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Salon Seánce @ Tarisio

~Author: Scoresby

Thursday October 19 2018 – After the many concerts I’ve reviewed in the past week or so that had theatrical elements, ranging from the NY Philharmonic’s MUTED to Berlioz’s Lélio, it was satisfying to hear a performance that finally seemed to strike the rare balance between excellent music and intellectually interesting theater. Salon Séance, co-founded by siblings violinist Mari Lee (an ensemble connect Alumnus) and Simon Lee (who provided the research for the work), performed its unusual structure in the show room of the string instrument auction house Tarisio with electric candles all over the stage and a backdrop of 50 or so rare instruments. Essentially, this performance consisted of full pieces of music by a specific composer being played, punctuated with short theatrical monologues that illuminate context in which those pieces were composed while threading a common theme through it all. The theme of this concert about Britten and Auden was addressing the question “How Do I live in a Broken World?”

Above Ms. Valla leading the musicians in contacting Britten’s spirit; photo credit: Rodrigo Aranjuelo

In the opening, actress Sagine Valla was alone as the five musicians walked toward the stage speaking to her. Because of this unusual setup there was none of the traditional clapping as the musicians entered, a welcome relief from the usual program. After a bit of awkward dialogue, the performance became interesting when the musicians and Ms. Valla gathered in a circle to summon the spirit of Benjamin Britten. After a few unsuccessful attempts, she suggested for the musicians to play something to rouse Britten. The quartet then launched into the first movement of his String Quartet No. 1, Op. 25 played by fantastic chamber musicians and the performance didn’t let up until the end of the evening.

The quartet performing included violinists Rebecca Anderson (an Ensemble Connect Alumnus) and Mari Lee, cellist Mihai Marica (a regular at CMS at Lincoln Center), and violist Ayane Kozasa (a founding member of the Azuri Quartet). The first movement of this piece alternates between two contrasting themes that slowly develop using each other as springboards. The first is a slow ethereal theme layered with nostalgia played with the violins and viola in the highest ranges of their instruments while the cello plucks an almost child-like theme in a completely different register. Ms. Anderson, Ms. Lee, and Ms. Kozasa did a wonderful job of sustaining the high-pitched melody cleanly while Mr. Marica’s warm pizzicatos filled the room. The group brought verve to the raucous second theme, but they were best in the closing bits of the movement as the first theme turns from sweetness to longing.

Instead of moving into the next movement, Ms. Valla (now taken by Mr. Britten’s spirit) began to talk in the first person about Britten’s life during the time the quartet was composed. Ms. Valla (with Noelle Wilsons’s brilliant script) painted Britten’s move to New York and the way his love of California made him long to be back in England. She also introduced the moment Britten met poet W.H. Auden who later became the core of the evening’s drama.

After a riveting performance of the other three movements, Ms. Lee, Ms. Valla, and pianist Julia Hamos joined together for the most creative part of the evening. While Ms. Lee and Ms. Hamos performed the Waltz, March, and Moto perpetuo from Britten Violin Suite, Op. 6, Ms. Valla gave a monologue about Britten’s travels through Europe. At first, she talked about how he went to Vienna and found it magical just as the Waltz began. As Ms. Valla transitioned to talk about the way Britten felt alienated by the rise of Nazism the music moved into the sinister the March. Ms. Valla’s monologue wasn’t constant, there was plenty of space for the music too. Instead it was sort of a trio between the three performers. While Ms. Lee and Ms. Hamos were a bit too loud for Ms. Valla at times, it is hard to play a difficult piano part softly enough for a speaker in such a small space (the audience fit only perhaps 40 people).

The drama of the night reached its peak when the text shifted back to Britten’s fraught relationship with Auden as the Moto perpetuo begins. Here Mr. Lee’s detailed research and Ms. Wilson’s energetic script paid off as Ms. Valla captured Britten’s jealously and infinite admiration for Auden, all while their personal connection soured. As the music broke off, Ms. Valla recited an emotionally abusive letter Auden sent to Britten, essentially lambasting him for what Auden thought was naivety and privilege on Britten’s part. Ms. Valla then claimed to lose Britten’s spirit from exhaustion and the piece goes into intermission.

