“Bach and his works have met a strange fate at the hands of posterity. They were fairly well recognized in their day; practically forgotten by the generations following his; rediscovered and revived; and finally accorded an eminence far beyond the recognition they had originally achieved.”[2]
- excerpt from "The Bach Reader: A Life of Johann Sebastian Bach in Letters and Documents,"
ed. Hans T. David & Arthur Mendel
...is almost correct – yet not quite. Certainly neither Bach, nor had his sons, had to endure extended periods of obscurity within the classical music sphere – they simply held fleeting levels of fame behind the closed doors of the fiscally elite: the nobility, musicians and bankers, who surprisingly feared little in terms of reprobation by bringing together members of the Christian faith to partake in the amusements of the Jewish - this in a time when Prussia (present day Germany) discouraged the mingling of the two faiths. Why then, given the heightened state of antisemitism sweeping across Europe, was the music of Johann Sebastian Bach - and that of his descendants - welcome at the Prussian court, as performed by a Jewish musician?
Anatomical Bust of Bach's head.
Believed to be a close likeness
of the late composer.
In fact, it was a very Jewish family that would shine a beacon of light so brightly onto that of Bach (who was German) and onto his descendants - one that continues to illuminate up to the stars, concert halls and open air arenas to this day. Quite ironically, the efforts of those men and women responsible for re-introducing the works of the Bach family - thereby exposing them to pop culture status - was made possible by the proclamations and the fanfare sprouted off by a single family of Jewish musicians – some of whom were famous in their own right, others, who worked for the nobility and, as such, had friends in very high places – friends, who could make and break trends at the drop of the hat. The family of which I speak is of course the famous Mendelssohn clan and that of its immediate predecessors. Yes, the same Mendelssohn family that had produced amongst its offspring young Felix - the very same early romantic composer Richard Wagner later wrote of (with much distest) as an antagonizing member of (then) modern music in his infamous and very scandalous diatribe (Das Judenthum in Der Muzik, found here). It is certainly conceivable that a young Felix Mendelssohn grew up listening to performances of Bach within his private home. In 1813, Johan Friedrich Reichardt, the last Kapellmeister in the service of Prussia’s Frederick the Great (the latter himself a notorious anti-Semite and composer) had penned in his memoirs of a “Sebastian and Emmanuel [2]cult"at the residence of Daniel Itzig of Berlin (Itzig was Mendelssohn’s great-grand father), who not to mention, held a respectable position himself as a banker of the king and was considered the"most highly prized Jew in all of Prussia."Due to his close standing with the reigning elite, Itzig's words were to be taken with much gravitas.
Jewish composer Felix Mendelssohn
So beloved was the music of Bach at the homes of Itzig and later his descendants the Mendelssohn’s, that it would be in the year 1829, nearly 80 years to the passing of maestro Bach, that young Mendelssohn re-introduced to musical circles Bach’s sublime 1727 Matthäus-Passion (St. Matthews Passion). The "rediscovery"/introduction of Baroque maestro Johann Sebastian Bach nearly a century after the composers death was to be a grand event: in attendance would be Friedrich Wilhelm IV, the reigning ruler of Prussia[1] (who doubled as a musicologist) and his royal family in addition to the Prussian nobility, and notably the intellectual elite of the capital, headed by the theologian Schleiermacher, the philosopher Hegel, and the historian Droysen.
Sarah-Itzig Levy, great-aunt to Felix, would be
instrumental to young Mendelssohn in his
quest to honor the works of Bach.
The "re-birth" of Bach within the Mendelssohn family home is not an accomplishment to be understated, particularly when it comes to ushering the previously unknown piece (the Matthäus-Passion) toward infamy in both contemporary times and in the present era.
Modern listeners of Classical music often take for granted a seemingly instinctive ability recognize a tune by Bach - however were it not for the early support of the Itzig-Mendelssohn family and their strong ties to the Prussian ruling classes that had persisted for centuries, we, in the present era, may never have come to know of the Baroque masters' works.
For generations within the Mendelssohn abode, grandparents taught their grandchildren of the late composer, who in turn taught their children as if the musical kin had made some sort of an eternal pact within the family unit to keep the memory and works of maestro Bach alive. It would be through one Mdme. Sara Levy (sister to Felix Mendelssohn's maternal grandmother and therefore his great aunt) that Felix would be introduced to the music of Bach from a very early age. In fact, so frequent were their appointments of tutelage, the young composer had set out to dazzle audiences with a performance of Bach’s keyboard concerto in D minor: it was a triumph, and had even earned praise from contemporaneous composer Robert Schumann who had been in attendance to hear the concerto performed. As it turned out Mdme. Levy had already performed the solo 30 years earlier! This oversight, however, would not be considered to be anything out of the ordinary. Performance was a man’s arena, by and large. It is unlikely many would have remembered Mdme. Levy's performance some three decades previous. Although the works of Bach had undoubtedly been kept preserved and made alive by the Mendelssohn family for so many generations, the lions share of the credit must go to Felix, whose ingenious staging for the audience included men of significant influence (in world leaders), top musicians and the nobility in attendance. Often, just wooing a King or an Emperor would be enough to instill in an artist the belief in success and a level of infamy.
Prussian King Friedrich Wilhelm IV was
famously in attendance at Mendelssohn's 1829
production of Bach's Matthäus-Passion
Adding to the most deviceful plan was the strategic placement of fellow composersin attendance who would be seated in close proximity to the rulers and nobility, and who would, by ego's design then be forced to emulate the style performed that had so moved their King. This was perhaps the most shrewd idea of them all - offering the most profitable outcome - for in creating similar pieces by a multitude of artists, one is almost employed by design to reflect back upon it's originator: Bach. By composing in his vein to satiate the current trend, it seemed all parties concerned would profit: the lower classes could claim to share the tastes of the elite, the up and coming composers and musicians could presently work on a mold they knew would yield results to those who mattered, and the privileged few could ensure for themselves both wealth and fame by renting out concert halls and organizing events to stage works in the style and manner of Bach. The very essence of notoriety surrounding this once-forgotten composer was just the tonic required to woo enterprising musicians over to emulating the sound of Bach.
Perhaps the most notable - and certainly meaningful - reward to emerge from the tireless campaign of the Itzig/Mendelssohn's concerning the preservation and revitalization of Bach lay in the socio-religious evolution of the Prussian court itself - for it would be through the endavors of one enterprising Jewish family that the warring races of Jews and Christians could bond over a shared love offine music. The indefatigable work of the Mendelssohn's, along with their praised echoes of Bach would catapult the once neglected composer far beyond the four walls in which the maestro and his oeuvre existed only a product of hushed whispers of adoration - sung and performed from within a private estate - thrusting the Baroque masters' work into the very public concert halls where they justly belonged - and wherein even Prussian audiences set aside prejudice to listen to the music enjoyed by this most enlightened Jew - this Felix Mendelssohn.
Erbarme dic, Mein Gott (Have Mercy on Me, my God) from JS Bach's Matthäus Passion as sung by
Hungarian mezzo-soprano (and sometime (alto) Julia Hamari
Footnotes:
[1] Wilhelm reigned as King of Prussia from 1840-1861, making Bach, who died in 1750 a full 90 years in his grave at the time of coronation. Throughout this period, the legacy of Bach (and to some extent that of his children) was kept alive in the private homes of the Itzig and Mendelssohn families by means of preserving the music and legacy of the master musician postmortem through exclusively-attended in-house 'concert' performances. [2] To reflect the quote offered at the beginning of this article, the works of Bach, whilst living, did manage to achieve some sense of notoriety, yet stood far behind in comparison to his works re-performed postmortem by the Mendelssohns. Contemporaneously, Bach did have at least one meeting to then reigning King of Prussia Frederick the Great (1740-1786) who took not Johann Sebastian - but rather one of his sons, Carl Phillip Emmanuel Bach (CPE) under his esteemed wing where he would employ the young musician as a much coveted court musician. As for the father Bach? He was provided a theme on which to build a collection of keyboard canons and fugues (and other works), the source of the theme being the King himself. Bach would publish the set under the title the "Musical Offering".
A live performance of ‘Ostersonate,’penned by early 19th century composer and pianist Fanny Mendelssohn (sister of Felix) some 189 years ago in Berlin, is set to take place this Wednesday, March 8 at the Royal College of Music in London in celebration of International Women’s Day.
UPDATE: MARCH 8 2017: listen to the program on BBC3 RADIO now - available for the next 29 days:
The previously long ‘lost’ work – an Easter Sonata - first mentioned by Fanny in a private diary entry in 1829 (in which Fanny states she had performed it“at home”in April of that year), has only ‘resurfaced’ once before – in 1970 in France, when it was erroneously recorded under the authorship of the more famous of the siblings - in brother Felix, only to quietly disappear once more from the romantic era repertoire. The sonata would be tracked down in 2010 by Duke UniversityGraduate StudentDr. Angela Regina Macein the possession of a private collector.[1] Mace immediately recognized the handwriting on the manuscript to have belonged to Fanny. She would go on to cite the appearance of multiple corrections to the score by the same hand as being indicative of live, on-the-fly edits by an original composer, rather than by the hand of one taking dictation.[2] Mace would also make note of the recurrence of several stylistic elements unique to the sister Mendelssohn scattered throughout the manuscript. Armed with Mace’s recent discovery,Sheila Hayman,third great granddaughter to the Mendelssohn’s, urged London’s BBC3 Radio to be the first to première the Ostersonate – accredited with it’s original author – to Britain and the greater musical sphere – a request the radio station gladly took on to help celebrate Western Classical Music’s previously ‘unsung’ female composers. It is scheduled for a lunchtime performance, around 1 PM, and can be streamed live online for those listeners residing outside of Britain.
Watch the video below to hear a preview of Ostersonate, and a brief summary of the works’ history/authorship (Duke University):
Did You Know?
