Rhythm as Composition: Looking for a Common Ground ... - Arts

Rhythm as Composition: Looking for a Common Ground

Abstract [In the extant fragment of “Elementa Rhythmica II”, Aristoxenus makes the comparison between poetic rhythm (ρυθμος, and ρυθμιζομενον) and visual rhythm or schema (σχημα, and σχηματιζομενα). Aristoxenus’ terminology is useful for analyzing visual rhythm, since it is routinely used to account for rhythm in a variety of art forms: poetry, dance, music, sculpture and painting. In “Feeling and Form” S. K. Langer extended several interesting ideas about rhythm: The essence of rhythm is the preparation of new events by the ending of previous ones. Langer also argued that each music performer has a matrix or “composition” in mind when he or she performs music (a tune), which is “the basic form of the picture, which is to be developed, and by which every line and every accent is controlled.” In this sense the completed painting can be taken as this kind of ‘matrix’ to generate ‘energy’. This paper proposes that rhythm as composition or schema forms a common ground between auditory and visual art. Key terms are rhythm, composition, schema, flow, understanding, image, Aristoxenus, S.K. Langer and Agamben.] Before and after Aristoxenus: Agamben’s Understanding of Rhythm: Aristoxenus of Taras (born probably around 379 BC) i, is said to have written a theory of visual rhythm in addition to a theory of rhythm in poetry, dance and music. In the fragment which remains of “Elementa Rhythmica II”, this is evident to some degree in the comparison he makes between poetic rhythm (ρυθμος, and ρυθμιζομενον) and visual rhythm or schema (σχημα, and σχηματιζομενα).

Aristides Quintilianus (born ca. AD 3), who followed Aristoxenus’s empirical theoria, but modified or idealised the meaning of rhythm according to Pythagorean tradition, wrote in De Musica, “Rhythm in general is perceived by three senses, which are these: sight, as in dancing; hearing, as in melody ii; and touch, by which we perceive, for instance, the pulsations of the arteries.” iii In ancient Greek thought, rhythm in poetry and musiciv is not only restricted to occurrences within musical or auditory phenomena, but is integrated into other forms of physical or bodily reception: seeing,

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gesture (especially the feet) and feelingv. Hölderlin may be considered to be the Romantic era’s disciple of Aristoxenus (via Aristides). In his first conversations with Sinclair (probably dating from 1804), Hölderlin reveals a deep concern about rhythm: When rhythm has become the sole and unique mode of thought’s expression, it is then only that there is poetry. In order for mind to become poetry, it must bear in itself the mystery of an innate rhythm. It is in this rhythm alone that it can live and become visible. And every work of art is but one and the same rhythm. Everything is simply rhythm. The destiny of man is a single celestial rhythm, as every work of art is a unique rhythm. (Blanchot 1982, 225)vi In his tendency toward a metaphysical, essentialist idea of rhythm, Hölderlin goes beyond Aristoxenian empiricism, and even Aristides’ idealism. Agamben outlines Aristotle’s attempts to define rhythm, and by doing so, contextualises Hölderlin’s view. It is he, among the modern thinkers in our age, who traces Hölderlin’s understanding of rhythm to its Aristotelian origins. Agamben notes, however, that Aristotle “does not directly use the word rhythm (ρυθμος)”, although he “employs the private expression to prwton arruqmiston, meaning that which in itself lacks rhythm”: ρυθμος is what adds itself to this immutable substratum and, by adding itself to it, composes and shapes it, giving it structure. In this sense, rhythm is structure, scheme, in opposition to elemental, inarticulate nature. Understood from this perspective, Hölderlin’s sentence would mean that every work of art is one structure, and would therefore imply an interpretation of the original being

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of the work of art as ρυθμος, structure. (Blanchot 1982, 225) Agamben brings us back to the ancient Greek notion of ‘rhythm’ and ‘schema’ in which rhythm is defined as form, arrangement and proportion vii and thus assigns the definition of rhythm (ρυθμος) to schema (σχημα)/form/shape from which the notion of rhythm as structure (rather than as cyclic progression or repetition) arises.

