The Sea: A “Fluxus Eleatis” discourse

Archilochus: Look Glaucus! Already waves are disturbing the deep sea and a cloud stands straight round about the heights of Gyrae, a sign of storm; from the unexpected comes fear.

Julia Kristeva: We are no doubt permanent subjects of a language that holds us in its power. But we are subjects in process, ceaselessly losing our identity, destabilized by fluctuations in our relations to the other, to whom we nevertheless remain bound by a kind of homeostasis.

W.B. Yeats: What can be explained is not poetry. 

First Steward: Good evening Mrs. T, Mr. FFF, welcome on board! Your cabin is ready. Is there something we can do for you before we show you to your cabin?

Mrs. T:  Good evening Mr. Gerassimidis! It is always nice to see you!

Mr. FFF: Good evening to you too! It is good to see you again! Are we on time?

First Steward: We are on time, and we are going to have calm seas.

Mr. FFF: What time is dinner served?

First Steward: We start at 8pm sharp. Shall I book a table for you?

Mr. FFF: Yes, please. Now you can show us to our cabin.

Mrs. T: How long is the journey?

Mr. FFF: Approximately 18 hours. Assuming the sea is calm. It could be 14 hours, but with all the interim ports of call the time increases significantly.

Mrs. T: Are we going to see the dolphins?

Mr. FFF: Only if we are lucky. But if we do, it is a spectacular ballet show. And the music of the sea with the humming of the ship’s engines in the background brings the experience to supernatural levels.

Ανωνυμος Ναυτης: Θυμαμαι την πρωτη μου αναχωρηση μ’ ενα μεγαλο ποσταλε. Τη στιγμη εκεινη που πραγματοποιουσα το λαμπροτερον ονειρο μου, ημουν γιοματος αμφιβολια και φοβο.

(Unnamed Mariner: I remember my first sailing on a big postale. The moment I was realizing my brightest dream, I was full of doudt and fear.)

Alvaro Mutis: This is how we forget: our affairs, no matter how close to us, are made strange through the mimetic, deceptive, constant working of a precarious present. When one of these images returns with all its voracious determination to survive intact, then what learned men call epiphany occurs: an experience that can be either devastating or a simple confirmation of certain truths that allow us to go on living.

Maqroll “el Gaviero”: I think I’ve exaggerated the true significance of the death of the Duc of Orléans. . . . There’s a monotony in crime, and it’s not advisable to have too much to do with it in books or in life.

Jon Iturri: For three consecutive days we stayed in Hotel Lisboa without exiting the room, which we had transformed into a kind of our own universe, where incidents of eroticism were coming one after another, with the only words given to describing our childhood years and how we discovered the world.

Alvaro Mutis: Because, of course, in a place like that, one experiences situations which are extreme and absolute. In there the density of human  relations is absolute. And there is one thing you learn in prison, and I passed it on to Maqroll, and that is that you don’t judge, you don’t say, that guy committed a terrible crime against his family, so I can’t be his friend. No, in a place like that one coexists. The judging is done by the judges on the outside.

Ανωνυμος Ναυτης: Δεν μπορω να καταλαβω κι εγω ο ιδιος τον εαυτο μου. Ειναι ωρες που νομιζω πως δεν ειμαι τιποτα περισσοτερο απο το μαυρο θερμαστη Τζοννυ, που ζει μοναχα για να τρωει. Ειναι ωρες που νομιζω πως ολα μεσα μου εχουν πεθανει και λεω πως η καρδια μου εχει σκληρυνει, καθως οι παλαμες μου. .. Εχω δει τοσα και τοσα… Κι αλλες ωρες παλι, νομιζω πως μεσα μου εχω ολη την καλοσυνη και την αγνοτητα, που λειπει του κοσμου…

(Unnamed Mariner: I cannot understand my own self. There are moments I think I am nothing more than the black fireman Johnny, who lives only to eat. There are moments I think that everything inside me is dead and I say that my heart is as tough as my palm… I have seen a lot… And then, I think that I have in me all the goodness and purity that the world is longing for…)

Mr. FFF: I have often pictured myself in Tangier, restless and subdued, loving it and hating it, looking from a hill all the way to the north, to Gibraltar, to the escape. Crossing the Pillars of Hercules, entering another life, another planet, another universe, getting away from all the mess. In this sense a sea journey always has this cleansing aspect. The sea takes away all the mess you carry with you.

Mrs T: Why in Tangier?

Mr. FFF: Because I still have this dream that I am in Tangier and I meet W S Burrows in one of the tea shops up on the hill. And then I get on a boat and leave him behind. We do not exchange a single word. We just look at each other and drink tea. As a matter of fact, nobody in the tea shop talks. They drink tea and smoke shisha. I wanted to ask Burrows why he killed Joan Vollmer.

W S Burrows: (we hear his voice through a cloud, but cannot see him) I am forced to the appalling conclusion that I would never have become a writer but for Joan’s death, and to a realization of the extent to which this event has motivated and formulated my writing. I live with the constant threat of possession, and a constant need to escape from possession, from control. So the death of Joan brought me in contact with the invader, the Ugly Spirit, and maneuvered me into a life long struggle, in which I have had no choice except to write my way out.

Mrs. T: The sea cleanses, the sea kills, the sea destroys all evidence of a committed crime. The sea gives you refuge, the sea hides you away from the prying eyes of society, it is the protector of the all the runaways. Hide away, hide away sinful souls! But even worse is the running away of those who have not committed any crime, but run away from themselves. Even the sea cannot save them.

Headwaiter: Would you like to have a drink before your meal?

Mrs. T: I would like a bitter Campari with soda water, a slice of lemon and ice.

Mr. FFF: A double scotch on the rocks for me please.

Headwaiter: Certainly. Here is our menu for tonight. I recommend the grilled shark steak. It is as fresh as it gets.

Mrs. T: Did you catch the shark while sailing? I would loooove to have the juicy grilled shark steak with sea weed rolls stuffed with angulas. 

Headwaiter: I had these rolls in Bilbao, and I loved them,. Unfortunately I cannot offer them to you tonight. Could I possibly offer you instead boiled vegetables with mustard sauce?

Mrs. T: Of course, it was a long shot anyway! Boiled vegetables will be fine. But please hold the mustard sauce.

Mr. FFF: Shall we have a robust white wine with the shark? Like assyrtico from Santorini.

Headwaiter: Splendid choice, I can serve you “Santorini” by Sigalas, 2008.

Ανδρέας Σπερχής: Βεατρίκη!…Βεατρίκη!…Συγχώρησέ με.

(Andreas Sperchis: Beatrice!.. Beatrice!… Forgive me!)

W.B. Yeats

Cast a cold Eye
On Life, on Death.
Horseman, pass by!

