Ai Weiwei Never Sorry

Posted on July 26, 2013 by barczablog

How apt that I begin writing about this film with an apology.

I went looking for Ai Weiwei Never Sorry when I heard of this film, that had been shown at TIFF.  I sought an introduction to the artist, because of course Ai Weiwei has a big show coming to AGO next month.

I found the DVD.

Spoiler alert.  I am being bad, breaking all my rules in this one.  I don’t like giving away parts of films.  You should expect that Ai Weiwei Never Sorry records both the creative & political voice of that dissident artist, a powerful film you’ll only dislike if you’re an apologist for Communist China or possibly if you hate art.   There, forewarned? Read on if you will, and don’t be surprised if I’ve given something away.

I can’t help myself.

Sorry.

*******

Cats & dogs….?

Our first images in Ai Weiwei Never Sorry, Alison Klayman’s documentary film about Chinese dissident /artist Ai Weiwei, show us cats & dogs.  I’m maybe over-sensitive because I lost my own, put down at the beginning of the week.

We see a few dogs & lots of cats.  If we judge a society –or a person—by how they treat their weakest members, as Gandhi purportedly said, how do we judge Ai Weiwei at the outset?  One of his associates gets testy with a cat that’s playing with something made of pieces of wood (perhaps a piece of art? hard to say).

Ai Weiwei gently stops him from interfering in the cat’s gentle play, saying “he’s not going to destroy it”.

The cat rolls around with the objects, while the artist rubs his ears affectionately.

We see a non-judgmental response from the human. What’s more, the destructive impulses of the animal (chewing, knocking down) seem very natural.  If this were his installation, and the cat really destroyed it (notwithstanding the first line of the film), maybe he’d like that.

Running through the film like a leit-motiv are images of Weiwei holding up his middle finger.  The Studies in Perspective give us a succession of iconic images –such as the Eiffel Tower or the White House—with a middle finger in the immediate foreground. They are studies in perspective alright, but much more than just camera angles & focal lengths. He takes a Han Dynasty urn and dispassionately lets it fall deliberately for a camera.  At one point, when he poses for a photo with some young women, one of them immediately makes a finger for the camera, as though it were his theme-song: and he jubilantly does so as well.  At another point –as Weiwei nurses injuries from a beating by a policeman—he makes a film with his collaborators, each saying “fuck you motherland” in a variety of dialects.

Weiwei seems to cherish rebellion & chaos, and not just his own.

We’re told that of the 40 odd cats in Weiwei’s home, only one knows how to open a door.  And unlike humans, that cat never closes it after going through.  I sense his enjoyment in the resistance to conformity & the roles imposed upon us.

One of the first artistic remarks we hear from Weiwei is something that may come as a surprise.  The subtitle (now that we’re functioning mostly in Mandarin rather than that opening sentence in English) says “I prefer to have other people implement my ideas”.

We then hear from one of the artists working for him, Li Zhanyang who made “Zodiac” (i wonder, is this the same as what can be seen in Nathan Philips Square…? i will have to go see…):

“I’m just his hands.” (laughing) “I’m like an assassin,  He tells me ‘Here’s some money, go kill this person.’
I wouldn’t ask him:
‘why do you want him killed?’
…That’s silly. You just get it done. We’re just hired assassins.”

A critic in the film points out that Weiwei has surpassed the role of artist, that he’s more than just an artist.

Indeed.  Weiwei became famous at the time of the Beijing Olympics, designing the birds-nest shape of the stadium, even though he would eventually make a bold repudiation of the event as a “fake-smile” to the world.  His art & his politics are usually inextricably connected & intertwined, the stadium being a singular anomaly.  Looking online one finds many explanations, but the one that works best for me is the statement he offers that at one time the stadium symbolized freedom.

That makes perfect sense to me.

Weiwei was still able to function in China because this early act of dissent was only broadcast abroad, and not in his own country.  His responses to the Sichuan earthquake, particularly the deaths of school children in shoddily built schools, were another matter entirely, on his blog and on film.  With the help of many volunteers he documented the names & birthdays of children killed in such schools.

In shedding light on the lies told by the government he ripped the cover off their fakery, the false pretense of modernisation and openness that had at one time led people to be optimistic about China.  Having used his blog as a medium for dissent on the first anniversary of the disaster, the authorities shut down his blog, and put surveillance cameras in his studio.

With blogging denied to him Weiwei turned to Twitter.

No wonder that he was arrested.  The official charge was tax evasion, although no one doubts that taxes were simply being used as a tactical form of harassment.

Some of the film goes into the past.

We see his father, poet Al Qing, who had been something of a critic, even though he’d been a loyal communist.  And we hear of the brutal treatment he received for the crime of being an intellectual, an artist.  For at least seventeen years (I’ve seen higher numbers in other reports) the family was exiled, roughly when Ai was just a one year old baby.  This experience only served to harden him, not unlike Nelson Mandela’s incarceration.

We watch segments from Weiwei’s own films, responding to events surrounding the earthquake.  After having been lulled by the illusory friendliness of China, I am still jolted by the thuggery on display, a flashback to Soviet-styled repression and police brutality.

It’s not so much about his stature as an artist, so much as his stature as a human being.  Any art he creates gains weight from the gravitas of his positions in opposition to the Communists.  I want to hear what he has to say, and I believe I’m not the only one.

Posted in Art, Architecture & Design, Cinema, video & DVDs, Politics, Reviews | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments

Tickets for Ai Weiwei and David Bowie at the AGO

Posted on July 24, 2013 by barczablog

“Press releases and announcements” are presented verbatim without comment.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: JULY 24, 2013
Tickets for Ai Weiwei: According to What? at the AGO go on sale Saturday, July 27

First block of tickets for David Bowie is to be released in special combo package on same day

TORONTO—Heralded as the “the most powerful figure in contemporary art today” by ArtReview, Ai Weiwei makes his Toronto exhibition debut at the Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO) on Aug. 17, 2013. Comprising more than 40 large scale works of art including sculptures, photographs and video and audio installations, Ai Weiwei: According to What? blends the artist’s activism with traditional Chinese materials and symbols to present a compelling vision of his everyday world and his ongoing fight for freedom of expression in the face of Chinese government censorship. Tickets for the exhibition, which runs to Oct. 27, 2013, go on sale on July 27, 2013.

Timed-entry tickets for Ai Weiwei: According to What? are $16.50 for youth ages 17 and under, $21.50 for seniors and $25 for adults. Admission is FREE for AGO members and for children ages five and under.

Also, beginning on July 27 ticket buyers will be offered a special opportunity to upgrade to a combo package that includes early access to the first block of tickets for the highly anticipated exhibition David Bowie is, which starts its world tour at the AGO on Sept. 25, 2013 after finishing a successful run at the Victoria and Albert Museum, London. Combo tickets—which offer timed-entry access to any time slot for Ai Weiwei: According to What? and the first month of David Bowie is—are $31.50 for youth ages 17 and under, $36.50 for seniors and $40 for adults.

Single tickets for Ai Weiwei: According to What? and combo tickets can be booked in person, by phone at (416) 979-6655 or online by visiting ago.net/aiweiwei. Single tickets for David Bowie is go on sale on Aug. 23, but early purchase via the combo package is encouraged as quantities are limited for high-demand time slots. AGO members can book single tickets for David Bowie is on July 27, 2013. For more information on becoming an AGO member, please visit ago.net/membership.

