Serialism of Cruelty:
Artaud, Boulez, and Musical violence
by Andrew Infanti
The makers of manifestos hold a dubious status as artists. Usually absorbed in revolutionary
urgency, these scrupulous authors risk the irony of losing their message to posterity
by fault of the painfully organized form of the document which they chose for its necessary clarity. Past the blazing moment of inception, their batty treatises
are deemed unreadable- more "history" than literature by general consensus.
Yet, the poetics of much twentieth century music places the composer in a situation
where s/he must confront the manifesto syndrome to be understood at all. Umberto
Eco elucidates this, postulating about serial thought (almost specifically that propounded by Pierre Boulez):
Every artistic message is a discourse on the language that generates it. At the extreme,
each message posits its own code; each work is its own linguistic basis, a discourse
on its own poetics, a declaration of freedom from all those ties that presumed to
determine it in advance, the key to its interpretation. (1)
While this radical notion provides fantastic possibilities for the composer who has
been freed from predetermined forms, it may doom the receiver of her/his work to
the task of a deciphering a manifesto.
In the days of "heroic serialism" (c. 1945-65), during which Boulez was an angry
young man in the spotlight, each work was expected to herald a new direction for
music history. [example 0] The implicit dogmatism in this mode of production encouraged
a nakedly grammatical approach to composition: the Structure
was the message, not merely the medium of its transmission. If this manifesto-style
of presentation was a goal of the music, how did composers reintegrate it into an
aesthetic which future listeners could grasp?
Since Boulez's poetic formulations have been singled out above as a cause of the
manifesto-syndrome in serial composition, his music conveniently provides an internal
response to it: violence. Obviously dissatisfied with the self-imposed role of militant grammarian, Boulez forces his music to perform acts of destruction aimed at its
own rules. Boulez's musical violence provides an easily supported rhetorical stance
in this century of fragmentation and war, but may be a result of abstract structural
issues and their presentation. More than surface fury, it aims at integrating formidable compositional restraints with the experience of performing and hearing them aesthetically. His forms have a characteristic destructiveness like a document which is read while it is being burned.
Boulez's earliest admitted influences were literary, and much of his conception of
structural violence derives from the theatrical luminary Antonin Artaud. The elder
artist remains famous for his manifestos for the "theater of cruelty" which propound
a jarringly physical experience based on elaborate codes.
The influence of Artaud on Boulez is well known, but surprisingly underexplored.
(Analogous studies of Boulez and Mallarmé are legion but thus far have only proliferated
unenlightening sentiments.) Boulez's most famous statement about Artaud formulates
one of the mantras of his art:
I can find in his writings the fundamental preoccupations of contemporary music. To
have seen him and heard him speaking his own texts, accompanying them with cries,
noises, rhythms, showed us... in short, how to organize delirium. What non-sense,
it will be said, what an absurd mixture of terms. What? Would you believe only in the vertigo
of improvisation, in the power of an 'elementary' ritualization? More and more, I
imagine, to make it effective, we will have to take delirium and yes, organize it.(2)
Thus, Boulez declares his attraction not only to Artaud's explosive rhetoric, but
obliquely to his sense of structure within that frenzy and vice-versa. It would be
useful to examine the possibility that Artaud's manifestos provided "theatricalization"
to Boulez's musical language.
Artaud's written manifestos barely transcend usual passionately dry documents readers
have come to expect from the genre. In a posthumously published letter, Artaud criticizes
the form of his two manifestos for the theater of cruelty, outlining a more general danger for much of twentieth century art:
I propose unexpected, rigorous principles, of grim and terrible aspect, and just when
everyone is expecting me to justify them, I pass on to the next principle. (3)
Boulez's music often courts this very trap, but seems to look to Artaud for an escape
from this pattern.
Artaud's creative response to the dramatic shifts of principle within his work is
to favor the performativity of his texts even to the point of damaging its language.
If a manifesto is unreceptive to intellectual deliberation in language, he allows
its main crises to exhibit themselves.
Artaud's own readings of his manifestos involved an extreme physicality of enunciation
and presentation. Anaïs Nin recalled that in his lecture "theater and the plague"
at the Sorbonne in 1933, he gradually invaded the text of his essays with screaming,
contortions, and spasms. He sought to theatrically convey the experience of the plague
in this presumably academic environment. The manifesto wanted to be performative-
destructive even to its own written rules. He was, of course, roundly mocked, upon
which he responded bitterly,
They always want to hear about
; they want to hear an objective conference on 'The theater and the plague,' and I
want to give them the experience itself...so they will be terrified and awaken...