Υβοννη: Τι συμβαίνει και δεν ημπορεί κανείς να απολαμβάνη πάντοτε τον έρωτα σαν μίαν ωραίαν οπώραν {…}, σαν ένα ωραίο τοπείον, σαν ένα ωραίο ξένοιστο πρωί, πασίχαρο, αυροφίλητο, γιομάτο ευφροσύνη, σαν ένα μυροβόλο περιβόλι, ή σαν μια καθαρή αμμουδιά, λουσμένη από γαλάζιο πέλαγος ευδαιμονίας; Μήπως δεν φταίει καθόλου, μα καθόλου ο έρως  (εξηκολούθησε να σκέπτεται μα αιμάσσουσαν καρδίαν η Υβόννη). Μήπως φταίει ο τρόπος με τον οποίον αντιμετωπίζουν οι άνθρωποι τον έρωτα, τόσον εις το ατομικόν, όσον και εις το κοινωνικόν επίπεδον; Μήπως, αν δεν έμπαινε στη μέση το λεγόμενον «αίσθημα» και η λεγομένη «ηθική», θα ημπορούσε τότε μόνον να είναι ο έρως τέλειος και απλός και εύκολος, επ’ άπειρον πανήδονος και απολύτως παντοδύναμος – όλο χαρά (μόνο χαρά), όλο γλύκα (μόνο γλύκα), χωρίς απαγορεύσεις, στερήσεις, πικρίες, διάφορα «μούπες-σούπα» και άλλα αηδή και ακατανόητα, όπως η αποκλειστικότης, η εντός του γάμου αγνότης και όλη η σχετική με αυτόν απέραντη όσον και μάταια ηθικολογία και φιλολογία;

(Yvonne: Why is it that one cannot enjoy sex as a tasty fruit… as a beautiful landscape, as a wonderful morning, without worries, full of joy, fresh air, as a garden full of perfumes, or a shiny sandy beach, caressed by the blue sea? Could it be that this has nothing to do with eros? < continued to wonder with her heart bleeding >. Could it be the way that people handle eros both on a personal and on a social level? Could it be that if there were no “emotional” component and the so called “ethical” dimension, that eros could be perfect and simple and easy, endlessly hedonistic and absolutely omnipotent – full of joy – only joy – without prohibitions, bitter moments, all the incomprehensible  nonsense like fidelity, exclusivity, purity within the wedding and other similar stuff?)

Mr. FFF: (reading from the voluminous novel “Great Anatolikos”, of Andreas Empeirikos) Yvonne all of a sudden stopped crying. It was as if she saw a light, a bright light coming from a lighthouse off the southeastern tip of the coast of Ireland.

Υβοννη: Μήπως, μα τον Θεόν, ο μόνος Θεός ήτο ένας τεράστιος και παντοδύναμος Ψώλων και, ουσιαστικώς, υπήρχαν μόνον ηδοναί, διά του πανισχύρου Πέους του και του υπερπλουσίου Σπέρματός του χορηγούμεναι; Και μήπως αι ηδοναί αύται, τουτέστιν αι ερωτικαί, ήσαν αι πράξεις εκείναι, που επλησίαζαν ασυγκρίτως περισσότερον απ’ οτιδήποτε άλλο τους ανθρώπους προς τον Μεγαλοψώλονα Θεόν, τον απόλυτον Πλάστην και Κτήτορα του Κόσμου, τον απόλυτον Κύριον των Δυνάμεων, τον απόλυτο Άρχοντα των Ουρανών και της μικράς μας Γης;

(Yvonne: Could it be, that the only God were a huge omnipotent Phallus, and, essentially, there were only pleasures on earth, disseminated eternally by its powerful flesh and abundant semen? And it could it also be, that these erotic pleasures, were the actions that were bringing humans close to the Omnipotent Phallus, the Absolute Creator and Owner of the World, the absolute Keeper of the Forces, the absolute Master of the Skies and our little Earth? )

Stendhal: J’entreprends d’écrire l’histoire de ma vie jour par jour

Γιωργος Σεφερης: Μερα με τη μερα ζουμε τη ζωη μας – δεν τη γραφουμε.

(George Seferis: Day by day we live our life – we do not write it.)


Dimitri Mitropoulos: There is a plan for April 1052, a grand tour; travelling on a ship we will call on all Mediterranean ports, where the Philharmonic (New York) under my humble direction, will play, not on board the ship, but in the concert halls of the cities. The route is roughly this: Liboa, Barcelona, Palermo, Athens, Tel-Aviv, Napoli, Roma, Firenze, Milano, Genoa. Later we added Paris to the tour, which means that the whole Orchestra will get off the ship in Marseille and return to the States from Cherbourg on another vessel.

Mr. FFF: The ashes of Maria Callas have been scaterred over these blue waters.

Mrs. T: Why did she die?

Mr. FFF: Because she could no longer love. And life without the ability to love had no meaning for her.

Mrs. T: If you have the ability to love, other people love you?

Mr. FFF: Not necessarily. But you have piece with yourself.

Mrs. T: So you are saying that Callas died because she could not find piece with herself.

Mr. FFF: Yes, you could put it this way.

Mrs. T: Why is it so hard. if not impossible, to find inner piece if you have lost the ability to love?

Mr. FFF: When you lose the ability to love, you begin to view life as an end, the end. Death takes over the mystery of life and it no longer is a mystery, but a horrid affair.

Ανωνυμος Ναυτης: Δεν εχω ερωτευτει ποτε στη ζωη μου… Εγνωρισα χιλιαδες γυναικες. Ειναι ολες τους παντοτε ιδιες… Εχω καιρο να κοιμηθω με γυναικες. Γι’ αυτο το πραμα οι ναυτες με κοροιδευουν. Εγω δεν φταιω… Ειναι μια ιστορια που η αρχη της ειχε γραφτει στο επιβατικο, που ταξιδευα αλλοτε… Ειναι μια θλιβερη ιστορια…Δεν θυμαμαι πια τ’ ονομα της. Αυτο δεν εχει καμια σημασια. Οι γυναικες δεν θα’ πρεπε να’ χουν ονοματα, αφου ολες τους ειναι ιδιες… Ταξιδευε απο την Αλεξανδρεια για τη Μασσαλια με τη μητερα της. Ητανε κορη ενος βαμβακεμπορου, που ειχε ξεπεσει κι αυτοκτονησε…. Μου χαρησε ενα πορτοφολι απο ψαροδερμα και της χαρισα το Σταυρο μου… Υστερα απο τρια χρονια στο Μπουενος Αιρες κοιμηθηκα μια νυχτια με καποια γυναικα. Το πρωι οταν εβγαλα το πορτοφολι μου να πληρωσω, δεν ξερω πως, εβγαλε μια φωνη καθως το ειδε κι εγω αλλη μια, οταν ειδα ενα μικρο σταυρο καρφωμενο στη ρομπα της… Μπορει και να το’ δα στον υπνο μου. Μου φαινεται ομως πως ολες οι γυναικες ειναι το ιδιο.

