....and with something exciting: CMM4's first concert announcement. Eccolo!
yaël June 5th, 2011 4pm Akira Mori | Sarah Plum | CMM4 Chamber Orchestra Presenting the American Premiere of Sidney Corbett's yaël for solo violin and chamber orchestra St. Croix ArtBarn, Osceola WI
As an addendum, I must say that we are so very pleased to be working with the ArtBarn: great space under the direction of great people. This is going to be FUN!
At long last, I have returned! As always there are numerous pieces of blog worthy flotsam floating about my brain, but for now I'll leave you with the following bits and bobs: This interview with performance artist Marina Abramovic certainly helped me to better understand her oeuvre, but also a more recent work The Artist is Present. I also appreciate her philosophy on performance art, that is to say that it is not merely a singular event.
CMM All Stars Sarah Foster, Luke Foster and Solvay Peterson will present a free concert on Sunday, October 17 at 2:00 at First Lutheran Church of New Richmond. Music by Schubert and Prokofiev.
Recently, CMM Resident Conductor and Artistic Adviser, Joe Peters, sent me the video below. Don't be surprised if you see it on a CMM4 program...
Iannis Xenakis: Plekto (1993)
Finally, our little blog is moving. I have begun sketches for a CMM website within which a new blog, Thirty Second Notes (wink wink nudge nudge), will feature the content you've come to expect from this site.
On Thursday night I gave a humble little recital of Hummel (ha!), Mozart and Feldman. For years I've wanted to perform The Viola in My Life (III) and for whatever reason I decided that this summer would be my time. Following the performance and my (perhaps overly) emphatic advocacy of Feldman, an audience member approached me to understand better why I loved Feldman so. Her direct question forced me to examine more than just the visceral response his music stirs within me. In fumbling for words and explanations I came to understand that more than anything, Feldman's appropriation of silence excites my synapses. I say "appropriation" because I feel that is what he truly does. His silences represent the maturation of the classical GP, but also our own personal moments of reflection. I don't want to be drawing connections willy-nilly (that would just be ridiculous), but from my perspective it seems as though he captures and re-purposes those moments in life where there not only exists pure presence but also a kind of static stillness.
In case you have not realized already, I love Morton Feldman. His oeuvre occupies a special place in my heart--I cannot articulate why, but I can recount my first experience with his music.
I'll never forget the summer I spent listening to his second quartet, Triadic Memories, Rothko Chapel, and the Viola in My Life (IV). At the time, I worked for the Department of Theatre Arts and Dance at the U of M as a graphic designer and illustrator (I believe my official title was something like student communications assistant or some such). My boss shared his office with me, and bless him, he didn't mind listening to Feldman when he arrived in the mornings (or, if he did, I never knew it). I have these very vivid memories of unlocking the office several hours before the work day began sitting at my desk and watching the orange sunlight pour through dusty venetian blinds: always that slightly rusty orange color--strangely toxic and never quite pure. Pixel by pixel, I manipulated my images as that damned diseased light crept across the carpet; Feldman's eerie placidity was an apt companion. In hindsight, it is surprising that I adore his music as much as I do! What a dreadful summer.
Shameless advertising: friends to Chamber Music Midwest and local media-darlings (vi prometto, lo è un scherzo!) play Brahms Piano Quartet in C minor, op. 60 among other things.
The Joy of More Quartets August 15, 2:00pm; First Lutheran Church of New Richmond Luke Foster, piano; Sarah Foster, violin; Clare Harmon, viola; Solvay Peterson, cello Free Admission
Despite the title, I am sorry to say that Mr. Babbitt will be absent.
I've said before that this season was "the best ever" and in its already fading wake, I can say that indeed it was. The performances were polished and captivating, and our audience base has grown considerably. Seeing children and young families at our last concert, I realized that slowly but surely, we are beginning to achieve the goals set out in our mission statement. And, we received a standing ovation on Saturday! How cool is that?!
So. On to season four: Poetics(!). The subtitle has several layers of meaning, one of which is a reference to Aristotle's Poetics. I've been looking quite a bit at the text recently and the way diverse artistic movements interact with it over time. Of course it is referenced in the Enlightenment, but I was reading Greenberg's mid 20th century essay, Art and Kitsch, today and there was a reference to imitation "in the Aristotelian sense." Aristotle, in response to Plato, is primarily concerned with the problem of mimesis in art. Is imitation good? Is it bad? How does it operate within an artwork, and what does that mean for the artist? In addition to these basic questions, there are innumerable issues that arise from the discussion. I find myself drawn to the problematic relationship of Poetics with a contemporary society that no longer reads the classics: on the whole, the citizens of the world are unaware of the text, yet its prevalence in Western culture until this moment subtly shapes our own concept of what is "good" and "bad" in the arts. Mimesis is easy; abstraction is not. My current contention is that this attitude has been a part of our historical conditioning and thus results in a phenomenon I like to think of as "pre-conditioned taste." I have a lot more books to read and ideas to explore over the next year (obviously), but I'd like this discussion to be a part of CMM4. From the start, CMM has championed music that is perhaps more challenging to the ear than Mozart, Bach, et al. and I think the above discussion is REALLY helpful for looking at this stuff: if we are cognizant of our historical conditioning (ie preconditioned taste), we can understand it and eventually move beyond it. That is to say, things like Mark Rothko won't seem so "meaningless" (the old, "my kid could do that!" argument); Schoenberg's imitation will gain clarity.