It was not uncommon for the era in which Fanny lived (early 19th century) for female composers and musicians of note to be suppressed by musical society and/or overshadowed by their immediate male kin. Whilst a woman of lower class was expected to be well read and well versed in the arts, literature, and particularly in music (all of which served as great boons to a potential husband), female musicians were routinely shunned from seeking public recognition or fame (the Mendelssohn’s father, Abraham, would famously inform his daughter in a private written exchange
“Music will perhaps become (Felix's) profession, whilst for you it can and must only be an ornament…”
Muse-ical kin: Fanny would famously provide counsel for Felix on his
upcoming projects, and even published her own compositions under his name.
Many a female composer/musician would serve as ‘ghostwriter’ – even as a private consultant – to her male peer throughout his esteemed career, a historically un-thankful task for women in possession of such talents (examples of this can be found in Felix Mendelssohn’s8th Opus(12 Gesänge, no.’s II, III & XII) and9th Opus(12 Lieder, no.’s VII, X, XII), all of which were attributed to the composer, but in reality penned by Fanny, who had the works published under her brother’s name as a means to see her music in print - albeit vicariously - though Felix. Wish to learn more about the discovery of the Ostersonate, and the highly complex, allegedly quasi-incestuous relationship between Felix and Fanny Mendelssohn[3]?
Read Dr. Angela Mace’s Dissertation on the siblings Mendelssohn below (eternal link):
Enjoy below Fanny's exquisite Notturno in G Minor,one of my favorite pieces by the composer. This brief Nocturne would have likely served as a staple-piece at the private salon of Fanny and husband Wilhelm Hensel(a painter at the Prussian court). Together, they would host intimate musical gatherings each Sunday, attended by some of Europe's most well respected and accomplished composers. Such notable figures included Hungarian composer and pianist Franz Liszt, and wife to composerRobert Schumann,Clara - successful in her own right as a musician and composer - and whose middle class status allowed her to rise within the upper echelon of high musical society:
Footnotes:
[1]The "private collector" would find the manuscript in a Paris bookshop back in 1970 - it had been considered lost for some 140 years prior to his purchase of the music. Fanny had mentioned completing an Easter Sonata in a letter to Felix in 1829 - this, in addition to a mention in her private diary of having performed the piece "at home" that same year.
[2]Apparently, the private collector of the Ostersonate was not at all convinced with Dr. Mace's findings, telling the grad student: "It can't be by Fanny...it's a masterpiece - very masculine, very violent."
[3] an assumption routinely made by music scholars due to the highly romanticized nature of the language employed by Fanny to her brother, which have been preserved in a slew of the pairs’ surviving written exchanges. Although not quite as sexual in tone as can be found in the private exchanges of 18th century Austrian composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart to his 'cozz buzz' (the maestro's nickname for his beloved first cousin) Maria Anna, Fanny's overzealous display of adulation for her brother and despair over her own wedding to Hensel has certainly raised the collective eyebrows of musical scholars studying the siblings Mendelssohn.
Sketch of Mendelssohn by Carl Müller, 15 September 1842, Frankfurt
Click on image to enlarge
A rare autograph manuscript of Mendelssohn's lied "Im Frühling" ("Ich hör' ein Vöglein locken"), WoO 18[1] has hit the Sotheby's auction block. The manuscript presently up for sale, signed and inscribed by the composer"zu freundlicher Erinnerung Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy, London, den 8ten July 1842"diverges "substantially" from the published scores of the work and is unrecorded in the Thematisch-systematisches Werkverzeichnis. The beautifully executed autograph, pictured below, is a must-have in the collection of any Mendelssohn aficionado. The lot (no. 23) is described by the auction house as"2 pages, folio (31.4 x 24.4cm), on a bifolium from an album, 12-stave paper, the 1st page blank."
The starting bid for this item is 17,000 GBP. Those interested must act quickly - the lot closes 14 July at 9:23 AM EDT. Click here to learn more about this item, or to place your bid.
From Sotheby's:
Re-discovered autograph manuscript, Im Frühling" ("Ich hör' ein Vöglein locken"),
WoO 18 by Felix Mendelssohn, author signed, dated London, the 8th July, 1842.
Click on image to enlarge | Sotheby's
"...notated in dark brown (nearly black) ink on up to four 3-stave systems per page, in B-flat major, marked "Andante", with an autograph correction in bar 5, containing a different text for the second verse from that found in the printed scores, together with many changes to the accompaniment in the third verse and differences to the dynamic markings throughout... The text in the second verse is completely different from the published versions, including the printed scores and Alfred Böttger's original poem. Here the text reads: "Und aus dem blauen Flieder ruft ohne Rast und Ruh, ihm tausend Liebeslieder die Braut als Antwort zu". There is a striking harmonic shift to a G major seventh chord, two bars before the final phrase in the voice, earlier than in the editions by Julius Rietz (c.1880) and Max Friedländer. It also contains revisions to the accompaniment in bars 34-35 and 50, and different chords in bars 20, 24, 27 and 31.
Mendelssohn's composing manuscript, now in Krakow, is dated 20 April 1841, but the song was not published until 1846, both as an octavo insert in an edition of Böttger's poems, and by J.J. Ewer of London as "I hear a small Bird calling". It is not known what control the composer exerted over either edition. Klemm of Leipzig published it again as no.1 of Zwei Gesänge, still without opus number, in 1849, after Mendessohn's death. Some but not all of the alterations found in this manuscript are confirmed in a later autograph given to Jenny Lind in 1845... This manuscript is not recorded in the Thematisch-systematisches Werkverzeichnis (2009), ed. R. Wehner: song no. K 107."
Above: Dame Janet Baker sings Mendelssohn's Ich hör' ein Vöglein locken under Daniel Barenboim. Geoffrey Parsons on piano.
Footnote:
[1]Not to be confused with Mendelssohn's 1829 lied of the same name, Im Frühling: Ihr frühlingstrunknen Blumem (12 Lieder for Voice and Piano, Op. 9 no. 4) with text by Johann Gustav Droysen. This manuscript concerns Im Frühling: Ich hör' ein Vöglein locken, WoO 18 from the composer's 1841 2 Songs (no.1) with text by Alfred Böttger, as heard above.
Felix Mendelssohn. This likeness of the composer
was painted in 1847 by Wilhelm Hensel, brother -
in-law to Felix through Fanny, the latter's sister.
The famous Christie’s Auction House in London caused quite the stir among fans of 19th century Romantic composer Felix Mendelssohn back in 2014 when it announced it would be putting up for auction a recently re-discovered manuscript authored by the famous musician late in his career: that of a long lost short lied, comprised of 29 bars for an alto voice and Piano (in A flat major), which Mendelssohn titled "Das Menschen Herz ist ein Schacht" (The heart of man is like a mine),after the second stanza of a poem by famed German writerFriedrich Rückert,Das Unveränderliche.
The tender lied, penned by Mendelssohn in 1842 when the composer was 33, had previously been known to scholars for some time – it first surfaced at an auction in Leipzig in 1862, hailed as an entirely “unknown” song[1]written by the composer, only to resurface once more at auction in 1872. The music, which prior to 2014 had never been published, is believed by scholars to have been a private commission for one“Hofrath (Councilor) Theichmann,”[2]former secretary to the Royal Theater in Berlin. Experts based their conclusions on a blurb from an accompanying catalogue handed out at the 1872 auction, which describes the lied as having been“Written down for Herr Privy Councillor Teichmann at his specific request.”[3]Das Menschen… appears to have received no further mention in surviving documents of either men, save for a letter of thanks from Teichmann to Mendelssohn dated 30 April 1842, in which the secretary thanks the composer for a[n] [unnamed] lied (and subsequently requests a copy for his sister in law).[4]
The manuscript remained largely forgotten until the 21st century, when it was brought to the attention of Christie’s in 2014. The only information released to the public at the time was that the manuscript - which also contained a handwritten letter in the hand of Mendelssohn instructing Herr Teichmann not to publish or otherwise circulate the lied – somehow came into the possession of a private collector in the United States, who, for reasons unspecified, wanted to sell the rare relic.
*CLICK TO ENLARGE* Manuscript for Felix Mendelssohn's 1842
lied "Das Menschen Herz ist ein Schacht," and accompanying letter,
instructing the recipient of the piece, Herr Teichmann, not to circulate
the work. The commission would be among Mendelssohn's last - he
would die some 5 years following the creation of Das Menschen, at age
38 in Leipzig. The document would first pop up at auction in the German
city in 1862, where it caused quite the spectacle as a hitherto unknown work.
The manuscript, and accompanying letter was sold by Christie’s Valuable Manuscripts and Printed Books department for a whopping £60,000 on May 21, 2014, some £35,000 over it’s top estimated selling price. Das Menschen... is a charming piece indeed: it is a metaphorical ode to the human heart, which Rückert compares to a mine – capable of producing vast riches: the likes of gold, silver and ore, but which can only offer to the outside world the gems (or lack of) that are contained within. The private lied received it’s world premiere onBBC Radio 4on May 6, 2014. Listen below to a blast from the past with a fine rendition performed by Assistant Professor of Voice at The University of Minnesota School of Music, Adriana Zabala, accompanied by Timothy Lovelace (Asst. Prof. of Collaborative Piano) with narration provided by Peter Mercer-Taylor, Asst. Prof. of Musicology the University:
Today citizens of Canada proudly celebrate the official birthday (note: not the actual birthday) of the nation's 19th century Constitutional Monarch, Queen Victoria, who reigned over the Great White North for the staggering length of nearly 64 years, making the former Queen the countries' third longest reigning monarch, just behind current Sovereign Queen Elizabeth II – who recently surpassed Victoria on the occasion of her 90th birthday last month, and whose reign now clocks in at over 64 years and counting; and that of 17th-to-early 18th century French King Louis XIV who reigned for over 72 years. Today, unravelingmusicalmyths takes a look back at the generous patronage of Victoria to the world of Western Classical Music. It is perhaps thanks in part to Hollywood’s occasional foray into the lives and times of the great (and not so great) Monarchs Britain that even laymen of history will be familiar with the whirlwind romance of the Princess and later Queen Victoria and her consort (and first cousin) Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, to whom she wed in 1840 at the Chapel Royal of St James's Palace in London. Victoria and Albert’s courtship and marriage was most unusual for a royal marriage – much like the Scottish Queen, Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots (also a former Canadian Sovereign as Queen Consort to the sickly 16th century FrenchKing Francis II), it was the Queen herself who proposed marriage to her future husband, filled to the brim with girlish brooding – although in Victoria’s case, the feelings of passion were more than mutual, and had a far happier ending, in spite of both Queens’ reluctance to share with their spouse The Crown Matrimonial. What is perhaps less known is the Royal couple’s impassioned and generous patronage of music – a shared affinity that would be tantamount into bringing the young relatives together before betrothal. In fact, the Queen Victoria would famously declare of her soon-to-be husband his prowess in the arena, when she penned the words “he sang to me some of his own compositions, which are beautiful, and he has a very fine voice. I also sang for him…” in the day following her proposal to her royal fiancée.