I feel sometimes that I am not writing, but describing the struggles with writing,
the struggles of birth. (4)
The crisis of the artist forced into a manifesto-language situation by the unfamiliarity
of his work communicates that crisis through the very act of writing and speaking
(composing and performing.) Both Artaud and Boulez share an unique tendency to treat
their respective languages with planned brutality. In Boulez's compositions, musical
violence is often focused in and upon the points of most structural clarity- call
them manifesto statements. The constraints these musical moments embody often receive
a savage structural attack or a swift dissolution.
Another weakness of manifesto expression addressed by Artaud surfaces when a work
takes greater concern with the possibilities
of saying a given statement than with the statement itself. Art inflected with manifesto
is always in danger of being less of a work than an outline for a multitude of future
works. When, Artaud finally presents an example of a concrete "theater of cruelty" production, "La Conquête du Mexique," in his second manifesto, the result is so
absorbed in its own poetics that it barely exists as a play. Act three, for example,
is simplified in the phrase, "At every level of the country, revolt." (5) Artistically,
Artaud's manifesto urges cause him to treat his material in a considerably external
way. The conflicting materials are heaped together, so the violence can be structurally
evoked by the artist who is principally concerned with orchestrating these crises
from without. The narrative of "La Conquête" consists of scraps of borrowed plot, while
Artaud carefully details the disastrous and spectacular aspects of the mise-en-scene:
Space is stuffed with whirling gestures, horrible faces, dying eyes, clenched fists,
manes, breastplates, heads, stomachs like a hailstorm bombarding the earth with supernatural
Boulez will take a similarly external approach to his material, carefully choosing
and forming it so it is capable of maximum conflict, with the composer acting as
The elements of spectacle in Artaud, apparently gratuitously violent, assume a careful
organization which supersedes that of articulate speech. He speaks of his theatrical
units very much like the elements of serial music, arranged as "hieroglyphs." He
describes this language in depth in the first manifesto:
[a] language of objects, movements, attitudes, and gestures [intervenes], but on condition
that their meanings, their physiognomies, their combinations be carried out to the
point of becoming signs, making a kind of alphabet out of these signs. Once aware
of this language in space... the theater must organize it into veritable hieroglyphs...and
make use of their symbolism and interconnections in relation to all organs and on
all levels... It ultimately breaks away from the intellectual subjugation of the
language, by conveying the sense of a new and deeper intellectuality which hides itself
beneath the gestures and signs, raised to the dignity of particular exorcisms. (7)
Artaud disdains the supremacy of articulate speech, but remains careful about constructing
a semiotic system to replace it.
The principal role of violence in this scheme derives from the physicality of this
language- deriving from the body to address the body. The violence is "unreasonable"
in order to direct the message within it to organs other than the brain: senseless
but sensual. For all his propagandistic tone, Artaud does not expect of his audience
an intellectual stance, but that of a "fine nerve meter." (8)
Boulez's musical language shares a huge affinity with Artaud's quagmires along with
his ingenious methods. Examining his scores we can see that violence, externality,
hieroglyphic arrangement, and performativity attempt to save his work from the abysmal fate of the musical manifesto. In all of his piano music, (9) but especially in the
series for two pianos entitled Structures
(première livre 1951-52, deuxième livre 1956-61), Boulez examines the frenzy inherent
in radical restriction of the musical elements. He creates and refutes manifestos
of compositional fixity.
The truth of life lies in the impulsiveness of matter.
A. Artaud "Manifesto in clear language" (10)
Since a considerable number of composers contemporary with Boulez used strict restraints
on their material with varying results, it does not follow that such an approach
naturally yields Artaudian frenzy. The material itself for Boulez seems able to engender its own violence. This holds true for his early works in which he manipulated
a single series to the point of shattering, and for the mature works in which "multiplication"
technique provides him with literally thousands of harmonic fields in which to move. A nearly identical gesture begins the Première Sonate
of 1946 and Structures II
(finished 1961): the disposition of the material creates the violence of the maneuver.
In the Sonate, the composer disperses the elements of a cluster in an uneven spiral
in a five-octave musical space. Boulez exploits two aspects of the pitch relationships.
