Showing posts with label Galina Grigorjeva. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Galina Grigorjeva. Show all posts

Wednesday, 14 June 2017

Around Estonian Music Days



As in, a chance to touch upon all those events and images I didn't get a chance to engage in my Arts Desk piece on a remarkable festival of new music. The first thing to emphasise here is the incredible level of music education in Estonia, which heading towards the country's centenary celebrations next year has launched a scheme called 'A Musical Instrument for Every Child'. Children and teenagers playing music are everywhere in Tallinn; the above image, which I caught one morning as I found myself walking through the old town in the opposite direction to young students of stringed instruments heading in the opposite direction. Random shot of gull here because I like the balance.


EMD has a 'junior' branch whose activities we tend to see little of since their 'Mini-EMD' is usually over by the time we reporters arrive for the main events. I'm rather glad I insisted, in the face of my colleagues' indifference, on a little tour of the town which promised music in various locations. I didn't know then that it was programmed by Mini-EMD students. Our guide was a charming teenager - alas, I don't remember the name - who made a good start by telling us a heck of a lot about the Estonian National Opera and Concert Hall which we didn't know (how, for instance, it was destroyed in the Second World War bombings and rebuilt very quickly). Led within the foyer, we found a young violinist,  Rita Iris Loonde, who played for us Heino Eller's Luurilne Laul.

A second violinist, Triinu Piirsalu, was prepared to play in her gloves outside the Musical Instrument Museum I'd visited that morning. She's going to have a fine career; watch below and you'll see what I mean. She played Kadents ja teema by Ester Mägi, 'First Lady of Estonian Music' and 95 this year.


Our last musician, Liisu Siimer, surprised us with the bagpipes (the Estonian mini-variety, so much more pleasant than the Scottish bruisers) by the statue of major Estonian composer Heino Eller.


That was some day. We'd just reeled off the bus from a blindfold magical mystery tour which I've described on The Arts Desk - read more about it there - as a bit of a life-changer. Namely having the confidence to be guided by invisible hands, to let go after a while of the tension which was sending my back into spasm and trust that I wouldn't fall or bash into things. And then to have an hour and a half to get used to this state while electronic sounds and then a beguiling new piece by Helena Tulve sounded all around us. Photographer Rene Jakobson caught us in the blind act and has allowed these pics to be used.




After the mini-tour there was a reception in the Maiden's Tower cafe. Superb food and excellent company, with a chance to talk to Erkki-Sven Tuur, whom I first met decades ago when he was going out with Katherine Howard and now the second in line of succession to Arvo Pärt as The Greatest on the Estonian music scene (photo - I think - by Peeter Langovits),


and to his fellow composer Helena Tulve, the genius behind the festival along with Timo Steiner, here seen in one of my own pics with her husband Jaan-Eick Tulve, conductor of the magnificent Vox Clamantis choir.


One of Helena's more numinous additions this year was a meditative sequence before the choral programme in the Niguliste Church/Museum with the sounds of crystal bowls wielded by herself and others (photo by Peeter Langovits).


It seemed rather providential that I'd never managed to see inside the Niguliste (St Nicholas) before. One of the few old buildings seriously damaged by bombs in the Second World War, it has long served as a 'museum of ecclesiastical art' from Soviet times onwards, and seems to have had a splendid overhaul in recent years. While its most celebrated treasure is the Dance of Death by the Lübeck master Bernt Notke, or rather a fragment of thirteen figures from it - I take the liberty of breaking the long picture-strip into two out of four panels -



the main altarpiece, depicting scenes from the lives of Saints Nicholas and Victor by the workshop of another Lübeck master, Hermen Rode, is perhaps even more impressive in that it stands where it was originally intended. And this was how we saw it at the first concert with Vox Clamantis in front of it.


A later visit by the Estonian Chamber Choir saw the seats turned from east- to west-facing, placing these singers in front of the seven-armed candelabra, also Lübeck work, presented to the church in 1519 (photo by Peeter Langovits).


Before that concert I had time to wander round, though sadly the silver chamber housing a splendid ruby-eyed popinjay was closed. Still, there was an interesting display within the nave of silver guild medallions, very like ex votos, and you could walk around the altarpieces.  These panels are from the high altar retable: Saints Catherine of Alexandria and Barbara flanking Virgin and Child


and the male saints Victor, Nicholas and George the Dragon-slayer.


