Sunday, 14 November 2021

MUSINGS ON THE NEWLY DISCOVERED PORTRAIT OF CHOPIN

A before and after comparison of the recently discovered portrait of Chopin, prior to and post restoration.
| photos:  Dariusz Markowski (l),  Jaroslaw Golebiowski (r)

This years' esteemed Frédéric Chopin Piano Competition - Warsaw's 18th - drew the attention of not only music enthusiasts but also those who consider themselves aficionados of music iconography.

The reason: a surprise announcement from the Polish capital of the discovery of an allegedly heretofore unknown portrait of the country's most cherished musical export, Frédéric Chopin himself.

The once heavily damaged portrait, now fully restored and safely protected by a gilded frame, was purchased at a flea market near Lublin in the early 1990's. It then resided for some three decades in a private home, where it modestly hung on an unidentified family's wall with nary a trace of pomp and circumstance. It was only recently that the residents of the home, who were experiencing financial strain, sought out an expert appraisal on the piece, hoping the 11.5" x  9" inch portrait - although highly degraded and with layers of its paint peeling - might earn for the family a sizeable windfall.

The Warsaw Chopin, post restoration, seated in a
gilded frame | Jaroslaw Golebiowski via AP


The portrait, undoubtedly of Chopin - landed in the hands of Dariusz Markowski, Professor at Nicolaus Copernius University in Toruń, Poland, also Principal of the campus' Conservation and Restoration of Modern Art Department in 2020. Markowski, who would restore the portrait, placed the year of manufacture at sometime during the 19th century, basing his conclusion on a thorough analysis of the pigments and materials utilized by the artist, and taking into account the extent of ageing and damage to the piece. As for the identity of the painter - only the name "Alfred" has been preserved, believed by the restorer to be the artists' forename.

As there is no identifiable artist for the piece, establishing its provenance, thus far, has proved futile. Markowski declined to provide an estimated value for the artwork, but declared it a portrait of both "emotional" and "historic" value, calling the find a "real curiosity."  He further adds that he is unsure of its beginnings: did Chopin sit for this particular portrait, and if so, for whom? Or, is the present work merely a likeness of the composer, based on a pre-existing portrait?

As for now, these questions remain unanswered for the professor and for many collectors of composer iconography.

At the time of this posting, the family has placed the restored portrait in an unidentified bank vault while they consider their next steps, and are believed to be planning a public exhibit at some point in the future.



Author consensus:

 

I am of the opinion that this find, while interesting, may be somewhat inconsequential. I agree with Markowski that it may hold some "emotional" value, but I would stop short there. 

I believe this likeness to be a later copy, by a less skilled hand, of a ca. 1847 portrait of Chopin executed by Ary Scheffer. To be more precise, of the second version by Scheffer - a bust modeled after an oil painting depicting the composer seated, at half-body's length. That Chopin actually sat for the latter portrait is documented in a letter the composer penned to his family in April the same year in which he states:

"I start this letter for the 4th time today, 16th of April, and don’t know whether I shall even now get it finished, for I must go today to Scheffer, to pose for my portrait..."

I dare to venture further, and suggest it to be a copy not of Scheffer directly, but a copy of one of the multitudes of lithographs, paintings and prints by individual artists working after Scheffer's second, "bust" version. 

Chopin by Ary Scheffer | Dordrechts Museum

We know the of the first, original "live" version of Scheffer's Chopin thanks to Cornelia Marjolin, daughter of Ary and an artist herself, who dedicated a daguerreotype (a reproduction) of the portrait by her father to "Ms. Erskine" (probably Katherine Erskine, Chopin's former pupil). The daguerreotype features Chopin donning two "popped collars" and is the version less replicated (and thus less represented) in media today as it is this version, which became the property of the composers' sister, Izabela Barcińska, which "disappeared" during the tumultuous January Uprising of 1863 at the Zamoyski Palace in Warsaw where she was a resident, and is thus presumed to have been destroyed in a fire set by the Russian Imperial Army during its plunder of the tenement house.

The second version, also by Scheffer (with a single collar visible, pictured above) was painted on a new canvas, and reduced simply to a bust. It is presently housed in the Netherlands at the Dordrechts Museum.