The above is just one facet of next season, the more obvious one is music and text. We're talkin' song cycles people. I'm completely nuts for the art song, and if we're going to discuss mimesis, there is not a better place to start than so-called "word painting." We're looking at Schoenberg's Book of the Hanging Gardens (!!!!!), any number of cycles/songs by Schubert, Schumann, Debussy, Ravel...the list goes on. It would fulfill a dream of mine to program and perform Pierrot Lunaire, but we'll see.
Lastly, I'll mention that we're hoping to program some Helmut Lachenmann. From what I've listened to, his music is not at all mimetic, in that it is like nothing I have ever heard before. The Kinderspiel, for example, explore sonic possibilities of the piano in the same way that Pollock explores the possibilities of raw materials (house paint, for example). I could certainly see where Lachenmann's music would be threatening to the American musical avant-garde (such as it is); I'm recalling something James Dillon (an advocate of Lachenmann, and another excellent composer) once said to me about Lachenmann's reception in the US. If I am remembering correctly, Dillon implied that Lachenmann was perceived by the US as a "de-composer" in that by redefining the means by which classical instruments were to be used, he was writing "anti-music." The pejorative connotation of these statements ought not to be ignored; it is a real shame, actually, as I think the music is quite good. Below is a video of Kinderspiel as played by pianist Seda Roeder. When you listen, try to notice all the sounds--in these pieces the residual is just as important (if not more so) as the initial sound. Though I must say, as wonderful as YouTube is for this sort of thing, to fully appreciate these pieces, you really have to hear them live (enter CMM4....).
During our pre-concert dinner Thursday night, my colleagues and I were discussing our time at the University of Minnesota School of Music. Our collective conclusion was this: it is a dark place, cancerous and destructive. As we cataloged the horrors of our experiences, we became tense, closed--all drawing our arms inward, as if to protect ourselves: physical evidence of our mental conditioning.
Now that I am away from this place, I try at all costs to not remind myself of it, lest an idle remembrance become a visceral nightmare. I mention it now, because CMM3 has been marked by the relationships forged as much as the music performed. Reconvening as colleagues (and friends) apart from the S.O.M. we could start anew, unfettered by those loathsome walls and create new, stronger friendships. This experience has been completely heartwarming, thus proving the power of place: where the SOM was malignant, my hope for CMM is that it will continue to foster a physical and mental space filled with joy, camaraderie and mutual respect.
figure camaraderie: smiles all around at Haydn warm-up
There we are, the "Duetti" gang, photo by Laura de St. Croix. It turned out to be wonderful concert. A good time was had by all and the playing was very, very fine.
There were, however, some problems.
The day began with my father's unfortunate (losing) battle to yet another household item. Tripping on a broom strewn in the driveway, he went face down, on the pavement. The result was not pretty. Bloodied, bruised and angered to the core, he reneged on his promise to stop taking out his frustration on inanimate objects.
So that happened. Ice was packed, ibuprofen ingested, naps taken. And brooms scorned.
The day progressed, I suffered what the kids might describe as an "epic fail" with respect to the programs, but no more personal injuries.
My mother was not so lucky, she met her fate via a mandolin and a sink of dirty dishwater. I don't really need to go into what came next, only say that post-emergency room her right index finger was adorned with a hilariously (albeit necessary) large dressing. Further adding insult to literal injury, she was instructed to elevate the wound to slow the bleeding. I made the point that if she really wanted to be supportive and make her bandage less conspicuous she ought to purchase a giant foam fan finger, with CMM10! written on it. But I digress.
After dinner, the four violas parked and approached the venue ready for a to warm up and leisurely set up for the concert.
And then. We lived a viola joke. This one: Q: Why do violists stand for long periods outside people's houses? A: They can't find the key and they don't know when to come in.
We were locked out. and the septuagenarian who agreed to LET US IN neglected to tell me that HE DIDN'T HAVE THE KEY.
Yes. you heard correctly. Well intentioned though he may have been, he indeed, forgot to tell me this crucial tidbit of information. A half hour later, due to the generosity and graciousness of a community member, our prayers were answered and we gained access.
The rest of the concert was largely uneventful, Kirsti and Valerie played so very well. And indeed, a good time was had by all.