(Unnamed Mariner: I have never fallen in love in my life…. I have met thousands of women. They are always all the same… I haven’ t slept with a woman for a long time now. One of the reasons the sailors make fun of me. It is not my fault… It is a story whose beginning has been written on a passenger ship, where I used to work… It is a sad story… I no longer remember her name. It does not matter. Women should not have names, as they are all the same… She was travelling from Alexandria to Marseille with her mother. She was the daughter of a cotton merchant who went bancrupt and committed suicide. .. She gave me a wallet made of fishskin and I gave her my cross… Three years later, in Buenos Aires, I slept one night with a woman. In the morning, when I took out my wallet to pay her, I do not know, she screamed as she saw it and I screamed back when I saw a small cross pinned on her dress… I could be dreaming. Nevertheless, it appears to e that all women are the same.))

Frederico Fellini:  I love shipwrecks. Decadence is indispensable to rebirth

Mr. FFF: A dear friend years ago was bragging about specializing in the hauling of shipwrecks. In his own sarcastic way he was referring to his need – of the time – to relate to women in the middle of a huge personal crisis.

Alberto Moravia: (on Frederico Fellini’s film “E la Nave va”) What is brilliant,” is the intuition that European society of the Belle Epoque had emptied itself of all humanism leaving only an artificial and exhaustive formalism. The result was a society founded on a continuous yet contemptible melodrama. The other genial intuition is that of the fundamental unity of the world back then which was completely bourgeois or utterly obsessed with the bourgeoisie. This idea comes through magnificently in the scene where immaculate opera singers perform leaning over the iron balcony of the engine room as sweat-grimed workers cease stoking the furnace with coal to listen to the splendid voices.

Frederico Fellini: Opera has an insane aspect that is truly fascinating. Opera is a ritual, a Mass, a shepherd’s song…

Dimitri Mitropoulos: Here I am, on solid earth again, after an unforgettable sea trip! If you could only see me from a distance, how I survived these 19 horrible days on the lousy ship. But as you can see, I did not die; I made music and played bridge, trying to fight against the complete lack of comfort, the detestable food and the continuous rocking of the boat… I have thought of you more than one thousand times, I was sad, sad in the thought that it will be a long time before I see again the people I love. I wonder if my musical gifts and talent deserve this sacrifice.

Frederico Fellini:  It (filming) makes us regard people and things as if the whole world was a set at our disposal, an immense prop de­partment on which we lay our hands without asking permission. It is somewhat like a painter for whom objects, faces, houses, the sky are merely forms at his disposal. For the cinema everything becomes a still life without limits; even the feelings of others are something placed at out disposal.

Ανδρεας Εμπειρικος: Χτες ακουσα τον μεγαλυτερο μπασο του κοσμου τον Chaliapin. Τραγουδησε την περιφημη αρια απο την οπερα του  Mussorgsky Boris Godunov οπου ειναι θειος. Τραγουδησε και πολλα ρωσικα τραγουδια δραματικα, λυρικα, και λαικα. Και παντου θριαμβεψε. Τι φωνη, τι μεταλλο, τι χρωμα τι δυναμη! Σε κεραβνοβολει και σε χαϊδεβει συναμα. Μεγαλος αρτιστας ο Chaliapin.

(Andreas Empeirikos: Yesterday I heard the greatest bass of the world, Chaliapin. He sung the famous aria of Mussorgsky’s Boris Godunov. He was divine. He also sung many other songs. He triumphed in each one of them. What a voice, what metal, what colour, what intensity! It hits you like a thunder and at the same time it caresses you. Chaliapin is a great artist.)

Mr. FFF: My grandfather was very fond of Chaliapin. He had loads of his records. But he had to exchange them for olive oil during the second world war. Primum vivere, deinte philosophare.


Ανδρεας Εμπειρικος: Πατερα… Δεν μου φαινεται δυνατον να συνεργασθω με εναν ανθρωπο σαν και σενα παρα την μεγαλη αξια που σου αναγνωριζω σε πολλα επιπεδα. Δεν ειναι αρκετα ανθρωπος για μενα. ..Λοιπον αντι να ξαναμπω στις δουλειες σου παραιτουμαι απ’ ολες περα για περα και σου αφηνω γεια.

(Andreas Empeirikos: Father… It does not appear possible to work with a person like you, in spite of how valuable I consider you in many areas. You are not human enough for me… So instead of joining you again in your business I resign from everything and bid you farewell.)



Ανωνυμος Ναυτης: Ζαλιστηκα. Ετσι οπως τοτε παιδι, που μ’ επιανε η θαλασσα. Τι ατιμο πραμα η ναυτια… Ξερατο, χολες. Γινεσαι μπαιγνιο, κουρελι. Τιποτ’ αλλο δε σκεφτεσαι, παρα πως θα ξεμπαρκαρεις, μολις φτασεις στο πρωτο λιμανι. Εφτασες; Τα ξεχνας ολα και ξαναφευγεις. Αρχιζεις να συνηθας. Νομιζεις. Δε σε ζαλιζει πια το ποτζι, μα σε χαλαει το σκαμπανεβασμα. Παει κι αυτο. Σου μενει να συνηθισεις τωρα οταν σκαμπανεβαρει και ποτζαρει μαζι. Εισαι νετα. Κανεις αχταρμα. Αλλαζεις καραβι. Πρεπει να μαθεις τα κουνηματα του καινουργιου. Καθε καραβι εχει τα δικα του. Ενας φορτηγισος ζαλιζεται σ’ ενα ποσταλι. Παραξενη αρρωστια. Φαρμακο… η στερια. Οι κουφοι, εκεινοι που εχουνε χασει την οσφρηση, δεν ζαλιζονται. Μητε οι τρελοι.

(Unnamed Mariner: I am sea sick. As when I was a kid, and the sea was making me sick. What a terrible thing … sea sickness. You become a wreck. You cannot think of anything else, but how to get off, as soon as you arrive at the first port of call. Have you arrived? You forget everything and sail off again. You begin to get used to it. You think you are. You change ship. You have to get used to the movements of the new ship. Every ship moves in its own way. A cargo ship sailor gets sick on a passenger ship. Strange sickness. The only medicine is the ground. The deaf, the ones who cannot smell anything, they do not get sea sickness. Neither do the mad.)

Ιωαννης ο Θεολογος (Αποκαλυψη): Και εδωκεν η θαλασσα τους νεκρους τους εν αυτη, και ο θανατος και ο Αιδης εδωκαν τους νεκρους τους εν αυτοις, και εκριθησαν εκαστος κατα τα εργα αυτων.

(St John the Divine: The sea gave up the dead that were in it, and death and Hades gave up the dead that were in them, and each person was judged according to what he had done.)

