The Selected Letters of John Cage. John Cage

Geeta is. A cable from her long ago + then no word at all.

      Most everybody is leaving in August (leaving Paris).

      A lovely letter today from Maro. She insists on coming over here even though I tried to persuade her not to.

      Was interviewed again yesterday and also heard that the French ISCM has voted to have some of my music on their programs next year.

      To Peggy Glanville-Hicks

       [ca. July 12, 1949] | Paris

      Dearest Peggy,

      Your letter [arrived] and it is good to hear that you are back, apartment in shape and that you are going to write music. The summer in N.Y. is marvelous for writing music. And the loneliness is not the least ingredient. I met a poet—Georges Huguet—who’s off to be narco-analyzed; he has no loneliness and no longer any ability to use loneliness.

      Paul is back in Tangiers; Bob and Arthur are in Italy.

      For some reason I have not yet understood, I seem to be staying here until October; no boats, and my apartment is not mine until then.

      Next week I go to Aix-en-Provence and will write an article about the festival there. I shall eat figs and try to avoid garlic. I am going to try to visit Avignon, Tarascon, Les Baux + St. Remy (an Alice Toklas itinerary). Geeta Sarabhai has been married + is coming to Switzerland and then Paris in August. Maggie wants me to come to Amsterdam with the Baron Mollet in August.

      I do not find enough time to be simple and quiet, and so I really don’t know anything about what I am doing. Now and then a terrible fatigue settles down and then of course I wait. When I try to figure out an equilibrium which takes New York—Paris as starting point, I don’t get very far. My greatest difficulty recently is with Henri Michaux whose Barbarian in Asia is a New Directions book. He says my ideas and feelings are Chinese rather than Hindu; all that mystifies me, because our nowness is where we begin and the air.

      I haven’t written music for so long. If only I knew how I would sit down and do it.

      For the Lemonade: suggestion: Satie’s Genevieve de Brabant. You can get it in the Public Library.

      I am sad because I got to know Pierre Boulez, the composer whose music I most admire, as well as I could,—but you cannot say we are friends. I speak French all the time but it is still a barrier. To not understand slang is to separate yourself. When I speak all is tension + no relaxation.

      Merce had a great success at the Vieux Columbier a few days ago. He did 3 dances on a program sponsored by the Radio. The audience was marvelous and provided an ovation. We were very pleased. It was a hot night, too, + the people had whistled and booed others off the stage.

      I hear that the French ISCM has decided they want some of my music on their programs next year.

      In other words, both for Merce and for me, many things here are suggested and happen; but none of it strikes me with an enthusiastic response. Our life in New York is incomparably more open and healthy.

      I feel like a swimmer who must swim under water longer than he thinks he can. Even the necessity of finding more Satie has disappeared in me. Maybe a clarification will come. But certainly not until I get home.

      I am jealous of your N.Y. loneliness; write beautiful music.

      To John Cage Sr. and Lucretia Cage

       July 13, 1949 | Paris

      Dearest Mother + Dad:

      This evening we give another performance, in the Vieux Columbier, and all day there were rehearsals. Tanaquil LeClercq (who was Merce’s partner in The Seasons) is dancing with him again and Betty Nichols too.²⁰⁰ Everybody was very happy at the rehearsal and I think it will go well tonight.

      Today is the first really hot day. Everybody looks for shade. The hotel is cool and so is the theater, fortunately. More and more Americans arrive all the time so that one is continually thinking about America + I for one wish to be back. I think of all simple things like your garden, or the view from my apt.

      I miss your letters so much; they never come anymore. I’m having some beautiful shoes made, because I rarely see any I really like and one day I saw these in a shop (a model), and I decided to get them. They are light colored: a kind of greyish-yellow.

      This morning a letter from you and it was good to hear, but I am sorry about the weather. The performance in the Vieux Columbier was a marvelous success; the audience was thrilling. I have never played nor Merce danced for such an audience. They had booed + whistled others off the stage and it was a hot, crowded theater. When we came along they were like one person quiet and concentrated and when we finished a wild ovation. It was a very exciting experience. All our friends were very happy. And everyone says we must now give a large public concert in October. But there is the money problem.

      Today I go to have lunch with Michaux again, the poet. I have been reading his books + unfortunately am not as enthusiastic about them as I had hoped to be.

      Geeta arrives soon—married. I may go to Switzerland to see her after Aix. The Aix people asked me to give a lecture, but I refused because of my language difficulty. Merce stays here; he is teaching all the time + has many pupils. I also may go to Amsterdam later in August.

      To John Cage Sr. and Lucretia Cage

       July 23, 1949 | Carquinanne, France

      Dearest Mother + Dad:

      In the midst of 5 days at Carquinanne near Toulon. It is very quiet and the view is beautiful: very much like California, there are even eucalyptus trees! And all the flowers I connect with Marge and Walter’s garden.²⁰¹ Muriel and Guy who have taken this house are very wealthy but eat practically nothing so that, what with swimming and fresh air, we are very hungry (I brought Tanaquil LeClercq and Betty Nichols with me). Also conversation is difficult because there are no common interests. We swim and dine silently and then there are naps, and I am working on another article (about Boulez’s music). And I just finished reading a book in French. Actually it is quiet and that is good. Tomorrow night there will be a village fête and we will go, and then the next day Muriel and Guy will drive me up to Aix-en-Provence. By that time I will be starving. I had hoped that there would be a bathtub with hot water (which I haven’t seen since before Palermo); there is a bath, but no hot water. I spend the time avoiding the sun, mosquitoes, etc. And there is the same incessant insect sound that was around Bl. Mtn. College.

      More and more I am convinced that I will stay put when once I get back.

      Although now, by leaving Paris, I find I have made many friends there.

      Hope the weather is not too hot.

      To John Cage Sr. and Lucretia Cage

       August 8, 1949 | Paris

      Dearest Mother and Dad:

      Tomorrow the apartment begins—53 rue de la Harpe but I think the best address would be care of American Express or 31 rue St. Louis en l’Ile as before,—because after a month I will come back here unless a boat turns up sooner. I will begin to work. I expect there may be difficulties at first—the transition from not working to working; but if I manage to get started on something which I can continue in New York I will be more than satisfied. Geeta should arrive this week; I am anxious to see her. Otherwise Paris is relatively quiet and I should be able to work. The weather is not hot at present only heavy,—and threatening storms. I am enclosing a few things for the scrap-book. One that George Avakian sent me from America.²⁰² Sunday I visited the large zoo here which is very beautiful. They use moats instead of fences and that makes the animals seem less closed-in. The monkeys have a marvelous cliff-dwelling + they are very funny + attract large crowds.

      It will be fine to be a composer again or at least get up in the morning in the same place where a piano is. Also I have found a store where there is peanut-butter. Coffee, salad-oil + sugar + rice are rationed. Otherwise everything is available. What I miss most is Dad’s