Ai Weiwei: According to What? is curated by Mami Kataoka, the chief curator of the Mori Art Museum (MAM) in Tokyo. A specialist in Asian contemporary art, Kataoka first presented this exhibition in Toyko in 2009. “Ai Weiwei is best known as a dissident artist whose works give insight to not only his political criticisms but also his fierce commitment to Chinese traditional culture,” said Kataoka. “His art transcends borders and compels viewers to examine issues of fundamental human conditions, values and freedoms.”

The installation of the exhibition will be overseen by Kitty Scott, the AGO’s curator of modern and contermporary art. “As the only Canadian stop on a hugely successful North American tour, the AGO’s presentation of Ai Weiwei: According to What? offers a rare opportunity for Canadians and visitors to be transfixed and transformed by the exceptional talents of one of the most prolific and provocative contemporary artists in the world,” said Scott. “Toronto is the perfect destination for this exhibition; the positive reception of Circle of Animals/Zodiac Heads in Nathan Phillips Square has shown that our city is eager to experience more of Ai Weiwei’s groundbreaking art.”

Ai, who is under constant surveillance at his home in Beijing, has been unable to leave China since the government confiscated his passport in 2011. As a political activist and champion of freedom of expression, Ai has been publicly critical of the Chinese government’s reported human rights violations.

Chronicling his work from the mid-1990s to the present, Ai Weiwei: According to What? presents works that are in turns solemn, contemplative, humourous and witty.

The exhibition at the AGO follows a successful run at the Hirshhorn Museum in Washington, D.C. and at the Indianapolis Museum of Art. After its run at the AGO, Ai Weiwei: According to What? will be presented at Miami’s Pérez Art Museum and the Brooklyn Museum in New York.

As part of the City of Toronto’s Scotiabank Nuit Blanche, a new edition of Ai’s Forever Bicycles (2013) sculpture will be installed at Nathan Phillips Square as part of this year’s celebrations on Oct. 5, 2013. This complex and abstract sculpture, consisting of 3,144 bicycles, is curated by Ami Barak. Further details will be announced by the City of Toronto later this summer.

AGO extends invitation to Chinese-speaking community members
The AGO is undertaking several initiatives this summer to draw attention to Ai’s ongoing campaign for greater freedom of expression within China. Working with Toronto artist Gein Wong, the Gallery invites members of the GTA who speak a Chinese dialect to participate in Say Their Names, Remember, a live reading of the names of the thousands of schoolchildren who perished in the devastating earthquake in China’s Sichuan province on May 12, 2008. This initiative was inspired by Ai’s powerful artworks Remembrance (2010) and Names of the Student Earthquake Victims Found by the Citizens’ Investigation (2008-11). Those who wish to participate in a reading of the names on Aug. 18, 2013, can register at www.ago.net/aiweiwei-names.

**

ABOUT AI WEIWEI
Ai Weiwei (b. 1957, Beijing) has been the recipient of numerous grants, honours and awards, most recently in 2012 the inaugural Václav Havel Prize for Creative Dissent of the Human Rights Foundation; the International Center of Photography Cornell Capa Award; an honourary fellowship from the Royal Institute of British Architects; an Honourary Degree from Pratt Institute; and a foreign membership in the Royal Swedish Academy of Arts. Other honours over the past five years include a Chinese Contemporary Art Award for Lifetime Achievement; an International Architecture Award for Tsai Residence; Das Glas der Vernunft (The Prism of Reason), Kassel Citizen Award; The Bianca Jagger Human Rights Foundation Award for Courage; the Skowhegan Medal for Multidisciplinary Art; Wallpaper Design Award Best New Private House for Tsai Residence; and a Wall Street Journal Innovators Award (Art). Ai Weiwei is consistently included in top artist and human rights lists, including GQ Men of the Year in 2009 (Germany); the ArtReview Power 100, rank 43 in 2009; the ArtReview Power 100, rank 13 in 2010; the ArtReview Power 100, rank one in 2011; Foreign Policy Top Global Thinkers of 2011, rank 18; and runner up in Time’s Person of the Year in 2011. Ai Weiwei helped establish Beijing East Village in 1993, co-founded the China Art Archives & Warehouse in 1997 and founded the architecture studio FAKE Design in 2003. He studied at the Beijing Film Academy, Parsons School of Design and Art Students League of New York; upon returning to China he collaborated with Swiss architects Herzog & de Meuron as the artistic consultant on the Beijing National Stadium for the 2008 Olympic Games.

Ai Weiwei: According to What? was organized by the Mori Art Museum, Tokyo and the Art Gallery of Ontario. It is curated by the Mori Art Museum’s chief curator, Mami Kataoka.

Leadership gifts in support of the exhibition from Emmanuelle Gattuso and Allan Slaight and the Hal Jackman Foundation. Additional generous support from The Delaney Family Foundation; Donner Canadian Foundation; Partners in Art; and Francis and Eleanor Shen.

Assistance from media partner The Globe and Mail. Contemporary programming at the AGO is generously supported by the Canada Council for the Arts.

The installation of Circle of Animals/Zodiac Heads was made possible in part by AW Asia, New York.

ABOUT DAVID BOWIE IS
This fall the Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO) offers North America its first chance to take an exciting odyssey through the world of pioneering artist David Bowie—musician, performer and style icon—in the acclaimed exhibition David Bowie is, direct from the Victoria and Albert Museum, London (V&A). Spanning five decades and featuring more than 300 objects from the David Bowie Archive, the multi-media show exposes the groundbreaking artist’s collaborations in the fields of fashion, sound, theatre, art and film. David Bowie is opens on Sept. 25, 2013, and runs to Nov. 27, 2013, giving Toronto two full months to experience it. The AGO is the exhibition’s first stop on its world tour. Acclaimed by the New York Times as “united in sound and vision in a way rarely seen in a museum,” David Bowie is marks the first international exhibition devoted to the British-born musician and performer (born David Robert Jones in 1947), who has sold more than 140 million albums throughout his genre-defying career. Organized thematically, the show immerses visitors in a spectacular and interactive trip through Bowie’s numerous personae and legendary performances, with particular attention paid to his artistic influences. His experiments with surrealism, German expressionism, music hall, mime and Japanese kabuki performance are all explored in an explosion of colour, light and sound.

David Bowie is was organized by the Victoria and Albert Museum, London. www.vam.ac.uk

Sound experience by Sennheiser.

Leadership gifts in support of the exhibition from Emmanuelle Gattuso and Allan Slaight; Maxine Granovsky Gluskin and Ira Gluskin; and Robert and Cheryl McEwen.

Assistance from government partner: Government of Ontario.

ABOUT THE AGO
With a collection of more than 80,000 works of art, the Art Gallery of Ontario is among the most distinguished art museums in North America. From the vast body of Group of Seven and signature Canadian works to the African art gallery, from the cutting-edge contemporary art to Peter Paul Rubens’ masterpiece The Massacre of The Innocents, the AGO offers an incredible art experience with each visit. In 2002 Kenneth Thomson’s generous gift of 2,000 remarkable works of Canadian and European art inspired Transformation AGO, an innovative architectural expansion by world-renowned architect Frank Gehry that in 2008 resulted in one of the most critically acclaimed architectural achievements in North America. Highlights include Galleria Italia, a gleaming showcase of wood and glass running the length of an entire city block, and the often-photographed spiral staircase, beckoning visitors to explore. The AGO has an active membership program offering great value, and the AGO’s Weston Family Learning Centre offers engaging art and creative programs for children, families, youth and adults. Visit ago.net to find out more about upcoming special exhibitions, to learn about eating and shopping at the AGO, to register for programs and to buy tickets or memberships.