"Cornelia's daguerreotype" is housed at the Bibliothèque nationale de France:

"Frédéric Chopin / after a reprod. of the portr. by Ary Scheffer"
Cornelia's dedication reads (in French): "à Madame Erskine / Souvenir
l'affection / Cornilia Scheffer Marjolin"
| Source: gallica.bnf.fr / BnF

 
Scores of artists have since reproduced the Dordrechts version - others, model their likeness after a mix of both the original portrait for which Chopin sat with Scheffer and the version at Dordrechts - adding the additional collar present in the daguerreotype, but omitting the composers' torso and the chair on which he sat, thus reducing him to the 2nd, "bust" version (as seen in the example below). Some used Scheffer as source material, whist others opted to reproduce reproductions, using as their prototype not the work of Scheffer himself, but the work of his imitators.

Chopin with a double "popped collar", this version
housed in the Bibliothèque Polonaise in Paris

The practice of reproducing a portrait "after" a previous reproduction (by an artist who was not himself the painter of the original prototype) was extremely common in the 19th century and during the centuries preceeding it - portraits of famous composers were in high demand and spanned the European continent. Their presence in manuscripts, programs and biographies served as status symbols: evidence of the esteem and accomplishments imbued by the sitter. These publications thus demanded a higher price. Where purchasers of regalia were concerned, it was a not-so-subtle proclamation of one's own high taste. Often, the practice of reproducing a portrait after a previous reproduction was employed to skirt copyright barriers (with details added or omitted to further protect the reproducer), or for lesser known artists and tricky tradesmen to hawk their wares as "originals" in order to fetch for themselves top dollar.

Scheffer's Chopin was one of the more frequently reproduced portraits of the composer, and versions of it can be found in museums around the world - in Paris, at the Bibliothèque nationale de France (multiple versions), in Austria, at the Austrian National Library[1],[2],  (which also houses Scheffer's own lithographic print), and in the composers' native Poland: in Żelazowa Wola at the Chopin House and at the National Museum in Kraków. These variations on the original boast artist names such as Ivan Boxel, Stanisław Stattler (Scheffer's pupil), Maximilian Fajans, and include plethora of unidentified names, either intentionally left anonymous, or the result of the artist's signature being degraded and/or lost to the hands of time.

An example of a portrait of Chopin after Scheffer with
no identifying artist information, preserved at the NYPL
in the Joseph Muller Collection of Music & Other Portraits

Incidentally, there is also a print, housed in the music department at the National Library of France, by a certain "Alfred" - in this case, the lithographer Alfred Lemoine - whose piece is based after the Scheffer portrait. It includes the  two "popped collars" as seen in the Warsaw portrait, and although Lemoine opted to dress his Chopin in what appears to be a double breasted jacket, the composers' visage features a similar set of pursed lips and pronounced chin as seen in the newly discovered piece. A brief search into Lemoine's catalogue raisonné (what exists of it) points to other prints of composers, including one of Haydn housed at the British Museum, which too, bears a similar stylistic signature to the Warsaw discovery. It is important to note that where reproductions of reproductions are concerned, stylistic garb would sometimes vary, to keep up with the fashion at the time. For clarity, Scheffer's original portrait of Chopin was executed ca. 1847, whilst Lemoine's 1860 version is dated over a decade later (13 years to be exact), when double-breasted coats were all the rage.

If I were to posit a possible connection between the newfound Polish likeness and Scheffer, I would look at the less skilled hand of Lemoine, and examine the significantly less skilled hand in the Warsaw portrait. In my opinion, this downward trend of artistic ability, seen so often in composer iconography, points to a separate, unidentified artist, possibly painting his portrait after Alfred Lemoine's copy of Scheffer's original. We must also take into account the present restoration and its adherence - or lack thereof - to the newly discovered piece at Warsaw.

"Frédéric Chopin / Alfred Lemoine, after Ary Scheffer"
Source: gallica.bnf.fr / BnF


If my hypothesis is correct, I would presume the financial worth of the discovery at Warsaw will prove to be rather negligible - the monetary value on pieces like these are often arbitrary. Unless the artist was held or is currently held in esteem, a copy after a copy after an original portrait is worth, frankly, as much as a collector deems it to be worth - in other words, it's nostalgic, or "emotional" value to the buyer. 


