Decalogue of the Artist
I. You shall love beauty, which is the shadow of God over the Universe.
II. There is no godless art. Although you love not the Creator, you shall bear witness to Him creating His likeness.
III. You shall create beauty not to excite the senses but to give sustenance to the soul.
IV. You shall never use beauty as a pretext for luxury and vanity but as a spiritual devotion.
V. You shall not seek beauty at carnival or fair or offer your work there, for beauty is virginal
and is not to be found at carnival or fair.
VI. Beauty shall rise from your heart in song and you shall be the first to be purified.
VII. The beauty you create shall be known as compassion and shall console the hearts of men.
VIII. You shall bring forth your work as a mother brings forth her child: out of the blood of your heart.
IX. Beauty shall not be an opiate that puts you to sleep but a strong wine that fires you to action, for if you fail to be a true man or a true woman, you will fail to be an artist.
X. Each act of creation shall leave you humble, for it is never as great as your dream and always
inferior to that most marvelous dream of God which is Nature.
- Gabriela Mistral
Translated by Doris Dana
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Shostakovich 5 and the Maestro
I survived. At least so far. The Maestro is the one who decides who stays and who goes and I've been trying to play and do my best so I get to stay. I love it here.
The Shostakovich went well, though it was weird to be on stage again after playing for two months in the pit. I felt rather exposed with the audience actually paying all their attention to the music instead of dancers and singers sharing the responsibility. But it was thrilling, as Shostakovich tends to be. His music has always been a personal favorite of mine, with his Eleventh Symphony changing my life forever back in 1998.
So it went well, I got to stand, but I was nervous! But after the Shostakovich, we began rehearsals for Bluebeard's Castle (Bartok) and Suor Angelica (Puccini) and I've been feeling confident ever since. (I had some great reeds.)
We just had our dress rehearsal of the operas and begin our run of shows tomorrow. I am entranced by the Bartok. It's incredibly spooky music, which of course perfectly follows the story: Judith marries Bluebeard, find these seven doors, wants to open them to have more light in the castle. Finds (not in perfect order) a torture room, an armory, a room full of riches, a garden with bloody roses, a view onto his vast kingdom, a lake of tears... and the seventh door contains the bodies of his previous wives, all murdered. She ultimately gets done in as well. Great plot, great music.
Then we move on to Suor Angelica: noble woman in convent because she had a kid out of wedlock, finds out her sister's is getting married and therefore must renounce her inheritance. She only wants to see her son, but finds out that her son died. She poisons herself thinking her son is calling for her, but realizes her mistake and begs for forgiveness. In the end, she sees the Virgin and her son and dies. Happy, I think. But it's pretty music, very Puccini. And we have Veronia Villareal, who is a very famous soprano (and also Chilean!) singing the lead role. Suor Angelica is an interesting opera because not only is it one of only three one-acts that Puccini wrote, but the cast is entirely women until the VERY end when a male chorus sings off-stage. Has a great couple of arias and really fun oboe/flute duets which Prema and I are playing with relish.
I love OPERA!
The Shostakovich went well, though it was weird to be on stage again after playing for two months in the pit. I felt rather exposed with the audience actually paying all their attention to the music instead of dancers and singers sharing the responsibility. But it was thrilling, as Shostakovich tends to be. His music has always been a personal favorite of mine, with his Eleventh Symphony changing my life forever back in 1998.
So it went well, I got to stand, but I was nervous! But after the Shostakovich, we began rehearsals for Bluebeard's Castle (Bartok) and Suor Angelica (Puccini) and I've been feeling confident ever since. (I had some great reeds.)
We just had our dress rehearsal of the operas and begin our run of shows tomorrow. I am entranced by the Bartok. It's incredibly spooky music, which of course perfectly follows the story: Judith marries Bluebeard, find these seven doors, wants to open them to have more light in the castle. Finds (not in perfect order) a torture room, an armory, a room full of riches, a garden with bloody roses, a view onto his vast kingdom, a lake of tears... and the seventh door contains the bodies of his previous wives, all murdered. She ultimately gets done in as well. Great plot, great music.