Above: Ms. Anderson, Ms. Lee, Mr. Marica, and Ms. Kozasa; Photo Credit: Rodrigo Aranjuelo

After intermission, “Britten” talked about the horror he felt at World War II and performing at the Bergen-Belsen Concentration Camp with Menhuin for survivors, “I never felt the same after that trip.” It was his vehement belief that art was a panacea for those dark times. With this in mind, the quartet performed the complete String Quartet No. 2, Op. 36 which was composed contemporaneously. While the first two movements are lovely, the Chacony is one of Britten’s most substantial pieces of music. Each quartet member (Ms. Lee and Ms. Anderson switched positions) gave her/his all in the difficultly paced movement, getting every nuance from the sunny bursts of optimism that end the work to the sinewy dissonant textures that start the movement. It was among the liveliest chamber music performances I’ve heard this year, but with Ms. Valla’s speech in mind about the war it became even more emotionally potent.

The genius of Ms. Lee’s production and Mikael Södersten’s direction is that the speech never sounds corny and the music is from top notch performers. This a serious historically informed piece about Britten’s inner life that links directly with the music they perform, almost like immersive program notes that both the novice and aficionado can enjoy. My only wish is that there was more speech in the second half of the program. Nonetheless, it is a relief from the staid concert environment. From the audience members I talked to afterword seemed to make even the most jaded listeners seemed won over – a rewarding evening all around. I look forward to seeing the project’s next production with the next composer.

~Scoresby

To recap, the performers:

Rebecca Anderson, violin

Julia Hamos, piano

Ayane Kozasa, viola

Mari Lee, violin/co-creator

Simon Lee, researcher/co-creator

Mihai Marica, cello

Mikael Södersten, director/advisor

Sagine Valla, actor

Noelle P. Wilson, playwright

The program:

Britten String Quartet No. 1, Op. 25

Britten Violin Suite, Op. 6 selections

Britten String Quartet No. 2, Op. 36

October 23, 2018
Mignon Dunn as Dalila

In the aftermath of the opening night performance of a new SAMSON ET DALILA at The Met, the folks on The List and at Parterre are discussing favorite interpreters of the opera’s title roles; the name of Mignon Dunn came up.

Mignon was a great favorite of mine and her performances in such roles as Laura in GIOCONDA, Fricka in the RING Cycle, Anna in TROYENS, Brangaene in TRISTAN UND ISOLDE, and Ortrud in LOHENGRIN are among my fondest operatic memories.

In 1985, I had the good fortune to see Mignon Dunn as Dalila in a production by the Connecticut Opera Association at The Bushnell in Hartford. She and her co-stars, Jon Frederic West and Charles Karel, sang powerfully whilst doing what they could dramatically in an old-style, rather campy setting.

In the course of my two-year project of rescuing music from my vast cassette collection, I was able to preserve this recording of Mignon singing Dalila’s opening aria from Act II with piano from a radio program in 1975 which I taped off the air:

Mignon Dunn – Amour viens aider ma faiblesse – SAMSON & DALILA – Met Marathon 1975

I’ll be seeing the Met’s new SAMSON ET DALILA twice in the coming weeks: once with each cast.

~ Oberon

September 29, 2018
van Zweden’s Bruckner 8th @ The NY Phil

Above: Jaap van Zweden, Musical Director of The New York Philharmonic

~ Author: Oberon

Friday September 28th, 2018 – This evening was our first opportunity to hear Jaap van Zweden lead The New York Philharmonic since he officially took up the position of Musical Director. My friend Ben Weaver and I splurged and bought tickets to this concert because Bruckner is always on our must-hear list. In 2014, I had my first live encounter with the composer’s 8th in this very hall, under Alan Gilbert’s baton. It was a revelation.

Tonight, Jaap van Zweden offered Conrad Tao’s Everything Must Go as a prelude to the Bruckner 8th. Does this massive symphony need a prelude? No. As with many ‘new’ works we’ve encountered over the past few seasons, Everything Must Go is expertly crafted but it sounds like so much else: by turns spare and noisy, with frequent percussive bangs and pops, this eleven-minute piece (it felt longer) passed by without providing any sense of the composer’s individual voice. Perhaps hearing more of Mr. Tao’s work – music not yoked to an existing masterpiece that employs the same orchestral forces – will lead us to discover who he is.