Aug. 17, 2013 – Oct. 27, 2013: Ai Weiwei: According to What?

Sept. 25, 2013 – Nov. 27, 2013: David Bowie is

Nov. 30, 2013 – March 2, 2014: The Great Upheaval: Modern Masterpieces from the Guggenheim Collection

Contemporary programming at the AGO is generously supported by the Canada Council for the Arts.

The Art Gallery of Ontario is funded in part by the Ontario Ministry of Tourism, Culture and Sport. Additional operating support is received from the City of Toronto, the Canada Council for the Arts and generous contributions from AGO members, donors and private-sector partners.

Posted in Press Releases and Announcements | 2 Comments

Cat music

Posted on July 23, 2013 by barczablog

I’ve written about cats before in this space.  At one time there were two cats in my house, Tara & Scarlett.  They had been born feral but rescued, fixed and raised for years in our home.

Then one day Tara somehow ran through an open door.  I had hoped to see her again when I wrote about her leaving, first in context with the hopeful season of Advent, and then in trying to make sense of her life.  But I’ve given up on any hope of seeing her again.

And two became one.  Scarlett was our sole feline for the years since, contented, chubby, well-fed and yes, actually becoming enormous.  And she got sick, so that she had to be euthanized today.

As I drove home today, having heard the doctor’s verdict through the phone & knowing of the inevitable trip to the vet,  I was listening to Gabriel Fauré, who is already on my mind as one of the composers in Toronto Summer Music (for instance, the concert from last week).

This CD begins with Masques et Bergamasques, a favourite that alway reminds me of Domenico Pietropaolo, a scholar who has written & taught extensively about Commedia dell’Arte, and who had spoken so eloquently Saturday at Luella Massey’s funeral.  I was thinking of Domenico & what he might have said about the Belle Époque, their (mis-) understandings and misconceptions of CdA.  Verlaine’s fêtes galantes inspired both Debussy & Fauré.

And then serendipity brought me to of all things Fauré’s Dolly Suite, the Belle Époque’s answer to Cats.  How appropriate! Yet it was my own good luck, nothing more, that brought me to those tracks on the CD.  Speaking of what was shared by both Fauré and Debussy –such as Pelléas et Mélisande, or poems of Verlaine—their greatest love in common was, not surprisingly, a woman.  Emma Bardac was Fauré’s mistress before she found her way to Debussy’s side, and furnishes the curious answer to a nerdy trivia question.

“Can you name the woman who was lover of two different composers, each writing brilliant music dedicated to one of her daughters?”

And the compositions?

Before Bardac’s little Chou-Chou inspired the Children’s Corner suite by Debussy, her Dolly (the nickname of her girl) inspired several remarkable pieces from Fauré: the compositions now known as the Dolly suite.  Dolly is the little girl, while the feline association is perhaps a small part of this suite.  That didn’t stop me (perhaps erroneously, from the assumptions made skimming record jackets) from projecting & associating the whole thing with cats, when the feline is only a small part of Dolly suite.  No matter.

Partial as I am to Debussy, Fauré’s Dolly is just a little more sympathetic to the mind of the child, a little more universal, and a little less obstinately brilliant than Children’s Corner.  Debussy, who never suffers fools gladly, is not inclusive.

And so, as I drove along thinking of my cat’s imminent demise, I had the good luck to stumble upon Fauré’s invocations of feline cuteness.

If what I saw in Wikipedia is accurate (where the sequence of these compositions corresponds to chronology, as Dolly grows & matures), there is a subtext to the suite in the growing maturity of the child.  Fauré employs a technique I also saw in his Masques et Bergamasques (mentioned above), where a suite begins in innocence leading to a more complex ending suggesting the passage of time, growing sophistication & the nostalgia of mature retrospection. I’ll speak in detail of the Masques et Bergamasques–a suite i love dearly– another time.

Dolly suite has six movements, each of which appeared in a different year.

  • Berceuse is a cradle song, the most innocent piece in the suite (NB a suite originally for four-hands piano, but later orchestrated)
  • Mi-a-ou seems like a playful invocation of a cat, full of energy, syncopated and a bit unpredictable.
  • Le jardin de Dolly (OR Dolly’s garden) is a stunning piece, full of simplicity but also nostalgia & sentiment (presented here in an orchestrated version) 
  • Kitty-valse is another clever piece, transparent & shimmering with energy.  I may be projecting “cat” into this piece if –as some suggest—the music has more to do with Bardac’s pet dog than any cat.  It won’t stop me from enjoying the associations i’ve made with the music (presented here in a computerized version).
  • Tendresse is a glimpse of something more adult & sophisticated, complex & poignant. 
  • Le pas espagnol is an extroverted conclusion to the suite, after the introspection & vulnerability of the previous piece, perhaps a tonic to too much sentiment & too many tears. I can’t help remembering Nietzsche’s comments about Carmen as a tonic to too much Wagner. 

catsLater, I held my cat while she was injected.  I think she looked me in the eye in her last moments, although it’s really hard to know.

I’m keeping her ashes.

Posted in Animals, domestic & wild, Music and musicology, Personal ruminations & essays | Tagged , , , , | 3 Comments

The Geneology of Minimalism

Posted on July 21, 2013 by barczablog

A one word headline might be more minimalistic than this pretentious sounding title.  A friend cited Nietzsche’s Geneology of Morals, and it stayed in my head like a verbal ear-worm I suppose.  Or I could have emulated Darwin, to call it The Descent of Minimalism but I don’t want to sound positivistic. This is speculation, not science.

I’m writing about a movement in music of the past century or so in anticipation of a concert at Toronto Summer Music.  In his recent interview Douglas McNabney said

I am particularly proud that we were able to manage to produce the concert with Katia and Marielle Labèque on August 1st entitled The Minimalist Dream House project.

Katia et Marielle Labèque (photo by Brigitte Lacombe): click on photo and then click “The Labèques’ Minimalist Dream House” for more information

Given that TSM’s program centres on “La Belle Époque” some may not see the connection.  Indeed, I was disappointed to see a reviewer who couldn’t see why Rachmaninoff’s 1893 Trio élégiaque should have been programmed even though its use of parallel harmonies & modulations resembled something a young Debussy might have written.  I see McNabney’s programming as creative and imaginative, but as with any art, we only get out what we put in. So perhaps in fear of that sort of negativity, and recalling the brutal literal-mindedness of some critics I want to offer my imaginative services, to attempt to help make the connection vis a vis La Belle Époque and minimalism.  The ambitious link McNabney and the Labèques are putting forward is the most exciting idea I’ve seen in a long time.  Would we call this “speculative programming”, wherein a hypothesis is put forward in music? What a lovely concept, whatever you think of the hypothesis.

I don’t pretend to know what the Labèques are actually playing.  I will simply make some connections, hoping they’re helpful.  I think it’s a very good hypothesis –connecting La Belle Époque and minimalism—and an idea whose time has come.

