Friday, November 28, 2014

Personal History: Knowing Ralph Walker (2)


Today I honor Ralph Walker on the 125th anniversary of his birth.

Born on November 28, 1889, Ralph lived until January 17, 1973.

My friends and colleagues have heard me speak about Ralph recently, since I participated in the Ralph Walker documentary back in October (still online here). And a few weeks ago - on October 15 - I shared a few thoughts about my friendship with Ralph, memories from back when I was a very young man (and he was a very old man). These were published in a previous post, also called Knowing Ralph Walker.

It was a lovely experience, knowing this remarkable man, and the fact that he was an eminent and highly respected architect and one of the New Yorkers who helped define the shape of our city continues to impress me. I feel very privileged to have known him, even though he has now been gone for many years.

Much of Ralph's professional success was detailed in the documentary and, particularly, in Ralph Walker: Architect of the Century, by architecture scholar Kathryn E. Holiday and published by Rizzoli in connection with the 2012 exhibition of the same name. As it happens, I am in possession of several of the more "professional" (we might say) artifacts from Ralph's career, as he kindly gave me a collection of a number of things he wrote, including his self-published book The Fly in the Amber: Comments on the Making of Architecture. And of special interest to me was his fascination, from early childhood (thanks to his mother's influence) in the theater and the larger concept of the place of theater and theatrical performance and theater architecture in society. Perhaps I will write about these.

Today, though, I want to write a little about the more personal side of Ralph Walker, for (as might be guessed from his love of anything having to do with the performing arts), he was a great patron of the arts. What we used to refer to as the "liberal arts" played a big part in his personal life. He did indeed love the "softer," non-engineering side of life, and in his later years he gave full expression to this interest by composing "little" (he called them) poems about some of what he thought about.

One of these has special interest for me now (see The New York Summer Winds Down with a Special Happy Memory, about the Caramoor Summer Music Festival). Written in 1970, Ralph called it "Musique de Table by Georg Phillip Telemann 1681-1767: A Study in Baroque." He gave me a signed copy because, I suppose, of our many conversations about music and the place of music in our lives and I'm pleased to reproduce it here.

Ralph introduced the poems:

"At Caramoor in Westchester County the work was given under the direction of Julius Rudel. I felt the concert was muted and slow in tempo. I realized it was meant to be performed indoors and therefore some of the vibrancy was lost. The following is no attempt to adjust thought to the music. The music is light and gay with frivolity."

The poem is in eight sections, each with its title. The titles correspond, I gather, with the sections of the piece as played at Caramoor but as I'm not very familiar with the structure of the famous Musique de Table I can't confirm that. Perhaps Ralph made them up, or adapted them from the evening's program (the Britannica tells us that the piece, published in 1733, contained "three orchestral suites, three concerti, three quartets, three trios, and three sonatas." So I'm not sure how Ralph came up with eight titles for his poems).

As Ralph chose to print his poetry compositions in all caps, I follow his style.

Musique de Table by Georg Phillip Telemann 1681-1767: A Study in Baroque.



OUVERTURE

HOW INVITING IS THE MOOD
SHOULD I WONDER
     THAT I CAME
THESE LARGE AFFAIRS
     ARE SUCH A BORE
YOU SIGH AND SAY
     OH LORD HOW LONG

THE STRANGE PAUSE
     SOMEONE TO SAY
          GRACE
A BISHOP PERHAPS
          OR A RABBI
MAY HE WELL BE BRIEF

"MAY THE BLESS'ED BLESS US"

HOW QUAINT HOW OFFBEAT
      WHO ARE THE BLESS'ED
WHO ARE THE BLESSED
ONE OF THOSE OVERTURES THAT
WITHOUT REASON REQUIRE
     STILL ANOTHER AMEN

ATTUNED WITH DESTINY
A MUMMY HAS BEEN PASSED


BERGERIE

AS I LEFT
     AND THE DUSK CAME DOWN
A LONELY SHEPHERD LED HIS FLOCK
     TOWARD THE ENCLOSING FOLD
WHERE MOVING FAST THEY SOUGHT
     THEIR EVENING'S REST
THE LAMBS IMPATIENCE NUDGING
     SOUGHT THE TEATS OF DAMS