Since there was no pause between the Tao and the Bruckner, the audience’s response to Everything Must Go could not be gauged. I wonder if the young composer took a bow at the end; we had headed out as the applause commenced.

For the first two movements of the Bruckner, I was enthralled. The orchestra sounded truly superb, and Maestro van Zweden held sway with a perfect sense of the music’s architecture. It was a tremendous relief and balm to emerge from the day’s madness (the Kavanaugh hearings) into Bruckner’s vibrant world.

The Philharmonic musicians offered rich tone and marvelous colours, the brass sounding grand and the violins singing lyrically in their big theme. The music has a Wagnerian sense of the monumental, and a ceaseless melodic flow. Among the solo moments, Sherry Sylar’s oboe stood out. At one point there’s an almost direct quote from Tchaikovsky’s SLEEPING BEAUTY. During a respite/interlude, softer themes mingle before a splendid onslaught from the brass turns grandiose. The movement ends on a murmur.

The Scherzo has as its main and oft-repeated theme a churning 5-note figure that has worked its way into the soundtrack for GAME OF THRONES. As the movement progresses, the harp makes a lovely effect, as do the entwining voices of solo woodwinds. Textures modify seamlessly, sustaining our pleasure.

A deep sense of longing suffuses the opening of the Adagio, with its rising passion. Again the harp glimmers magically. The rise and fall of great waves of sound bring passages of almost unbearable beauty; there’s a spectacular build-up to music of searing passion which evaporates into soft halo of solo winds. As the music re-builds, a Tchaikovskian glory permeates. It seems, though, that Bruckner cannot quite decide how to end this epic movement.

Pulsing, march-like, and majestic, the Finale leads us onward. A big swaying rhythm from the timpani leads into a huge tsunami of sound. The work began to feel like a series of climaxes, though, and traces of brass fatigue started to crop up. The Maestro and the musicians were engulfed by gales of applause and cheers at the end.

I’m probably in a minority in feeling that Alan Gilbert’s 2014 rendering of the Bruckner 8th with the Philharmonic reached me on a deeper level, as well as being more exhilarating. “Well, it was faster!”, Ben Weaver would say. À chacun son goût…

~ Oberon

September 29, 2018
van Zweden’s Bruckner 8th @ The NY Phil

Above: Jaap van Zweden, Musical Director of The New York Philharmonic

~ Author: Oberon

Friday September 28th, 2018 – This evening was our first opportunity to hear Jaap van Zweden lead The New York Philharmonic since he officially took up the position of Musical Director. My friend Ben Weaver and I splurged and bought tickets to this concert because Bruckner is always on our must-hear list. In 2014, I had my first live encounter with the composer’s 8th in this very hall, under Alan Gilbert’s baton. It was a revelation.

Tonight, Jaap van Zweden offered Conrad Tao’s Everything Must Go as a prelude to the Bruckner 8th. Does this massive symphony need a prelude? No. As with many ‘new’ works we’ve encountered over the past few seasons, Everything Must Go is expertly crafted but it sounds like so much else: by turns spare and noisy, with frequent percussive bangs and pops, this eleven-minute piece (it felt longer) passed by without providing any sense of the composer’s individual voice. Perhaps hearing more of Mr. Tao’s work – music not yoked to an existing masterpiece that employs the same orchestral forces – will lead us to discover who he is.

Since there was no pause between the Tao and the Bruckner, the audience’s response to Everything Must Go could not be gauged. I wonder if the young composer took a bow at the end; we had headed out as the applause commenced.

For the first two movements of the Bruckner, I was enthralled. The orchestra sounded truly superb, and Maestro van Zweden held sway with a perfect sense of the music’s architecture. It was a tremendous relief and balm to emerge from the day’s madness (the Kavanaugh hearings) into Bruckner’s vibrant world.

The Philharmonic musicians offered rich tone and marvelous colours, the brass sounding grand and the violins singing lyrically in their big theme. The music has a Wagnerian sense of the monumental, and a ceaseless melodic flow. Among the solo moments, Sherry Sylar’s oboe stood out. At one point there’s an almost direct quote from Tchaikovsky’s SLEEPING BEAUTY. During a respite/interlude, softer themes mingle before a splendid onslaught from the brass turns grandiose. The movement ends on a murmur.