Let me simply put forward a series of compositions, as if to suggest a family relationship –as per the title—between composers & their ideas.

ONE: Erik Satie is not in my opinion a minimalist.  One might think of his quietly meditative piano music –such as his “Gymnopédies”—as prototypes for what came after.  I won’t quarrel with that.  I’d be more inclined to look at an obscure composition of his, a massive piece intended for an occult celebration, called Le Fils des Étoiles, or “the Son of the Stars”.  There are two aspects to this music that seem germane to minimalism:
1) Satie is known to have had metaphysical interests.  The spiritual aspect of
music is one I shall speak to later in this discussion, but please file that away in your mind.
2) Satie creates harmonic effects with no requirement of resolution, tonal ambiguities that are very advanced for 1891.  While Debussy would do much more with this concept, Satie was doing it first, and likely influenced Debussy (who was one of his best friends). At many points in this composition, the effect of the music is completely in the moment.

TWO: Claude Debussy is really where it begins in my opinion.  Debussy had heard gamelan music at the great Parisian exposition, music that would show him the same sort of thing his friend Satie was attempting, only better: music without any requirement of resolution or harmonic progression, music in the moment.

The two compositions that seem most pertinent to minimalism –and which sound very minimalistic in places—are the first two of his orchestral Nocturnes.  “Nuages” (clouds) is largely a series of patterns in eighth notes without any real melodic material; but it’s not Philip Glass, it’s Debussy.    This is such daring writing because there’s so little there, and yes, a fabulous invocation of its subject matter.

The next in the series, “Fêtes”, is as vibrant and energetic as “Nuages” is languid and, well, cloudy.   “Fêtes” may seem like an odd one to invoke as minimalist music.  There’s lots there.  But then again, what actually did Debussy give us? Mostly it’s energetic eighth notes, often as though it were accompaniment without any melody, resembling an abstract or even a Jackson Pollock.  If we’re to think of painting and figure-ground relationships, both of these nocturnes are all background-landscape with nothing in the foreground.

THREE: Bernard Herrmann? I mention him next, leaping ahead several decades because of his affinity –and let’s face it, imitation—of important composers. I love this guy, but his film scores are full of clear borrowings.  Herrmann’s not stealing, though, but being inter-textual: because his borrowings are referential and meaningful.  For example, when –after the opening credits—Herrmann paints the skyscape in Psycho he does so using something so similar to “Nuages” as to be a clear reference.  It’s not a happy place, as we’re to discover, a place of frustration, so the harmonies are skewed, as though the clouds were dripping with unhappiness & sexual frustration.

I wrote about Herrmann & Psycho before in detail.

But I can’t help hearing echoes of the second nocturne in Herrmann as well.  Think of all that energy, then listen to the opening credit music for North By Northwest. 

FOUR: After zipping from Debussy (late in the 1890s) to Herrmann (c. 1960) I’d like to backtrack a bit to pick up some Canadian content.  I wrote a bit about Colin McPhee, who’s recorded by Esprit Orchestra,  an under-rated composer whose influence is perhaps not as large as it could be.  But the Labèques have McPhee’s photo on their website promoting “The Minimalist Dream House project”; he’s the one in front of a British flag.  McPhee emulates some of those sounds Debussy heard in the 1890s, a bit of a throwback, but still worthy of mention.   Listening to that I already want to call it minimalism! …but he comes before anyone was using the word.

FIVE: Okay, since we reached 1960 with Herrmann, let’s jump another 20+ years to one of my favourite minimalist compositions, from Akhnaten by Philip Glass.

SIX: And now let’s incorporate another aspect of minimalism.  We’re thinking of music that isn’t driven to resolve –like Glass or McPhee or Herrmann or indeed, Debussy & Satie—but also that is reverent and even spiritual.  Recall the metaphysical aspect that Satie invoked.  If you go to a massage or aromatherapy session, the music you hear, invoking the “new age” is normally minimalist music.  It’s ambient, tranquil, and allows you to meditate readily.  What it does not do is insist that you decode its complexities.

Here’s a lovely example from Brian Eno, his Music for Airports.

I leave it to you to make conclusions & connections.  What minimalism does is leave space for the mind to create meanings & associations. In film scores composers such as Herrmann recognized that the older style scores –thinking of Steiner & Korngold for example—were full of thematic material that competed with the film.  From the beginning, Herrmann gets out of the way, as you can hear in his moody score for Citizen Kane.

Less is more.

Posted in Music and musicology, Personal ruminations & essays | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Under the radar

Posted on July 20, 2013 by barczablog

At Luella Massey’s funeral service today, Professor Domenico Pietropaolo spoke of a dream near & dear to both of their hearts.

Pietropaolo is a former Director of the Graduate Centre for Study of Drama, and is now Principal of St Michael’s College at the University of Toronto.

Massey & Pietropaolo had hoped to create an archive of the prompt books (click here for more about the prompt book) for all the shows created at the Centre in the almost 40 years of its existence: a time when Massey had saved prompt books for countless shows presented at the Centre.  Pietropaolo reminded us in his eulogy that prompt books are an important resource for scholars, even though they don’t get the same kind of respect as the printed texts.

Are prompt books the Rodney Dangerfield of theatre scholarship?

Perhaps at one time, but the times they are a-changin’.  When I first took a course at the Drama Centre, the discipline was almost exclusively focused on drama in books.  As I understood it, Ryerson had the theatre school –where you went if you wanted to work as an actor or theatre practitioner—whereas students at the Drama Centre understood their school (which also had an active theatre) as a place to study the nature of drama & its theories.  Pardon me if i oversimplify, because even then the focus had begun to change, in the world at large and at the Centre.  At one time they didn’t want to allow opera or ballet to be included within the framework of “drama” which i suppose was understood as Shakespeare or Moliere, but not Wagner or Stravinsky; but i said “at one time”, because of course the boundaries are all changing. Drama & theatre & performance aren’t even limited merely to the stage anymore.

And decades later, they’ve changed the name of the place.  It’s now Centre for Drama, Theatre and Performance Studies, a shift away from a pure emphasis upon drama on the printed page. One still studies the theories, but they’re including Theatre & Performance Studies in recognition that it’s not just the book, and never was, come to think of it. A play-script is only a beginning, especially from those centuries when we had little or no secondary text to tell us what else to put on the stage besides the personages & their words.

The prompt book is really a sum of all the many details that go into a performance, not just the lines of the actors.  While the words coming out of the mouths of the stars have garnered the lion’s share of attention, there’s so much more to it than that. That’s really what I was thinking when I spoke of what’s “under the radar”, because stage managers and technical staff in the wings & backstage don’t get the kind of attention actors & playwrights receive.

Thank goodness for media such as video & film, where the scholar now has the ability to study the complete work.  The disparity between a screenplay and a film is so huge –especially from my perspective as a composer & musician, just to speak of one of the many disciplines comprising the finished work—one can’t mistake the screenplay for the film.  A video or film of a live theatre performance contains different information than a prompt book, of course, but in each case they point to the many dimensions of a performance that aren’t in the original text.