First, he postulates that chromatic pitches which saturate an interval (here a major third) suggest a cluster and tend toward such a form in the same octave. Thus, he
treats his airy material like a volatile gas, which will violently expend energy
to arrive at its entropic form. Initially, the expanding gesture suddenly condenses
into a sforzando
. A later passage expands this small shock into a five-octave explosion sending
a single pitch into outer space and back. [example 2a] Second, Boulez proliferates
, not the series in this excerpt. The four note figure F# D F Eflat is transposed
three times and asymmetrical distributed. Thus the third and fourth gestures contain
the figure beginning on E (C Eflat C#), then on D, then on C, etc. [example 2b] The
frustration of serial progress, through this kind of proliferation, will eventually merit
an explosive "correction." The manifesto-oriented young composer derisively negates
his relation to classical dodecophany established by Schoenberg, perpetuated in France
by Boulez's professor Réné Leibowitz.
Motivically, Boulez make a rather clear statement of his early procedure. The opening
"phrase" contains four gestures- (A) a two note figure followed by a rest, (B) a
note preceded by an acciacatura (and a rest), (C) an isolated note, and (D) a rapid
figure. [see again example 1] The unity of this phrase is quickly put to the test, as
its constituent elements become more isolated and variously combined. The syntax
of the entire first movement of the Sonate is based on various permutations of this
sequence of events. The reasonable detectability of motives along with their extreme plasticity,
suggests Artaud's "hieroglyphic" theater language. As a manifesto, the work is arranged
to outline the various "meanings" (i.e. combinations) which a given set of elements can assume. [examples 3a, 3b] Such a plan is unusually clear for Boulez, but
shows how much of his rhetorical violence derives from a response to the material
and how the unpredictability of this can be used dramatically.
If there is still one hellish, truly accursed thing in our time, it is our artistic
dallying with forms, instead of being like victims burnt at the stake, signaling
through the flames. Artaud, "The Theater and Culture" (11)
Most critics limit the sphere of Artaud's influence to Boulez's Deuxième Sonate
(1948), completed shortly after the dramatist's death. The hysterical rhetoric
of the sonata creates for many listeners an easily audible parallel with Artaud's
"performances." For Artaud, when the word could no longer sufficiently express, he
did not hesitate to damage his language. (12) Young Boulez wields similar violence against traditional
forms. Compositionally, Boulez discursively employs all of the sonata form's traditional
unification devices- motives, "themes," phrase structures, recapitulations, etc.- and presses them to such an extreme that they become untenable. Lost in the
tangle of established relationships, the effect of all the standard schemes becomes
trapped in a teeming web of explosive tendencies. The "detonation" of these sites
becomes Boulez's most active creative role. By following all the rules- too many, in fact-
the composer's act begins to be placed at distance, externalized from traditional
involvements. Boulez's hostile rigor with "academic" forms and devices allows the
great institutions to burn themselves
to the ground. [example 4]
An expression does not have the same value twice, does not live two lives... a form,
once it has served, cannot be used again and asks only to be replaced by another...
Artaud, "No more masterpieces" (13)
Boulez's increasingly external and destructive relationship to his chosen material
and forms eventually led him to a point where new forms would have to be made if
here were to have anything further to smash. His work from the fifties on explores
possibilities in which the material itself would suggest the form. The first conundrum encountered
by this scheme is also considered Boulez's most militant manifesto document, Structures Ia
(1951)- a work in which all parameters are organized in advance by an "automatic"
serial plan. Boulez challenges the fecundity of total serialism by jumping straight
into an endgame with the "system." The composer is theoretically externalized to
the point of simply choosing the various automatisms which will manufacture the work.
Boulez mentions the extreme tension of each point in Structures Ia
which is required to represent so many layers of information. Each note played by
either pianist articulates the intersection of at least four organizational controls:
pitch, duration, intensity (dynamic), and mode of attack. (14) The elaboration lavished
on each pitch suggests Artaud's theatrical hieroglyphs which aim to communicate an intellectuality
to the physical being. The sheer impossibility of "hearing" the pure structure of
the piece, which may be due to the overload of information, does not preclude its possible "symbolism and interconnections in relation to all organs and on all
Boulez was deeply dissatisfied with Structures Ia
, because he felt each organizational parameter was treated equally, lending a flat
quality to the possible interaction of these controls. (16) The nearly arbitrary nature
of the extreme organization, along with the sudden imposition/ dissolution of rules
makes Structures Ia
Boulez's composition most inextricable from the manifesto-trap. Neither form nor
material can enact violence against their mutual constraints because of their unilateral
dependence on each other. As much as Structures Ia
seems to be a document of the void, a nearly absurd game, its aesthetic is paradoxically
to achieve Artaudian theatrical status. (17) In Structures Ia
, everything acts without reacting; each moment is the manifestation of several rules
which impose themselves on a point of sound which has no defense against this mechanism.