The Scherzo has as its main and oft-repeated theme a churning 5-note figure that has worked its way into the soundtrack for GAME OF THRONES. As the movement progresses, the harp makes a lovely effect, as do the entwining voices of solo woodwinds. Textures modify seamlessly, sustaining our pleasure.

A deep sense of longing suffuses the opening of the Adagio, with its rising passion. Again the harp glimmers magically. The rise and fall of great waves of sound bring passages of almost unbearable beauty; there’s a spectacular build-up to music of searing passion which evaporates into soft halo of solo winds. As the music re-builds, a Tchaikovskian glory permeates. It seems, though, that Bruckner cannot quite decide how to end this epic movement.

Pulsing, march-like, and majestic, the Finale leads us onward. A big swaying rhythm from the timpani leads into a huge tsunami of sound. The work began to feel like a series of climaxes, though, and traces of brass fatigue started to crop up. The Maestro and the musicians were engulfed by gales of applause and cheers at the end.

I’m probably in a minority in feeling that Alan Gilbert’s 2014 rendering of the Bruckner 8th with the Philharmonic reached me on a deeper level, as well as being more exhilarating. “Well, it was faster!”, Ben Weaver would say. À chacun son goût…

~ Oberon

September 28, 2018
Robin Becker’s INTO SUNLIGHT: A Documentary

Above: dancers Yoko Sugimoto-Ikezawa and Joseph Jehle in a 2011 performance of Robin Becker’s INTO SUNLIGHT at the 92nd Street Y; photo by Kokyat

~ Author: Oberon

Thursday September 27th, 2018 – Having followed the development of Robin Becker’s profoundly moving anti-war dancework INTO SUNLIGHT from its early rehearsals in 2010, I was honored to be invited to a screening of the new documentary film about the piece this evening.

Robin Becker did not set out to create a dancework about the Vietnam War; her idea was to make a piece that would grow out of her sense of helpless despair when the US commenced its war against Iraq. In researching for her project, she came upon David Maraniss’s book THEY MARCHED INTO SUNLIGHT. She immediately felt its power as a depiction of the human aspects of war and of war’s effect on both the people fighting it and on their loved ones waiting at home for them to return (or not), as well as thoughtful citizens enraged by the policies and careless disdain for the value of human life of the politicians who wage wars.

INTO SUNLIGHT was inspired by the David Maraniss book ‘They Marched Into Sunlight‘, an account of two days in October 1967 when “…war was raging in Vietnam as the anti-war movement was raging in America.” I’m eyeing my copy of the book on my bookshelf as I write this, and will start re-reading it in a few days.

The book – and the ballet – revolve around two events that took place on those days in October of 1967: the ambush of a battalion of American soldiers in the Vietnam jungle, and a protest against the Dow Chemical Company at the University of Wisconsin.

Robin Becker has given the tragic tale a new dimension thru her choreography. Set to a score Chris Lastovicka, Robin’s ballet entwines both threads of the book – the war abroad and the reaction at home – in a cohesive narrative, as dark and haunting as any dancework I have witnessed. Along with Jacqulyn Buglisi’s deeply resonant TABLE OF SILENCE, INTO SUNLIGHT stands as a truly meaningful dance experience. Both works share a common root: they are about something.

Watch a trailer for INTO SUNLIGHT here. And visit the documentary’s website here.

Above: Robin Becker and company photographed while in Vietnam in 2015 for performances of INTO SUNLIGHT

Ron Honsa’s film is outstanding on every count. He brings us gorgeously-shot performance footage, segments of Ms. Becker and David Maraniss speaking of the connection between the dancework and the book; and Mr. Honsa follows the Becker company to Vietnam, where INTO SUNLIGHT was performed in 2015.

But Mr. Honsa delves deeper, bringing us interviews with people whose lives were permanently affected by the events of October 1967: Consuelo Allen, Clark Welch, and Paul Solgin.

