Constraints and freedom
It is often stated that constraints are conducive to freedom, as in this famous quote by Stravinsky:
My freedom will be so much the greater and more meaningful the more narrowly I limit my field of action and the more I surround myself with obstacles. Whatever diminishes constraint diminishes strength. The more constraints one imposes, the more one frees one’s self of the chains that shackle the spirit. (Stravinsky, 1947, p.65)
One way to understand this is that constraints free us from the potential overload of choices. By reducing the infinite number of possibilities in a given situation, musicians can more easily focus their creative actions and set up frameworks within which musical ideas can emerge. How does this apply to musical improvisation? For one thing, a common technique among improvisers is to set up deliberate constraints, such as playing only with one note for an extended period of time, or choosing to play with the right hand only at the piano keyboard. This is referred to as handicapping; while the first example is conceptual in nature, the second involves deciding on ways of imposing physical limitations (Borgo, 2002).
Constraints can refer to a lot of things; besides the self-imposed constraints that can be described as handicapping, there are also constraints that relate to stylistic conventions (Berkowitz, 2010), socio-cultural aspects such as tradition, and the constraints that are presented by a particular composition, and its score (if the music is notated). A musical form such as a fugue or verse-chorus, as Dahlstedt (2018) points out, can act as a constraint that provides the musician with a restriction to relate to – where everything isn't allowed, or expected – as well as a generative pattern, a structure that can facilitate the creative process.
As Hodson (2007) describe it, standard-practice jazz is guarded by a "set of constraints" (p.174) – for instance, the presence of harmonic structures and a fixed pulse – constraints that can be broken in modal improvisation or free jazz. Also, as he points out, removing such constraints can lead to "an increase and intensification in the interaction" between musicians (p. 174). Here, constraints are seen as having more of a restraining effect, which might depend on the perception of the individual performer. For instance, while one person sees harmonic progressions as an obstacle to creative expression, another might find them indispensable for the structure and pitch-based framework they provide for the improviser.
Just as constraints can mean many things depending on the context, the same goes for freedom, which is sometimes put in opposition with constraints. As Bjerstedt (2014) puts it, "the dynamics of rules versus freedom permeates all kinds of play." (p. 35). But reality is often more complex than a simple dichotomy between constraints and freedom, as evident by the Stravinsky quote above; freedom cannot simply be reduced to a removal of constraints. Nachmanovitch (1990) explains it the following way;
If certain values are constrained within narrow limits, others are free to vary more strongly. Thus, for example, string quartets, solos, and other limited forms may achieve greater emotional intensity than symphonies, and black-and-white photography may achieve greater power than color. In ragas, or solo jazz play, sounds are limited to a restricted sphere, within which a gigantic range of inventiveness opens up. If you have all the colors available, you are sometimes almost too free. With one dimension constrained, play becomes freer in other dimensions. (p.85)
Thus, in this view, it is the abundance of freedom that can, somewhat paradoxally, make us feel unfree in the creative process, something that is then remedied by adding constraints. A common distinction is to talk about positive and negative freedom, where positive freedom is seen as a freedom to – as in the ability and opportunity to achieve a particular goal – and negative freedom is freedom from something that has a restricting effect on us.