THE SKY WAS BRILLIANT
     AND THE RAYS
OF THE DYING SUN
     LEAPT TO AMBIENT BLUE
THE SHEPHERD ON HIS LITTLE FLUTE
SIGHED A THRENODY
     FOR THE PASSING DAY
TO END IN THRILLING NOTES
     ALMOST IN ELEGY
FOR THE EVENING'S QUIET

AS WE MOVED TOWARD
     THE SCRUMPTIOUS TABLE
HOW LIKE SHEEP WE SEEM
     EAGERLY SEEKING
OUR NAMES AND PLACES AND THOSE
     WHO BUT BEFORE WERE STRANGERS
NOW WE PLAY OUR PARTS
     SEEK THE SAVOR
           OF THE MEATS
     PERHAPS OUR MINDS


ALLEGRESSE

WHY WHEN IDEAS
     FLOW FLUENT AND SPARKLE
     RIPPLING IN DELIGHT
MUSIC STRIKES GAY BLATANT NOTES
     DISTRACTING THOUGHT
     ALL EARS AS WELL

A SIGN TO THE LEADER
     FLUTTERING HANDS DOWN
SAYING WHAT HE CANNOT HEAR
     DOLCE DOLCE
MISTAKES THE GESTURE
INCREASING TEMPO - VOLUME
IN EGOTISM OF VIRTUOSITY
     'TIL MINDS ARE SHATTERED
     IN ANGUISHED HOPED FOR
          SILENCE

CAN FAINT APPLAUSE MEAN PRAISE
     DELIGHT AT ENDINGS
NOW GRIM THE SILENCE

GONE FOR NOW THESE MOMENTS
     BOTH WIT AND NONSENSE


POSTILLONS

THEN FAIR IS SILENCE
     FOREGONE THE CHATTER 
           THEN COMES
THAT WELLCOMED PAUSE
     THE MYSTIC O'CLOCK
     WHEN ALL SPEECH WANES

MUSICIANS RETIRE
      SEEK REFRESHMENTS
IN A CORNER
      PLAYING SOFTLY AND LOW
A VIOLIN AND A CELLO SING
     THE SONG OF THE BIRDS
     THE WARMTH OF SPRING

EACH NEAR COMPANION
     IN SOFTENED MOOD
          LISTENS
HOPING TO FIND 
     IN THIS MOMENT'S PEACE
          ANEW TO SAY
AGAIN THAT SPARKLE
          SO WISTFULLY LOST 


FLATTERIE

OUT OF THE REVERIES OF THESE FEW MOMENTS
     RECALLS A PRESENT
A GLITTER OF SILVER A GLINT OF GLASS
     AN AWARENESS 
OF THOSE PRESENT NEARBY
AS FROM A DREAM YOU TURN AND SAY
     THERE IS SOMETHING FAMILIAR
SURELY I HAVE MET YOU BEFORE
     YOUR IMAGE IS CLEAR AND SAFE
WITHIN THE BEAUTIES OF MY THOUGHTS
     YOU SAY NO - BUT 
YOU SEEM THE SOURCE OF SATISFACTIONS
     BEYOND THE DAY'S REALITIES
WE MUST HAVE PASSED BRIEFLY
     AT LEAST NEARBY  APART
     EYES HELD BUT A MOMENT
AND THE FRAGRANCE OF THAT MEETING 
ENCLOSED YOU FOREVER WITHIN MY WORLD
A GRACIOUS WORLD OF LONGING
          AND DELIGHT


BADINAGE

          MARRIED
WITH HUSBANDS PRESENT
THE BIG ONE THERE
     WITH THE GREAT BEARD
THE SLENDER ONE
     A CURT MUSTACHE

     BOTH VERY HANDSOME
     SO OUTSTANDING
YOU DID VERY WELL
     HAPPY EVER AFTER
IF NOT IN HEAVEN
     AT LEAST QUITE NEAR

          FRIENDS
DID YOU EVER THINK
AND WONDER IF INSTEAD
YOU HAD THE OTHER'S SPOUSE

UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES
     HE'S ALL RIGHT - BUT NO

NO WHISPER BEHIND THE EAR
     OH LADY WHY BE GOOD
NO PARTING HAND
     GIVING INVITATION
ARE THEY ALSO SO CONTENT
     NEVER MAKE PASSES
NO DARK CORNERS TO AVOID

