

Stone, A.A., Cox, D.S., Valdimarsdottir, H. & Neale, J.M. (1987). Secretory IgA as a measure of immunocompetence. Journal of Human Stress, 13, pp. 136-140.

How to cite this page

Edwards, Jane (2003). Meaning What Exactly?. Voices Resources. Retrieved January 12, 2015, from http://testvoices.uib.no/community/?q=fortnightly-columns/2003-meaning-what-exactly

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