This marks the second time in recent years that iconography relating to Chopin has made international news.


In January 2017, the possibility of a newly discovered "daguerreotype" (pictured left) was erroneously announced by worldwide media, sparking an intense, and immediate sense of excitement within the classical music world as numerous journalists pronounced the find as the third, previously unknown "photograph" of the composer to remain extant. 

Although its founders never announced the medium used to produce the portrait with any certainty - they merely labelled it a "potential" daguerreotype or "at the very least a photograph of a [since lost] daguerreotype" - like a game of broken telephone, news of an officially recognized, never-before-seen third 'daguerreotype' (sic) seemed to stick.

To this day, this belief persists, despite an announcement made by researchers at the Fryderyk Chopin Institute just nine months later which revealed the portrait to be not an early daguerreotype at all, nor a previously undiscovered likeness of the composer but rather, a modern photograph of a fragment of a reproduction of a pre-existing painting executed by 20th century artist Ludomir Sleńdziński (pictured below). 

Art historian Małgorzata Grąbczewska, whose area of specialty is 19th century photography, was quietly consulted by the institute for further research amidst the public furore over the portrait. She managed to trace the photograph to Ostrogski castle in Warsaw, where a reproduction of Sleńdziński 's mid-twentieth century painting had previously been presented in an exhibition devoted to the Polish pianist, conductor and founder of the International Chopin Piano Competition, Jerzy Żurawlew.

 
As self-styled Chopin and photography aficionados analyzed the supposed daguerreotype, confirming for themselves its authenticity by dubious means, Grąbczewska had already made, what she referenced as a very "easy" discovery, incredulously telling Polish media:

""We cooperated, although our hypotheses were completely different. They were convinced that they had found a reproduction of the daguerreotype, and in my opinion we were dealing with a reproduction of a painting. Some [aspects of the portrait] were clearly of a painterly nature. Until recently, however, there was no proof that would confirm one of the versions... I managed to find trace evidence that led me to Ludomir Sleńdziński. He is a painter whose daughter was a pianist and student of Jerzy Żurawlew, an outstanding Chopin player. The Chopin portraits that belonged to him were exhibited at the Chopin Museum from 1984 to at least 2000.

In 1951, Sleńdziński painted a portrait of Fryderyk Chopin, which, I suspected, was modeled on various images of the composer created during his lifetime, including the famous daguerreotype created in Bisson's Paris atelier. It seemed so realistic that one could succumb to the illusion that we are dealing with photography [however] in the Sleńdziński Gallery in Białystok, I managed to find a reproduction of this painting, which provided a solution to the mystery...

.
..determining the place of storage of the original work was not difficult. It is [presently] owned by the Society of Friends of Fine Arts in Krakow. Interestingly, according to the information provided to me by the curators of these collections, it was exhibited in Krakow for years. This means that many people saw him and it is surprising that this portrait, although having been [for a period of time] extremely successful, was not noted by the [very capable] researchers at the NIFC [Narodowy Instytut Fryderyka Chopina / Fryderyk Chopin Institute], nor was it published in any of the dozens or hundreds of publications about Chopin that appeared in both Poland and around world since his death."

Below: Aside from sitting for his portrait with Scheffer in 1847, Chopin was busy putting the finishing touches on what would become his arguably most recognizable composition, the famous Waltz in D-flat major, the first of his iconic Trois Valses, Op. 64. Chopin's biographers have often repeated the claim that the famous piece (known by its unofficial, popular name, the "Minute Waltz") was inspired by the composers' observation of a small dog chasing its tail, prompting him to name the piece "Valse du petit chien", or "The Little Dog Waltz". Arthur Rubinstein performs:






Footnotes:

For the quote by Chopin regarding his session with Scheffer, see E.L. Voynich (ed.) Frédéric Chopin: Chopin's Letters, New York, A. A. Knopf, 1931, letter 227 p. 326 

For more information on the plunder of 1863 at the Zamoyski tenement house (Palace) during which the original, first portrait of Chopin is believed to have been intentionally damaged in a fire by the Russian Imperial Army, see Huneker, James, Chopin: The Man and his Music, C. Scribner's Sons, 1900, p.40

and also see: Mirosława Modrzewska, Frédéric Chopin’s grand piano, 2020 European Romanticisms in Association

Press: AP article detailing find

For more on the painting and false "daguerreotype" of Chopin see "AN IMPORTANT UPDATE CONCERNING THE 'RECENTLY DISCOVERED' "DAGUERREOTYPE" OF FREDERIC CHOPIN" here on Unraveling Musical Myths


-Rose.