Without a model of negation for this admittedly impressive scheme, Boulez is left with no outlet for his signature compositional destruction.
The one control which was left to his conscious intervention, registration of the
pitches, led him to a unique form of limitation in which various rules could be formed
and abolished in violent interplay. Indeed, registral fixity may be a defining obsession for Boulez's language- a perhaps unintended manifesto which constantly evokes reaction
from the composer trapped by it. The confining of pitches to specific realms of musical
space suggests the most Artaudian of Boulez's violent responses to his language, because the restraints are made physical and tangible.
György Ligeti, in an analysis of Structures Ia
, suggests that registral fixity- total vertical control of the elements- becomes
a requirement of total horizontal predetermination in order to respect a canonical
phonological law of dodecaphony- the avoidance of octaves. Thus two or more "threads"
of serial polyphony require a certain fixity. If the succession of pitches is fast, dense,
or continuous, each "section" may comprise a unique twelve-note verticality. (Ligeti
resolutely rejects the term "chord".) (18) These fixities in Structures I
exist in a virtual state- the sensitive listener may be able to hear these vertical
regions within the horizontal hyperactivity. In Structures II
, fixity becomes a governing principle frequently attacked by the musical matter it
devises to control.
I suspend this book in life, I want it to be eaten away by external things and above
all by all the rending jolts, all the thrashings of my future self. Artaud, "Là
où d'autres..." (19)
provides an excellent focus for examining Artaudian echoes in Boulez's thought.
The aspect of the work which is most clear and most constantly assaulted is registral
fixity. A quick perusal of Boulez's score shows how most serial statements quickly
gel into an immobilized chord in which every pitch has a strict register. This restriction
begins as an invisible precondition of serial thought- octaves must be avoided. But
the struggle with which Boulez invests this parameter of his work, suggests argument
about the nature of limitations themselves- the manifesto questions itself. Boulez
continues his path of externalizing his controls as a composer. The law inherent
book I, becomes performative in the two "chapters" of book II as this rigidity is
increasingly explored between the pianos. The dramatization of the elements creates
a paradoxical improvisation about unfreedom- a type of organized delirium.
Between the two books of Structures
, Boulez's musical vocabulary had undergone a significant change. The technique of
chord multiplication directed his serial usage from a linear row to a network of
harmonic fields. This is achieved by taking a "general" series and dividing it into
"frequency" groups through the intervention of a numerical series. [example 5] The chords
(or "groups") formed from this action can be subject to the superimposed structure
of another chord in the series. This elaborate form of transposition is called "multiplication" and allows the composer a degree of unified vertical (e.g. harmonic) control
over his music. (20)
Important to the multiplication process is the absolute structure
of a chord, as opposed to its "abstracted" form used in analysis. The distinction
between a minor third and a major sixth (not to mention a tenth or a seventeenth!) normally
dismissible in serial theory as the same "interval class", could drastically alter
the structure of a multiplied chord. Often, pitch fixity in "multiplication"-era
Boulez refers to his movement between harmonic regions which have definite vertical structures.
The first two phrases Structures II
provide the manifesto statement of Boulez's fixity issues for the work. Immediately,
he establishes an antiphony of responses, a double "improvisation" to contrast with
the simultaneous track of Structures Ia
. Closer examination shows that this "dialogue" behaves as a set of traps. The second
piano arranges a nine-note chord in a configuration similar to the Première Sonate
. Here, the divisions mark the internal tension of the harmony which is again a diffused
cluster. The explosive entry of the first piano is a unsuccessful attempt to be liberated
from the fixity established by the second in its opening statement. Every movement of the first piano is simply a type of arpeggiation of this material with a
few significant exceptions. Boulez introduces two pitches not included in the fixed
chord: C, and C#. These can be stated in any octave, and in fact are used to specifically
contrast with the fixed chord. The dynamics of the passage reflect the effort of the
outnumbered "free" pitches to shake the spell of the fixed majority. Note the movement
as the initial rage is stifled and resumed. The final note of the passage, the "neutral
outsider" D, used only once, completes the chromatic total and dissolves the structure
completely. [example 6]
The second phrase repeats the trap, but reverses the situation of the pianos. The
seven-note chord of the first piano, enslaves the second on a lesser scale. There
are now three "free" pitches, which the second piano interposes with only four of
the fixed(a limitation of a limitation) in a set of gyrations. The dramatic gesture in measures
10-11 show the second piano gathering momentum: first a chord with all its free members
, then a deflating gesture pppp
on the fixed notes, followed by a violent move which "picks off" the the fixed tones,
striking them sforzando
one by one, accelerating into a dismissal of the free pitches in a diminutive high
arpeggio. [example 7]
This laborious description focusing only on dynamics and pitches hints at the concrete
ways in which Boulez's material and its constraints create the form of his work.