Victoria & Albert's gorgeous gilded piano, now
part of the Royal Collection Trust. Click here
to learn more about this exquisite instrument.
So cherished was the performance of music, and the creation of music that the princely duo would make it a frequent occurrence to perform for each other the works of famous contemporary composers – and, most impressively – pieces of music the Consort Albert himself had composed, which he would serenade Victoria with as she sat at the court’s gilded golden piano (in addition to having well established singers and pianists perform selections from Albert’s repertoire. The consort-king would also famously take a seat at the piano himself). So well admired were the works of Albert it is said that were it not for the role in which the Royal consort was stationed at birth, and the expectations expected of a figure representing such a role, the Prince would have pursued a career in composition. Few of Albert’s compositions survive, most of which had been composed prior to the couple’s Royal marriage, but those of which are presently made available convey a level of talent comparable to that of Schubert or Schumann – this, in spite of Albert humbly considering himself an “amateur musician.” Among the frequent guest performers at the couple’s residence at Buckingham Palace was the famous 19th century German composer Felix Mendelssohn, who, as historical evidence charmingly dictates, made the Royal couple weak in the knees. So stalwart an admirer was Albert of Mendelssohn and his oeuvre, he arranged for the Queen to meet the famous romantic era composer by orchestrating a private concert for the pair at Buckingham Palace following a most pleasing visit with the composer the prior evening, in which Mendelssohn had traveled to London to hand deliver to Albert a correspondence from the consorts’ cousin, Frederick William IV, King of Prussia. Mendelssohn happily obliged, and, as the saying goes – the rest was history. It was later recorded, following the composer’s first visit to the royal palace, that the giddy couple was more than excited (and quite nervous) at meeting their musical hero, with one Mendelssohn biographer describing the overindulgent pair as “quite fluttery” for “all their exalted station.” Victoria would as much as confirm this when she took to her diary to recall the couples first meeting with the composer: "After dinner came Mendelssohn, whose acquaintance I was so anxious to make…”
Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy
Felix would become a staple member of the musical royal household and of the private repertoire performed by the couple at Buckingham Palace, having performed for the Queen his famous Lieder ohne Worte (Songs without Words), and performing impressive musical feats such as improvising on the themes of the Austrian national anthem and the British patriotic, “Rule Britannia,” to which the Sovereign was much impressed, recording in her trusty diary:“He began immediately and really I have never heard anything so beautiful, the way in which he blended them both together and changed over from one to the other, was quite wonderful as well as the exquisite harmony and feeling he puts into the variations, and the powerful rich chords, and modulations, which reminded me of all his beautiful compositions.”
Strauss I
This homage-of sorts to the Queen and to Britain had been preceded 4 years earlier in 1838 by another famous composer of whom Victoria patronized: grandfather of the waltz, Johann Strauß the Elder (-Strauss I), who, following a disastrous debut at London, would climb his way to success through mingling in high circles (of the British nobility), and through the patronage of the then-Princess Victoria in whom Strauß was commissioned to provide for the state ball honoring Victoria’s accession to the throne a sequence of waltzes, which Strauß complied, penning his famous Huldigung der Konigin Victoria von Grossbritannien (An Homage to Queen Victoria of Great Britain):
Edward Elgar
Yet another member of the musical arts in whom Victoria and Albert supported was a formative Edward Elgar – whose astronomical rise to success would later see the English composer gainfully employed as Master of the King’s Musik under King George V (grandson to Victoria and Albert). In addition to assisting in the makings of musical icons and rubbing shoulders with Classical music’s elite, Victoria herself would famously patronize many an opera and theater, attending some fifty performances annually!
Further reading:
A BRIEF HISTORY OF CANADA & THE MONARCHY:
Canada as we know it today is known as a Sovereign State. It is also one of the 16 Commonwealth countries that comprise the Commonwealth of Nations. This makes the present reigning Queen, Elizabeth II the nation's current Head of State. Our great nation’s (I am a proud Canuck) ties to the Royal family extends back centuries, and includes rulers of both Britain and France, covering Canada’s pre-confederate standing as Colonies of both Britain and France, and, later as a British Dominion upon the nation’s Confederation in 1867. Through many years of constitutional action, the Dominion would not achieve full autonomy until 1931, under the so-called Statute of Westminster Act. This meant that Canada would be re-born as an Independent Nation whilst sharing as Head of State the Sovereign of the United Kingdom alongside other members of the Commonwealth of Nations. To many Canadians, the passing of this Statute would seemingly render the ‘powers’ of the Monarch inconsequential. This is not altogether true, in that our current Head of State remains the Queen, who, aside from performing what are essentially ceremonial duties, continues to retain the power over the assignation of the Nations governors general (the chief representative of the Crown in a given commonwealth nation), and provides assent for the passing of bills into law. The Sovereign’s role in the Canadian Government can be quite confusing for many a citizen. Currently “the executive government and authority of and over Canada” is vested in the Queen through the Nation’s constitution. However, the actual role of the Sovereign is quite minimal: this is because, as an autonomous nation, the Queen agrees to delegate the vast majority of her powers to the current and the most senior minister of cabinet in the executive branch of government – currently Justin Trudeau, the countries Prime Minister, who governs on the “Queen's Behalf,” passing laws in her name ‘using her authority.’ Other duties of the Sovereign are performed by the aforementioned Governor General, with each province representing the Queen via a lieutenant governor. The Queen is also the nation’s commander-in-chief of the Canadian armed forces. The Queen Victoria, however, is unique in the aspect that the Monarch was the first Queen to have been occupying the British Throne upon Canada’s Confederation (when Canada became a nation: the Dominion of Canada, on July 1, 1867), and is known colloquially as the “Mother of the Confederation.” Although there exists no evidence of Victoria acknowledging the landmark occasion in the many letters of the Queen that survive, the Queen’s influence can still be felt today across the nation in it’s many preserved architectural wonders of the so-called Victorian era, and in the names of both cities and capitals themselves, which the former Sovereign both named and approved (it was Victoria’s selection of Ottawa as the capital of the United Province of Canada that would allow the Ontario city to remain the nation’s Capital) and in the many institutions named after her.
Join in the singing of Our great Nations' Royal Anthem "God Save the Queen" with Prince William
and Duchess Kate (filmed during an earlier performance for the separate Canada Day holiday):
Discover more:
A brief retrospective of the National anthem “God save the King/Queen” - Composition history and the hunt for the originator of the tune at Cmuse
Many a composer and more than a handful of conductors, both German born and Jewish immigrants or nationals would flee the Third Reich during Nazi Germany’s tumultuous tirade across Europe. When it comes to the Nazi regime and the world of Western Classical music, its seems the only reference point for many a classical music layman is that of Richard Wagner and his alleged full-on hatred of the Jewish peoples. Few of whom who have heard his majestic works, and even fewer who realize Wagner was already 50 years in his grave by the time Hitler was elected Chancellor of Germany - and remarkably fewer still - who have actually read Das Judenthum in der Musik, (or at least heard of it), take into consideration the culture and time in which artists native to Germany lived, suffered, and thrived. While it does nothing to excuse the tenure of his writings by present standards, it should be noted that at the height of 19th century Europe, Wagner was far from alone in his sentiments: In Russia, the composer Pyotr Ilych Tchaikovsky once referenced what he called “the crowd of dirty Jews” claiming their “accompanying odours” as having “spoilt my pleasure in returning to my beloved native land” in a letter to his patron; even in the century preceding him - to the west in France, the noted French philosopher Voltaire was making his mark not only as a pioneer of the French Enlightenment but also as an unabashed, very vocal anti-semite;[1] and likewise, as the so called “Age of Reason” drew to a close, entire kingdoms and empirical rulers alike shared such disdain for the Jewish peoples, not the least of whom was Friedrich II of Prussia (better known as Frederick the Great), all of whom, despite exhibiting a raging streak of ugly anti-semitism, have been hailed as heroes by posterity – so why is Wagner exclusively hand selected for such public dissection in contrast to such iconic figures?
The dictator & former Chancellor of Germany,
Adolf Hitler
The answer lies in the mid-twentieth century, when an ethically challenged and convoluted Ruler in Adolf Hitler drew on personal and exaggerated interpretations of all things Wagner – even down to the late composers famously self-authored libretti, which the stalwart pro-Aryan would employ as his casus belli to incite further hatred of the Jews, which, in the case of Wagner, he hoped to use as an underhanded psychological tactic against his German brethren - by creating for them a "pop culture ideology," one which would seem to suggest that even icons ‘shared’ his own twisted axioms.
It is a rather tired argument – I daresay – even a cliché to state that the perpetrator of such prejudicial sentiment in fact surrounded himself with the very peers he disdained – but in Wagner’s instance, the composers relationships with peoples of Jewish Origin had been well documented – almost as much as the composers megalomanic and opportunistic traits.