A prompt book comprised of playtext and the many marginal notes from stage management –blocking, sounds cues, lighting cues, and more—is an unwieldy thing as far as archiving is concerned.  They can be big heavy things to lift.  For most of history they’ve been analog documents, although I am intrigued at the prospect of increasing digitalization.  I would assume that in the realm of musical theatre for example, where MIDI rules, that the notation & recording of information for stage management has progressed far beyond the realm of penciled notes on a script, that the prompt book isn’t just on paper anymore.  With the ongoing convergence of digital media, this too should be expected, first on laptops and then maybe on smart-phones (and whatever comes after these ubiquitous devices). As with so many of the topics I write about in this space, I have to confess I am not up on what’s newest in the practice of the discipline. But I would think that—as everything becomes more and more digital, and therefore inter-connected –digital prompt books will become more and more accessible, and therefore be a more central part of scholarship & research.

Hm, as a kind of final thought I googled “digital prompt book” and saw some intriguing things come up.  Not everyone is digital yet, but I would assume –given the advantages—that this is where it must be going.

I only wish I could have asked Luella about it. I’m sure her opinions & comments would have been entertaining.

Posted in Dance, theatre & musicals, Personal ruminations & essays, University life | 2 Comments

10 Questions for Melissa Hood

Posted on July 20, 2013 by barczablog

Melissa Hood isn’t gun shy, even if she’s at the heart of “gun shy theatre”, the team responsible for Stop Kiss, one of the best shows at the Fringe Festival in 2013 held over next week as part of Best of Fringe.

Hood is a graduate of the Canadian Film Centre’s Actors Conservatory and co-creator of the Pangnirtung Youth Performance Project in the Eastern Canadian Arctic.  Stage work includes the one-woman show Jewel by Joan MacLeod.  Film and TV credits include:  Murdoch Mysteries, The Listener, Alphas, the award-winning web series My Pal Satan, and the feature film The Fishing Trip (TIFF).

Upcoming:  Melissa plays ‘Caprice’ in Shaftesbury’s romantic comedy feature Dirty Singles.

Melissa Hood as Callie in Stop Kiss by Diana Son. Photo by Shaun Benson.

On the occasion of Stop Kiss in Best of Fringe, I ask Melissa Hood ten questions: five about her, and five more about her work in Stop Kiss.

1) Are you more like your father or your mother?

That’s a tough one – I’m a physical composite of both of my parents and the spitting image of my grandmother on my mother’s side.  We’re a tall bony lot with old-fashioned features.  As for personality, I’m definitely the wildcard of the family and really can’t say where I got the artist gene.  We all agree it must have skipped a generation, or ten.  I’m quite different than my parents, but have been told by friends of the family that I betray myself on-stage, revealing recognizable mannerisms of both. I would say I’m more like my dad in terms of temperament, but I have my mother’s sensitivity to others and to details. My mother says I have picked up questionable habits from both sides!

2) What is the best thing or worst thing about being an actor?

The best thing about being an actor is getting to work on a new character.  Every job is a new challenge so there’s always new territory to explore and reveal.  I recently had the opportunity to work on Shaftsbury’s new romantic comedy feature film “Dirty Singles.”  It was great because I got to play a character – Caprice Van Wicken – who is more fierce and complex than your average female character.  When I first read the script, I got really excited to play this immaculately dressed, quick-witted and ballsy female character, who is essentially “the player of all players.” It’s fun to play powerful women and to find their vulnerability.  In the film, Caprice is a lawyer who gets what she wants most of the time, but rarely risks breaking her heart.  She’s a dangerous and feisty character, but underneath the cool exterior she has a heart of gold and is looking for love like everyone else. This film should be coming out soon.  I will keep you posted.

3) Who do you like to listen to or watch?

Tatiana Maslany of Orphan Black (photo: Steve Wilkie for BBC AMERICA)

Right now I’m catching up on BBC America’s “Orphan Black.”  I studied in LA with Tatiana Maslany a couple years ago and am just blown away by this show and her work.  It’s a dream role and she is doing such excellent work.  It’s inspiring and encouraging to see Canadian actors getting major opportunities in film and television.  There’s a lot of unknown talent here in Toronto. I’m so happy when I see hard-working actors getting the opportunities they deserve.

4) What ability or skill do you wish you had, that you don’t have?

I wish I were a more proficient musician.  I’ve always played a little guitar and love singing, but envy those who can pick up a fiddle, a mandolin, or any instrument and create music on the spot.  It’s such a beautiful form of communication, a true practice of being in the moment.  I often catch myself quietly bearing witness to musicians and secretly wish I could join in the conversation.

But as they say, it’s never too late to learn.

5) When you’re just relaxing and not working what is your favourite thing to do?

Go out on the land.  I spent many summers working with Inuit on Baffin Island in Nunavut and have a lot of experience in the “bush.”  My favourite thing to do is jump in a lake, hike on the tundra, or go boating out on the Cumberland Sound.