According to Agamben, ‘structure’ for Aristotle is not a mere aggregate, but a unity; a whole which is more than the simple combination of its elements. (Agamben 1999, 96) Such a concept of structure works against the Pythagorean notion of numbers. Moreover, in Aristotle’s view, a whole is not a numeric aggregation either (for the Pythagoreans, the underlying principle of all things) but requires “something else”: but that extra something, which might bring forth the whole as more than the sum of its parts, “had to be something radically other” (Agamben 1999, 96) That is, Aristotle takes structure not as number, but, in the context of “unity”, as something closer to rhythm.

Agamben’s understanding of rhythm is “the principle of presence that opens and maintains the work of art in its original space.” (Agamben 1999, 98) The ‘original space’ is a space in which rhythm as structure or arrangement is a force that affords the faculty of flow. The term “original space” is ambiguous, but can be understood as the receptacle of energy or force. In this sense, “original space” is similar to Plato’s chora,viii which allows the work of art to be what it is. In this “original space”, rhythm brings eternal flow (rew) to the wholeness of the artwork. Thus, Agamben describes how, “in a musical piece, although it is somehow in time, we perceive rhythm as

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something that escapes the incessant flight of instants and appears almost as the presence of an atemporal dimension in time” and “in the same way, when we are before a work of art …, we perceive a stop in time, as though we were suddenly thrown into a more original time.” (Agamben 1999, 99) It is a ‘stop’, which comes from the future, and sinks into the past. For Hölderlin, poiesis can be found within this original space of the human subject’s world, which is by definition embodied in the subject’s relationship with the work of art. This relationship is man’s highest engagement; it “keeps him in the truth and grants to his dwelling on earth its original status. This rhythmic structure of a work of art is original ecstasy in which man can experience freedom and alienation, historical consciousness and loss in time, truth and error.” (Benveniste 1971, 100) In this ecstatic structure of rhythm, rhythm is not a mere Gestalt or number (i.e. metre), instead it opens up the very structure of the subject’s being-in-the-world.

Thus, according to Agamben, our understanding of rhythm is brought back to before and beyond what we might call the ‘Aristoxenusian doctrine’: to rhythm as form (σχημα) or structure, which constitutes an image that is emphatically static rather than kinetic. The static image is not an inert, inanimate image, but, on the contrary, constitutes a force field. Here we recall Auguste Rodin’s well-known remark about movement differing between the statue and the photograph: “Instantaneous glimpses, unstable attitudes petrify movement, as is shown by so many photographs in which an athlete-in-motion is forever frozen.”ix Rodin demonstrates his fidelity to time, reminiscent of Aristoxenus, in his discussion of ‘schema’: “It is the artist who is truthful, while the photograph lies; for, in reality, time never stops.” (Merleau-Ponty 1993, 145) Artworks based on the concept of rhythm as schema are a minority in the

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current age of kinetic movement and rhythm. S. K. Langer’s understanding of rhythm can be said to inherit this forgotten tradition.

Langer’s Approach to Rhythm: For Langer, the relation between a dynamic and static form is crucial to the concept of “living form” in art. Langer sees rhythm at the core of the living form: “The reason why so complex a network of events as the life of an individual can possibly go on and on in a continuous dynamic pattern is, that this pattern of events is rhythmic.” (Langer 1957, 50) Langer uses the term ‘form’ in both its commonsense meaning, i.e., as the shape of a thing, as well as something more abstract, i.e., to mean “structure, articulation, a whole resulting from the relation of mutually dependent factors, or more precisely, the way that whole is put together.” (Langer 1957, 16) Using the image of a waterfall as an example, Langer explains the phenomenon of ‘permanent’ dynamic form: A waterfall seems to hang from the cliff, waving streamers of foam. Actually, of course, nothing stays there in mid-air; the water is always passing; but there is more and more water taking the same paths, so we have a lasting shape made and maintained by its passage — a permanent dynamic form. (Langer 1957, 18) The slow-moving river and its river bed, whose shape is ‘static’, presents another good example: “it express[es] the dynamic form of the river.” (Langer 1957, 19) ‘Flow’ in the waterfall and river present a very different model of movement from that of the repetitive (or metrical) movement associated with waves or breathing. If we see rhythm in terms of this ‘permanent dynamic’ form, as in the waterfall or river, then,

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what we are seeing is schematic rather than kinetic rhythm.