Participants

Archilochus, 7th century BC Greek poet, from the island of Paros

Andreas Empeirikos: Greek born and raised in Vraila, Romania, writer and psychoanalyst

Mr. FFF, Greek, wanderer

First Steward, Greek, passenger ship

Frederico Fellini, Italian film maker

Headwaiter, passenger ship

Jon Iturri, Basque sea captain

Saint John the Divine, author of the Revelation

Maqroll “el Gaviero”, unknown ethnicity, hero in many Alvaro Mutis novels

Unnamed Mariner, in the journals of Nikos Kavvadias

Unnamed Millitary Officer, South American

Dimitri Mitropoulos, Greek conductor and composer

Alberto Moravia, Italian novelist

Alvaro Mutis, Colombian writer

Captain Nick, Greek, captain of motor ship “Gloria”

George Seferis, Greek poet and Nobel Laureate in Literature

Andreas Sperchis, Greek of Wallachian origin

Stendhal, French writer

Mrs. T, unknown ethnicity, gourmant

Voltaire: French writer and philosopher

W.B. Yeats, Irish poet and playwright

Yvonne, a passenger of “Megas Anatolikos”

Sancta Susanna: opera in one act by Paul Hindemith

Paul Hindemith

Paul Hindemith was one of the most important German composers of the 20th century.

Alfred Einstein’s famous assessment of Hindemith as the natural musician “who produces music as a tree bears fruit” may easily and appropriately be extended to all his music making, not just composition.

In 1921 he composed the one act opera “Sancta Susanna” on a libretto based on the play “Sancta Susanna” by August Stramm.

August Stramm

August Stramm was a German poet, born in Muenster in 1874. He became a postal official after his university studies, and started contributing to the periodical “Der Sturm” in 1913.

Der Strum, October 1917

Although Stramm in 1914 was a reserve officer, he enthusiastically enlisted for active duty and was sent to the front.

Stramm died in 1915 at the Russian front, in Belarus.

Stramm’s supercharged theatrical style had led to his works being dubbed Schreidramen (Screamplays).

Though the play’s religio-erotic symbolism is the outward manifestation of its power to disturb, Hindemith’s music grippingly reinforces and intensifies that disturbance. Impressive though the first two members
of his operatic trilogy had been, Sancta Susanna is his first authentic masterpiece. Here he has powerfully assimilated all the contemporary influences, and the music speaks an Expressionist language entirely
Hindemith’s own.


The spine-tingling virtuosity of the orchestration is remarkable for the hallucinatory vividness of its scene-painting and its portrayal (betrayal, rather) of Angst and subconscious desire with a phantasmal
refinement of instrumental chiaroscuro. Yet Hindemith’s opera has firm tonal foundations, upon which fierce dissonance alternates with delusory consonance in nightmarish ways. Sancta Susanna is
built, like its cathedral cloister, in large, wellproportioned blocks. The music is almost monothematic, proceeding by variation of a principal melody (the lyric, nightingale-like flute solo heard in the deceptively beautiful nocturnal prelude). From this source derive many sinister subsidiaries, such as the clarinet theme for the appearance of the horrific spider – which in turn becomes the theme of the nuns’ denunciation of Susanna as she entraps herself in the web of her own emotions.

Paul Hindemith composed Sancta Susanna as part of a trilogy, which also included Mörder, Hoffnung der Frauen and Das Nusch-Nuschi. These two works premiered in 1921, but Sancta Susannawas not performed because of its obscene content.

Fritz Busch, who was responsible in 1921 for the turbulent premieres of Das NuschNuschi (which infuriated the audience by using a quotation from Tristan to accompany a burlesque castration scene) and Miirder, Hoffnung der Frauen (“Murderer, hope of women”, a setting of Oskar Kokoschka’s luridly incomprehensible expressionist drama about the war of the sexes), flatly refused to conduct Sancta Susanna on the grounds of its blasphemous obscenity: Susanna is an hysterical nun who first strips naked in front of the convent high altar and then tears the loincloth from a statue of the crucified Christ. The three scores made Hindemith’s name as an enfant terrible.

Sancta Susanna finally premiered in Frankfurt in 1922 and caused immediately a scandal.

Sancta Susanna was charged with blasphemy and Frankfurt institutions like the Catholic Women’s League protested against the performances and even demanded the pieces be withdrawn.
In 1934 Hindemith banned further productions of the three works. He had distanced himself from the compositional style of his early works and was unwilling to subject the works to any further public debate on morality.

Reviewing the world premiere in 1922, philosopher Theodore Adorno wrote:

In Sancta Susanna, everything that happened musically is developed from one theme; a theme of emotional power which pertains not to one individual, nor to one mood, but quite simply to the fundamentally irrational occurrences of this opera.

Synopsis (from the Chandos booklet)

In the cloister chapel of a nunnery, old Sister Clementia discovers the young nun Susanna in abject prayer before the high altar, troubled in spirit and body by the warm, windy, nightingale-loud summer night.

They become aware of movement outside: a couple is making love under the linden-trees.

Susanna calls the peasant-girl inside and tries to make her feel guilty; she demands to see the man too, but he enters only to snatch his girl away.

Susanna curses him as Satan.

Clementia, agitated, seems to be hearing something.

She tells Susanna how, many years ago, on a night like this, she saw a girl come naked to the altar and embrace and kiss the life-size figure of the crucified Christ.

For this blasphemy she was buried alive, and the image has been veiled ever since.

The tale only fans Susanna’s repressed sexual hysteria.

She, too, imagines she hears the voice of the entombed girl and, stripping naked, she defies Clementia and rips the covering from Christ’s torso.

But she is terrified when a huge spider falls into her hair from the crucifix, and cowers beneath the altar while midnight strikes and the other nuns file into the chapel.

Nevertheless she finds a transfiguring strength from her act: she demands that they wall her up, and endures their curses as the curtain falls.

In the Gramophone review of the opera, we read:

“Musically speaking, the shock value of Sancta Susanna lies in the expectations aroused by the opening (a delicately atmospheric, romantic nocturne with almost Puccinian overtones; the quiet, chant-like dialogue that follows) and their contradiction by the feverish, obsessive music (Hindemith predicting his Cardillac manner—only four years off, after all) of the main action.”

A much larger-scale summing-up of Hindemith’s ideas had come earlier in the 1930s with the completion of the opera Mathis der Maler (Mathis the Artist) and the symphony based on it. The German painter Matthias Grunewald symbolized for Hindemith the dilemma of all artists caught up in political upheavals: Hindemith had himself been attacked by the Nazis, and in 1937 was forced to leave Germany. The three movements of the symphony Mathis der Maler each represent one of the panels of Grunewald’s altarpiece at Isenheim, and the warmth and humanity of the work show the composer coming to terms with his Classical and Romantic heritage, and with his innate respect for tradition.

Hindemith found refuge from the Nazis in America, where he taught at Yale University and took United States citizenship in 1946. A series of orchestral commissions included the Symphonic metamorphosis on themes of Carl Maria von Weber, whose wordy title conceals a work of the most deft and delightful humour, an antidote to the common view of the mature Hindemith as a composer of unbending Teutonic seriousness. In 1953 he moved to Switzerland, and there, in his last years, completed Die Harmonic der Welt (The Harmony of the World), a mystical opera about the astronomer Johan Kepler.