Consuelo Allen’s father, Lieutenant Colonel Terry Allen, Jr., had been home on leave and was saying goodbye to his family before heading back to Vietnam when his five-year-old daughter Consuelo cried out: “You can’t leave! You’re going to die!” On that fatal morning of October 17, 1967, as he led his Black Lions battalion on a search-and-destroy mission in the Long Nguyen Secret Zone, Terry Allen, Jr. and sixty of his men were killed in an ambush.

Clark Welch was one of Terry’s commanders. He suffers extreme mental torment over the loss of his men. Both Clark and Consuelo are deeply touching as the tell their stories for the film.

Paul Solgin was one of the demonstrators at the University of Wisconsin; many of the demonstrators sustained injury at the hands of club-swinging police. Ironically, their freedom of speech and of dissent might be thought to be among the ideals that the soldiers serving in Vietnam were fighting to protect.

Above: me and Robin Becker after the 92nd Y showing of INTO SUNLIGHT in 2011; photo by Kokyat.

Among the audience at this evening’s showing of the documentary was dancer Nicole Sclafani, who plays a major role in Robin Becker’s INTO SUNLIGHT. In the ballet, Nicole’s duet with Oisín Monaghan depicts a woman who dreamed of the death of her brother from a horrific abdominal wound sustained in battle, only to awaken the next day to find that her dream was prophetic.

Another true story that is told in INTO SUNLIGHT is of the death of West Point football hero Don Holleder, who – with his comrades – rushed headlong onto the battlefield that October morning and was immediately gunned down. Compellingly danced by Chazz Fenner-McBride, it’s one of the ballet’s heart-stopping moments.

Yet another of the most poignant scenes in the dancework is that of a young widow, danced by Yoko Sugimoto-Ikezawa, visiting the grave of her soldier-husband, portrayed in the film by Ricky Werthen. The distraught woman clings to the gravestone, unable to comprehend the loss of her beloved.

This was written by me after initially reading Mr. Maraniss’s book:

“For all the emotional power behind the factual re-telling of these events, by far the most overwhelming aspect of the story comes many years after the incidents when the leaders of the two factions who met on that battlefield that October morning meet once again – now old warriors – and explore the anonymous patch of Vietnamese land where so many young men (from both sides) laid down their lives. If only the two commanders could have met before the battle, they might have realized their differences were vastly outweighed by their common humanity. They could have shaken hands and walked back to their respective camps, refusing to kill each other simply because someone had told them it was the thing to do.”

UPDATE: This documentary will be shown at AMC Loew’s on Saturday October 20th at 4:00 PM as part of the Chelsea Film Festival.

~ Oberon

September 27, 2018
Gladys Ripley

Gladys Ripley – Elgar~Where Corals Lie

September 24, 2018
Nobuyuki Tsujii|ORPHEUS @ Carnegie Hall

Above: pianist Nobuyuki Tsujii, photographed by Georgia Bertazzi

~ Author: Oberon

Thursday September 20th, 2018 – Pianist Nobuyuki Tsujii joining the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra for their season-opening concert at Carnegie Hall.

Arvo Pärt’s Frates opened the evening. Undoubtedly the composer’s best-known work, it was used by choreographer Christopher Wheeldon for his 2003 ballet LITURGY, created on New York City Ballet’s Wendy Whelan and Jock Soto. In that context, I’ve heard the music performed live many times; but tonight was my first experience of hearing it in a concert setting.

From its ethereal start, Fratres develops slowly as its theme is repeated in varying registers and instrumentations, punctuated by percussion accents. In this evening’s concert, the 2007 arrangement was performed, which includes winds. String and wind ensembles alternate ‘verses’ as the bass and deep celli sustain a low, grounding note of spiritual resonance. The depth of tone summoned up by the Orpheus players gave Fratres a feel of Russian bassos engaged in ritual chant.

Mr. Tsujii then joined the orchestra for a performance of Chopin’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in F-Minor, Op. 21, in an arrangement by Shuying Li. The pianist, who is blind, was escorted to the piano where he sat, rocking gently as he awaited his entrance; he seemed to take the measure of the keyboard before launching his impressive and marvel-filled performance.