For Langer, the essence of rhythm is the preparation for a new event by the ending of a previous one. (Langer 1953, 126) She sees rhythm not only in its common sense as periodic succession, but in the arbitrary pattern of action and reaction (as with a tennis player): “A rhythmic pattern arises whenever the completion of one distinct event appears as the beginning of another.” (Langer 1957, 51) Langer’s understanding of rhythm wavers between physiological and artistic rhythm. The perfect example of physiological rhythm is breathing: In breathing, the process starts all the time throughout the whole body; as the oxygen of a breath is used up, it builds up the imperative need of oxygen that is really the beginning of the new breath. This sort of mutual conditioning is the law of organic function; the more closely you look into the entire physiological process that constitutes the dynamic form we call “life,” the more minutely, diversely, and elaborately rhythmic it proves to be. … The rhythmic interaction is incredible. (Langer 1957, 52) In other words, rhythm is “the setting-up of new tensions by the resolution of former ones.” (Langer 1957, 51) The principle of rhythmic continuity is, for Langer, the basis of organic unity such as respiration, which is ‘vital’ rhythm. What models of actual rhythm would exemplify artistic rhythm, so as to distinguish the latter from physiological rhythms?

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Music, Langer contends, is “a symbolic presentation of the highest organic response”. (Langer 1957, 126) However, “rhythm as a relation between tensions” (Langer 1957, 129) does not limit the human mind to this biological continuity. Rhythm, rather than being limited to “a matter of equal divisions of time (i.e. metre),” (Langer 1957, 129) “makes it quite comprehensible that harmonic progressions, resolutions of dissonances, directions of ‘running’ passages, and ‘tendency tones’ in melody all serve as rhythmic agents.” (Langer 1957, 129) Langer further contests that “everything that prepares a future creates rhythm; everything that begets or intensifies expectation, including the expectation of sheer continuity, prepares future (regular “beats” are an obvious and important source of rhythmic organization); and everything that fulfills the promised future, in ways foreseen or unforeseen, articulates the symbol of feeling.” (Langer 1957, 129)

When the concept of the dialectical function of rhythm (rhythm as equilibrium between tensions) is introduced into Langer’s theory of rhythm without repetition, her theory of rhythm comes close to Benvenist’s interpretation of rhythm (rhythm as stasis, schema or arrangement): Dialectic is the basis of rhythm, which consequently is more than sheer periodicity, or evenly spaced repetition of any occurrence. A rhythmic phenomenon may even involve no exact repetition, but is always a dialectical pattern in which the resolution of tensions sets up new tensions; the recession of one color brings its complementary to the fore, our close attention to the latter exhausts its domination and lets the former advance again; in a good composition of volumes,

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every boundary of a form is also a conjunction of forms, the surrounding spaces taking their gestalt from the volumes they limit. (Langer 1967, 205) Rhythm as a dialectical process is not limited to the repetition of physiological rhythm. It must be acknowledged that repetition is a very important element of empirical (and biological) rhythm, and has a great value in the construction of metre as the agent of reaction to rhythm. However, repetition is not fundamental to rhythm, although Langer herself acknowledges the power of repetition: “a mere metric rhythm is usually enough to activate the performers … and ecstasy builds up in repetition.” (Langer 1953, 203) If rhythm is understood to be limited to a repetitive function, for example in breathing, then we risk overlooking the alternative conception of rhythm as schema (σχημα), which possibly is experienced without repetitive parameters.

Breathing is an unequivocal sign of living, constituted by the reciprocal exchange between internalization and externalisation. Each half-cycle of breathing incorporates a threshold between inhalation and exhalation, tension and release. This threshold composes the cycle of breathing itself as a form of rhythm. Comprising two beats per unit, breathing exemplifies one of the simplest functions of the boundary, and the simplest metre of rhythm. But rhythm formed around an organic or pathological structure is only one of a range of rhythms that can occur both in nature and in art.

