The
insignificant becomes important, or at least notable.
On my rounds of the communal swimming pool
my eye is always open to a photographic opportunity. As my area of life has become more
circumscribed, so my attention focuses more on the details of my
surroundings. I have had to try and
limit myself from choosing a theme like ‘abstraction’ or ‘shadow’ or ‘line’ or
something equally unimaginative and wondering if I could do a photographic essay
based solely on my limited vistas. Most
of the time, wondering is enough in itself: I find say, a portion of bark on
the gnarled trees that are planted at the edges of the pool and think that a
decent photo could be taken of that; or I look at the edges of the tiles and
see tiny wisps of grass that have escaped the attention of pool maintenance and
think that a decent angled shot, with raked light might be effective – and then
I walk on, the hard cultural work done by possible selection rather than concrete
outcome!
Still, I did take one short of a bird on
top of a column with chain and lock which I felt did have some resonance with
my present condition, but again, I didn’t take it any further.
One short I could take from my little
circular walks would be of a crayon sheath or sweet tube or something like
that. It would be perfectly incomprehensible
to a viewer, such a mundane object being the centre of attention – but for me
it is, if not a welcome sight, at least a point of recognition. Each time I circle the pool I notice it; but
it doesn’t stay in the same place. And its
movement interests me. Was it the feral
cats which infest this part of Castelldefels (kept alive by the ministrations
of ancient ladies in expensive cars who leave milk and titbits for them); the
wind, my feet, insects or what? I have
yet to meet anyone else on my solitary peregrinations, or indeed to hear anyone
else during the time that I am not circuiting the pool, so it is either nature
or cat. And then I begin to wonder just
how the isolation from my normal haunts are changing my attitudes! If I can overthink something so trivial, and
yet regard it now as a part of my recognized ritual of the day, then there is
something seriously wrong.
So let’s turn to something more
normal. Because most people are not used
to being off-work and at-home for extended periods of time the electronic
community has provided essential lists of Things To Keep You Occupied, ranging
from lists of books that you might like to read; the best Netflix series to
binge watch; chores that you have put off until a national emergency gives the opportunity
to get them done; games you have not played since you were a child; how to
clean the kitchen now you have no excuse not to; getting back in touch with
those people who were, apparently too much trouble to keep up with, and music.
And I would like to contribute my five pence
worth to the suggestions.
I have a second ticket to the Opera in the
Liceu in Barcelona and the crisis has meant that first one opera and then a whole
slew of them have been delayed or possibly cancelled. However, the Liceu has informed its
subscribers that performances of past opera will be available online and we
have been given a timetable of what and when.
I must admit that watching an opera outside the opera house and on a
small screen is not something that I really enjoy, though I am more than
prepared to ‘get my homework done’ by watching a performance of a future opera
that I do not know well on YouTube, so that when I see my (expensive)
performance I am at least partially prepared and able to respond with some
knowledge to what I see and hear.
I have no intention of making some sort of
‘Greatest Operas You Have to Listen To’ list, but I would like to suggest two
and extracts from those rather than listening to the whole thing.
To the question of “What is your favourite
Opera?” I would have to answer, if it is to be based on the number of times
that I have seen a live performance in the Opera House, with The Macropolos
Case by Leos Janacek. The libretto
is based on a play of the same name by Carel Kapek (a man perhaps better known
as the author of the play “R.U.R” from which we get the word ‘robot’!) and
concerns an opera singer who was forced to take an elixir of immortality, but
must continue to take the elixir to maintain her youth. I first saw this opera in a production by
Welsh National Opera with Elizabeth Soderstrom in the role of E.M. (the
initials she maintained in all the names that she used in her long life) with amazing
sets and costume designs by Maria Bjornson.
I loved it! But, my favourite
opera? I wonder.
The opera that I click on the most if I am
‘casual listening’ is Akhnaten by Philip Glass.
Set
in ancient and modern times, the opera is concerned with the extraordinary pharaoh
who dispensed with the hierarchy of gods and determined that all worship should
be centred on one god, the Aten. The
course of the opera takes us through the turbulent life of the pharaoh and the
eventual destruction of the city that he founded.
I first heard this opera on a Radio 3 performance
on a Sunday afternoon and I was instantly gripped by the music as I had no idea
whatsoever what was going on in the libretto.
A friend called in to take me out and I had to switch on my cassette
player (ah, happy days!) to record as much as the tape allowed in my
absence. When I recorded the extract of
the opera there was no commercial recording available, but I listened to my ‘bit’
again and again.
Glass
is a minimalist (or perhaps post-minimalist) composer and his music is
recognizable by its tunefulness and by his use of repetition. The languages of the libretto are ancient and
contemporary, and I find it gripping. If
you have never heard any of it before then I suggest the opening ten minutes
or
the Hymn to the Sun,
which
is the more usual extracted highlight, these will give you a real flavour of
the musical style: if you these then you will like the full version!
The other suggestion is less well known
than Akhnaten (!) but it is an opera of which I have a great fondness.
Like Akhnaten, this opera is by an
American composer and like Akhnaten it is, in the widest sense, historical.
The story of my liking of the opera in
question started, though I didn’t know it at the time, with my reading a typically
clever and witty article in the New Yorker published in a James Thurber
Omnibus, “There’s an owl in my room”. I
was too young to understand exactly what was going on in the piece and the
names of the characters meant nothing to me at the time. The phrase that stood out for me was “Pigeons,
on the grass, alas!” Thurber was devastating
in his demolition of what he saw as absurd pretention and something about the
phrase stayed with me.
The
scene changes to Kettering Market and a second-hand record of “Four Saints in
Three Acts” by Virgil Thomson (of whom I had never heard) with libretto by
Gertrude Stein (of whom I had heard). It
was cheap and I bought it. And in playing
it I heard the words, set to music of, “Pigeons, on the grass, alas!” An electrifying moment when juvenile reading
and modern music came together!
Virgil Thomson: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qa_Mg2sEyxs
The
extract is something you will either find fascinating or absurd. Either way it’s worth listening to. And there are other extracts in YouTube that
might take your fancy.
Another reason for my liking this opera is
because it created one of my most memorable moments in Opera.
I have only heard “Four Saints in Three
Acts” once live, and that was in a double bill by ENO in London. I listened spellbound to something I never
thought I would ever have the opportunity to hear in the Opera House and at the
end of the performance, I turned, with shining eyes to the woman sitting on my
right and said, “Wasn’t that wonderful!”
And she, looking into my eyes, said, “No!” Ah well, each to his or her own!
So, these two operas, Akhnaten and Four
Saints in Three Acts are my suggestions for passing the time to keep fear
about the virus out of your minds. I’m
not quite sure what they will fill your mind with instead, but it won’t be
virus!
Pleae consider visiting my 'new' poetry blog smrnewpoems.blogspot.com