Nobu (as he is known) gives this music a gorgeous sense of flow. In his first solo passage, his sensitivity and attention to detail were in abundant evidence. He summons up a cushiony sound, and has a keen sense of the mixture of passion and reserve by which the opening Maestoso profits. Blending with the bassoon and then with the horn, Nobu regaled us with sumptuous tone and shining dexterity.

In the central Larghetto, the pianist imbued the music with a sense of quiet rapture, building to a state of transportive romance. Over tremolo strings, a feeling of mystery envelops us; silence falls before a delicate cadenza is introduced. The main melody recurs, leading to a quiet end. Throughout this movement, an atmosphere of hushed anticipation in the hall was a tribute to Nobu’s artistry.

The closing Allegro vivace is styled as a Polish folk dance. Nobu took barely a moment to spring from the Larghetto into this virtuoso revelry, spinning out florid passages with flair. His buoyant, dazzling playing danced on to the end, when the house erupted in massive applause and shouts of enthusiasm. A full standing ovation greeted Nobu’s bows, and he favored us with a jazzy encore: a concert étude by the Russian composer Nikolai Kapustin. A second encore seemed in the offing, but the musicians walked offstage, leaving the crowd wanting more. I’ll certainly be seeking out Nobu in future; there’s so much music I want to hear him play.

Following the interval, Tchaikovsky’s String Quartet No. 1 in D-Major, Op. 11, was offered in an arrangement for chamber orchestra by Christopher Theofanidis. The Playbill refers to the piece now as a “Chamber Symphony”, which is all well and good, though as my companion Ben Weaver commented, it’s almost unrecognizable to admirers of the original quartet setting.

Mr. Theofanidis’s arrangement – a veritable font of melody – is well-crafted and makes for a pleasing half-hour of listening, being lovingly played by the Orpheus musicians. Unfortunately, maintaining our focus was nearly impossible thanks to a series of distractions. A couple seated nearby spent several minutes intently watching something on their cellphone. Then suddenly the phone began playing Fratres; it took several seconds for the woman to shut it down, whereupon she dropped the phone with a thud. Meanwhile, during the Andante cantabile, a baby fussed loudly. Then the coup de grace: another cellphone played a blithe tune. Amid such shenanigans, concentration on the music we’d come to hear becomes an unnecessary chore.

UPDATE: I’ve just been watching TOUCHING THE SOUND, an extremely moving documentary about Nobuyuki Tsujii’s childhood, the discovery of his remarkable gift, his winning of the Cliburn in 2009, and his outreach to school children whose lives were shattered by the 2011 tsunami in Japan. Watch a trailer for the film here.

A quote from Nobuyuki: “I can see everything…with my heart.”

~ Oberon

September 20, 2018
Hamilton’s House

Wednesday September 19th, 2018 – Having lived in New York City for twenty years, and been a frequent Gotham visitor since the 1960s, it’s always fun to discover places here in town that I did not know existed. I happened upon Alexander Hamilton’s house – officially called Hamilton Grange National Memorial – one day in August while visiting a friend who was recuperating from surgery. The house was not open to visitors that day, but it looked so distinguished sitting there in its grassy park that I knew I wanted to return and investigate.

I was pretty sure my high-school friend Deb Hastings would be interested in this landmark; I suggested we head there the next time she came into town…which turned out to be today.

Hamilton’s house is located on 141st Street at Saint Nicholas Avenue in Manhattan. With the success of the musical HAMILTON, the house has become something of a tourist destination. Deb saw HAMILTON and loved it. Myself, it interests me not at all.

After strolling around the exterior…

…we went into the visitor’s center for our “un-guided” tour, which started at noon. Only another woman and her teenaged son were in our ‘group’…the boy reminded me so much of my first lover, TJ.

Films shown at such landmarks are not always of great interest, but the two we watched here were excellent: the first about Hamilton’s life (and death) and the other about the incredible feat of moving the house to its present location from a couple of blocks away.

We climbed a steep, narrow staircase to the main floor, where three period rooms are open to the public:

The dining room…

…sitting room…

…and Hamilton’s small study, with a little writing table, above…

…and a large desk.

More images from our visit:

Sitting room carpet detail

Though our tour was not guided, a woman from the National Parks Service was on hand, and she answered Deb’s questions in detail. We then walked up the hill to Amsterdam Avenue and had a delicious lunch at the Grange Bar and Eatery.