Étienne Souriau contends in Time in the Plastic Arts that “certainly the successive themes of visual perception can be organized rhythmically in time.”(Souriau, 1958, 136) Souriau describes the empirical form of rhythm based on an organic cyclic progression:

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There is no rhythm (if one gives this word a precise meaning but as general as possible) unless there is an organization of a continuous succession through the cyclic repetition of the same basic scheme (which is of course susceptible of [sic.] various concrete forms). (Souriau, 1958, 135) This ‘precise’ meaning of rhythm is distilled into our empirical use of rhythm in art in an ordinary sense. For Souriau, the biological fact of ‘cyclic repetition’ is deemed sufficient as a description of rhythm, a view which also reflects the Romantic tradition of musical rhythm, in which it became identified with metre. However, according to a more holistic, philological sense of rhythm as Benveniste demonstrates, such a view lacks the important inclusion of the non-organic component of rhythm. Maintaining the holistic view, which includes the etymological history of the term ‘rhythm’, Philippe Lacue-Labarthe contends that the phenomenon of rhythm occurs in “the hidden interdependence between subjectivity and images on the one side and death and music on the other,” (Aviram, 1994, 216) in which case the subjective and imaginal function of rhythm cannot be omitted.

When we look at rhythm as schema or structure, and include the faculty of the agent, then our understanding and experience of rhythm can expand, from a somewhat simplistic biological form, to the complex artistic form in music and visual art, particularly in the 20th century.

Between Tensions: Rhythm and Composition A French pianist and musicologist, Gisèle Brelet, in Le Temps Musical (1949), argues

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that in the mind of a performer and listener, rhythm is “internalized metre.” Grosvenor Cooper and Leonard B. Meyer, define the essence of musical rhythm in this way: “To experience rhythm is to group separate sounds into structured patterns.” Elsewhere in the book they write: “Rhythmic grouping is a mental fact, not a physical one. There are no hard and fast rules for calculating what in any particular instance the grouping is.” (Cooper and Meyer 1960, 9)

The concept of boundary, for example, between tension and release, is an important issue for determining the principle features of rhythm. It functions as articulation and punctuation, especially in the visual field. However, in the rhythmic activity of grouping, which can be regarded as one of the most reliable current theories of rhythm (Cooper & Mayer), the boundary cannot be counted as the core of any particular grouping. Beats and accents are a crucial factor in articulating rhythm. They are the core of the operation of groupings, but they are a psychological entity generated by the subject, and are not identical with the visual borderline, or, in the case of music, with the metrical boundary on the score itself.

Langer also observes the relation between rhythm and composition (or matrix) as it occurs in music: The matrix, in music the fundamental movement of melody or harmonic progression, which establishes the greatest rhythm of the piece and dictates its scope, is born of the composer’s thought and feeling, but as soon as he recognizes it as an individual symbol and sets forth its outline it becomes the expression of an impressional Idea,

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and opens, to him and others, a deep mine of musical resource. (Langer 1953, 122-3) Langer argues that each performer has a matrix or “composition” in mind when performing a piece of music, and that this is “the basic form of the picture, which is to be developed, and by which every line and every accent is controlled.” (Langer 1953, 121) Langer talks about the first appearance of a harmonic set in a piece of music and within an episode of rhythm: “Some characteristic way of unfolding the tonal potentialities of the first harmonies is really the generative principle of a composition, and this may be implicit in a rhythmic figure.” (Langer 1953, 124)

It might normally be assumed that composers and musical performers are those who best know the essence of the theme. However, Langer’s conception of ‘composition’ can be applied more broadly, and be understood to inhabit the mind of any listener. This way, Langer’s conception of ‘composition’ becomes an inherent condition of aural or musical sensibility and subjectivity, rather than something external that issues from a certain type of musical or aural-rhythmic output. Langer wrote: “the greater entity we call a composition is not merely produced by mixture, like a new color made by mixed paints, but is articulated, i.e., its internal structure is given to our perception.” (Langer 1953, 31) Typically ‘theme’ as matrix in the composition can be heard in the development of European music, especially in Romanticism, the development of which parallels that of representational painting in Europe. Langer makes a similar point when she argues that ‘composition’ can be “the protagonist of so-called ‘representational’ painting.” (Langer 1953, 124)