Cosi fan tutte, ossia La Scuola degli Amanti – Thus Do They All, or The School For Lovers

Mozart’s opera buffa is a perplexing one, and in spite of appearances, a very dark one indeed.

It is this mix of comedy and tragedy that attracts me, and led me to write this post.

Così was written quickly, over the autumn and winter months 1789 and premiered on January 26, 1790, on the eve of the Mozart’s 34th birthday.

Dramatis Personae

Fiordiligi: Lady from Ferrara and sister to Dorabella, living in Naples

Dorabella: Lady from Ferrara and sister to Fiordiligi, living in Naples

Guglielmo: Lover of Fiordiligi, a Soldier

Ferrando: Lover of Dorabella, a Soldier

Don Alfonso: an old philosopher

Despina: a maid

Cosi fan tutte, 23 January 1995, ROH

Synopsis

In a coffeehouse, Guglielmo and Ferrando, two soldiers, discuss with Don Alfonso,an old philosopher, the faithfulness of their fiances, Fiordiligi and Dorabella. Don Alfonso dismisses all that, and bets that he can prove within a day that Fiordiligi and Dorabella like all women, are fickle.

Cosi fan tutte, Act 1, Scene 1: Coffeehouse. Source: Royal Opera House, London

The two men will pretend they have been called to active duty, and they will leave (only to return in disguise). They announce the “bad” news ot their fiances, and they sail off to “war”. As they do, Don Alfonso, Fiordiligi and Dorabella wish them a safe trip: Soave sia il vento—”May the wind be gentle”

When left alone, Alfonso predicts that he will prove that all women are unfaithful: Oh, poverini, per femmina giocar cento zecchini? (Poor ones, (how stupid can you be) to wager 100 sequins on a woman?)

The arrangement is that the two men will return disguised as mustochioed Albanians and will attempt to seduce the women, swaping one for another. Ferrando will (attempt to) seduce Fiordiligi and Guglielmo will seduce Dorabella.

Cosi fan tutte, Act 1, Scene 2: In the sisters' home. Source: Royal Opera House, London

In the sisters’ home, Don Alfonso meets alone with Despina, the maid of the sisters, and bribes her to cooperate, as he is afraid that she will recognize the two men in spite of their disguise. Despina is fully part of the plot as the two “Albanians” enter the scene and offer to the two sisters their unlimited and irresistible charm.

Cosi fan tutte: Act 1, Scene 2: In the sisters' house. Source: Royal Opera House, London

The charm of the “Albanians” is not working and Despina asks Alfonso to take over. Extreme actions have to be taken. The two “Albanians” fake severe illness and Despina arrives disguised as a doctor to treat them. Eventually the two sisters succumb to the charm of the “Albanians” and the swap is done.

Cosi fan tutte: Act 2. Source: Royal Opera House, London

The four are now ready to be wedded, but in the “swap” mode. Despina now disguised as a notary presides over the event. Don Alfonso has won the bet! Women are fickle!

In a sudden change of the scene, the “Albanians” disappear, and the two soldiers return to find their beloved ones and confront them with the “contract” of their marriage to the “Albanians”.

Cosi fan tutte: Act 2. Source: Royal Opera House, London

In the finale, the men receal their “mixed” identities, and they all accept that life must be accepted with the good and the unavoidable bad times.

But of course it is not “life” we are talking about, the story is about people, and trust, and betrayal. And the moral of the story is that you cannot trust anyone! Unfortunately it is not only women who are fickle, everyone is fickle!

A Philosopher

What is a philosopher? What is philosophy? Definitions vary. I will quote some passages from Bruce Alan Brown’s article  (included in ROH’s program of the 1995 performance).

Thomas Allen as Don Alfonso in MET's production of Cosi fan Tutte (2005)

…..Pierre Richelet’s dictionary of the French Lnaguage (1775) gives as its primary definition of philosophy “love of wisdom” or “clear and distinct knowledge of things natural and divine”; but other senses of the word are given as well, including “firmness and loftiness of mind by which one puts oneself above the accidents of life and the false opinions of the world”.

It is precisely this trait which so distinguishes Alfonso from his young friends and which moves him to explain to them that “[….] in ogni cosa /Ci vuol filosofia” (philosophy is necessary in all things) after both sisters have been proved to be unfaithful. A “philosophical” attitude implied a forgiving nature, as one sees at the end of COSI.

….. The entire opera is premised on Rousseau’s notion that experience precedes understanding. Alfonso cannot simply tell the soldiers that women are inconstant, or the sisters know precious little about love. If they are truly to learn his lessons, they must experience the pain that comes from being deceived of their initial notions. The cruelty for which Don Alfonso has so often been criticized is the same as that of the tutor in Rousseau’s Emile, ou De l’Education, whose pedagogy amounts to “a minutely organized and vigilantly executed conspiracy”.

Allen as Don Alfonso with Cecilia Bartoli’s Despina at the production premiere of the Met's Così Fan Tutte in 1996

….It is Despina, not Alfonso, who presents the most complete “philosophy” of love in Cosi fan tutte. The creed she recites just before the first finale is a mixture of proverbial folk wisdom and current “naturalist” philosophy, probably learnt second-hand. The taking of a second lover, she declares, is not merely prudence byt a “law of nature”.

Jonathan Miller

I was lucky to have seen Jonathan Miller’s 1995 production of Cosi fan tutte in the Royal Opera House, London. This was his debut in Covent Garden, and what a debut it was! It is a production that has already been staged seven times since. From the archives of the Royal Opera House I can see that the production has been now modified to adopt a modern set and costumes and devices: the singers are using iPhones!

Callas and Visconti in Opera

Today is the anniversary of the death of Maria Callas.  She died in Paris, France, on 16th September 1977.

Last year I wrote on her masterclass in the Julliard School of Music in New York City  in 1971-1972, focusing on her teaching the singing of Rigoletto’a aria ”Cortigiani vil razza dannata”.

Remembering Callas today brought to me the memory of her collaboration with the gigantic figure of Luchino Visconti.

Visconti is the man who opened the door of Love in Callas’ existence. Callas became a different woman after meeting Visconti.

Visconti first saw and heard Callas perform in Wagner’s “Parsifal” in Rome in 1949.  Visconti instinctively felt that Callas was the singer and tragic actress that could work with him in his own operatic stagings.

The Visconti – Callas collaboration begun with the 1954 production of Spontini’s “La Vestale” in Milan’s La Scala.

In their joint appearance on French television in 1969 (see below), Visconti said: “I started to direct Opera bacause of , no, not bacause of, but for Maria Callas”.

Follow the link to Re-visioning Callas in order to read interesting relevant material and see two clips.

Four more operas followed: La sonnambula, La Traviata, Anna Bolena, and Iphigenie en Tauride. In a period of three years Visconti and Callas gave the world five wonderful operatic productions and performances.

In April 1969 Callas gave a series of interviews to French television, inviting as her guests some of her friends in life and in arts. One of the was Luchino Visconti. You can view the clip

.