Well, that or a trip to New York City.  I’m equal parts city-girl.  I love going to NYC to catch the latest piece of theatre.  Last year I saw “Jerusalem” with Mark Rylance (a personal hero of mine) and “Death of a Salesman” with Philip Seymour Hoffman.  Not bad, if you like amazing theatre.

~~~~~~~

Five More Questions concerning participation in Stop Kiss:

1) How does playing a part like Callie challenge you?

The role of Callie challenged me in a number of ways.  Technically, she goes back and forth in time throughout the play, so there is a need to understand her arc and emotional growth throughout the show.  At first, I remember thinking I should play Sara, I’m a lot like Sara.  But the more I explored the play, the more I realized what a great challenge it would be for me to find myself in Callie. To me, Callie is someone who has it all together on the outside, but who is afraid of taking risks.  Although she may seem like it at the top of the show, I don’t think she’s a shallow person at all.  I think she’s someone who has been hurt in the past and has learned to fill her life with distractions in order to keep herself safe and secure.

Throughout the play Sara challenges Callie to confront her own patterns of avoidance and fight for what she wants in life.  I can identity with this as an actor who is fighting to have the career that I want and who has had to face a lot of fears in order to get to where I am now.

Some people have asked me about playing a character that discovers her sexual identity.  For me, the play is not so much about sexuality as it is about personal identity and empowerment. For me, there’s nothing challenging or different about playing a lesbian vs. a straight character. The play itself resists labels and boxes.  What it demands, is that the actors bring and reveal what they know about falling in love.  In the process of falling in love, my character has to confront her own internalized homophobia at times and fight to validate her own experience of love outside the box of how other people choose to identify her. And it’s a beautiful thing in the play, and in life I think, when we discover that we are the only ones who can validate our own relationships and our own experiences.

Kate Ziegler (left) and Melissa Hood (right) as Sara and Callie in Stop Kiss by Diana Son. Photo by Shaun Benson

2) What do you love about the play?

The writing.  Diana Son has created these two believable female characters.  She has written them in a way that is both natural and specific but also leaves their interpretation open to any given actor.  I can imagine a lot of different women playing these roles and bringing unique qualities to them. Callie and Sara’s relationship is central to the piece and it has been a joy to explore the relationship and find that chemistry that seems to be resonating with our audience.  I can count myself lucky to have found Kate Ziegler to play Sara because she’s a truly gifted actress and we had a great experience working on these characters together with our director, Shaun Benson.

Diana Son also does a beautiful job of balancing drama and comedy.

It wasn’t until we got in front of an audience that I realized how many funny moments are so nicely woven into a play that also deals with very intense dramatic material.  Some of my favourite moments happen early on between Sara and Callie as they are getting to know each other and realize they have great chemistry.  There’s a wonderful initial bonding moment when Sara says that she hates jazz and the sound of saxophones.  It’s this lovely moment when the two women realize they have something specific and unexpected in common and that they share the same sense of humour. Diana really does all the characters a great service by writing such detailed and believable dialogue.

3) Do you have a favourite moment?

My favourite moment (spoiler alert) is when Callie says “Lately I feel like there’s something…worth…winning.”  It’s a turning point for her and the moment in the play when she stands up for herself and stops “swerving” or avoiding confrontation.  It’s a moment that I can personally identify with as an actor.  The moment you decide to be ambitious and really go for what you want.  Produce a play.  Open your heart.  Risk failure.  That kind of stuff.

Director Shaun Benson

We were really lucky to work on a rehearsal process with Shaun that allowed for new moments to happen each night.  Shaun didn’t want our performances to feel bound by blocking.  I think as a cast we have really enjoyed knowing that each show will be a little different and that new moments will be created each night depending on how we are playing off of one another in the moment.

4) How do you relate to Stop Kiss as a modern woman?

To me, Stop Kiss is a kind of modern love story that de-categorizes love while also bringing out universal and relate-able themes about identity, commitment, courage and risk.
As both a producer and actor, the experience of doing this particular play has been empowering for a lot of reasons.  While I was at the Canadian Film Centre in 2012, I had the opportunity to study with Larry Moss, a teacher who challenged me to commit to myself and take more chances.  When I put my name in the Fringe lottery, I knew I was challenging myself to put something out there and from the moment my name was drawn to the moment we opened, I have been on a learning curve and have had to make a lot of decisions. The first thing I had to choose was a company name. I chose gun shy theatre because it suited my feelings at the time about doing theatre again.  Choosing the right play was the next really important thing.  I wanted to find a great script, 90 minutes or less, that had never been staged in Toronto.  And ideally, a great script with great roles for women.
When we first read Stop Kiss it resonated with me on a lot of different levels.  It’s a very special play with great female roles.  I also soon discovered there are a lot of parallels between Callie’s journey and my own experience of producing the play.  I think the overall experience has been so rewarding because I got to assemble a wonderful team of people to help produce and make it happen and because the audience related to the story just like we did.

5) Is there a teacher, actor, director or an influence that you especially admire?

Director Jeff Nichols.  I’m in love with his last two films, “Mud” and “Take Shelter.”  They are the kind of movies that I’ve always wanted to act in.  I think he’s a masterful storyteller.  He sets his films so beautifully within a given landscape.  They feel like recognizable genre films at first, but they delve into very deep universal themes.  Jeff also manages to get these powerful natural performances out of his actors.  He is definitely on the top of my wish list of directors to work with.

~~~~~~~

Stop Kiss is presented July 26, 28 & 30th as part of Best of Fringe at the Studio Theatre in the Toronto Centre for the Arts.  Click for tickets.

Posted in Interviews | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

The Misanthrope

Posted on July 19, 2013 by barczablog

One of the great joys of classical theatre is to be able to revisit works that one knows: or thinks that one knows.  A good play always has something new to show you.

Case in point tonight, seeing the opening of Guild Festival Theatre’s production of Molière’s The Misanthrope.

This is the third season for GFT under the leadership of Sten Eirik, an astute Artistic Director.  They began with Chekhov in 2011, followed by Aristophanes in 2012 and now? Molière. In a time of fiscal restraint, the company seems to be growing, helped by partnerships with the community & supportive politicians.

It’s a pleasure seeing how Eirik uses the outdoor amphitheatre space to advantage, a space of wonderful classical resonances due to its stunning stone backdrop salvaged from an old Toronto bank.  Many moments were simply perfect due to the magical setting.  At one point we watch two lovers playing hide and seek in a semi-lit playing area, illuminated by the moon above, serenaded by cicadas and bird-song. We’d begun near sunset, watching in twilight and finally darkness in this unique location. Eirik’s understanding of the Molière was very clearly delineated in this reading.  We began with a very slow, even pompous encounter between Alceste (Bruce Beaton) & Philinte (Rick Persich).  The character types are self-consistent, as we shall see, and therein lies the wonderful tension that energizes the work and this production, in the meeting of these extremes..

Oronte (Ryan Egan) arrives, one of the most delicious fops I’ve seen in awhile, and as far away from Beaton’s seriousness as you can get.  I would have burst out laughing in Beaton’s place, but he was always gravely deadpan in the face of Egan’s pretentious poses & faces.

Wonderful as Beaton & especially Egan (who had me roaring throughout) were, the two female leads were as good or better.  The scene between Célimène (Sochi Fried) and Arsinoe (Tina Sterling) was hair-raising, and considering this was opening night, wonderfully precise in the timing of their exchanges.  Fried & Sterling seemed most comfortable with the language –a witty translation in couplets by Richard Wilbur— in their deliciously acid exchanges.

The additional delightfully attired foppery supplied by Clitandre (Andrew Pimento) & Acaste (John Chou) pushed us happily into several moments of wild laughter.  The other somewhat serious person present, Célimène’s cousin Eliante (Leslie DosRemedios) had several beautiful moments, so much so that one might have wished her part were larger.

Guild Festival Theatre’s production of The Misanthrope continues until August 11th.

Posted in Dance, theatre & musicals, Reviews | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

The French Answer–Toronto Summer Music

Posted on July 17, 2013 by barczablog

What’s the question, you may ask.

But it’s not that there is an answer (a noun). It’s a verb in that headline.  Swimmers swim, runners run, and for a period of time, I believe the French answered.

Artistic Director of Toronto Summer Music, Douglas McNabney (photo Bo Huang)

It’s how I came to the opening concert of Toronto Summer Music (aka “TSM”), a festival themed around “La Belle Epoque”.  Tonight we heard a brief but passionate introductory talk from TSM’s Artistic Director Douglas McNabney, including exciting previews of the innovative ideas TSM have added this year, such as “shuffle” concerts arbitrarily combining pieces the way a smart-phone might, and a special TSM app you can download. Mainly we heard him  explain the importance of this period.

La Belle Epoque is many things, but for me it is chiefly a time of conversations, discourse and counter-discourse, argument and rebuttal.  For Gabriel Fauré and Claude Debussy their music was often reticent, and clearly influenced profoundly by the ghost of old Klingsor, as Debussy ironically called Wagner and his inescapable influence upon everyone who followed.  How could it be otherwise, when Wagner seemed to re-invent opera and culture at the end of the 19th Century?

And so the first stream of answering concerns German music & Wagner.  Fauré, Debussy (not programmed in the concert but still an important influence) and Ravel do many things, but often they seem to be presenting a counter-argument, an alternative pathway for music & culture.

If one considers the various “isms” –some listed by McNabney in his introductory talk—one sees an ongoing conversation about the nature of art & music.  Onstage Naturalists were answered by Symbolists.  On the canvas, impressionists (a word that’s a misnomer applied to music: but who am I to argue with millions of people?) were answered by cloisonists (who could also be called symbolists, depending on who you follow / believe) and post-impressionists.  Later we have several more –isms, often in a kind of reaction against what came before.  For a time, “answering” was the French national gift to the world, an innovation soon to be exported (and imitated) all over Europe.