‘Composition’ is a dynamic structure which “can express the forms of vital experience

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which language is peculiarly unfit to convey.” (Langer 1953, 32) Langer sees this dynamic structure in African music (especially drumming): “The voice, in such performances, serves essentially to contrast with the steady tone of the drum — to wander and rise and fall where the purely rhythmic element goes on like Fate.” (Langer 1953, 125) This composition or system of African music differs markedly from the representational system of tradition European classical music and painting. Thus Langer concludes that “the essence of all composition — tonal, atonal, vocal or instrumental, even purely percussive, if you will — is the semblance of organic movement, the illusion of an individual whole.” (Langer 1953, 126)

This concept of ‘composition’ is close to that of rhythm as schema, in which rhythm is understood as ‘form’, ‘structure, or ‘arrangement’. When the linearity of metre incorporates ‘composition’ or ‘structure’ it becomes kinetic rhythm within the flow of time. When the energy of ‘completion’ (Langer and Aristotle x) is fixed onto the ‘composition’, the flow of time is suspended, and non-linear arrangement, that is, schematic rhythm, appears. We can extend Langer’s point and argue that, in a sense, the completed painting can be taken as a kind of ‘matrix’ that generates energy. This kind of energy can go beyond representational painting and be fully activated in the non-representational or ‘abstract’ painting.

Conclusion: Seeking for a Common Ground Langer also sees a trait of the dynamic in the static of ‘pure’ decorative design: Pure decorative design is a direct projection of vital feeling into visible shape and color. Decoration may be highly diversified, or it may be very simple; but it always has what

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geometric form, for instance a specimen illustration in Euclid, does not have — motion and rest, rhythmic unity, wholeness. (Langer 1953, 63) Langer, as we might expect in the light of her conception of ‘composition’, sees movement in static design. For example she sees rhythm in ornamental borders, noting that the “‘movement’ of the [ornamental] border is not really movement in the scientific sense, change of place; it is the semblance of rhythm.” (Langer 1953, 63) She emphasises that this effect of movement comes “directly from the design, and from nothing else” and that it is, thus, “inherent in its construction.” (Langer 1953, 63) Thus, Langer sees rhythm and movement in structure itself.

Langer’s comments succeed in demonstrating certain fundamental traits of visual rhythm. She nominates Roger Sessions as the “only person, so far as I know, who has clearly recognized this characteristic of plastic space” (Langer 1953, 67) and pertinently notes that he “is not a painter but a musician.” (Langer 1953, 67) Langer cites Sessions: The visual arts govern a world of space, and it seems to me that perhaps the profoundest sensation which we derive from space is not so much that of extension as of permanence. On the most primitive level we feel space to be something permanent, fundamentally unchangeable; when movement is apprehended through the eye it takes place, so to speak, within the static framework, and the psychological impact of this framework is much more powerful than that of the vibrations which occur within its limits. (in Langer

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1953, 67) Thus Langer concludes: “This duality of motion-in-permanence is, indeed, what effects the abstraction of pure dynamism and creates the semblance of life, or activity maintaining its form.” (Langer 1953, 67)

We can also argue that if rhythm exists in a visual form as well as an auditory one, then it appears as a holistic unity, as ‘composition’. However, if rhythm is to be experienced, this internalization of ‘the metre’, or its equivalent, is crucial for the creator of a picture as well as for the viewer.

In visual art, which is normally regarded as spatial rather than temporal, ‘the metre’ in a painting could only be recognized in the form of certain manifestations of its pictorial elements. This might mean, then, that a certain kind of painter operates according to what we could refer to as an internalized ‘metre’ and ‘tempo’. But the question remains whether there is, in fact, anything comparable to ‘metre’ or ‘tempo’ in visual art beyond the merely speculative points so far put forward. More importantly, perhaps, what we should ask is what kind of terminology and percepts are best utilized in answering this question.