1001 Ways to Die – (1) Fritz Wunderlich, Tenor

Today I embark on a sequence of posts, under the title “1001 ways to die”. The inspiration for this came to me back in 1980 when I was a graduate student in the USA. The vastness of the country, the incredible gap between the avarage person and the ultra high net worth individuals, among other things, led me one night to declare among my fellow students that at some stage of my life I will compile this as a study of human affairs during a life long journey.

On January 2011, 31 years laters, I am embarking on it, starting with Fritz Wunderlich, a German Tenor who died accidentally in 1966 before arriving at t the peak of his career.

He fell from a stairway onto the stone floor below in a friend’s country house in Oberderdingen near Maulbronn. He died in the University Clinic of Heidelberg just days before his 36th birthday. In the documentary that I have appended at the end of the post, his wife mentioned that Wunderlich was on the phone prior to descending the stairs, and while talking on the phone, he untied his boots. As he started the descend, he got tangled up, and fell on the stone ground.

Herman Prey, a contemporary German baritone, who had become a friend with Wunderlich and sang together since 1959, wrote in his diary after the tenor’s death in 1966:

“My friend Fritz is dead. This simple sentence becomes more incomprehensible to me with every day. Our friendly and artistic collaboration developed into something very rare in the last few years. We shared many amusing adventures and spent many contemplative hours together. He could discuss life’s problems and musical issues for nights on end. The most beautiful hours of my career were those spent together with him on the stage or in front of a microphone. We never discussed phrasing in advance or how we would colour certain passages – the sympathy was simply there. We used to play piano duets for hours, or roamed the forests making plans for the future.

When we first mounted the stage together during the “Schweigsame Frau” rehearsals at Salzburg in 1959, we knew that our paths would converge then on. In those brief years we learned how to complement one another. He knew a tremendous amount about singing. I learned a lot from him. With his immense natural musical talent, this son of the gods was still at the beginning of a meteoric career. What might he not have achieved, given the time? At Schubert’s graveside Grillparzer said: “Here Death buried a rich treasure, and even richer promise.” How this statement applies to Fritz too! When we were last together he told me: “The best years are yet to come; a singer only gains command over tears at forty.” He did not know that he already had it.

Wunderlich sings Schubert, Strauss and Wolf (1965)

Our dreams were truly boundless. We wanted to become the heavenly twins of song. Fate decided otherwise, decreeing that I be left alone, a deserted twin. We virtually improvised this record, our last one, together with Fritz Neumeyer and his musicians. Listening to it today, there are points at which I cannot really tell who is singing what. Our voices melted together to form one. The world is mourning for a gifted singer of his generation. I mourn for a friend and brother in song the likes of whom I will never find again.”

FRITZ WUNDERLICH – ARTE DOCUMENTARY

In addition to listening to his divine voice, in what ever he has recorded, I strongly recommend to those of you who can understand German, to view the wonderful documentary of “arte”. It comes in 7 pieces. Every minute is worth it!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Beheading of St John the Baptist – Ο αποκεφαλισμος του Βαπτιστη Ιωαννη

The itinerant John the Baptist has baptized Christ. In the Gospels, John announces the coming of Jesus and is therefore considered the “forerunner”. He died a cruel death by beheading. One of the variants of the story is that his death was the result of the wish of Herod’s stepdaughter, Salome.

There have been many renderings of the beheading of St John the Baptist by Salome.

In my view the best is the interpretation by the sublime brush of Caravaggio.

Salome looks away, although she is carrying the tray with the motionless head. The sword-man contemplates the fate of humans, while the servant observes in silence. This is a silent motionless picture full of tension.

There have also been a few “staged” photos. Frantisek Dritkol’s black and white photo shows an ecstatic Salome, delirious with joy, holding the head to her chest.

Finally, in prints Aubrey Beardsley’s depiction is minimal, but in my view highly effective.

Umayyad Mosque in Damascus Syria, built on the Christian Basilica dedicated to St John the Baptist, is one of the places claiming to have St John’s head.

Umayyad Mosque: St John's Shrine

The mosque holds a shrine which still today may contain the head of John the Baptist(Yahya), honored as a prophet by both Christians and Muslims alike. (Source wikipedia).

There is no better end to such a quick tour of the macabre end to the story, than Salome’s dance as interpreted by Karita Mattila. to the music of Richard Strauss’s opera “Salome”.

The opera is based on a the Oscar Wilde’s play “Salome”.

“In Salome, Oscar Wilde expresses a dangerous relationship between sight and sexual desire that leads to death.  The play depicts a night in a royal court on which Herod, the Tetrarch of Judea, and his wife, Herodias, hold a dinner party for some Jewish officials.  Herodias’s daughter Salome leaves the party and occupies the terrace, where she attracts the gaze of other male characters, while she herself becomes attracted to the prophet, Iokanaan.  Her carnal desire for Iokanaan leads to his beheading, an act that brings her sexual gratification and leads her to kiss the lips of his severed head.  Similarly, Herod comes to desire his step-daughter Salome, and, after persuading her to dance a highly sexualized dance, he is disgusted when she kisses Iokanaan’s lips and orders his soldiers to kill her.”

More on the play in the excellent article by Leland Tabares, which is the source of the above summary.

Birgit Nilsson as Salome

“A scherzo with a fatal conclusion” was Richard Strauss’ own tongue-in-cheek description of Salome. Upon hearing the freshly composed score played at the keyboard, his father—a famous musician himself—declared that it conjured the feeling of countless bugs crawling inside his pants. (From Washington National Opera’s feature article on Salome).

The Sea – Η Θαλασσα

C.D. Friedrich - Monk by the Sea
And then went down to the ship,
Set keel to breakers, forth on the godly sea, and
We set up mast and sail on that swart ship,
Bore sheep aboard her, and our bodies also
Heavy with weeping, and winds from sternward
Bore us onward with bellying canvas,
Crice’s this craft, the trim-coifed goddess.
Then sat we amidships, wind jamming the tiller,
Thus with stretched sail, we went over sea till day’s end.
Sun to his slumber, shadows o’er all the ocean,
Came we then to the bounds of deepest water…
Ezra Pound, Canto I