In studying Das Judenthum in der Musik, one sentiment becomes quite conspicuously clear: the diatribe, although arguably anti-semitic in nature, when taken into context of the popular sentiment that existed across Europe at the time of his existence, in tandem with Wagner’s rather petty and narcissistic personality toward western classical music’s current status quo (one remembers his innovative induction of gesamtkunstwerk into western classical music that would completely overhaul orchestral (and operatic) music as our predecessors knew it) contextually, Das Judenthum…was more of an affront to the accomplishments and influence of Jewish composers; two of whom the contentious composer made the subject of focus for the article in question: Felix Mendelssohn[2] and Giacomo Meyerbeer– two men of high achievement and sentiment, who, conveniently, happened to be Jewish, and two composers in whom Wagner felt himself in intense competition, and in the case of Meyerbeer, in personal debt[✡](and we all know how Wagner treated those in whom he was indebted!) Somehow through posterity, thanks in part to an admirer in Adolf Hitler, who often bastardized and misinterpreted his musical heroes' sentiments (and even his libretti!) Wagner’s sleaze piece would become known only as a full blown diatribe against an entire group of people.
Of course, it is entirely up to interpretation how Wagner would have felt in twentieth century Germany. I’d like to think that if Wagner were alive in the days of Hitler’s reign of terror, that the enigmatic composer would be living somewhere, possibly at his villa in Lucerne, in a continued self imposed exile, hiding from his debtors. Wagner's incessant need to be formally ever present and his manipulative and opportunistic streak made the feisty German a master of persuasion. 19th century Europe knew Wagner as a con, a debtor and a pot-stirrer who would say, or do anything to make himself known and to line his royal-like coffers. Personally, it is in this vein that I view Herr Wagner. It hardly makes the anti-Jewish sentiment any less viscous, but the man that single handedly convinced a King to sink an entire nation into 14 million marksof debt, is a man whose opinion flickers like a candle in the wind. I can hardly see him as a militant.
What makes Wagner even more controversial are the innuendoes, spread chiefly amongst those who know neither the history of the man or of his music - who allege there to be symbols, as “blatant” as the alleged Masonic “propaganda” some conspiracy theorists swear they can find in the libretto of Mozart’sDon Giovanni – this time in reference to what Wagner himself once called “Jewishness in Music.” I haven’t found any, in all of my years spent studying this genre with an open mind. Wagner’s behemoth works, if anything, are an homage to Viking and Teutonic legend – "all encompassing works of art" that doffs it’s cap at the school of thought shared by the iconic German’s philosophical hero,Arthur Schopenhauer. Even if Wagner had been alive by the time WWII commenced, and, had he remained in the "Fatherland," this too, would bring the composer’s motive under continued debate.
[✡]Meyerbeer was instrumental from a financial standpoint (and as a dominating figure in classical music) in bringing Wagner’s early opera Rienzi to critical acclaim, assisting in staging the work at Dresden in 1841.
Dueling Maestri & the Third Reich:
Fast forward to over half a century later and the era that made Wagner a present day household name, and one would find factual ties amongst high ranking Nazi officials and living, breathing icons of Western Classical Music.
It was not uncommon during the Nazi regime for German national composers and conductors to remain on native soil, provided his oeuvre conformed to the repertoire set forth by the “Führer.” (It should also be noted, for posterity's sake, that whilst she doesn't speak for all victims of concentration camps, Anita Lasker-Wallfisch, survivor of the notorious camp at Auschwitz, and avid detester of all things Wagner, declared once and for all to British producer Steven Fry that, while the hostages were forced to play music to “entertain” their German guards, the works of Wagner were never played. Her reasoning seems to make sense: “We certainly did not play Wagner…first of all you need to realize that this band…this a cappella as we used to call it - consisted of… you couldn’t play Wagner if you tried! [Wagner demands a big orchestra, and big] blowing instruments!”) Unravelingmusicalmyths has discussed such orchestrations and Wagner innovations at length in previous postings. They can be found within the Wagner Archives.
Two icons of Western Classical Music, both of whom remained in Germany throughout the war, one of whom even shared Nazi membership would, like Wagner before them, become household names (yet, oddly, not for scandalous reasons, but chiefly based on talent,despite holding Nazi membership and profiting from the war): the conductors Wilhelm Furtwängler and ‘upstart’ Herbert von Karajan.
Conductors of the Third Reich:
Herbert von Karajan
Both conductors thrived on Germany, and remained on German soil throughout the Reich's rein of terror, neither of whom are suggested to have held in their hearts any hatred for the Jewish peoples (in fact, Furtwängler was very vocal against the "Führer's" position). This is rather peculiar from a semitical standpoint in that both musician's chief reasonings for continuing to perform, almost exclusively for high ranking Nazi Officials, and in the case of von Karajan, holding Nazi membership - was based on economic gains. Apparently (although one has to wonder if the proper term should be "allegedly" if we are being fair to Wagner’s legacy, who remember, was 50 years in the grave at this juncture) that venomous spot was instead reserved for eachother! Just one viewing of Karajan’s beautifully televised performance of Pyotr Ilych Tchaikovsky'sPiano concerto no. 1 with pianist Alexis Weissenberg and the Berliner Philharmoniker is sufficient evidence enough of a megalomanic man, hyperaware of himself and his abilities, and his unabashed efforts, no matter how grand, to make his presence known (sound familiar?) At the commencement of WWII, however, Furtwängler was the man about town – the go-to conductor, and both the chocolate cakewith the cherry on top.
It would be relatively early on in he war that Austria had been annexed to Germany, and with the monumental change brought the gift of the conductor Karajan (known about town as the “wonder”) from Salzburg who had captivated audiences during an especially dramatic orchestration of Wagner’s epic Tristan, which would aid theconductor in earning for himself a rather lucrative contract drafted by Deutsche Grammophon.
Whilst in Berlin, the Nazi party member and conductor would earn from his national and 'adopted national' peers an enthusiastic reception – this, in spite of the conductor working with a grievously small repertoire with which to choose from. There was Carl Orff, and Strauss..and other lesser known politically acceptable or neutral oevures at his disposal.
Conductors of the Third Reich: Wilhelm Furtwängler
The elder Furtwängler grew to despise the younger conductor, who had received heaps of praise by top officials of Rank, not the least of whom was Joseph Goebbels,Reich Minister of Propaganda to Adolf Hitler, who much admired the young Karajan, and had him ‘shortlisted’ in his memoirs under the title of "Musicians blessed by God."
As the stronghold of the Reich slowly began to crumble - with both officials and laymen diving into dueling factions, so too had the already contentious relationship between Furtwängler and Karajan. Bickering would come to a hilt when, whilst conducting at a performance of Die Meistersinger by Hitler’s most beloved of all composers, Richard Wagner, Karajan found his performancewas less to the dictator's satisfaction. The deeply insultedFührer was furious: this newfound rage was more than likely spurned on by the conductor Karajan exchanging nuptials with a woman by the surname of Gutermann - who the Führer took to be Jewish – which she was, by a grandfather). The devious and opportunistic Furtwängler, who had already become the source of some contention amongst the 'elite' members of the Third Reichdue to his protestations against anti-semitism in music, must have felt himself on the way out, and soon to become crestfallen from Hitler's good graces, as he immediately seized upon his nemesis’ downtime away from the sun by using his own influence in Austria to get maestro Karajan effectively banned from the nation’s annual Salzburg Festival for a whopping period of nearly 14 years! As if riding a tsunami as if it were a three foot high wave, the scandalous Furtwängler wasn’t yet finished trashing his competitor, denouncing positive reviews of his nemesis thusly : "If they [the critics] overrate material qualities such as the technique of conducting from memory, they are prizing hard work instead of artistic practice. They are aligning themselves with the stupid people who never seem to be in short supply, and who feel nostalgic for the circus when they are in the concert hall."
Yikes!
View below an excerpt from Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto no. 1, just one of a slew of lavishly produced 'films' created by the conductor Herbert von Karajan (the epic display of pretentiousness as frequently exhibited by this larger than life conductor is so piquant, it almost becomes delicious!):
Footnotes:
[1]according to author Avner Falk, in his work “Anti-Semitism: A History and Psychoanalysis of Contemporary Hatred,” Voltaire’s intense hatred of the Jews may have been influenced by the Francophile King Frederick II of Prussia. Allegedly, Voltaire had fallen victim to the con in a Jewish jeweler by the name of Abraham Hirschl. He successfully sued and won judgement against the corrupt businessman, although Voltaire’s victory celebrations would be short lived: once Frederick (the Great) learned of the litigation, the enraged King expressed to Voltaire his disgust in what Avner references as “a Christian’s lawsuit with a lowly Jew." So disgusted was the King, he is alleged to have expelled the noted philosopher from court before having him placed under arrest!
This in turn, prompted the humiliated and banished Voltaire to pen a series of scathing, robustly anti-semitical writings, referring to the Jewish peoples as a “stubborn,” “superstitious” race who practiced “hollowed usury.”
Avner references further quotes by Voltaire as originally re-published under the writer Chaim Potok: “They are, all of them, born with raging fanaticism in their hearts…I would not be in the least bit surprised if these people would not some day become deadly to the human race,” and “You have surpassed all nations in impertinent fables, in bad conduct, and in barbarism. You deserve to be punished, for this is your destiny.” (Potok 1978, pp. 365-366, quoting Voltaire 1764).
[2]So virulent a strain of anti-semitism across Europe existed at the time of Wagner, that even the patriarch Mendelssohn and his wife would denounce Judaism, forcing their son Felix into a (reformed) Christian Baptism at an early age and defiantly refusing to have their son circumcised (a tradition of the Jewish faith). So adamant was the father Mendelssohn that he and his wife would also seek baptism of the Christian faith in 1822, adopting the very gentile-sounding surname of Mendelssohn-Bartholdy (which they had already used informally for nearly a decade prior). The patriarch Abraham would famously further drive such anti-Jewish sentiment home to his son when a penned the following proclamation in a letter to Felix: "There can no more be a Christian Mendelssohn than there can be a Jewish Confucius." Even his immediate and extended family would help to progenerate Abraham's cause with an uncle to Felix adopting his surname after the German quarter (former) of Berlin: Luisenstadt.
There is some cause to believe Felix took offense to the religious and personal demands of his mother and father: Felix would frequently sign his correspondence under the neutral surname(s) Mendelssohn Bartholdy, in direct opposition to his father's urging for his son to drop the patronymic "Mendelssohn" from his signature altogether. Further evidence to support Mendelssohn's possible allegiance to the Jewish faith lies in the writings of his sister, Fanny, who once declared in a written exchange to her brother that the "name...Bartholdy...is one we all detest."
