The Origin and Development of Eurythmy 1923–1925
GA 277d — 28 December 1923, Dornach
Eurythmy Performance
Sarabande by J. S. Bach
“Als am dritten Tage” by Albert Steffen
“Ich sah ein bleiches Licht” by Albert Steffen
Sarabande by J. S. Bach
“Du starrst den Himmel” by Albert Steffen
Prelude in F minor by J. S. Bach
“Ich und Du” by Albert Steffen
“Es saugt die leere Finsternis” by Albert Steffen
Andante teneramente in C minor from the Cello Sonata by Johann Ernst Galliard
“Les Elfes” by Charles Leconte de Lisle, with music by Jan Stuten
“Bächlein im März” by Jan Stuten
“The Bandruidh” by Fiona Macleod
“Papillons” by Jean Rameau with music by Jan Stuten
Gavotte in G major by J. S. Bach
“Dichters Berufung” by Friedrich Nietzsche
“Le Corbeau et le Renard” by Jean de La Fontaine
“La Cigale et la Fourmie” by Jean de La Fontaine
Scherzo by L. v. Beethoven
My dear friends!
When we last had the opportunity to perform eurythmy for you here—the day before yesterday—I took the liberty of making a few preliminary remarks about the relationship between this, in a sense, moving sculpture and the familiar, static sculpture. Eurythmy, however, is an art that takes the moving human being into account in such a way that it brings out the movements inherent in the human organism as a form of language. Eurythmy provides an artistic element that can be expanded and supplemented in the most diverse ways, but also reveal inner essence, connect with other arts, or enter into meaningful contrasts with them.
It is therefore important to note that eurythmy is a form of moving sculpture. But one can also refer to eurythmy in the following way. One can say: if one wants to seek out those arts that are close to human linguistic expression, one may come to say: music, singing and musicality, that is what must be closer to the inner being of the human being than language. And indeed, if one surrenders one's soul to melodies, harmonies, to everything that is musical, then one will find that this musicality has its great human significance precisely because it does not yet point to anything in such a definite way as the linguistic element. One can say that, in a certain sense, the conscious path one takes from the musical to the linguistic is one of awakening to a certain degree. In speaking, one can feel awakened to the musical element.
On the other hand, however, it cannot be denied that waking and sleeping are relative concepts. Those who initially have no experience of the spiritual world and gradually approach such an experience initially perceive spiritual experience as sleep in comparison to everyday life. Mr. Stuten mentioned something similar this morning. Whereas those who simply pass over into the other world from ordinary daily consciousness — with full awareness — experience a higher awakening in what is sleep for others. And so one can also say: those who begin to experience those, I might say, more expansive meanings, world meanings, which are given in music, as opposed to mere language, can in turn regard this experience in music as an awakening. For one can imagine it this way: imagine that a melody is pushed together more and more, pushed together in time, then at a certain intensity of pushing together, a vowel or consonant can emerge. Then one no longer perceives the musicality that lies in the sound; but the sound is ultimately compressed melody or harmony.
And just as one can perceive this objectively in music and language, one can also say that music is close to human feelings, and poetry is close to human imagination. And the expression of imagination is for poetry what lies in the linguistic element. But one can also elevate that which is perception, sensory organization itself, which is even more external to human beings than ideas, into the artistic element. In music, one lives as if in a living sea of spirit; in language, it is as if one were to come ashore in this weaving sea of spirit, everywhere ashore. And the ideas are there, what lives on the shore, what is between water and earth, on the shore. But when one comes out of the water, truly surrenders oneself to the sensory world and yet still perceives the spiritual nature of the outer world, then one arrives at that which can no longer be expressed in words, but only through the sign that lives in the human being itself – eurythmy.
As I said the day before yesterday, eurythmy is a moving sculpture, so today I can say that music weaves deep within the human being. Music is the artistic expression of the world of feelings. A little further out on the periphery of the human being lives poetry. It is the linguistic and artistic expression of the world of imagination. Outside the world of imagination, when the human being steps outside of themselves, they live in perception. But that which is experienced in perception not sensually but spiritually is given in eurythmy.