{The statue shown in the photo at the top of this article stands in the churchyard at St Luke’s Episcopalian, adjacent to where Hamilton’s house was located prior to its being moved to the current location.}

~ Oberon

September 19, 2018
Hamilton’s House

Wednesday September 19th, 2018 – Having lived in New York City for twenty years, and been a frequent Gotham visitor since the 1960s, it’s always fun to discover places here in town that I did not know existed. I happened upon Alexander Hamilton’s house – officially called Hamilton Grange National Memorial – one day in August while visiting a friend who was recuperating from surgery. The house was not open to visitors that day, but it looked so distinguished sitting there in its grassy park that I knew I wanted to return and investigate.

I was pretty sure my high-school friend Deb Hastings would be interested in this landmark; I suggested we head there the next time she came into town…which turned out to be today.

Hamilton’s house is located on 141st Street at Saint Nicholas Avenue in Manhattan. With the success of the musical HAMILTON, the house has become something of a tourist destination. Deb saw HAMILTON and loved it. Myself, it interests me not at all.

After strolling around the exterior…

…we went into the visitor’s center for our “un-guided” tour, which started at noon. Only another woman and her teenaged son were in our ‘group’…the boy reminded me so much of my first lover, TJ.

Films shown at such landmarks are not always of great interest, but the two we watched here were excellent: the first about Hamilton’s life (and death) and the other about the incredible feat of moving the house to its present location from a couple of blocks away.

We climbed a steep, narrow staircase to the main floor, where three period rooms are open to the public:

The dining room…

…sitting room…

…and Hamilton’s small study, with a little writing table, above…

…and a large desk.

More images from our visit:

Sitting room carpet detail

Though our tour was not guided, a woman from the National Parks Service was on hand, and she answered Deb’s questions in detail. We then walked up the hill to Amsterdam Avenue and had a delicious lunch at the Grange Bar and Eatery.

{The statue shown in the photo at the top of this article stands in the churchyard at St Luke’s Episcopalian, adjacent to where Hamilton’s house was located prior to its being moved to the current location.}

~ Oberon

September 18, 2018
Übermächte sind im Spiel!

Above: Alfred Roller design for Die Amme (the Nurse) in DIE FRAU OHNE SCHATTEN

DIE FRAU OHNE SCHATTEN (The Woman Without a Shadow) is Richard Strauss’s massive fairy tale of an opera. The “schatten” (shadow) of the opera’s title symbolizes a woman’s ability to bear children. The Empress, a half-human half-spirit creature, is shadowless; thus her marriage to the human Emperor is childless. As the opera opens, the Empress’s nurse receives word that Keikobad, the spirit-king and father of the Empress, will re-claim his daughter for the spirit world if she cannot cast a shadow within three days; and in addition, her husband will be turned to stone.

Die Amme, the Nurse, is the Empress’s faithful companion. She grudgingly agrees to help her mistress obtain a shadow from the human world; their quest settles on the wife of the lowly dyer, Barak. Promising the unhappily-married Dyer’s Wife untold riches and a handsome youth to be her lover, The Nurse arranges that the shadow of the Wife will be transferred to the Empress.

After bitterly renouncing Barak, the Wife submits to the Nurse’s magic spell of transference. Suddenly a magic sword flies into Barak’s hands; his brothers urge him to kill the deranged, possessed Wife. Overwhelmed by the situation, the Wife relents at the last moment and begs her husband to slay her; Barak raises the sword, but Keikobad intervenes: the sword is shattered, the house begins to crumble. Crying out “Higher powers are in play! Hither, to me!”, the Nurse leads the Empress away from the destruction.

The brief scene of the Wife’s change of heart is excitingly sung here by Marilyn Zschau, and the Nurse’s spectacular cry of “Übermächte sind im Spiel! Her zu mir!” climaxes on a sustained high B-flat from Mignon Dunn in this, one of the most thrilling “curtains” in all opera.

Marilyn Zschau & Mignon Dunn – FRAU OHNE SCHATTEN ~ finale Act II – Chicago 1984

September 18, 2018