Whatever his religious allegiance, it mattered not to Wagner, who saw Felix as first and foremost, a Jew.
Did you know?
Friedrich II of Prussia was himself an accomplished composer and flautist, composing some 100 flute sonatas, a variety of symphonies and even a military march. Not only was Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach (son of Johann Sebastian) just one of many accomplished musicians employed at his royal court, the Prussian King even inspired the patriarch Bach to pen "The Musical Offering" (a collection of canons and fugues for keyboard) after meeting with the composer in Potsdam in 1747. The master of the baroque would dedicate his music to the King.
Listen below to a collection of Frederich’s “Der Große” (“The Great”) concertos for transverse flute:
In the first installment of this series concerning artistic worlds colliding, I will highlight some of the creative realm's most fruitful connections and shared admirations. Whether ascending the heights of greatness through parallel paths, or via a complex web of interpersonal connections, all of the icons mentioned below would leave an indelible, lasting impact on the face of art itself.
Gershwin moonlighted as a talented portrait
artist. Above, he can be seen painting the
likeness of fellow composer Arnold
Schoenberg.
In an age where the goal of mastering multiple disciplines was desired and polymath status revered, a well rounded education in the arts undoubtedly proved a signal of good breeding. To achieve this lofty ideal, poets, composers, and painters alike regularly crossed fields, showcasing their talents across a range of media under the umbrella of liberal arts. Even in the absence of a protean lifestyle, it was not uncommon for individual masters of complimentary art forms to exist within a single family unit. Felix Mendelssohn, Arnold Schoenberg and George Gershwin were all accomplished painters and composers, each attaining a level of recognition within their adopted realms, whilst John Cage shifted focus in his later years to the visual arts - producing a multitude of drawings and prints in a minimalist fashion, paralleling the style of music for which he was renown. The visceral intensity that can be found among Schoenberg's artistic oeuvre in particular - specifically those which focus on vision and gaze - drew the admiration of consummate contemporary painters Oskar Kokoschka, Egon Schiele, and Max Oppenheimer (all of whom would capture the composer's likeness on canvas). Although somewhat of a fleeting affair with the brush (Schoenberg's artistic output would correspond with the introduction of atonality into his musical style - he would abandon his side career in 1912) the composer considered his creations on canvas to be as important as his primary outlet of expression. In a 1949 interview with the American music biographer Halsey Stevens heard here, the (largely) self-taught* Schoenberg described in detail his love of both media:
"In fact, it was to me the same as making music. It was to me a way of expressing myself, of presenting emotions, ideas, and other feelings; and this is perhaps the way to understand these paintings or not to understand them. They would probably have suffered the same fate as I have suffered; they would have been attacked and scolded...the same would happen to them what happened to my music. This, I mean, would (be) understood or not understood... I expressed myself in the same manner as I did it in music. I never was very capable of expressing my feelings or emotions in words. I don’t know whether this is the cause why I did it in music and also why I did it in painting, or vice versa. That I had this (way) as an outlet, I could renounce expressing something in words."
Schoenberg's foray into atonality in music - beginning in 1908 with the fourth movement of his second string quartet - and his most striking artwork (that of the Blicke: a series of up close, personal - and often quite harsh - angst-ridden self portraits) parallel both the personal and professional conflicts experienced by the composer.
*Above: The infamous Blicke portraits. Top row:
from left-right: Green Self-Portrait, 1910; Self-Portrait, 1910; Bottom row: The Red Gaze,1910; Tears, Undated (first displayed 1912).
Although Schoenberg briefly studied under
Gerstl, he denied being artistically influenced
by his former confidante.
(Click on image to enlarge)
Some three weeks after completing his career transforming 10th opus, Schoenberg uncovered the ongoing, elicit affair between his beloved wife Mathilde and the Viennese expressionist Richard Gerstl - a painter nearly a decade Schoenberg's junior and a confidante once considered so close, the pair not only shared a studio, they also vacationed as a trio (it was at the Schoenberg's rental property in the Austrian lakeside town of Gmunden that the composer discovered the amorous couple in flagrante delicto). The lovers' indiscretions would continue until the intervention of Anton Webern, who persuaded Mathilde to end the affair. Feeling himself ostracized from both his inamorata and from Schoenberg's influential circle, Gerstl would end his own life via a violent suicide, by stabbing and hanging himself.[1] Further compromising Schoenberg's already fragile mental state was the reception to the composer's new, atonal style of music: largely scathing in nature, he would find the fruits of his life's work subject to mass condemnation by the Viennese critical establishment. It is difficult to interpret the Blicke series of self portraits, painted during this period as anything but autobiographical. From the Green Self-Portait to Tears, they reflect raw human emotion and the various stages of grief - the disembodied heads a bleak representation of the excruciating alienation the composer undoubtedly felt as a result of betrayal and of loss, both personally and professionally.
Above: Schoenberg's String Quartet no. 2, op. 10. The famed Russian painter and theorist Vasily Kandinsky was so floored by Schoenberg's Second String Quartet - in particular it's fourth, atonal movement, heard above - he would pen a letter to the composer, praising him for his daring new compositional method:
"You have realized in your work that which I…have so long sought from music. The self-sufficient following of its own path, the independent life of individual voices in your compositions, is exactly what I seek to find in painterly form."
Like Schoenberg, who set aside existing rules of harmony in favor of a new sound, Kandinsky sought to break from traditional figurative modes of painting. The two would become personally acquainted, with Kandisky showcasing Schoenberg's paintings in his own Blaue Reiter exhibition in 1911.
Although Schoenberg's second string quartet was composed before he discovered the affair between his wife and Gerstl - he would document the affair in the subsequent works Erwartung (Op. 17, 1909) and Die glückliche Hand (Op. 18, 1910).
Mendelssohn's illustrated facade for the
first Gewandhaus, executed in
remembrance of Cherubini's Ali Baba,
conducted by Felix on 11 February 1836
Felix Mendelssohn undertook art instruction from an early age, compiling scrapbooks of both pen and ink and pencil drawings by the tender age of 13. He would also try his hand at watercolor painting, expertly capturing the serene landscapes which caught his fancy during his excursions to Switzerland, Scotland and Italy. To the left, we see the facade of Leipzig's first Gewandhaus, painted by Felix to commemorate a performance, held in February 1836, of the sextet from Luigi Cherubini's opera Ali Baba, which Mendelssohn himself conducted (an excerpt of the opera appears below the facade). The striking watercolor, dated 23 Feb 1836, may have been intended as a gift for the betrothal of the soprano Henriette Grabau, who performed in the production. In the absence of a protean lifestyle, a career in the arts still thrived within families practising multiple creative disciplines: the ancestors and descendants of Gustav Holst and Johann Sebastian Bach may have eschewed the title of a Renaissance Man (despite being surrounded by musical behemoths) in favor of a single artistic outlet, however they too were undoubtedly influenced by those within their respective inner circles who worked in like-fields:
Badende Hirten in einem Wald by Johann Sebastian Bach
the Younger (Click on image to enlarge)
Johann Sebastian Bach the Younger, grandson to the great baroque composer though the Elder's son Carl Philipp Emanuel, is alleged to have been named after his more famous ancestor in the hope that through him, the musical legacy synonymous with the Bach paternal line would live on - through grandfather to father, from father to son ad infinitum.[2] Carl would, however, prefer to spend his young life immersed in composition of a different ilk, taking to writing poetry and earning a living as a painter and draughtsman. His idyllic Badende Hirten in einem Wald (Shepherds Bathing in a Forest) drew its inspiration from the quill of the great Scottish poet James Thomson - in particular, a bathing scene from the latter's The Seasons. Thomson's Seasons would later serve to inspire Joseph Haydn's 1801 secular oratorio of the same name.
Above: The Wiener Philharmoniker and Konzertvereinigung Wiener Staatsopernchor perform Haydn's The Seasons under maestro Nikolaus Harnoncourt
Before the name Gustav Holst became synonymous with the musical manifestation of the planets which form our vast solar system, his great-uncle, Theodor von Holst (whose moniker Gustav inherited as a middle name) was busying himself as a child prodigy - on the canvas. His early drawings attracted the attention of seasoned artists Henry Fuseli and Sir Thomas Lawrence, and later, his paintings drew the praise of the Pre-Raphaelite master Dante Gabriel Rossetti, and famed symbolist painter William Blake (two icons I will further touch on in this article). Von Holst was revered within the illustrator community during the mid 19th century, becoming the first artist to illustrate Mary Shelley's Frankenstein in 1831, in addition to drawing scenes from the works of Dante, Virgil, Shakespeare,Goethe and Hugo.
Accomplished painters, poets, and literary icons have also contributed to music - from composing libretti to writing sonnets, to fashioning wardrobe and set design for operatic productions. The aforementioned painter Rossetti also astonished as a poet and songwriter - his ca. 1870/71 sonnet Silent Noon was covered in 1903 by the English composer Ralph Vaughan Williams - initially as an independent work, before becoming incorporated into the composer's song cycle The House of Life the following year. In turn, dominating literary figures of the 20th century often turned to the music of Swiss composer Othmar Schoeck. His haunting suite of songs for male voice and orchestra, "Lebendig-Begraben" (Buried Alive) so impressed James Joyce, who first heard the cycle in Zurich in 1935, that the poet actively sought out the composer to make of him an acquaintance. Schoeck's cycle, which borrowed its text from the pen of Swiss poet Gottfried Keller, would later be translated into English by Joyce, which itself was in turn adapted once more into music - this time, into a song, composed in 1972 for the German lyric baritone Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau by American composer Samuel Barber. The first entry in a three part cycle - Now I Have Fed up and Eaten the Rose - aptly titled Three Songs, was commissioned by the Lincoln Center Chamber Music Society for Fischer-Dieskau. It marked Barber's 45th opus.