C.D. Friedrich – Moon descending on the sea

«Ήδη ὁ ήλιος, επιφανεὶς ακόμη μίαν φοράν, έκλινε προς την δύσιν. Ήτο τρίτη και ημίσεια ώρα. Και ὁ ήλιος εχαμήλωνε, εχαμήλωνε. Και ἡ βαρκούλα του μπαρμπα-Στεφανή, με το ανθρώπινον φορτίον της, εχόρευεν, εχόρευεν επάνω εις το κύμα, πότε ανερχομένη εις υγρὰ όρη, πότε κατερχομένη εις ρευστάς κοιλάδας, νυν μεν εις την ακμὴν να καταποντισθή εις την άβυσσον, νυν δε ετοίμη να κατασυντριβή κατά της κρημνώδους ακτής. Και ὁ ιερεὺς έλεγε μέσα του την παράκλησιν όλην, από το «Πολλοίς συνεχόμενος» έως το «Πάντων προστατεύεις». Κι ὁ μπαρμπα-Στεφανής εστενοχωρείτο, μὴ δυνάμενος επὶ παρουσία του παπά να εκχύση ελευθέρως τας αφελείς βλασφημίας του, τας οποίας εμάσα κι έπνιγε μέσα του, ὑποτονθορύζων: «Σκύλιασε ὁ διαολόκαιρος, λύσσαξε! Θα σκάσης, αντίχριστε, Τούρκο! Το Μουχαμετη σου, μέσα!» Κι ἡ θειὰ το Μαλαμώ, ποιούσα το σημείον του Σταυρού, έλεγε το «Θεοτόκε Παρθένε», κι επανελάμβανεν: «Έλα, κ᾿στὲ μ᾿! Βοήθα, Παναΐα μ᾿!» Και τα κύματα έπληττον την πρώραν, έπληττον τα πλευρὰ του σκάφους, και εισορμώντα εις το κύτος εκτύπων τα νώτα, εκτύπων τους βραχίονας των ἐπιβατών. Και ὁ ήλιος εχαμήλωνεν, εχαμήλωνε. Και ἡ βαρκούλα εκινδύνευε ν᾿ αφανισθή. Και η απορρώξ βραχώδης ακτὴ εφαίνετο διαφιλονικούσα την λείαν προς τον βυθὸν της θαλάσσης».

Αλεξανδρος Παπαδιαμαντης, Στο Χριστο στο Καστρο

Emil Nolde – North Sea

“Through thunder and storm, from distant seas
I draw near, my lass!
Through towering waves, from the south
I am here, my lass!
My girl, were there no south wind
I could never come to you:
ah, dear south wind, blow once more!
My lass longs for me.”

Richard Wagner, The Flying Dutchman

Emil Nolde – The Sea

“Driven on by storms and violent winds,
I have wandered over the oceans –
for how long I can scarcely say:
I no longer count the years.
It’s impossible, I think, to name
all the countries where I’ve been;
the only one for which I yearn
I never find, my homeland!”

Richard Wagner, The Flying Dutchman

Max Beckmann – North Sea

Night sea journey
An archetypal motif in mythology, psychologically associated with depression and the loss of energy characteristic of neurosis.The night sea journey is a kind of descensus ad inferos–a descent into Hades and a journey to the land of ghosts somewhere beyond this world, beyond consciousness, hence an immersion in the unconscious.[“The Psychology of the Transference,” CW 16, par. 455.]Mythologically, the night sea journey motif usually involves being swallowed by a dragon or sea monster. It is also represented by imprisonment or crucifixion, dismemberment or abduction, experiences traditionally weathered by sun-gods and heroes: Gilgamesh, Osiris, Christ, Dante, Odysseus, Aeneas. In the language of the mystics it is the dark night of the soul.Jung interpreted such legends symbolically, as illustrations of the regressive movement of energy in an outbreak of neurosis and its potential progression.

The hero is the symbolical exponent of the movement of libido. Entry into the dragon is the regressive direction, and the journey to the East (the “night sea journey”) with its attendant events symbolizes the effort to adapt to the conditions of the psychic inner world. The complete swallowing up and disappearance of the hero in the belly of the dragon represents the complete withdrawal of interest from the outer world. The overcoming of the monster from within is the achievement of adaptation to the conditions of the inner world, and the emergence (“slipping out”) of the hero from the monster’s belly with the help of a bird, which happens at the moment of sunrise, symbolizes the recommencement of progression.[“On Psychic Energy,” CW 8, par. 68.]

All the night sea journey myths derive from the perceived behavior of the sun, which, in Jung’s lyrical image, “sails over the sea like an immortal god who every evening is immersed in the maternal waters and is born anew in the morning.[“Symbols of the Mother and of Rebirth,”CW 5, par. 306.] The sun going down, analogous to the loss of energy in a depression, is the necessary prelude to rebirth. Cleansed in the healing waters (the unconscious), the sun (ego-consciousness) lives again.

(Source: Lexicon of Jungian Terms)

Panayiotis Tetsis - Sunset

Βγάζει η θάλασσα κρυφή φωνή —
φωνή που μπαίνει
μες στην καρδιά μας και την συγκινεί
και την ευφραίνει.

The secret voice of the Sea

enters our heart

it moves and rejoices it.

C.D. Friedrich - Wreck in the Sea of Ice

Τραγούδι είναι, ή παράπονο πνιγμένων; —

το τραγικό παράπονο των πεθαμένων,
που σάβανό των έχουν τον ψυχρόν αφρό,
και κλαίν για ταις γυναίκες των, για τα παιδιά των,
και τους γονείς των, για την έρημη φωλιά των,
ενώ τους παραδέρνει πέλαγο πικρό,

Is it a song, or the complaint of the ones that sunk? –

the tragic complaint of the dead,

whose shroud is the cold foam,

and cry for their wifes and their children,

and their parents, and their empty nest,

while the bitter waves batter them,

C.D. Friedrich - Sea of Ice

σε βράχους και σε πέτραις κοφτεραίς τους σπρώχνει,
τους μπλέκει μες στα φύκια, τους τραβά, τους διώχνει,
κ’ εκείνοι τρέχουνε σαν νάσαν ζωντανοί
με ολάνοιχτα τα μάτια τρομαγμένα,
και με τα χέρια των άγρια, τεντωμένα,
από την αγωνία των την υστερνή.

and pushes them on to sharp rocks and stones,

tangles them in weeds, pulls them, pushes them,

and they run as if they were alive

with eyes scared wide open,

and their hands tense, spread,

full of the tension of death.

Κ. Καβαφης, Αποσπασμα απο τα Αποκηρυγμενα, Ικαρος, 1983

C. Cavafy, Excerpt from the Denounced Poems, Icaros, 1983

(The interpretation in English is mine)

Nikolaos Lytras – Boat with Sail

«Όχι! Όχι! Δεν βρίσκεται η χαρά στην άλλη όχθη μόνον! Είναι εδώ, μεσ’ στις ψυχές μας, μέσα σε τούτες τις καρδιές, είναι παντού για όσους μπορούν να σπάσουν τα δεσμά των, αφού και μέσα μας ο ήλιος ανατέλλει και δείχνει την πορεία μας παντού όπου πηγαίνει, φως εκ φωτός αυτός, πυρσός λαμπρός του υπερτάτου φαροδείκτου, που όλοι τον παραλείπουν οι άλλοι, του φαροδείκτου, σύντροφοι, που είναι ο ουρανός!»