Thursday, 28 October 2021

AN UNRAVELING MUSICAL MYTHS HELL-O-WE'EN SPECIAL: A SPOOKY SOUNDTRACK FOR ALL HALLOWS' EVE


It's that time of year again - when chill seekers look to the dark side of classical music to get their creep on.

More often than not, both newcomers to the genre and seasoned listeners alike are faced with an annually occurring dilemma: will it be Saint-Saëns' Danse Macabre of Orff's O Fortuna to set the mood come this All Hallows' Eve? 

With list after list nominating popular, oldie-but-goodie bone-chillers (featured in both online and in print media), the challenge here at Unraveling Musical Myths hasn't been which piece from the standard Hallowe'en canon to highlight, but rather, how to narrow down the spookiest of selections from an arsenal of less familiar diabolical delights, especially curated by the author of this blog for the season.

I have selected from my boiling cauldron the following 13 bone-chilling rides through hell featuring just enough crazed cacophony to make even the bravest listener cower beneath the covers.


UPDATE: In honor Unraveling Musical Myths' long-time reader, Classical_Music_Fan, I have added an additional 13 spooky selections to this years' edition. The links for these extra, tumultuously terrifying treats are listed in the comment section at the end of this post. 





VÍCTOR AGUDELO - EL SOMBRERÓN

We begin within the dark, humid corridors of a Columbian village in the dead of night, where, in the distance, sound the ominous din of horse hooves, steadily clip clopping along cobble stoned streets. Neither quickening or slowing, they march at a determined pace until a sickening high pitched squeal breaks the rhythm: it is the whistle of El Sombrerón, the phantom of the night, sat upon his black steed. 
 
In the distance, a funeral bell tolls - a warning to the would-be hoods, drunks and gamblers of their fate should they engage in public mischief: a desperate sprint for their lives under the moonlit night, chased by El Sombrerón upon his trusty horse. At their side, two angry, vicious black dogs are released from their metal chains, and are sicced upon his victims. 
 
The thrilling chase is based on the local legend of El Sombrerón (known in English as The Man in the [Black] Hat), a mysterious (allegedly real) villager who once roamed the streets upon his black stallion, clad in all black attire. Although rumored to have never harmed another living soul while alive, his menacing appearance instilled in all those who encountered him both curiosity and fear. A constant stern-jawed expression only added to the ever churning rumor mill: who was El Sombrerón? What did he want? Was he good, or evil?

The mysterious man in the black hat continued to spook villagers well after his death, as a phantom menace of virtue.

But make no mistake, dear reader, Columbian composer Victor Agudelo's El Sombrerón dispenses with any trace of virtue: a menacing brass section gruesomely groans to the start-and-stop rhythm of hoof beats, as the listener places himself in the place of the would-be victim. A brief respite - portraying the mysterious chaser "losing" the chased as he cowers behind a brick lined wall under the cover of night - is brazenly interrupted by brash horns as the pace quickens to match the victim's racing heart. With a bone-chilling and sickeningly frustrating pace, El Sombrerón will leave the listener on the edge of his or her seat. 
 
Questions about the ultimate fate of the victim are left unanswered by the brass section, which repeatedly approach crescendi, only to be cut off just before the crest as the mysterious Man in the Black Hat advances and retreats.
 


ALEXANDER MOSOLOV - THE IRON FOUNDRY 


Inspired by The Procession of the Sage from Igor Stavinsky's masterful Rite of Spring, Alexander Mosolov's steely musical interpretation of an iron factory running at full steam begins methodically, with an unintentionally menacing start of the iron master's machine, represented by the stroke of a tam-tam. Percussion and brass sinfully interplay among each other as the machine reaches full power and as the rest of the factory begins to function in unison.

Considered a prime example of Soviet futurist music by a composer known for his brutalist scores, Mosolov's Iron Foundry unveils the horrific cacophony which can be found in everyday life.