Below: English tenor Ian Bostridge performs William's Silent Noon (left). The composer's treatment of Rossetti's paradox of time - and its fleeting serenity - is utterly transcendent. Schoeck's opus can be heard on the right, performed by its dedicatee, Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau:
Blake, the esteemed painter and print maker, preceded Rossetti in his proficiency for the liberal arts. The polymath also indulged in poetry of the first order, many of them of quite lyrical quality. Vast and varied are the interpretations by composers into music of both the master's poetry, songs and painting. Perhaps the most notable of these translations into the medium of music is Sir Hubert Parry's treatment (and Edward Elgar's infamous orchestration) of Blake's poem And did those feet in ancient time from the preface of his epic Milton: A Poem in Two Books. The hymn is better known to the English populous as Jerusalem, and likewise widely acknowledged as the nation's unofficial, alternative national anthem.
Another English composer worth mentioning, Benjamin Britten, twice translated into music a mixed genre watercolor and moral on the unseemly effects of unexpressed rage and revenge: Blake's A Poison Tree, published in 1794 as a part of his Songs of Experience (a collection of self-illustrated poetry (right).
Blake's watercolor and moral "A Poison Tree"
from the master's Songs of Experience.
Britten interspersed Pears' selections with
extracts of Blake's proverbs - A Poison Tree is
immediately preceded by the words: "The bird a nest, the spider a web, man friendship."
Although originally set to music by the composer in 1934, a second version was included by Britten in his 1965 cycle Songs and Proverbs of William Blake. The subject matter for the cycle was selected by Britten's personal and professional partner, tenor Peter Pears.
A Poison Tree is just one extract from the through-composed piece - the other selections are musical settings from Blake's Proverbs of Hell, Auguries of Innocence, and Songs of Experience. Like Barber's Three Songs, Britten's setting of Blake's moral was in dedication to the baritone Fischer-Dieskau.
On its surface, the moral of A Poison Tree is a stark one: to never allow anger to seethe inside oneself without expressing it, for if rage is allowed to brew silently in both mind and heart, it will inevitably poison not only the soul of its host, it will also destroy everything in its path.
Objects and people, once considered beautiful by the emotionally assaulted, thus become withered and ugly as they become infected by the poison of unbridled rue. The newly defiled beings, in turn, become ugly themselves - passing on to another the sickly poison as evil reincarnates into the soul of each and every person touched by the diseased party - setting into motion a perpetual cycle of destruction not unlike a noxious plague.
Blake chose to paint in both words and brush this metaphor quite literally, with the seething vitriol of the protagonist infiltrating nature itself, in the form of an apple (which his foe, naively unaware of the rage encapsulated inside - takes a bite, and thus poisoned, promptly falls dead).
Above: Blake's fiendishly delectable moral A Poison Tree performed by the great Canadian Bass-baritone Gerald Finley on vocals, accompanied by English pianist Julius Drake.
In reality, Blake's moral - and the whole of the master's Songs of Experience - bears a deeper meaning:
published in 1794 at the height of the Terror occurring in Revolutionary France, the songs parallel the socio-political unrest across the English channel and the subsequent repressive laws that a panic-stricken British government enforced upon its citizens. Just four years prior, Blake had published an illustrated collection of morals, of which Songs of Experience would become counterpart: Songs of Innocence. Produced in 1789 during a hopeful period of harmonious reform just prior to la Terreur, Songs of Innocence focused on exaltation of the divine as found in all of creation. This concept was much in contrast to Songs of Experience, in which Blake explores the consequences of man being subject to an authoritarian Deity and His oppressive laws (a regime of which even a defiant Lucifer rebelled, effectively making him the world's first protestor).
The morals contained in the latter collection can therefore be viewed as a retrospective study of man's rebellion and his inner conflicts - both spiritual and political - as both concepts contrast and support each other in the context of a modern, hypocritical world post-Eden. Together, Songs of Innocence, and Songs of Experience - and the morals contained within - were a testament to a burgeoning romantic ideology in a time of an intense political - and for many, a spiritual - revolt.
French playwright-novelist Jean Cocteau, the
brainchild behind Satie's Parade, also made a
living in the artistic realm. Here, he depicts
Picasso congratulating Stravinsky on a
successful reprisal of Le Sacre du Printemps.
Cocteau depicts the pair in 1917 Rome, where
both Pablo and Igor were attending rehearsals
of Parade. The onset of WWI had caused a
minor exodus from Paris into the Italian
capital among the French artistic community,
prompting Picasso to take up residence in
the city. This, and other early drawings would
be published as a collection of line cuts,
cheekily dedicated from Cocteau to Picasso
with the warning: “Poets do not draw. They untie the knots in handwriting and then retie them differently.” History would a much more
positive opinion of these simple works.
It would be considered a sacrilege to omit the power couples birthed in the early 20th century as a by-product of having worked with, or having been acquainted with Russian impresario Sergei Diaghilev and his famed itinerant ballet company, the Ballet Russes. Numerous composers collaborated with famous artists as a result of this shared connection: Pablo Picasso and Henri Matisse each lent a hand in set design and in textiles, and although other notable painters (including Jean Cocteau, Georges Braque, André Derrain, Joan Miro, Max Ernst and Giorio de Chirico) collaborated with the company, it is the contributions of these two legendary icons in particular that are considered most revolutionary for their time, and the fruits of their labor remain instantly recognizable even to the uninitiated spectator. Picasso was involved in the design of six ballets for Diaghilev - the first production, 1917's Parade, choreographed by Léonide Massine (and written by poet Jean Cocteau with music composed by Erik Satie), showcased a mix of figurative art and the avant garde, as the famed Spanish painter revisited a Saltimbanque scene for the production's drop curtain (previously explored by the artist during his Blue and Rose periods[3] and a cubist theme for both costume and scenery. Other notable collaborations with Picasso include Manuel de Falla'sLe Tricorne (1919) and Darius Milaud'sLe Train Bleu (1924).
Parade was roundly lambasted by critics, prompting an infuriated Satie to send a series of expletive-fueled postcards to the critic Jean Poueigh, who had recently published a negative review of the ballet in the French newspaper Les Carnets de la Semaine (Satie was later briefly jailed after Poueigh successfully sued him for libel).
The ballet, however, was not without merit - it would mark the first time the independent creations of individual artists came together as a collective unit in the theater. This revolutionary pairing of the creatively inclined prompted the French poet Guillaume Apollinaire, who wrote the program notes for the ballet, to describe the production as "une sorte de surréalisme" (a sort of serialism).
Apollinaire's use of the term "surrealism" would soon enter the artistic lexicon, when some seven years following the premiere of Parade, it was adopted as the moniker of the artistic movement which was rapidly infiltrating the liberal arts across Europe.
Below: A recreated performance of Erik Satie's Parade by the Europa Danse Academy. Click here to view a clearer version (highlights only)
From Apollinaire's program notes (extract):
"...it is a scenic poem transposed by the innovative musician Erik Satie into astonishingly expressive music, so clear and simple that it seems to reflect the marvelously lucid spirit of France.
The cubist painter Picasso and the most daring of today’s choreographers, Léonide Massine, have here consummately achieved, for the first time, that alliance between painting and dance, between the plastic and mimetic arts, that is a herald of the more comprehensive art to come.
There is nothing paradoxical about this. The Ancients, in whose lives music played such an important role, were totally unaware of harmony, which constitutes the very basis of modern music.
This new alliance-I say new, because until now scenery and costumes were linked only by factitious bonds-has given rise, in Parade, to a kind of surrealism, which I consider to be the point of departure for a whole series of manifestations of the New Spirit that is making itself felt today and that will certainly appeal to our best minds. We may expect it to bring about profound changes in our arts..."
Diaghilev would continue to facilitate the introductions of modernist titans of industry: through him, Picasso would make the acquaintance of Igor Stravinsky in April 1917. The pair would first meet in Italy, where they would quickly strike up both a personal and a creative friendship. Stravinsky would become the subject of several of Picasso's sketches - three of which can be seen below, in addition to a piece of manuscript art:
The second image from the left, executed in 1919, was used as a cover image for the composer's piano reduction for Ragtime for 11 Instruments. The 'line drawing' (so named for the moulding of a single, continuous line of ink into recognizable shapes in one fluid motion - in this instance that of two musicians) marked the de-facto first professional project on which the two fast friends collaborated (Stravinsky would later cheekily refer to the cover art as "a fine phallic circle-drawing").
Previously, the pair exchanged private correspondence - Stravinsky sent a five bar sketch of clarinet music to Picasso by telegram, and from Picasso, the first in a series of three portraits of the composer.
The first of these sketches (the 'head shot' on the far left) was drawn by Picasso in 1917 whilst lodging at the Hotel de la Russie near the Piazza Popolo in Rome, shortly after the pair first met. It boasts quite the wild back story. In the pages of his 1936 autobiography Chronicles of My Life, Stravinsky references in vivid detail his harrowing attempt to bring the portrait across the border from Italy into Switzerland:
"I shall never forget the adventure which later befell me in crossing the frontier at Chiasso on my return to Switzerland. I was taking my portrait, which Picasso had just drawn at Rome and given to me. When the military authorities examined my luggage they found this drawing, and nothing in the world would induce them to let it pass. They asked me what it represented, and when I told them that it was my portrait, drawn by a distinguished artist, they utterly refused to believe me. "It is not a portrait, but a plan," they said. "Yes, the plan of my face, but of nothing else," I replied. But all my efforts failed to convince them, and I had to send the portrait, in Lord Berners' name, to the British Ambassador in Rome, who later forwarded it to Paris in the diplomatic bag. The altercation made me miss my connection, and I had to stay at Chiasso till next day."
The remaining two portraits, dated 24 May and 31 of December were both executed in 1920.
Stravinsky's clarinet music for Picasso
Stravinsky would later join forces with Picasso rival Henri Matisse for the ballet production of the composer's opera-turned-symphonic work Le Rossignol (as Le Chant de Rossignol). It was Diaghilev who commissioned Matisse to travel to Paris in 1920 to design for the production its costumes and set. It would mark an artistic milestone for Matisse: he experimented in gouaches découpés (paper cut outs) for the first time, fashioning a three dimensional model akin to a diorama with the paper figures pinned in place. This mock-up and 'rehearsal' technique would later be adopted by the artist in his final years - as a standalone art form itself.
