"Songs that used to start in the head and fill the heart had dropped on down, down to places below the sash and the buckled belts. Lower and lower, until the music was so lowdown you had to shut your windows and just suffer the summer sweat when the men in shirtsleeves propped themselves on window frames, or clustered on rooftops, in alleyways, on stoops and in the apartments of relatives playing the lowdown stuff that signaled Imminent Demise."--Jazz, Toni Morrison
Text on a page, like recorded sound, is static: unchanging, fixed, stuck. Improvisation therefore must come from those who experience the text: improvised reactions, improvised judgments, improvised emotions, improvised assumptions. Improvisation is thus a conversation: a perfect triangle between viewer, artist, and the art itself. The words in the following passage from Toni Morrison's Jazz are static until the reader adapts it to his or her own experiences, improvising new details on a fixed text. Fill in the blanks below to create your own improvisations on Jazz, and leave the jazz you make in the comments section below. Change the text. Notice how it changes, how the meaning shifts, how the words shift, how the text is reshaped by your personal improvisations. Notice new textures, new sounds, new images you create. Are yours and Morrison's text still the same text? Still the same jazz?
Songs that used to (verb) in the head and (verb) the heart had dropped on down, down to places below the (noun) and the (noun) . Lower and lower, until the music was so lowdown you had to (verb) your (noun) and just suffer the (adjective) sweat when the (group of people) in (item of clothing) propped themselves on (piece of furniture) , or (past tense verb) on rooftops, in (location) , on stoops and in the apartments of relatives playing the lowdown stuff that signaled Imminent Demise.
Songs that used to forge in the head and give the heart had dropped on down, down to the places below the course and the days. Lower and lower, until the music was so lowdown you had to change your women and just suffer the crazy sweat when the dancers in hats propped themselves on futons, or typed on rooftops, in Brazil, on stoops and in the apartments of relatives playing the lowdown stuff that signaled Imminent Demise.
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