Therefore, when observing the movements of the eurythmist, one should really be able to sense nature everywhere. And those who sense nature—but spirit in nature—are actually perceiving eurythmy in the right way. Just think, for example, if someone can say: I see a eurythmic movement; it reminds me of the impression a fir tree once made on me during a walk in the forest. A fir tree that was moving in the wind or not moving in the wind. But if it doesn't stop at this feeling, but if the person concerned comes to say to themselves: Yes, now eurythmy actually enlightens me about the fir tree, because the fir tree does not stand there just to be what it is; the fir tree is a letter in that which flows and weaves through the world, in the eternal, infinite words of the world. And eurythmy enlightens me as to how the fir tree speaks. Eurythmy can also enlighten me about how the spring speaks, eurythmy can also enlighten me about how lightning speaks, and so on.
In our time, we only call something an explanation if it can be expressed in ideas or abstract concepts. But nature is not as poor and ghastly shadowy as our abstract concepts. And when it comes to nature, one should not believe that one can somehow grasp it by forcing it into this spider's web of concepts through which one believes one can describe it. Nature is infinitely rich. Nature itself is intensely rich everywhere, not just extensively rich. Nature is not only rich in quantity, nature is rich in quality. And we have to make a greater effort than just in our heads if we want to get close to nature. What our heads alone have to say about the fir tree is very little, and we have to set [our whole organism] in motion, everything that is within us, if we want to lovingly reveal the mystery of the spiritual nature in every single thing and every single process from within ourselves. Only when we are able to create something out of nature through ourselves, before which we then have a certain feeling of amazement at what the universe forms through us, with us, in us, do we ascend to the truly artistic, to that artistic quality from which all art in world history has actually grown. From such a mood, we will also gain the right foundation for a new art, such as eurythmy.
It must be so important, especially on anthroposophical ground, that the artistic – and in particular a new art such as eurythmy – is truly understood, understood with feeling. For the artistic has suffered greatly in recent times. This is in a certain sense because people only value sober concepts as knowledge — and so art has increasingly become a luxury of life. But when art becomes a luxury of life, terrible philistinism spreads across the earth.
And then this would inevitably lead to philistinism becoming the future of humanity on earth, unless truly new art were to be created from as yet untapped artistic sources. That is what we have tried to do, my dear friends, precisely with eurythmy in our field. And a true appreciation of eurythmy as an art form is what we would like to achieve within the anthroposophical society. But then we must realize that art is creative in itself and that we immediately depart from art when we become illustrative.
You see, my dear friends, you can give what is spoken, what is spoken recitatively, declamatorily as a rendition of poetry, you can give that in recitation, accompanied by eurythmy. For the two belong together: eurythmy — the human organism in motion; linguistic recitation or declamation – what the human being has to say, concentrated on a specific series of organs. And each of the two arts has the possibility of living essentially for itself. And then one works together with the other, just as in the human organism the heart and head work together, because they are properly different from each other but organized for each other. You can further accompany the instrumental-musical, which is revealed through the objective musical instrument separated from the human being, with eurythmy. We have found this tone eurythmy ourselves [as] separate areas: the musical-instrumental [and] eurythmy, the movement of the human organism.
However, you cannot perform eurythmy while singing. Just think about it: if you perform eurythmy while singing, you are merely illustrating the song in its musical content. But that is something eminently unartistic—mere illustration is eminently unartistic. So that it will be a matter of later—if one wants to have a eurythmic performance alongside the singing or, for my part, the singing accompanied by instruments, it must be something quite different from our present-day tone eurythmy or lute eurythmy. Certainly, the arts can work together. But one must be very clear — I say this because these things have now appeared here and there, the longing to also eurythmize music and singing, I mean, I say this explicitly, because precisely those who understand how singing is done in our eurythmy, that is, how singing is already done, let's say, to this or that instrument or even to the orchestra, will not be able to demand that one sing twice. That is what it is all about.
Now I have tried again to say something that may be suitable for pointing to the essence of eurythmy. I would like to strive, on the occasion of such performances, when our dear friends are gathered together on such festive occasions as this, to cultivate something in this direction, to contribute something to the evaluation and promotion of what grows out of our sources.