Then we move on to Suor Angelica: noble woman in convent because she had a kid out of wedlock, finds out her sister's is getting married and therefore must renounce her inheritance. She only wants to see her son, but finds out that her son died. She poisons herself thinking her son is calling for her, but realizes her mistake and begs for forgiveness. In the end, she sees the Virgin and her son and dies. Happy, I think. But it's pretty music, very Puccini. And we have Veronia Villareal, who is a very famous soprano (and also Chilean!) singing the lead role. Suor Angelica is an interesting opera because not only is it one of only three one-acts that Puccini wrote, but the cast is entirely women until the VERY end when a male chorus sings off-stage. Has a great couple of arias and really fun oboe/flute duets which Prema and I are playing with relish.
I love OPERA!
Labels:
Bluebeard's Castle,
Shostakovich,
Suor Angelica,
the Maestro
Trip continued
On the way to Valparaiso, we stopped in different villages, my favorites being Tunquen and Quintay. Somehow, these villages had so far escaped development, though I fear they are next in line. I want someone with a lot of money to buy the land and preserve it as a national park. Tunquen was a teensy dot on the map, and we passed through via dirt roads and through a river. On the OTHER side of the river was the sign that said “Don’t cross unless you’re in a truck.” Too bad they couldn’t get that sign for both directions. However, lucky for us, because it was breathtaking. Just some farms and houses scattered here and there, with giant cliffs (VERY steep) behind and the sea in front. Beautiful.
Quintay was similar, with the steepest road I’ve ever traveled leading into the town. We were a bit concerned our little rental car would make it. I can imagine that the people in the town like it that way – cuts down on the traffic. However, of course as you’re driving down the road, it feels as though you’ll drive straight into the sea, and at sunset, you want to camp out and forever live your life gazing upon the glittering water and the wet rocks rising tall from the sea. It was one of those moments I’d like to be able to have even when I grow old and my memory begins to fail me.
Quintay was similar, with the steepest road I’ve ever traveled leading into the town. We were a bit concerned our little rental car would make it. I can imagine that the people in the town like it that way – cuts down on the traffic. However, of course as you’re driving down the road, it feels as though you’ll drive straight into the sea, and at sunset, you want to camp out and forever live your life gazing upon the glittering water and the wet rocks rising tall from the sea. It was one of those moments I’d like to be able to have even when I grow old and my memory begins to fail me.
Labels:
Elqui Valley,
Hoffman,
La Serena,
Mom and Dad,
Penguins,
Quintay,
Risopatrón,
Tunquen
Recent Events and Neruda
So I have been out of blog commission for some time, mostly because I’d had a rolling series of busy weeks. In review, since the last time I wrote:
I had been in San Pedro de Atacama, blissfully soaking up the sunshine and clean air and the fresh start I recaptured while there.
Then I got sick. Thankfully, I was off of work for the next three weeks, so I spent the week making soup and watching movies and generally feeling a little bit sorry for myself. (Note: Regression whilst sick is shockingly easy. I believe I regained my San Pedro confidence upon return to normal health.)
Then Mom and Dad came, which was great. We spent the first five days or so puttering around Santiago, and checking things out slowly, which was nice. We saw the Pre-Columbian museum (lots of cool art and even some mummies and also some Maoi –the big Easter Island statues) www.precolombino.cl, climbed San Cristobal and Cerro Santa Lucia and had a tour with the Risopatróns of the Las Condes neighborhood. Then came the pivotal moment of the trip. We visited Pablo Neruda’s house, where I will digress.
Now, I’ve always APPRECIATED Neruda and fallen into his web of imagery and intimacy – I’ve seen Il Postino, read the Captain’s Verses, but I had no idea that he was artist in every sense of the word.
Neruda had three houses which he built piece by piece over the years (Lexington folk, it reminded me a bit of Kitty and Ron’s house that was years in the making). His house in Santiago is called La Chascona, which loosely translated means “crazy-haired one.” Think bad bed head. However, he used it as an affectionate term for his wife Matilde who apparently had crazy hair. Sweet.