The concert by Trio Pennetier Pasquier Pidoux is itself a kind of answer, a breath of fresh air (especially with my ears, that had been filled with Wagner earlier today).  The playing exploited the wonderful acoustic of Koerner Hall and an attentive audience who, while they may have applauded each movement of the opening Trio from Gabriel Fauré, sat very quietly throughout.

L-R Régis Pasquier, violin; Jean-Claude Pennetier, piano; Roland Pidoux, cello

This trio has a remarkable chemistry.  If I don’t miss my guess, cellist Roland Pidoux is the leader, considering both the dynamics of the performances and the body language of the trio.  It was Pidoux who announced the encore, a delicate gossamer soft reading of the finale of Beethoven’s opening trio: in other words another subtle answer to the loud weighty question—a question uttered in German—that lurked in the psyche of French musicians of that era.

Pidoux plays like the alpha male of the group, his cello sound extraordinarily powerful for an ensemble such as this, with a penetrating & passionate tone.  Violinist Régis Pasquier, in contrast, is all about the blend, leaning his body & his instrument in towards the rock-solid Pidoux throughout, beginning each work perhaps a bit quieter than one might expect, but building to powerful climaxes.  Jean-Claude Pennetier was upstage but never upstaged at the piano, and to me was the most impressive of the three (but then again I’m a pianist, and probably prejudiced).  Like Pasquier, Pennetier was often self-effacing, and produced a wonderfully consistent flow of notes in the challenging Ravel Trio, often without rising above pianissimo.  In the final work of the program –Rachmaninoff’s Trio élégiaque—Pennetier played enough notes for a piano concerto, yet with a wonderful restraint in all but a few passages.

It was an auspicious beginning to TSM. The festival runs until August 3rd. 

Posted in Music and musicology, Personal ruminations & essays | 1 Comment

Parlour trick

Posted on July 14, 2013 by barczablog

A few days ago I wrote about ear-worms, as an example of photographic (or “eidetic”) memory, and said there’s another kind as well.  I don’t mean to limit things by saying there’s one other kind, when there may be more than one. But I know of one other at least, namely “absolute pitch”.  I have always been a bit uncomfortable with that name, as I don’t believe in absolutes.  I am especially uncomfortable about it, speaking as someone who thinks he has absolute pitch.

As I speak of this phenomenon, I want to take a stab at putting it in historical context.  We occasionally get indirect evidence of how people might have been different in another time:

  • Julian Jaynes hypothesized that moderns think differently than ancients in his The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind. 
  • Is it also possible that we listen and understand differently in the 21st Century? It’s an especially poignant consideration when we encounter producers considering whether they should allow audiences to use social media, tweeting & facebooking during performances: in other words, at a time when moderns seem to exhibit an ever shrinking attention span.
  • When recorded music is ubiquitous it seems reasonable to ask how our processing of music might be different from the time before recordings.  How well do we hear, compared to a time when the only recordings were piano rolls mechanically reproducing a performance..? Should we expect that “absolute pitch” would be more or less common nowadays?  I’ll speak about that in a moment.

First, let me offer my first-person account.  It’s introspective psychology, as I am not sitting down with anyone to verify what I’m saying.  Still I expect as I run into acquaintances in the GTA over the next little while that I’ll be challenged to put up or shut up on this one.

I feel very comfortable after having quickly googled, and seen two links immediately proposing the same thing I want to say: that it’s not really absolute.

Whew…

Even so, it’s at least a reliable parlour trick.  Recalling that “eidetic memory” is a kind of photographic trace that stays in the head, if we recall a tune or a note, it may indeed lead us to a pitch.  In fact it works quite nicely.  Some notes are stronger than others.

What do I hear?  I suppose whatever I want to hear.  It depends what I seek to recall.  I rely upon certain tunes that have found a permanent home in my psyche for certain pitches.

  • “G-flat”, a note one hears rarely, is one I conjure using the opening phrase of “Oh paradiso” (“Oh paradis” if sung in the original French).  It’s reliable because of where it sits in my voice, sliding up to a B-flat.  If i am too high it won’t be a B-flat, although hahaha, i will indeed be flat: flat on my face! But I also hear Chopin’s black-key Étude and “Oh terra addio” from Aida, which also arpeggiates to that same B-flat in short order. If it’s to float out properly it has to be in the right place.  I applaud Verdi, whenever i think of this, a passage designed for singers exhausted by a full evening’s singing.
  • When I was younger –spending all my time accompanying my brother—“G” used to mean “Andiam. Incomin- cia- te!” …being the closing phrase of the Pagliacci Prologue.  Nowadays it’s the opening chord of the Beethoven 4th piano concerto.
  • “A-flat”?  When I was young it was always the first part of the Grand March in Aida, and the high note Tonio sang in the aforementioned Prologue:
    “al pari di voi spiriamo l’aere!”
    But lately it’s more likely to be Beethoven’s sonata #31, or possibly the first and last note of Parsifal.
  • “A”? Most solid has been that powerful chord beginning Beethoven’s 7th Symphony, although if you’re a regular concert-goer you may have a recollection of an oboe playing a solo “A” to tune up the orchestra.  Can you hear it? Surely you can.  It’s the most commonly played ‘tune’ in the world.  Either way: you’ve got your “A”.
  • “B-flat”? it’s sometimes the fast part of the Queen of the Night’s first aria. I’ve been listening to it since I was a little boy, still one of the most scintillating pieces I know.  When I think about it, I also hear the majestic intro to the aria. And the middle section of the Magic Flute overture.  And –as mentioned—there are those floated B-flats I aim for in the Meyerbeer and Verdi, cited opposite the first bullet above.
  • “B” is a funny one. Again, like G-flat, it’s not a note that gets played tons and tons.  I can hear the lovely slow movement of the Emperor concerto, that figures so prominently in the Immortal Beloved soundtrack.  It’s there in the G chord I mentioned from the 4th Concerto.  I feel much more confident in notes happily connected to notes I hear a lot such as…
  • “C”. Yes this is literally a note central to my life. I used to hear the opening chord of Die Meistersinger, whether orchestrated or in Glenn Gould’s transcription.  But nowadays I am more likely to connect it to Beethoven’s sonata in C, a fanciful name I gave to the three piano sonatas + a set of variations all exploring the key of C.  The tinkly closing passages of Op 2 #3, the Waldstein’s coda, the last variation in op 111, and the last of the Diabelli variations are as inter-connected as if Beethoven were a painter looking again at the face of a well-known friend.  It’s no fluke that Weber comes to this chord for the redemption motif in Der Freischütz, revisited by Wagner in the brilliance of the mountain top at the end of Siegfried.  I wonder what they felt in making this concrete allusion.
  • I call it D-flat, not C-sharp, and I don’t claim they’re the same thing, even if –on a piano—that’s what some would say.  I can hear the C-sharp if I think of Debussy’s flute, the first tender note of the “Prelude to the afternoon of a faun”, or Chopin’s third Scherzo; but I prefer to find the note via Chopin’s second scherzo (it begins darkly in B-flat minor, but moves to brilliant passages in D-flat).  D-flat is how the Ring cycle ends, and is a key note in the last phrase of Parsifal as well.  I am less confident of its sharp incarnation.
  • “D” or “C”? which is more important? I am not sure, although this year, particularly once I started playing Beethoven sonatas, it was C.  But overall I think I’ve been inclined to call D the most important note of all. It started with Don Giovanni, (and pardon the pun, isn’t it funny that conversely, Don Giovanni starts with a “D”? musically and otherwise, it’s a chicken-and-egg kind of situation), that chord you can hear in your head when you begin Miloš Forman’s Amadeus followed immediately by F Murray Abraham’s plaintive scream “Mozart!”   Or did it start with Figaro?  And then there’s Mozart’s Requiem.  We can’t forget the 20th piano concerto, and that’s still just Mozart.  Beethoven and Mahler seem to love D as well, both making a big deal of it (Beethoven on Symphonies #2 and 9, Mahler on Symphonies #1 & 9)
  • E-Flat is another central note.  I used to know it from the hammer-blows opening the Eroica Sympony of Beethoven, although I am less certain of this now that I have multiple recordings, some in modern pitch, some using the slightly older pitch of historically informed performance.  I am more confident of the opening to Das Rheingold, the big climactic passages in the Prologue to Götterämmerung and the opening of Schumann’s Third Symphony.  When I think of it I can also hear Ein Heldenleben, a work that has often felt like Strauss’s gloss upon the heroism of Beethoven and Wagner.  Did Wagner see himself emulating Beethoven?  I have to wonder what was in their heads as they composed, what echoes of the earlier works that each one hoped we would hear.
  • “E” is another oddity, not quite as common as the few notes clustered at the centre of the keyboard.  Does familiarity breed contempt? Not on a keyboard, I’d say. Familiarity breeds intelligibility, fame, importance.  E is not quite so favoured. I think of the slow movement of the 4th piano concerto of Beethoven, or Wotan’s Farewell in Die Walküre.  Chopin is helpful, with his 1st piano concerto and 4th Scherzo; did he like the key? i wonder.
  • “F” is again central, related to other important works.  I can hear the powerful motto opening Fidelio, the steps into the countryside opening Beethoven’s sixth symphony and the hymn at its conclusion.  And “Oh Isis und Osiris”, particularly that F to which it descends at its finish also.