THEN YOU ARE
          THE BLESSED

BUT YOU I WONDER
     REFLECTING NOW 
     AS YOU SEEK
          ACROSS THE CROWDED ROOM
WOULD YOU HAVE SOUGHT
     A MUSTACHE OR A BEARD


MENUIT

A LOVELY THEME
     STATELY IN ITS CADENCE
COURTLY BOWS PLEASANT CURTSEYS
SWEET INVOLVEMENT OF MAN AND WOMAN
A DANCE CREATED IN TIMES OF VIOLENCE
WHEN NO STREET WAS SAFE
     PERFUME PREFERRED TO WATER
AN AGE OF MANNERS
MADAME
     MAY I ENJOY YOUR FAVORS
SHALL WE SEEK A FRAGRANT BUSH
YOU WILL BE WARM WITHIN MY ARMS

HOW SLOW THE  MOTION
     HOW SWEET THE INVOLVEMENT

HOW STACCATO THE BEAT
     'TIS ROCK AND ROLL
GONE THE FESTIVAL IN SILK
     UNSOUGHT THE FRAGRANT BUSH
COME CHICK
     UNDER BLANKETS
          ENRICHED IN MUD
LET'S SHOW THEM OFF

OH SOUL - OH FLOWER
UNDER UNBEARABLE BURDEN
          THE ELECTRIC GUITAR
GIVES HARSH SHRILL SONG
      TO BIRDS CAUGHT
IN CAGES OF DISMAY
HOW IRRELEVANT THE MOMENT
SANS ELEGANCE
          SANS BEAUTÉ
MAIS TOUT EN LA BOUE 


CONCLUSION

SO STRANGE THAT QUIET
     NEAR MUSIC'S END
MIND AND BODY ASK REPOSE
EACH SPIRIT ONCE AGAIN
FINDS ITS OWN RECOURSE
WORDS LAG - WIT LONG GONE
IN SHALLOW GRAVES
          OF LAUGHTER

GAY MUSIC LULLS
     DOLCE FAR NIENTE
WARM CELLOS SOB, OBOES SIGH
SEEM TIRED AS THEY CLOY
O'ER HIS HARPSICHORD
FINGERS LISTLESSLY SEEK
          FINALITY

ON SHARP ASCENDING CHORDS
     AN EVENING CLOSED
MANNERS ASSERT COMPLIMENTS
     TO ACCUSTOMED PATTER
         IN PARTING

SELF-STARTERS HUM AND SIN
SONGS OF TUNED CONTENT



Sunday, November 2, 2014

Opera: Klinghoffer Comes to the Met


Despite the recent unpleasantness, John Adams's The Death of Klinghoffer has arrived at the Metropolitan Opera. Andrew and I did not attempt to attend earlier performances but saved our performance - with great anticipation - for a little later in the run, expecting (and finding) that all parties involved in the performance would have had time to settle into their work and put aside the general feeling of nervousness we were reading about in the press.

Here's what I think, and I'll begin with the music: there is not a note misplaced, not a theme or sung phrase that does not connect specifically to the overall picture that Adams is painting. From the opening "Chorus of Exiled Palestinians" performed with the most delicate and sympathetic quietness the listener is engaged. Then comes the "Chorus of Exiled Jews" - the two choral pieces make up the prologue to the opera - and the audience is equally brought in. It was a very smart move on Adams's part to open the opera with this introduction, and with the excellent visuals and stage direction, the entire prologue is mesmerizing to watch and hear.

Leading, not surprisingly, to equally beautiful music throughout the remainder of this difficult and upsetting opera. The music continually matches what's going on, and while the overall musical structure and content range from the quiet peacefulness just mentioned to frightening, almost explosive sound-making to match what's happening or being described, the great talent that John Adams brings to his composition never fails. I loved hearing almost every note, and I was constantly listening, as I had been two seasons ago with Nico Muly's Two Boys when as an audience member I found I could not "stop" listening (not that I wanted to) for an instant. Every element of Adams's composition has a purpose and you don't want to miss a single "piece" of what's happening, if you can help it.