La Chascona is tucked away in Bellavista and I’d passed it several times without ever realizing what it was. The entrance is just a door in a white wall. You enter into the gift-shop area and then head upstairs for the start of the tour. All of a sudden, you are in the middle of a bizarre “yard” surrounded by different house parts, all built onto a steep hill. Neruda designed all three of his houses to look like ships. The doors are all narrow, the halls narrow with low ceilings, and every space is intimate. Even if it has an open feeling, such as the living room in this house, the room itself is a circle so it’s all connected and revolves around itself and an incredible fireplace. (All three have fantastic fireplaces. And bars.)
Neruda was a collector and each room in the house has collections – of colored glasses, flatware, silverware, pictures of watermelons, seashells, etc. However, my favorite part about La Chascona was the design concept itself. You can have other people “in the house” and never see them all day long. And it’s not because it’s a massive house, but because each room is its own separate section, completely disconnected. One has to walk outside to get to the living/bedroom section, library, kitchen/guesthouse, etc. It’s a brilliant plan to be able to work at home and still feel as though you could be anywhere. We were all quite inspired and impressed by Neruda’s ingenuity in this design. Not to mention he has a beautiful view of Santiago and the mountains on clear days… (Ah, the tragedy of smog.)
Then we got out of town. And on the recommendation of our Neruda guide Gonzalo, rented our car and headed to Isla Negra, the second home of Neruda. Despite its name, Isla Negra is not an island, but a very quiet beach town about an hour and a half south of Valparaiso on the rocky Chilean coast. The wind blows quickly off the water and the waves relentlessly pound the rocks. Neruda was clever to buy some of the only coastal property in Isla Negra that also had a bit of sand, so one could swim if one dared to.
Neruda’s house in Isla Negra is filled with everything maritime – ship masts, paintings of ships, ships in bottles, navigational maps, TONS of seashells, a pipe collection, and more colored glasses. It is his burial place as well of that of his third wife, Matilde. To me, this house had much more solitude, with the sea in front and large evergreens behind. It is open and free, but also his nooks and crannies provide a safe haven and intimacy. The house in Isla Negra is an ode of love to the ocean. He even turned his bed at an angle so as to see the sea from as many points as possible.
We then moved towards Valparaiso to see his third and final house. His house in Valparaiso sits on one of the twenty or more hills (cerros) that rise above “el plan,” the flat section of town that runs into the ocean and port. These hills are literally covered with houses of every imaginable color, shape and size. At night, their lights outline the curves of the cerros and gaze down upon the flat streets and the boats docked, rocking in the waves. I felt as I had in Venice, where I never knew where I was going to end up, or what awaited me around the corner. Magical.
Neruda’s house, La Sebastiana, also known as La Casa en el Aire, (The House in the Air), sits quite near the very top of one of these hills. Not only is its location impressive, but also the house, unlike the spread of his other two, is stacked four floors one on top of the other. However, though it’s not spread out, it creates the same effect, as one has to go to a different floor for the living room, dining/kitchen area, bedroom, and finally, his library. (It seems as though I’m not the only one to have the idea to design a house like a lighthouse, building a different room at each turn of the stairs…). From the study, one can see all of Valparaiso, and also a bit around the bend to Viña del Mar. It’s reported that Neruda also watched the New Year’s fireworks from his house in Valparaiso. It’s easy to see why.
We fell in love...
I had been in San Pedro de Atacama, blissfully soaking up the sunshine and clean air and the fresh start I recaptured while there.
Then I got sick. Thankfully, I was off of work for the next three weeks, so I spent the week making soup and watching movies and generally feeling a little bit sorry for myself. (Note: Regression whilst sick is shockingly easy. I believe I regained my San Pedro confidence upon return to normal health.)
Then Mom and Dad came, which was great. We spent the first five days or so puttering around Santiago, and checking things out slowly, which was nice. We saw the Pre-Columbian museum (lots of cool art and even some mummies and also some Maoi –the big Easter Island statues) www.precolombino.cl, climbed San Cristobal and Cerro Santa Lucia and had a tour with the Risopatróns of the Las Condes neighborhood. Then came the pivotal moment of the trip. We visited Pablo Neruda’s house, where I will digress.