Drawing from his experiences when viewing Byzantine art, John Ruskin commented that “the arrangement of colours and lines is an art analogous to the composition of music, and entirely independent of the representation of facts. Good colouring does not necessarily convey the image of anything but itself. It consists in certain proportions and arrangements of rays of light.” (Sypher 1960, 144-5) Ruskin’s idea that musical ‘composition’ is analogous to visual composition, and his description of

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the visual effect of plastic elements (“colours and lines”) going beyond the iconographic reading of the image, and thus operating outside the terrain of semantics, echoes Langer’s understanding of composition, and is central to our discussion of finding a common ground for rhythm between auditory and visual art. Rhythm functions through the voluntary perceiver who attempts to overcome temporal succession and stasis. When the relation between the artworks and the perceiver is established and the dynamic element in static design is activated, the work becomes breathing and flow itself. Thus static rhythm is activated through consciousness, intention, memory (recollection, retention), understanding, recuperation, grouping, and flow in time and space. However there is another point, which demonstrates empirical rhythm. For the experience of rhythm the perceiver requires an arbitrary articulation or ‘metre’. The question here is how the conception of composition, as we have derived it from Langer’s sense of it, relates to metre and the experience of visual rhythm, and how metre is ‘internalised’ from Brelet’s point of view.

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iAristoxenus

of Taras, a leading disciple of Aristotle, is purported to have written over four hundred books, of which only three on the Elements of Harmony and part of Book II of his Elementa Rhythmica have survived. There are numerous references to his other works, and later scholars refer to Aristoxenus’s interpretation of rhythm, which seems to include the missing volume I. Elementa Rhythmica was published in English translation only in 1990. See Lionel Pearson, “Introduction: I. The Evidence”, in Aristoxenus, Elementa Rhythmica: The Fragment of Book II and the Additional Evidence for Aristoxenean Rhythmic Theory, ed., intro. & comment. Lionel Pearson, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1990. Andrew Barker describes oppositional concepts between melody and rhythm in ancient Greek: Some of the ancients described rhythm as male, melody as female, on the grounds that melody is inactive and without form, playing the part of matter because of its capacity for opposite qualifications, while rhythm moulds it and moves it in a determinate order, playing the part of the maker inrelation to the thing made. (Aristides Quintilianus, op. cit., p. 445). ii

iii

Aristides Quintilianus, ibid., p. 434

In Plato’s period the term ‘music’ was not the indication of music as we understand it now, nor was music recognized as an independent art form. See Keuls, Eva C., op. cit., 1978 iv

See E. Tosaki, “The Birth of Metre: Aristoxenus’ Theory of Rhythm ”, Scriptorium, vol. 3, Classical Studies Melbourne University, Melbourne, Australia, pp. 1-11, 1999. v

Giorgio Agamben also cites the same passage by Hölderlin, “Everything is rhythm, the entire destiny of man is one heavenly rhythm, just as every work of art is one rhythm, and everything swings from the poetizing lips of the god.” ( See Giorgio Agamben, The Man without Content, trans. Georgia Albert, Stanford University Press, Stanford, 1999 (1994), p. 94 vi

For the arguments between Deleuze & Guattari and E. Benveniste around the etymological definition of rhythm. See E. Tosaki, “Rhythm as Schema: In Search of a Mature Theory of Rhythm in Visual Art”, Sensorium: Aesthetics, Art, Life, ed. Barbara Bolt, Felicity Colman, Graham Jones, and Ashley Woodward, Cambridge Scholars Press, pp. 108-123, 2007. vii

Plato nominates Chora, along with Being and Becoming. Chora, in Plato’s thinking, comprises reality, and can be defined as the ambiguous condition of in-between: that is, between ‘being’ and ‘becoming.’ Plato explains: viii

Chora is eternal and indestructible, which provides a position for everything that comes to be, and which is apprehended without the senses by a sort of spurious reasoning and so is hard to believe in - we look at it indeed in a kind of dream and say that everything that exists must be somewhere and occupy some space, and that what is nowhere in heaven or earth is nothing at all. (Plato, Timaeus, trans. H. D. P. Lee, Penguin Books, Hardmonsworth, U.K, 1965, pp. 70-1. Also cited in Alberto PérezGómez and Stephen Parcell, Chora volume one: Intervals in the Philosophy of Architecture, McGill-Queen’s University Press, Montreal & Kingston, London, Buffalo, 1994, pp. 8-9.) Originally appeared in Rodin, L’art. Interviews collected by Paul Gsell, Paris, 1911. Cited by M. MerleauPonty, “Eye and Mind”, in The Merleau-Ponty Aesthetics Reader: Philosophy and Painting, ed. Galen A. Johnson, Northwestern University Press, Evanston, Illinois, 1993, p. 144 ix