Folded back here are the annunciation wings in grisaille of the Virgin Mary Altarpiece (1493) commissioned by the Brotherhood of Black Heads, whose guild hall with its splendid portal is nearby. To save the altarpiece from iconoclasm they took it to their base in 1524 and it remained there until 1943.


The Passion Altarpiece is from the workshop of Bruges master Adriaen Isenbrandt.


It's at the other end of the aisle from the octagonal Lutheran baptistery of the 1680s, the only one of its kind in Estonia and taken from the Swedish church of St Michael.


On the opposite wall is a life-sized sculpture of St Christopher (workshop of Tobias Heintze, 1624), originally a support for the pulpit otherwise destroyed in the March bombing of 1944.


Away from the main body of the church, this Cavalry Group is on the wall opposite to the Dance of Death in St Anthony's Chapel. The figures come from the small Harvu-Risti Church which served as a chapel of the Cistercian Monastery in Padise, and were actually created at different times in the late 14th (Christ) and early 15th (Virgin and St John) centuries.


On the official way out, you pass a splendid decorative screen designed for the Memorial Chapel of Bogislaus von Rosen in 1665.


As my guide deals only with the interior of the museum, it tells me nothing about this ?Romanesque? doorway in the south-west of the church.


The light that morning was especially lovely, lighting up the tower as you approach it down the historically rich


and this wall behind the Musical Museum,


which I finally got to see after three visits. Its fine displays deserve an entry to themselves, and there was a remarkable exhibition in the tower featuring musicians just sitting and looking at the camera in a series of portrait videos - unnervingly brilliant.



But other more-than-sweepings need commemoration. Some extra shots of our magical time at Arvo Pärt's summer retreat on the Lohusalu peninsula west of Tallinn, named after his first work following the long silence which gave birth to the so-called 'tintinnabulist' rebirth.


The notebooks from the interim period, when he set psalms almost obsessively without any intention of publication, may be facsimiles, but it was good to see them in the room where many of the jottings were made.


Below is our wonderful guide, Riin Eensalu, former EMD administrator and now the Arvo Pärt Centre's Head of Communications, holding one of the pots which Pärt painted as therapy during his creative block, and which his neighbours returned to him when he and his wife finally returned from Berlin.


And here's Riin again showing the long table on which Pärt composed many of his major works, brought from Berlin.

Around the visit, I've already written about our seaside stop in the entry 'Estonia's first spring flower', but this is an excuse to post another picture, of a typically welcoming sign


nicely mirrored by this lively note in the toilet of the charming cafe we visited at the end of the road to Aliina. The humour is typically Estonian.


Superb food here - the best pea soup I've ever tasted, and delicious cakes.


Even the local bus shelter is worth noting, part of a design competition for senior students at Estonian schools.


Finally, from my last day, a concert I ran out of space to include in the Arts Desk piece - a tribute 85-year-old composer Jan Rääts from pianist Nicolas Horvath and nine composers. Not much to write home about among the homagers, though Tuur's Salute managed to be quirky in a very short space of time. Rääts's whimsy, elliptical brevity and unpredictability are startling at best, though perhaps he recycled tricks rather readily. At any rate, Horvath certainly shot us bolt upright with the opener, Radio 4,and it was easy to see why the 1968 Toccata became such a cult piece after its inclusion to be played by all 86 competitors in the Fourth International Tchaikovsky Competition of 1970. Here are three professional shots by Peeter Langovits of pianist and composer.




The venue was last on a list of interesting places - I notched up many more this year, and this was no exception, the just-refurbished Studio One of Estonian National Broadcasting. Good, as usual, to see all the Estonian discs on sale as we entered


and here's a shot of the delightful and talented Liisa Hirsch discovering one of her works on a disc for sale at the Niguliste Church.

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Which allows me to return to the first concert on that sunny evening in early Spring at the same church, and a nice shot by Peeter Langovits of senior Estonian-based national treasure Galina Grigorjeva with Jaan-Eick Tulve and members of Vox Clamantis.