What should suffice in this example is the destructive attitude Boulez holds toward
his own language. Carefully set up harmonic fields and relations are shattered in an
instant or assaulted in a sustained manner. The potentialities of his grammar are
carefully laid out as in a manifesto. Yet, what may remain for the listener within
all of the detail is the procedure of destruction which passes from one elaborately built section
to the next. As in Artaud's "lecture," we hear the progressive damaging of the language
of manifesto from within. Each method of compositional elocution which Boulez outlines in his work is subject to a brutalizing treatment which may be the defining
Hardly a believer in improvisation, Boulez has structured a non-tonal framework which
allows a gradual amount of freedom through a hard struggle with fixity. The form
of Structures II
externalizes and performs this argument. Written as two chapters, the first struggles
within a notated format.The elements of improvisation are limited to several "cadenzas"
in which each piano violently reacts to the limitations placed on it by the other, in a manner similar to the opening phrases. Boulez, compositionally hostile to the
burgeoning freedom of the material, eventually traps both pianos within a single
The second chapter uses formal mobility to perform the fixed/free argument. The pianos
begin synchronized in a chordal sequence which is subjected to a constant fluctuation
in tempo. Responding separately to the inertia of the accelerandi and ritardandi,
the pianos radically divide paths. Piano II is submitted to a tremendous degree of
restraint- almost atrophied, it plays five sections of music consisting of composed
arpeggios in the middle register of the instrument. The harmonic material for piano
II derives from five twelve-note chords which are completely fixed in register. Within
these regions, Boulez further restricts the possibilities for forming sub-statements.
The whole system forms a classical arch of 5 harmonic fields arranged symmetrically.
Piano I takes the energy and agitation to an extreme. Largely liberated from linear
notation, it is given a folio of materials including two "cadenzas," six "texts,"
and four "inserts." These items are given certain ordering restraints and are placed
through mutual cues between the players. The disposition of material for piano I, though
internally mobile, ultimately refers to the arch structure of the second piano.
Some of Boulez's most rhetorically violent music is contained in the two solo "cadenzas"
for Piano I. A salute to Artaud's maniacal shrieking would not be hard to locate
in the "première piece" for the highest two octaves of the piano. Even more severe
in violence yet opposing in register is the muttering "deuxième piece" which is locked
in the very bottom range of the keyboard. [examples 9a, 9b] The disorder and calculated
incoherence of these two pieces suggest a sudden breakdown of language and communication. They interrupt the measured argument of the second piano in a shockingly
physical way. Since these pieces frame the "liberated" portion of the chapter, they
deliver a grim commentary on that freedom. The second piano, locked in total pitch
determination, is able to create a rich variety of harmonic material. The other instrument
desperately vacillates from one extreme to the other, equally trapped for all its
The extreme dissociation of the pianos further externalizes the drama began in chapter
one. The strange stalemate of this second chapter suspends judgment on the position
taken by either piano. Easy moralizing about restriction and liberty in art, tempting for the manifesto composer, must be resisted here because one cannot ascertain
which is the free and which is the fixed in Structures II
. Blurring this binary, Boulez assaults even his most basic linguistic premise in
an attempt to confound the arguments which raged in European art music at the end
of the fifties. Perhaps from this viewpoint, neither the manifestos of Cage's indeterminacy
nor Stockhausen's unified serial universe mattered as much as the hostility their
opposing camps mobilized. Boulez took the risky move of staging these battles in
his own work, in effect achieving a cancellation. Artaud asserted, "Life consists
of burning up questions." (21)
The actor does not make the same gestures twice, but he makes gestures, he moves and
although he brutalizes forms, nevertheless behind them and through their destruction
he rejoins that which outlives forms and produces their continuation. Artaud, "The Theater and Culture" (22)
Examining the influence of Artaud on Boulez has here been a type of defense: of the
possibility for an aesthetic in a compositional realm where organization is fetishized
and dubiously conveyed to an audience through manifesto-like means. The focus has
been on a structural violence which is arguably a reaction to the dry process of setting
up and executing rules in serial music. Artaud's rigorous meditations on a "theater
of cruelty" attempt to create a situation in which "life" is engaged through an
organized struggle. (23) This contrasts with those varieties of modern primitivism which try
to inject liveliness into bland gridwork. For Artaud destruction- especially to language-
becomes a basic principle for undoing mental subjugations.