Monday, 27 September 2021

COMING SOON (HELL-O-WE'EN 2021)

Did You Know? Click pointer to expand/close The painting selected for this graphic, Bertalda Assailed by Spirits, c. 1830, was executed by Theodor von Holst, grand-uncle to famed 20th century Planets composer Gustav Holst! Learn more about this artistic family here on Unraveling Musical Myths: DRAWING INSPIRATION: MUSIC, ART & POETRY

As many a reader may have observed, I have been noticeably absent from this blog, posting only at sparse intervals. I have been, during this lengthy stretch, focusing my efforts on a separate project that has proven to be an exciting, yet altogether a mammoth undertaking.

Unraveling Musical Myths will return with regularly scheduled postings at an as-yet undetermined date. I thank the reader as always, for your continued support. 

As a token of gratitude, I will be taking a brief break from my project to curate another
Hell-o-we'en soundtrack - which has proven to be a viewer-favorite series on this site - which I aim to have up by mid-October.

In the interim, enjoy below a personal seasonal favorite film of mine, Krzysztof Penderecki's Die Teufel von Loudun (The Devils of Loudun), an allegorical take on the infamous "mass-demonic possession" that took over a group of Ursuline nuns in the convent of Loudun, France in the early 17th century. The bizarre occurrence captured the interest of 20th century English writer Aldous Huxley who penned a non-fictional account of the affair in 1952 which was later dramatized by the English dramatist John Whiting (as "The Devils") in 1961. Whiting's stage play was also adapted into a feature film by the notoriously flamboyant British film director Ken Russell in 1971 under the same title. 

Penderecki's treatment of the Loudun Possessions has been noted by scholars as having an underlying allegorical component, cleverly combining the known, recorded details of the so-called Affaire des possédées de Loudun with an unspoken commentary on the dichotomy between central and local political power, chiefly the many improprieties committed by totalitarian states in the mid 20th century.

The 1969 film adaptation of Penderecki's opera, directed by Rolf Liebermann, is as chilling as it is eccentric, and the late composer doesn't disappoint: true to form, Krzysztof's soundtrack in and of itself paints a tale of schizophrenic-like paranoia and horror, of the erotic and sublime, of betrayal and intimidation, and ultimately, of the steely and unforgiving grip of unchecked power.

(NSFW: adult themes)
 

 

Huxley's work of the same title can be read online at no cost to the viewer on archive.org, or by scrolling though the pages below: 

-Rose.

Wednesday, 27 January 2021

DID YOU MISS THE MOZART WORLD PREMIERE? WATCH IT BELOW!

Unraveling Musical Myths will be returning soon with all new content and added features.  

In the interim, should you have missed the live-streamed premiere of Mozart's Allegro in D earlier today from the Great Hall of the Salzburg Mozarteum Foundation, a video of the 94-second performance is available on Deutsche Grammophon's YouTube page and can be seen below.

Performed by South Korean pianist and first prize recipient of the 2015 Chopin International Competition in Warsaw, Seong-Jin Cho, the short piece - composed by a teenaged Mozart, then just 17 - marked the opening of Salzburg's annual Mozartwoche festival, which has been shifted from a series of live concerts and festivities to a virtual format due to the ongoing pandemic. Today also marks the 265th observation of the composer's birth, born at 8:00 in the evening of January 27, 1756 in the then-ecclesiastic principality of Salzburg. 
 

"The Allegro in D K626b/16, preserved on both sides of a single manuscript sheet in Mozart’s hand, probably dates from early 1773, completed towards the end of its seventeen-year-old composer’s third tour of Italy or soon after his return home to Salzburg. The score appears to have passed from the estate of the composer’s youngest son into the collection of Austrian civil servant and amateur musician Aloys Fuchs and then been given away soon after, perhaps by mistake. Owned in the late 1800s by an antiquarian book and art dealer in Vienna, it was brought to auction following his death in 1899. Its existence was noted in the third and subsequent editions of Köchel’s catalogue of the composer’s works, but the work escaped scholarly scrutiny despite having been presented at auction several times between 1900 and 1928."

Watch the premiere below (extended introduction in German and English, closed captioning available. Performance begins at 2:55):