The performances were almost beyond comment (but not for me, of course). This was an opera produced so carefully and prepared so seriously that not a single musician (both onstage and in the pit), singer, or dancer gave less that his or her utmost. Of course there were outstanding moments and I simply can't name them all. But I also can't forget some, too, such as Paul Szot as the ship's captain, Alan Opie as Klinghoffer, Michaela Martens as his wife Marilyn, and Maya Lahyani as the Palestinian Woman. Spell-binding was Opie's delivery of the "Aria of the Falling Body" and Lahyani's poignant song of the life of the Palestinians caught up in the terrible events of the story was equally moving. And Martens - whose final aria I'll describe later - is an amazing singer, combining acting skills and musical talent at a level that simply isn't seen very often.

The production - a co-production of the Metropolitan Opera and the English National Opera - is superb, one of the best of the Met's modern operas. This one is made possible by an anonymous gift in honor of John Adams, and I can't think of a finer honor than this tribute in the form of the splendid production. Again, far too many outstanding elements to describe but - for me - special mention has to be made of the choreography of Arthur Pita. Many, many sections of the overall production are danced and these, combined with the sophistication of stage movement for so many choral singers, principals, and others made for stunning visual pictures. Of particular note were two. The first was a particularly beautiful sequence performed by Omar, the youngest hijacker. Dancer Jesse Kovarsky had great success in the role and this section - danced as Lahyani's song was sung - seemed to have special resonance with the audience as, to be fair, so did all the other opportunities when Kovarsky was "dancing out" Omar's feelings (and, I think, confusion).

The second remarkable choreographed piece was a large-scale ensemble in which two male dancers move quietly - in crouching positions - onstage, to be surrounded by chorus members representing the Israeli settlers. The chorus is singing the "Desert Chorus" and while they sing, the desert is described (and shown) to be transformed into a productive landscape. The two dancers eventually move their bodies toward and into standing positions, finally holding in each hand a branch with a leaf to indicate the desert coming alive under the settlers' care.

The opera is - as I'm sure I've made clear by now - not an easy opera. Intensity is built in to the music, the production, the performances, and of course into the horrible incident being described. Indeed, I don't think (and I wasn't alone here) I've ever sat in an opera in which every moment I was there I was filled with tension. You simply don't relax. Every nerve is on end, and you know you are witnessing and learning about things going on in our world today (perhaps even worse than in 1985) and - excuse the cliché - there are no easy answers. For me the opera's greatness is based on its music, and that music enables us to see and think about the kinds of things being described here from a different perspective. I see The Death of Klinghoffer as a plea as much as anything else, a plea that we - as humanity - move away from the hatred that has driven so much of our lives over so many years.

And yes, there was the controversy brought on by people who wanted to prevent the production of this important opera. Neither Andrew nor I likes to be told by others what we can and cannot see and hear. There's no doubt that the The Death of Klinghoffer is a very disturbing story, and hearing it was very intense, as I've indicated. But we didn't find it the anti-Semitic, pro-Palestinian defense of terrorism that those demonstrating against it  - most of whom have not seen the opera - had promised. Yes, the opera indicates that there are two sides to the Palestinian issue, and perhaps that's upsetting to some. It wasn't actually the kind of work that one can claim to have "enjoyed" and we don't feel the need necessarily to see it again, but we were glad to have experienced the performance and to have been able to make up our own minds.

And, surprisingly since I was so taken by the opera and so positively determined to judge it on its own merits, the one tiny fault I found in the opera was part of this conclusion that I came to. (and this might have been my own fault - I might have "missed" something in the narrative). Despite the very sophisticated sets depicting the radar screens, the information that the entire sky was - during the hijacking - a (what we now call, I think) no-fly zone, and other clues that were perhaps offered, I had not picked up on the fact that world leaders were not willing to intervene. Someday I suppose I'll do some research and try to figure out what was going on in diplomatic circles during the hijacking but now that I have that information, I see the point of the opera very clearly. It's sung about by Marilyn Klinghoffer in the final moments of the opera, when she sings something along the lines of "if all the passengers on the ship had been murdered and their blood following the ship like oil on the water, the world would have done something. But for one victim it did not."

Perhaps that's an oversimplification on my part but those final lines (despite my remembering only the general idea and not the specific words) tell me that's what The Death of Klinghoffer is all about, that when our humanity fails us and we stop caring about one person, it's time for us to re-think who we are.