The situation for Boulez is more complex, because he aims violence at or derives it
from restraints he has consciously espoused for his art. His musical material is
chosen/generated for its ability to create explosive situations. Artaud may have
ridiculed this nearly sado-masochistic approach to composition since he claims "the dessication
of language accompanies its limitation."
For Boulez, exclusive emphasis on musical constraints becomes a risk. Yet, most of
his compositional actions have a negative or destructive impact, usually on the very
forms he has constructed. Declaration is almost simultaneous with erasure or explosion. While unremarkable in itself, this violent exteriority of composition seems to be
a reasonable reaction to the stolid documentarity of most "revolutionary," manifesto-style
works. At best Boulez's synthetic-destructive poetics may allow a certain type of musical thought to survive- one which continually seeks new forms and must shatter
all the old ones to reduce the clutter.
Since the general fate of manifestos is to be negated or denounced by a subsequent
decree, Boulez may be protecting the historical reception of his precious few declarations
by ensuring that they performatively blow themselves up. Thus, "bad boy" destructive methods may have lent Boulez some of the self-perpetuating qualities of a patriarch.
The inexorable moment came when serialism was declared dead (or never alive) by
its self-appointed historical successors. For the new conquerors sorting through
the rubble of supposedly arid intellectualism, a fully armed bomb might command a certain
type of respect.
Notes to "Serialism of Cruelty"
1) Eco, Umberto. The Open Work. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1989, pg. 220.
2) Hayman, Ronald. Artaud and After. London: Oxford University Press, 1977, pg. 144.
3) Artaud, Antonin. The Theater and its Double. New York: Grove Press, 1958, pg. 114.
4) Hayman, op. cit., pp. 89-90.
5) Artaud, op. cit., pg. 129.
6) ibid, pg. 130.
7) ibid, pp. 90-91.
8) The phrase "Rien, sinon un beau Pèse-Nerfs" (translated as "a fine nerve meter") is from Artaud's quasi-poem "Toute l'écriture..." printed in . New York: Vintage Books, 1984. Edited by Paul Auster.
9) In what may be an arbitrary and cruel decision, the author excludes the two published items of the Troisième Sonate considering it a torso in light of Boulez's projected five movement compositional plan. The short solo piano work Incises, written for the 1995 Umberto Micheli piano competition was not available at the time of writing, nor is it immediately applicable to the historical period (1945-65) discussed.- A. I.
10) Auster, ed., op. cit., pg. 267.
11) Artaud, op. cit., pg. 13.
12) In the poem-like text , "Il me manque," Artaud addresses his opponents, "literary" people, admonishing, "For the mind is more reptilian than you yourselves, messieurs, it slips away snakelike, to the point where it damages our language, I mean it leaves it in suspense." Printed in Auster, op. cit., pg. 261.
13) ibid, pg. 75.
14) Boulez, Pierre. Relevés d'apprenti. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991, pg. 189.
15) Artaud, op. cit., pg. 114.
16) Boulez ,Relevés, pg. 190.
17) This seems unfair, since Artaud describes his concept of "cruelty" as signifying "rigor, implacable intention and decision, irreversible and absolute determination." Yet he qualifies that "there is no cruelty without consciousness and the application of consciousness." (Theater and its Double, pp. 101-02) Perhaps this is to be understood that an automatic process, though determined, cannot wield cruelty.
18) Ligeti, György. "Decision and Automatism in Structures Ia." In Die Reihe, vol. V. London: Universal Edition, 1959, pp. 55-57.
19) Auster, op. cit., pg. 255.
20) Koblyakov, Lev. Pierre Boulez: a world of harmony. New York: Harwood Academic Publishers, 1990, pp. 3-7.
21) Auster, op. cit., pg. 255.
22) ibid, pg. 8.
23) ibid, pg. 13. "Furthermore, when we speak the word 'life,' it must be understood we are not referring to life as we know it from its surface of fact, but to that fragile, fluctuating center which forms never reach."