How Art Keeps Art Alive

  There is something very beautiful about intertextuality, allusions, and direct references in art. A symbiotic relationship between multiple pieces of art. The new piece gains ideas, inspirations, and guidance from the old, and the old is reaffirmed, reappreciated, and further solidified into history by the new. This relationship helps art perpetuate itself. Nowhere is this more overt than in the works of Murakami. Whether it be in the titles of his books, such as Norwegian Wood (Beatles reference) and 1Q84 (Orwell reference), for example, or the constant references to music in all of his works, Murakami is always paying homage to his predecessors and inspirations. 

This is very important for art, in my opinion. Millions of people have read Murakami in some capacity. Of these millions, I’m sure many have either picked up a Kafka story, read a Fitzgerald novel, or listened to a Bill Evans record because they read about it in Murakami. Murakami is a prime example of the symbiosis of art. He would not be the writer he is without the influence of Chandler, Hemingway, and many others. But he has also impacted the cultural relevance of the art that he has been inspired by. This is an extremely powerful phenomenon, and I think Murakami knows it. 

The short story “Charlie Parker Plays Bossa Nova” is perfect evidence to show that Murakami understands his relationship to other art. In college, Murakami wrote a satirical piece about the jazz musician Charlie Parker playing Bossa Nova. Years later, he turned it into a short story in which he somehow finds a Charlie Parker record in a New York City record store, and later, Charlie Parker shows up in a dream and plays Bossa Nova for him. In the dream, Parker says to him, “‘Anyway, I need to thank you,’ Bird said. ‘You gave me life again, this one time. And had me play bossa nova. Nothing could make me happier.’” (Murakami, 71) Here, Murakami literally talks about giving life to the dead artist. Even with something as insignificant as a cheeky fake album review in a newspaper, Murakami is helping to immortalize art. While this may be a bit vain, I think Murakami recognizes his own influence and chooses to blatantly acknowledge the art that came before him and shaped his own art. 

In the very end of the story, he writes, “Bird had visited my dream in order to thank me – that much, I recalled. To thank me for allowing him the opportunity, so many years ago, to play bossa nova. And he grabbed an instrument that happened to be around and played ‘Corcovado’ just for me.” (Murakami, 72) If reading this enticed you to listen to Charlie Parker or Corcovado – which it certainly did for me – then Murakami has succeeded in creating art that keeps other art alive.  

Isaac Robillard