Energaia litterally means a ‘putting into use’, an ‘employment’, but often translated as ‘actuality’. (De Anima, Aristotle, trans. Hugh Lawson-Tancred, Penguin Books, London, 1986, p. 117). It contrasts with dunamis (capacity or potentiality). Alistotole discriminates energeia from entelecheia (intrinsic possession of end), although those two terms are close in meaning. See also George A. Blair, "The Meaning of 'Energeia' and 'Entelechia'" in Aristotle, International Philosophical Quarterly (1967) .. x

Bibliography: Agamben, Giorgio, The Man without Content, trans. Georgia Albert, Stanford University Press, Stanford, 1999 (1994), p. 94 Aristoxenus, Elementa Rhythmica: The Fragment of Book II and the Additional Evidence for Aristoxenean Rhythmic Theory, ed., intro. & comment. Lionel Pearson, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1990. Aviram, Amittai F., Telling Rhythm: Body and Meaning in Poetry, The University of Michigan Press, Ann Arbor, 1994 Benveniste, Emile, Problems in General Linguistics, trans. Mary Elizabeth Meek, University of Miami Press, Coral Gables, Florida, 1971 (1966) J. Brill, New York, 1978, Blanchot, Maurice, The Space of Literature, trans. Ann Smock, University of Nebraska Press, Lincoln and London, 1982 (1955), p. 225. Cooper, Grosvenor, and Leonard B. Meyer, The Rhythmic Structure Of Music, The University Of Chicago Press, London, 1960, p. 9 Keuls, Eva C., Plato and Greek Painting, Columbia Studies in the Classical Tradition Vol. V, Leiden E. J. Brill, New York, 1978 Langer, Susanne K., Problems of Art: Ten Philosophical Lectures, Charles Scribner’s Sons, New York, 1957, p. 16 Langer, Susanne K., Feeling and Form: A Theory of Art, Developed from Philosophy in a New Key, Charles Scribner’s Sons, New York, 1953, p. 126 Langer, Susanne K., Mind: An Essay on Human Feeling, vol. 1, The Johns Hopkins University Press, Baltimore, Maryland, 1967, p. 205 Merleau-Ponty, Maurice, “Eye and Mind”, in The Merleau-Ponty Aesthetics Reader: Philosophy and Painting, ed. Galen A. Johnson, Northwestern University Press, Evanston, Illinois, 1993, p. 144 Plato, Timaeus, trans. H. D. P. Lee, Penguin Books, Hardmonsworth, U.K, 1965, pp. 70-1. Pérez-Gómez, Alberto and Stephen Parcell, Chora volume one: Intervals in the Philosophy of Architecture, McGill-Queen’s University Press, Montreal & Kingston, London, Buffalo, 1994, pp. 8-9.)

Quintilianus, Aristides, “The De Musica”, Chapter 23, in Greek Musical Writings II: Harmonic and Acoustic Theory, ed. Andrew Barker, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK, 1989, Souriau, Étienne, “Time in the Plastic Arts”, in Reflections on Art: A source book of Writing by Artists, Critics, and Philosophers, edited by Susanne K. Langer, The Johns Hopkins Press, Baltimore, 1958 Sypher, Wylie, Rococo to Cubism: in Art and Literature, A Vintage Book, New York, 1960, pp. 1445 Tosaki, Eiichi,“Rhythm as Schema: In Search of a Mature Theory of Rhythm in Visual Art”, Sensorium: Aesthetics, Art, Life, ed. Barbara Bolt, Felicity Colman, Graham Jones, and Ashley Woodward, Cambridge Scholars Press, pp. 108-123, 2007. Tosaki, Eiichi, “The Birth of Metre: Aristoxenus’ Theory of Rhythm ”, Scriptorium, vol. 3, Classical Studies Melbourne University, Melbourne, Australia, pp. 1-11, 1999.