Now, I’ve always APPRECIATED Neruda and fallen into his web of imagery and intimacy – I’ve seen Il Postino, read the Captain’s Verses, but I had no idea that he was artist in every sense of the word.
Neruda had three houses which he built piece by piece over the years (Lexington folk, it reminded me a bit of Kitty and Ron’s house that was years in the making). His house in Santiago is called La Chascona, which loosely translated means “crazy-haired one.” Think bad bed head. However, he used it as an affectionate term for his wife Matilde who apparently had crazy hair. Sweet.
La Chascona is tucked away in Bellavista and I’d passed it several times without ever realizing what it was. The entrance is just a door in a white wall. You enter into the gift-shop area and then head upstairs for the start of the tour. All of a sudden, you are in the middle of a bizarre “yard” surrounded by different house parts, all built onto a steep hill. Neruda designed all three of his houses to look like ships. The doors are all narrow, the halls narrow with low ceilings, and every space is intimate. Even if it has an open feeling, such as the living room in this house, the room itself is a circle so it’s all connected and revolves around itself and an incredible fireplace. (All three have fantastic fireplaces. And bars.)
Neruda was a collector and each room in the house has collections – of colored glasses, flatware, silverware, pictures of watermelons, seashells, etc. However, my favorite part about La Chascona was the design concept itself. You can have other people “in the house” and never see them all day long. And it’s not because it’s a massive house, but because each room is its own separate section, completely disconnected. One has to walk outside to get to the living/bedroom section, library, kitchen/guesthouse, etc. It’s a brilliant plan to be able to work at home and still feel as though you could be anywhere. We were all quite inspired and impressed by Neruda’s ingenuity in this design. Not to mention he has a beautiful view of Santiago and the mountains on clear days… (Ah, the tragedy of smog.)
Then we got out of town. And on the recommendation of our Neruda guide Gonzalo, rented our car and headed to Isla Negra, the second home of Neruda. Despite its name, Isla Negra is not an island, but a very quiet beach town about an hour and a half south of Valparaiso on the rocky Chilean coast. The wind blows quickly off the water and the waves relentlessly pound the rocks. Neruda was clever to buy some of the only coastal property in Isla Negra that also had a bit of sand, so one could swim if one dared to.
Neruda’s house in Isla Negra is filled with everything maritime – ship masts, paintings of ships, ships in bottles, navigational maps, TONS of seashells, a pipe collection, and more colored glasses. It is his burial place as well of that of his third wife, Matilde. To me, this house had much more solitude, with the sea in front and large evergreens behind. It is open and free, but also his nooks and crannies provide a safe haven and intimacy. The house in Isla Negra is an ode of love to the ocean. He even turned his bed at an angle so as to see the sea from as many points as possible.
We then moved towards Valparaiso to see his third and final house. His house in Valparaiso sits on one of the twenty or more hills (cerros) that rise above “el plan,” the flat section of town that runs into the ocean and port. These hills are literally covered with houses of every imaginable color, shape and size. At night, their lights outline the curves of the cerros and gaze down upon the flat streets and the boats docked, rocking in the waves. I felt as I had in Venice, where I never knew where I was going to end up, or what awaited me around the corner. Magical.
Neruda’s house, La Sebastiana, also known as La Casa en el Aire, (The House in the Air), sits quite near the very top of one of these hills. Not only is its location impressive, but also the house, unlike the spread of his other two, is stacked four floors one on top of the other. However, though it’s not spread out, it creates the same effect, as one has to go to a different floor for the living room, dining/kitchen area, bedroom, and finally, his library. (It seems as though I’m not the only one to have the idea to design a house like a lighthouse, building a different room at each turn of the stairs…). From the study, one can see all of Valparaiso, and also a bit around the bend to Viña del Mar. It’s reported that Neruda also watched the New Year’s fireworks from his house in Valparaiso. It’s easy to see why.
We fell in love...
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