Above: A reconstruction of the original version of Le Chant du Rossignol. Re-staged by Millicent Hodson and Kenneth Archer in 1999 with Les Ballets de Monte-Carlo.
Spanish surrealist Salvador Dalí would likewise design sets for nine ballets produced in New York from 1939-1949. His first set design, for Les Ballets Russes de Monte Carlo (formed in 1932 following the death of Sergei Diaghilev and subsequent demise of the Ballets Russes) was for the ballet Bacchanale. Dalí also acted as librettist, setting the work to music by Richard Wagner, notably the Venusburg Music (Bacchanale) from the opera's first act. Inspired by Wagner's epic Tannhäuser and the ancient Greek myth of Leda and the Swan, Dalí's bizarre attempt at a psychoanalytical ballet follows the mental unraveling of King Ludwig II of Bavaria as he experiences escalating levels of delirium.
Dali's Drawing for Bacchanale, Ludwig II of Bavaria, 1939
"The season's scandal was Bacchanale... Purporting to show the delirious visions of Ludwig II of Bavaria, it mixed mythological figures with such personages as Lola Montez and Sacher-Masoch... Dali's decor was dominated by a huge swan with a hole in its breast through which dancers emerges, some in remarkable costumes. There was a woman with a rose-colored fish-head. Lola Montez wore harem trousers and a hoop skirt decorated with false teeth. The Knight of Death turned out to be an immense perambulating umbrella. Later, when Ludwig died, a whole set of umbrellas opened on stage. Prudish audiences blushed to behold the male ensemble with large red lobsters (as sex symbols) on their thighs, and Nini Theilade, portraying Venus, created a sensation because she seemed totally nude. In actuality, she wore flesh-colored tights from her neck to her toes..."
Tannhäuser is undeniably one of Wagner's most sexually explicit operatic works - its protagonist torn between the sacred and the profane (natural love vs. sensual love) inspiring both analyst, novelist and pornographer alike. This description of Dali's overtly erotic use of props following the demise of Ludwig - chiefly a "perambulating umbrella" - representing a pre-coital male at full mast - is reminiscent of the orgiastic scene in which Tannhäuser finds himself upon entering the mythical realm of the Venusberg:
"the Nymphs have already begun, round the foaming basin of the waterfall, the inviting dance that is meant to draw the youths to them. The two groups mix together in pairs; pursuits, flights and alluring coquetries enliven the dance. From the far background comes a swarm of Bacchantes, who break through the ranks of the amorous couples, inciting them to wilder delights. By gestures of exalted intoxication the Bacchantes urge on the lovers to further abandonment. The revellers embrace each other with the most ardent passion. Satyrs and Fauns emerge from the clefts in the rocks, and thrust themselves with their dance between the Bacchantes and the pairs of lovers. They increase the confusion by chasing the Nymphs; the general tumult rises to the maddest climax."
Both artists' depictions of raw sexuality, and their exploration into the subject of delirium shocked conservative audiences: Wagner's Tannhäuser famously describes his time spent in the Venusberg as something akin to a dream, whilst Dali's Ludwig plays loosely on the notorious King's (very real) reported delusions.
Contemporary (l) and reproduction (r) of Dalí's backdrop for Bacchanale. Described by the artist in the ballet's program: "The setting represents Mount Venus (the Venusberg near Eisenach), the background showing Salvador Dali's birthplace, the Ampurdan plain, in the center of which rises the temple as seen in The Marriage of the Virgin by Raphael." Bacchanale premiered at the NY MET Opera in 9 November, 1939, following a failed attempt at an opening night two months prior at London's Covent Garden due to the onset of the second world war.[4] (Click on image to enlarge)
. Likewise, the rumored sexual attraction to Wagner espoused by King, who was, in reality Wagner's greatest admirer and staunchest patron, was publicly viewed as a perversion, and contrary to nature.
These real life social dilemmas played into a common theme prevalent among 19th century Romantic society: that of the hypocritical and oppressive nature of a puritanical, righteous love versus sensual pleasure in the absence of love. This inner conflict was experienced by many intellectuals of the era, who struggled with the opposing concepts of adherence to one's religious faith over the perceived moral complacency offered by atheism (and its espoused promise of autonomy over one's own body and beliefs). The (largely) unbridled, hedonistic nature of the Venusburg Bacchanale from Tannhäuser marked, according to Dali, the apex of Wagner: his theatrical ascension.
Tannhäuser in the Venusberg as seen in the study of Ludwig II
at Neuschwanstein Castle, Josef Aigner, 1880-81
It was high praise, indeed: the creation of Tannhäuser came at no small cost to Wagner from both a creative, and an emotional standpoint.
In a letter dated 28 May, 1865, the Bavarian King Ludwig II requested of Wagner"an account of your intellectual and spiritual development and of the external events of your life." Wagner was only too keen to oblige his staunchest patron, and began to dictate his autobiography to his wife and amanuensis Cosima. He would begin reciting his life story on the 17th of July the same year.
One entry of note in Wagner's autobiography Mein Leben(My Life) vividly highlights the composer's frenzied mental state as he began to reach what Dali referred to as his summit:
"With much pain and toil I sketched the first outlines of my music for the Venusberg, as fortunately I already had its theme in my mind. Meanwhile I was very much troubled by excitability and rushes of blood to the brain. I imagined I was ill, and lay for whole days in bed..."
It is safe to say Dalí was more than a little enamored with Wagner. He would incorporate the German composer's likeness
into several artworks throughout his career. The unconventional surrealist went so far as to install a shrine - comprised of multiple disembodied heads of the composer - in the garden at his 'castle' at Púbol in Spain (above). Although in a much smaller scale (if no less eccentric than the architectural marvels dedicated to Richard by his most famous admirer, the aforementioned Bavarian King Ludwig II), Dali's deep admiration for the composer is evident, particularly when one considers the significance of the Castle of Púbol - it was designed as a sanctuary for his lifelong partner, muse and model for many of his paintings, his beloved, Gala. (Click on image to enlarge)
Bacchanale would not be the last time Dalí would pay homage to his musical idol. Back in 2012, a massive, 9x15 meter curtain painted by Salvador in 1944 for the NY Met Opera's ballet production of Mad Tristan re-emerged into the artistic realm's collective conscience. Word of the previously archived painting began to make the international press when Switzerland-based Compagnia Finzi Pasca announced it had been contacted by the anonymous owners of the megalithic piece, who were eager to include it in the company's upcoming circus show, La Verità. Dalí's backdrop had been previously shielded from the public eye since 1944 when it was retired into a private European art collection. The gargantuan canvas depicts Dalí's take on the climactic closing moments of Wagner's magnum opus, Tristan und Isolde, when the Breton nobleman Tristan, intoxicated in love from the effects of having ingested a love potion (which he believes is poison) and mortally wounded following a sword fight with a rival, falls dead before his beloved, Isolde. What follows in Wagner's opera is perhaps one of the most orgasmic, ethereal, thought provoking scenes in operatic history - the concept of Liebestod (literally, of love-death) as Isolde herself is transfigured. As she begins to perish by her lover's side (presumably from the effects of the love potion she had also ingested, which made her unable to live without her true love) the Irish princess, now delusional, sings a breathtaking aria in which she describes her vision of Tristan, who she sees once more risen: their love so boundlessly unbridled, it could only exist unassaulted in death.
Dalí's backdrop for Léonide Massine's Wagner-inspired ballet Mad Tristan re-emerged from obscurity before Canadian
audiences in Montreal following it's modern unveiling at the city's Théâtre Maisonneuve on 17 January, 2013, where
it was repurposed as scenery for the traveling circus show La Verità, produced by Swiss-based Compagnia Finzi Pasca.
The premiere at the Quebec capital marked the first time the greater public had laid eyes on the massive work in nearly
70 years. It had previously been "rediscovered" in prop storage at the MET in New York before being restored and later
sold, where it would be added to an anonymous European art collection.
Dalí opted to depict this scene in a rather macabre fashion: re-visiting an earlier theme of a post-coital praying mantis, ready to devour her mate. In 1934, the artist re-conceptualized the famous pastoral religious painting by Jean-Francois Millet, Angelus, re-fashioning it into a terrifying - and highly erotic - moral on the effects of sexual aggression. Titled Atavism at Twilight, Dalí transforms the otherwise placid scene into a carnivorous one.
Above: Jean-François Millet's The Angelus (L), and Salvador Dalí's Atavism at Twilight (R)
One year previously, Dali had written an essay on Millet's well known painting. In a missive titled "Paranoic-Critical Interpretation of the Obsessive Image of the Angelus by Millet" Dalí likens the hat held by the male figure as either hiding, or drawing attention to "the well-known phenomenon...of erection," and describes his female counterpart in even greater detail:
"Opposite him..the sewing machine...goes as far as to invoke the mortal and cannibal virtue of her sewing needle, the activity of which may be identified with that super fine perforation of the praying mantis 'emptying' her male."
It is this depiction of insatiable sexuality that was translated into Dalí's reading of Tristan: so maddeningly disconnected from reality was his love for Isolde, he envisioned her as a praying mantis, ready to devour him - thus, two become one. For Dalí, this was a formidable means to build on the concept of Liebestod - the concept of death in love, and love in death.
Above: the sublime liebestod of Isolde ("Mild und leise") from Wagner's Tristan und Isolde
Dalí's expression of admiration for Wagner didn't end with set design and composing libretti - he also hinted at using the composer's likeness in the literary arts. The lead-in to his upcoming novel would be his ca. 1934/6 artwork featuring Richard, A Chemist Lifting with Extreme Precaution the Cuticle of a Grand Piano (originally titled Instantaneous presence of Louis II of Bavaria, Salvador Dalí, Lenin, and Wagner on the beach at Rosas). It symbolized, according to Dalí, a book he intended to write in which are joined "all the real and fantastic personages of the modern tragedy."