Do we hear better now? I’m inclined to think so, considering that our young musicians achieve levels of mastery unreached by anyone two centuries ago.  I’ve alluded before to an article in NYTimes asserting that virtuosos are a dime a dozen nowadays.  Perhaps the kind of hearing I describe would be a prodigious feat were it reported in 1800. But now? We’re not absolute. We have to cope with two competing tunings, throwing us off, nevermind the vicissitudes of actual performances.

We’re fortunate.  I can pull so many magnificent recordings from youtube, let alone what I can purchase.  My hearing should be good, right?  In Mozart’s time E-flat heroism hadn’t even been invented yet.  All that music continues to rattle around in my head, and millions of other heads too.

Posted in Music and musicology, Personal ruminations & essays, Psychology and perception | 1 Comment

You say “tomato”

Posted on July 11, 2013 by barczablog

I love analogies.  Sometimes I push them too far –beyond the point where they’re helpful illustrations—simply because I enjoy the game so much, of making one thing represent another.

Today I was thinking about tomatoes & voices.  Tomatoes don’t usually sing.  People don’t usually eat voices or put vocal sauce on their pasta, so in some respects it may seem like a pointless metaphor.

Speaking of voices & food, this is a bit like what a cow does, with its multiple stomach, digesting and digesting.  I am thinking out loud, my brain a bit like a cow. These are ruminations I guess, and far from finished.

For those of you who are young, the following assertion may come across as folk wisdom or science fiction.  But I believe my memories of tomatoes can be verified by tomato experts.  If any of you reading this actually are tomato experts please weigh in on the matter (I almost said “weigh in on tomato”…).

I have no idea what sort of credentials would define one as a tomato expert.

Once upon a time, there were many sorts of tomatoes.  Indeed this may still be so. One found different tomatoes in different parts of the world.  But in stores? One now sees a small assortment of tomatoes (and other items too).

I see this as a reflection of biodiversity: or lack of same.  Biodiversity is a vitally important attribute of an ecosystem.  The more different sorts of tomato? Well it’s not just about the flavour of tomato you eat, but that’s a start.  More importantly, diversity means that if one tomato is struck by a disease, we have something in reserve. When we have too few species to draw upon for our food or wood or any other need met by agriculture, we’re vulnerable.  A parasite, a virus, or a bad summer can be devastating; variety makes those challenges more survivable.

I have the impression –from what I see when I shop and from what I understand in my reading—that all the fruit looks the same, like clones.  I use that word advisedly, because I don’t claim to know the real genetics of our fruits & vegetables. But I have the impression sometimes, when I look around in the store, that we’re all experimental subjects, that corporations are rolling the dice with our collective future.

And maybe the same sort of thing is underway with voices, if my analogy has any merit.

Speaking of metaphors, we’re in a global village.  At one time regions didn’t know of one another.  Our cities & separate cultures were as distinct and remote as Galapagos Island was isolated from the rest of the world.  The quirky species found there –unfamiliar looking to the Europeans who voyaged there in the 19th century—were not inter-bred with the species we knew, and so they were different.  With the growing inter-connectedness of markets & ecologies, there are fewer and fewer distinct places.  Just as The Gap or McDonalds offer standard products no matter where you encounter their stores, so too, it would seem, with Mother Nature.  I can’t claim to have sampled tomatoes in Milan or Manchuria, but from what I understand, the local divergence is shrinking.

The assertion is to set up the analogy.

At one time voices were completely regional, different and distinct according to countries & cultures.  There was a particular sound that was partly a product of the phonetics of a language, partly due to local pedagogy.

I’m not saying that local diversity is gone, but voices are more and more uniform wherever you go, like the tomatoes.  Vocal pedagogy –thinking at least of the classical-operatic world, although I am willing to bet that it also applies to popular music—is no longer local & quirky, as more and more information is shared.

Voice teachers are like all teachers. One of their primary functions is to socialize their students, to create uniformity. Sorry if this hurts anyone’s feelings.

I am thinking about the quirky voice, the off-beat voice that doesn’t sound like everyone else, and how teachers respond.  Are teachers in a position to empower and encourage voices that are different & original? Or do they instead seek to persuade singers to abandon that original sound, to make them sound more like everyone else…?

I am feeling as though I’m in a world of clones, both in the produce section or when I watch singers on youtube, whatever the country of origin.

See for yourself.  It’s reassuring in some ways, when you hear kids from Korea or Argentina sounding like Americans.  What a big happy world.  But what happened to real diversity? I liked the regional sounds.

But is it any wonder that there’s a world-wide shortage of some voice-types?  We don’t have very many people who can sing the roles of Aida or Tannhaüser.  When someone comes along who might sing that way, they need to be careful, because singing teachers will do their best to teach them how to sing Pamina or Tamino: roles where we’re already overflowing with talent.

I am a bit of an agnostic.  I don’t believe teachers know how to teach a singer how to undertake one of those super-difficult roles (ie Wagner or Verdi).  The best singing teachers seem to be like good baseball coaches or good directors, staying out of the way, not too invasive.

I’ve been fortunate to encounter a few of those quirky original voices in my time.  But they’re rare, and it seems they’re getting rarer all the time.  I wonder, is their biggest accomplishment –those who manage to nurture such a voice to maturity—in resisting the tampering of voice teachers?

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