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

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.