Nos sens sont autant de touches qui sont pincées par la nature qui nous environne, et qui se pincent souvent elles-mêmes
- Denis Diderot
Denis Diderot (1713-1784) is known primarily for his work on the great Encyclopédie, a vast collection that is often cited as being an embodiment of enlightenment ideals and thought. Though his work as editor of the gargantuan project to compile all of human knowledge occupied around 40 years of his life, he also managed to write a large number of philosophical and literary works that probed nearly all aspects of human existence. One of his most well known works is the series of witty dialogues Le rêve de D'Alembert, the first section of which consists of a fictitious evening conversation between Diderot and his friend, famed mathematician Jean le Rond D'Alembert. As the two thinkers converse, they set out to define what it means to be conscious, which leads Diderot to outline a complex theory whose main claim is that all objects possess some form of consciousness. Though this would seem to grant to everyday objects some sort of supernatural power, Diderot avoids contest by differentiating between latent and active consciousness. The latter, which the vast majority of humans possess, is distinguished from the former by requiring the ability to feel sensations, which in turn requires memory. Thus, an object without memory is unable to feel and must therefore be possessing of only latent consciousness. Having grown confused by the numerous complexities of Diderot's theory, D'Alembert begins to wonder what, precisely, the difference would be between a philosopher and a harpsichord. Diderot's reply asks us to consider what it would be like to have a harpsichord with memory and the ability to experience sensations.
Within the simple (albeit absurd) comparison between musical instruments and metaphysically minded individuals lies the key to understanding the relevance and completeness of Diderot's theory. Though by no means scientific from a modern perspective, it does provide an ingenious glimpse into the human psyche and helps develop a strong sense of connectedness to the world at large. While Diderot's dialogue is in and of itself quite elaborate and thorough, I felt that the subtleties of his philosophy and the elegance through which his theory was constructed provided a strong basis for the present composition. Aside from the musical analogy that lent itself to the work's title, the dialogue speaks of many of the issues that make music and our ability to make sense of it the magical experience that it is. This piece, therefore, serves simultaneously as an hommage, a didactic tool, and an artistic reaction to Diderot's thoughts on consciousness. From the disorder of the work's opening to the harmonic clarity of its conclusion, one is led on an illustrative path through his enlightening and novel theory. Many of his definitions, theorems, and suppositions have been invoked and portrayed musically with the hope that, at least in some abstract way, Diderot's philosophy can be made known and useful to any listener. The musicians of the orchestra are asked to improvise and create specific sonic territories meant to arouse one's awareness of their own memory. As the work progresses, specific harmonies (D, A-flat, and D-flat major triads) are combined, pitted against rival sonorities, and eventually distilled in a way that can only be appreciated by a sentient being. And naturally, this piece is just as much about consciousness as it is about music itself and our own ability to understand it. Through melodies and various motivic devices, our ability to experience, sift through, and organize sensations of all kinds is directly addressed. After all, our unique ability to understand and feel music is one of the greatest reminders in the Universe of our own sensations and surroundings.