I bumped into the vivacious Else Torp and her husband Paul Hillier at the Glyndebourne premiere of Brett Dean's Hamlet on Sunday, and was able to tell them how much pleasure I'd got out of the Theatre of Voices' Grigorjeva CD, also recorded in the Niguliste Museum. Paul now has the score of the Vespers I heard premiered in April - he's not only more deserving but luckier than me, because the friendly Galina was very apologetic that she couldn't issue one when we met, having noticed some mistakes - and very much wants to perform it. In the meanwhile, terviseks (cheers) to my favourite conductor and friend Neeme Järvi on his 80th birthday, two days of celebrations of which took place in Tallinn last week. Time and costs didn't permit my going, but we meet again in Pärnu in August.

Saturday, 15 April 2017

Easter interstitial



So here we are still in London, and not in Norfolk as planned - J has a cold. No matter; it's good to be at home after a week of rushing around Europe. And I always love the reflective period before Easter itself. Very happy, in looking for images to accompany my review of the Dvořák Requiem on Thursday, to have rediscovered a masterpiece which stunned me when we spent Christmas in Prague back in 1990, the altarpiece from the Vyšší Brod Monastery. My Czech friend Jan reminded me of it in sending a postcard of the above, taken from the depiction of Christ in the garden of Gethsemane.


The mourners at the cross are expressive, too.


We spent an hour and a half of contemplation on that theme yesterday afternoon in Westminster Abbey. Our dear Spanish friend María Jesús wanted to meet up, and though I fear we let her in for a longer ritual than any of us had expected, I hope she found it a treat. Anyway, we did get to chat over tea afterwards. That's Giotto's great crucifixion on the order of service cover, of course.


Certainly it was surprising to find that the congregation queueing and then packed in around the central tower didn't consist of casual tourists, but a plethora of believers (among which I do not count myself, however much I take from the Passion narrative). Indeed, the number of folk wanting to venerate the cross meant the whole service took much longer than expected (the Communion was more streamlined, with priests serving both aisles). Never come across this business before - nor has J, with his Catholic upbringing - and found it all a bit mumbo-jumbo-y, but then I guess so are the rituals which I've grown up with since I was a choirboy, and I say the Creed without a second thought.


The order of service cannily embraced a diversity of styles and nations - plainsong, Lutheran and Anglican hymns, and composers Spanish (Victoria - the central St John Passion, in which 'composition' is not much present, but it was splendidly delivered by two tenors, bass and choir), Italian (Lotti) and Austrian (Bruckner). Much as I love anthems like Locus iste, which we sang at Stephen Johnson's and Kate Jones's wedding, I blush to say I didn't know the latter's Christus factus est, and it's a masterpiece, covering so much of the composer's mature style in such a short span. The Westminster Abbey Choir sang it with magnificent fervour in the climaxes. Here it is performed by, of all things, a Japanese high school choir, and very well, though you need to look away from the gurning individual among the boy-men...


Some of the details in John 18 and 19 took me by surprise. Hadn't realised, for instance, that Pontius Pilate did what he could to avert the sacrifice. And this I love: 'When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother: "Woman, here is your son." Then he said to the disciple: "Here is your mother". And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home.'

On which note, there's a marvellous poem on the Stabat Mater theme by Joseph Brodsky in his Nature morte. I came across it as the third of Estonian-based, Ukrainian-born composer Galina Grigorjeva's settings gathered together under the same name. It was high time I listened to the disc by the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir which had been sitting here for too long. Grigorjeva calls the poem 'Who are you,' and here it is.

Mary now speaks to Christ:
'Are you my son? - or God?
You are nailed to the cross.
Where lies my homeward road?

'Can I pass through my gate
not having understood:
Are you dead? - or alive?
Are you my son? - or God?'

Christ speaks to her in turn:

'Whether dead or alive,
woman, it's all the same - 
son or God, I am thine.'

Alas, this setting isn't available on YouTube, but there's a marvellous film there which includes the second setting, 'The Butterfly,' remarkable especially for capturing Grigorjeva's spirit as she talks to the choir about it. I'm waiting for her score of the new and remarkable Vespers I heard premiered in the Niguliste (Church-)Museum last week by the stupendous Vox Clamantis choir. She sent me a very polite email saying she couldn't send it or hand it over just yet because she'd noticed some mistakes. A composer of obvious and rare integrity.


Finally, a few more seasonal flora shots from the cycle home after the service yesterday - tulips in the meadow arrangement in front of Clarence House



and wisteria backed by white lilac - both out already - in Launceston Place, the magical street which runs parallel to Gloucester Road.