Above: Dalí's A Chemist Lifting with Extreme Precaution the Cuticle of a Grand Piano. Wagner can be
seen in profile in the foreground. (Click on image to enlarge)
Dalí's proposed book (on which he planned to commence writing following the completion of what would become his only novel, Hidden Faces) was never realized, but this magnificent painting (above) more than filled the void.
I will conclude this post with one of the pioneers of abstract art in Europe: Lithuanian polymath Mikalojus Konstantinas Čiurlionis. A quintessential representative of the fin de siècle epoch, Čiurlionis' contributions to both symbolism and art nouveau have made a lasting impact on the culture of his native country - his small output of some 300 paintings in addition to his music compositions (over 400 of which survive) have inspired composers, scientists and artists alike. As proof of the painter-cum-writer-cum-composer's far reaching influence, Čiurlionis assumed the ranks of musical captains of industry in space when, in 1984, a stony Eunomian asteroid was assigned his moniker.
Čiurlionis' stunning The Gift of Friendship (1906)
Discovered in October 1975 by Soviet astronomer Nikolai Chernykh and provisionally designated 1975 TN, the minor planet became known as 2420 Čiurlionis.
He joins some of classical music's most iconic figures, including Mozart (1034 Mozartia), Beethoven (1815 Beethoven), Bach (1814 Bach), Schubert (3917 Franz Schubert) and Chopin (3784 Chopin), who have all been posthumously awarded the same distinction. Čiurlionis' influence is not limited to Northern Europe or even to outer space. From cliffs located in the Russian archipelago to a peak in the Asian Pamir Mountains which bear his name, to galleries and exhibitions in Chicago and Los Angeles, both his life and art have been commemorated. His paintings were featured States side as recently as 2005, at a so-called "Visual Music" festival that highlighted the phenomenon of synesthesia. The exhibit, held at L.A.'s Museum of Contemporary Art also featured the works of Wassily Kandinsky, James McNeill Whistler, and Paul Klee. It is easy to see why Čiurlionis continues to inspire legions of painters and musicians. The former child prodigy, who could play several instruments (including flute and piano) by ear at age three and could sight-read music freely by age seven, believed himself to be a synesthete (one who perceives both music and colors simultaneously). The fruits of this self proclaimed gift are evident in the maestro's works, particularly in his so-called "Sonata Cycle," paintings, which are believed to directly correlate with his musical compositions.
The most notable of these cycles, dubbed Sonata V, consist of a series of three striking paintings depicting an expansive sea in various states of tide (pictured above, from left - right: "Allegro,""Andante," and "Finale." )
The three panels, executed shortly after the maestro composed his stunningly picturesque symphonic poem Jūra (The Sea, heard below), are thought to mirror the composer's 1908 composition: from the moody, dramatic opening chords which aptly characterize the foreboding nature of the sea - immense in depth and vast in scope (Allegro); to the brief, shimmering strings which respond with an eerie sense of placidity, suggesting the stillness of the hand (Andante) which guides the boat to shore (and the rather insignificant nature of man's presence within the far-reaching space of the ocean);[5] and finally, to the climactic buildup toward the wildly turbulent finale, which concludes with the violent clash of symbols - a metaphor for the unpredictable, untamed nature of the sea. This gooseflesh-inducing denouement is mirrored in the last of the three paintings which comprise Sonata V (the 'Finale'), as a massive tidal wave appears suddenly and without warning. Far removed from the placid repose pictured in the penultimate panel, Finale suggests nature's triumph over man, as the undulating wave of her ocean threatens to effortlessly engulf all who dare attempt to try to tame her.
Listen below to the gorgeous Jūra:
Čiurlionis' many talents were not relegated only to painting - the multi-faceted artist also dabbled in writing, composing many literary and poetic works. Music, however, remained a constant throughout the life of the polymath. This method of expression proved as significant to his attractors as did his stunning artwork.
Čiurlionis would receive his early education at the esteemed music school of the influential Polish Prince Michał Ogiński in Plungė via scholarship - this was no small honor for a budding composer: Ogiński was himself a renowned musician in his time, attracting the attention of many musical Polish nationals, not the least of whom included a young Chopin.[6]
Considered a hero of the Fatherland, Ogiński's patriotic polonaises held a special significance in the breasts of his fellow countrymen, and the exacting standards for admission into the school which bore his name prevailed long after his death.
The prolific Lithuanian composer-diplomat Osvaldas Jonas Balakauskas can be counted among those musicians whose music fall under the influential spell of Čiurlionis' stunning artwork. The former Lithuanian ambassador to France, Spain and Portugal (and present head of the Composition Department of the Lithuanian Academy of Music and Theatre) based his 1975 Sonata of the Mountains after his fellow countryman's collective works. Both abstract and highly evocative, Balakauskas' homage feels a perfect fit alongside a perusal of Čiurlionis' diverse catalogue raisonné:
This concludes this installment of Music, poetry and art. My next post in this series will focus solely on works of art that directly influenced composers to pen a specific piece.
..that 18th century German-turned-English composer George Frederic Handel played an instrumental role in the future of British sculpture? In the brief video below, Keeper of Applied Arts at the Fitzwilliam Museum at Cambridge, Dr Victoria Avery, and Assistant Keeper of Manuscripts and Printed Books, Dr Suzanne Reynolds discuss the composer's influence on his contemporary, Huguenot sculptor Louis François Roubiliac (1702-1762), whilst showcasing a rare terracotta model of the artist's sculpture. According to Dr. Avery, Roubiliac's life-size statue of Handel, which the ardent music lover and patron executed for display at the 18th century London hotspot, the Spring Gardens at Vauxhall, marked the first time the British public encountered a sculpture of its combined size and nature. The stunning likeness, displaying the composer - then considered a commoner - in vulnerable, informal attire (Handel is depicted unwigged, in his sleeping robe and day cap) was considered revolutionary for its time. Previously, in terms of public, life-size, marble sculptures, the British would have been accustomed to seeing resplendent, heroic figures: monarchs, noblemen or military leaders who represented well their countrymen. For the German-born Handel to be displayed both publicly and in such a humble - yet still exalted - state in his restrictive, adopted land was nothing short of groundbreaking, and it would ultimately change the face of public sculpture itself for the foreseeable future. The life-size monument is presently housed at the Victoria and Albert Museum, London. Watch the fascinating video below:
[1]Like his contemporary Oscar Kokoschka, whose obsession with Alma Mahler (the wife of Gustav Mahler) found itself permanently expressed on the canvas, Gerstl, too, paid homage to his lover in multiple paintings. His most scandalous portrayal of his inamorata was also his final work: his 1908 Female Seated Nude depicts Mathilde, fully undressed, sitting in front of a mirror in his studio. It is believed the painting, which depicts a post-coital liaison, was executed only days before Gerstl committed suicide. He would stab and hang himself on 4 November 1908, directly in front of the mirror portrayed in this painting.
[2] According to a theory touted by the German musicologist Johann Friedrich Rochlitz. Rochlitz drew his conclusion (now considered anecdotal) based on a letter written from Emmanuel Bach to the German musician Johann Niokolaus Forkel in 1775, in which CPE states "The present generation, quoad Musicam, is degenerating.” There is no evidence to support a conclusion that Emmanuel was in any way discouraged by his son's chosen occupation, in spite of possessing the moniker of his grandfather.
Family of Saltimbanques, Picasso, 1905
[3] Picasso's early work channeled his own experiences as an artist striving for recognition as a Spanish émigré in Paris. The Saltimbanque, a family of transient circus people, were explored during the painter's early years (1904-1905). From the modern perspective, these harlequin and carnivalesque figures appear to represent gaiety, however Picasso intended them to be viewed as the lowly, affronted class of artistes. Some of these depictions by the artist included a character playing on a barrel organ - a 'musical instrument' so loathed, it's performers were frequently named and shamed inside the pages of 19th century police blotters after having been found guilty of the offense of disturbing public order. Charles Dickens famously paid these 'musicians' (known as organ grinders) to go away.
[4] England declared war on Germany on 3 September - just one day prior to the slated original premiere. As a result of the ongoing conflict, the Ballet Russes de Monte Carlo was forced to leave London for New York. Dali's costumes, which had been constructed by the famed French designer Coco Chanel, were subsequently held up in Paris. The daunting task of recreating the wardrobe fell on Russian costumer Barbara Karinska, who used Dali's original sketches as a guide.
Monument of Jūratė in Poland
[5]The gentle nature of the Andante may also be represented by the tale of Jūratė and Kastytis. The popular Lithuanian legend tells the story of Jūratė, goddess of the sea and of marine life (who may represent nature) who falls in love with the mortal fisherman, Kastytis, who had disturbed the natural order of the sea by extracting too much life from within. Instead of punishing Kastytis for his transgression, Jūratė and the young fisherman engage in pleasantries inside of her amber castle located beneath the Baltic Sea. This newfound union is cast asunder by the thunder-god Perkūnas, who becomes enraged and strikes the castle, causing it to explode into millions of fragments. Perkūnas then has Jūratė permanently chained to a rock upon the seafloor. Čiurlionis had been planning to compose an opera based on the famous legend, and it is entirely possible that the ruins painted beneath the hand in Andante foretell this endeavor.
[6] Chopin's first published composition (a polonaise in G minor), written at the tender age of 8, shows the influence of the works of Ogiński. According to Chopin biographer Dr. Alan Walker, the soldier-composer wrote music in between stints on the battlefield (combating the Russians alongside Gen. Tedeusz Kosciusko). His patriotic polonaises were especially revered by his fellow countrymen, who considered the Prince a national hero. Ogiński's efforts on the frontline were said to have been just as impressive - he posed such a threat to the Russians, Catherine the Great put a price on his head.
"Nature contains the elements, in color and form, of all pictures, as the keyboard contains the notes of all music. But the artist is born to pick, and choose, and group with science, these elements, that the results may be beautiful – as the musicians gathers his notes, and forms his chords, until he brings forth from chaos glorious harmony"
“Bach and his works have met a strange fate at the hands of posterity. They were fairly well recognized in their day; practically forgotten by the generations following his; rediscovered and revived; and finally accorded an eminence far beyond the recognition they had originally achieved.”[2]