“No! No! Happiness does not exist only on the distant shore! It is here, inside our souls, inside these hearts, it is everywhere for those who can break their chains, as is the sun that rises inside and guides us wherever we go, light out of light, a shining torch of the supreme beacon, which we tend to forget, the sky! ”

Έτσι ελάλησα και κάθε αμφιταλάντευσις απέπτη απ’ τις ψυχές μας. Η αγαλλίασίς μου στους άλλους μετεδόθη, και, όλοι, κοιτάζοντας τον ήλιο, πετάξαμε τα σύνεργα της πλοιαρχίας – χάρτες, διαβήτες, εξάντας και φακούς – και αρπάζοντας τους σκούφους μας, εμείς, οι ναυτικοί εκ ναυτικών, τρέξαμε στο καράβι μας (το λέγαν “Άγιος Σώζων”) και όλοι, φλεγόμενοι από την νέα μας πίστη, χωρίς πλέον να ψάχνουμε το “πού” και “πώς”, τα παλαμάρια λύσαμε και υψώνοντας τα πανιά μας, αδίσταχτα σαλπάραμε με μια κραυγή:

«Κύριε των δυνάμεων μεθ’ ημών γενού».

Thus I spoke and every doubt flew away from our souls. My uplifting was transferred to the others, and all, watching the Sun, threw out all the instruments of navigation – maps, compasses, sextants and lenses – and snatching our caps, we, the mariners, the mariners of mariners, run to our ship (it was named “Saint Saviour”) and all, burning in our newly found faith, without any more searching for the “where” and “how”, we released the mooring lines and raising our sails, sailed without hesitation with one cry:

“Lord of the powers be with us”.

Ανδρεας Εμπειρικος, Οκτανα

Andreas Empeiricos, Octana

(The interpretation in English is mine)

‘God, he said quietly. Isn’t the sea what Algy calls it: a great sweet mother? The snotgreen sea. The scrotumtightening sea. (Πλεων δ'<ε>) Epi oinopa ponton (We’re sailing upon the wine-dark sea). Ah, Dedalus, the Greeks. I must teach you. You must read them in the original. Thalatta! Thalatta! She is our great sweet mother. Come and look.’

James Joyce,  Ulysses

Note: Homer’s “πλεων δ’επι οινοπα ποντον επ’ αλλοθροους ανθρωπους” is in-scripted on The Iron Footbridge in Frankfurt. It is therefore fitting to conclude with a poem of Frankfurt’s famous son,

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.

CALM AT SEA.

SILENCE deep rules o’er the waters,

Calmly slumb’ring lies the main,
While the sailor views with trouble

Nought but one vast level plain.

Not a zephyr is in motion!

Silence fearful as the grave!
In the mighty waste of ocean

Sunk to rest is ev’ry wave.

Goethe 1795

Happy Travelling!

Happy New Year!

Maria Callas Memory: 16th September 1977

Maria Callas left this world on the 16th September 1977.

On this occasion, I want to share with you a masterclass she gave at the Julliard School of Music in New York City  in 1971-1972. The particular interest of this is that Callas is teaching the singing of Rigoletto’a aria “Cortigiani vil razza dannata”. I remind that Rigoletto is a baritone role!

Mary Magdalene and Violetta Valery in dialog while facing Death

As the time is approaching for us to hear again Kassiani’s Hymn for Mary Magdalene, the woman lost in so many sins, by her own admission, I imagined her in dialog with Violetta Valery, the tragic heroine of Verdi’s “La Traviata”.

Violetta is dying and sings farewell to the joys of life, preparing to meet the Lord.

Mary is addressing the Dead Christ, weeping at his feet and pondering on the horrible sight of Death.

In both cases the desired result is “Redemption”.

However, there is a major difference. Violetta is the one who is dying, and in the agony of Death she tries to redeem herself, while Mary is alive and well, and tries to redeem herself while pondering Christ’s Death.

The major difference is that Mary has plenty of time ahead of her, while Violetta does not. In addition, Mary is privileged to be next to Christ’s body, while Violetta is feeling her own body shivering and going cold.

Initially I present the original text of Kassiani’s hymn, and the libretto of “La Traviata”, accompanied by a relevant Maria Callas masterclass. I then proceed to present the dialog, as I wrote it for the occasion.

Hymn of Kassiani

Sensing your divinity Lord,
a woman of many sins,
takes it upon herself
to become a myrrh bearer
and in deep mourning
brings before you fragrant oil
in anticipation of your burial; crying:
“Woe to me! What night falls on me,
what dark and moonless madness
of wild-desire, this lust for sin.
Take my spring of tears
You who draw water from the clouds,
bend to me, to the sighing of my heart,
You who bend the heavens
in your secret incarnation,
I will wash your immaculate feet with kisses
and wipe them dry with the locks of my hair;
those very feet whose sound Eve heard
at the dusk in Paradise and hid herself in terror.
Who shall count the multitude of my sins
or the depth of your judgment,
Saviour of my soul?
Do not ignore your handmaiden,
You whose mercy is endless”.

In the painting detail above, which is by Caravaggio, we can see Mary weeping by the deathbed of the Holy Mother.


Addio del Passato

Addio, del passato bei sogni ridenti,

Le rose del volto gia’ son pallenti

L’amore d’Alfredo pur esso mi manca,

Conforto, sostegno dell’anima stanca

Ah, della traviata sorridi al desio;

A lei, deh, perdona; tu accoglila, o Dio,

Or tutto fini’.

Le gioie, i dolori tra poco avran fine,

La tomba ai mortali di tutto e’ confine!

Non lagrima o fiore avra’ la mia fossa,

Non croce col nome che copra quest’ossa!

Ah, della traviata sorridi al desio;

A lei, deh, perdona; tu accoglila, o Dio.

Or tutto fini’!

Farewell, happy dreams of bygone days;

The roses in my cheeks already are faded.

Even Alfredo’s love is lacking,

To comfort and uphold my weary spirit.

Oh, comfort, sustain an erring soul,

And may God pardon and make her his own!

Ah, all is over,

All is over now.

Maria Callas at her “Addio del Passato” Master Class at the Juilliard School of Music in New York.

Mary and Violetta in Dialog

The place where the dialog takes place is imaginary.

Mary: I am full of sin. I am dedicated to Christ. Christ is dead. I am ready to die.

Violetta: I am dying. I was full of sin. I tried to redeem myself. My love for Alfredo cannot save me. I do not want to die.

Mary: I am ready to die, but Death does not take me. I will cry and cry again, but who will hear me crying? The one that could save me is now dead.

Violetta: I do not want to die alone. Hold my hand. The end is coming. There is no more hope. The end is here.

Mary: Let me wash your feet, let me caress your hands. Let me come with you. My Lord cannot come to me, so I will go to him.

Violetta: You can wash my feet and caress my hands, but do not add more sin to your sins. You belong to the living, I belong to the dead. Farewell my dear. Pray for me. Pray for my soul.

Dawn Hunter: Dying Woman

Mary: I will bring you flowers for your journey. To caress your soul. Your favorite flowers.

Violetta: I enjoyed life. I tried to save my soul. I have to pay now with my life for it.

Mary: Take your flowers dearest, farewell!


Tears: the liquid essense of psyche?

– Ψυχηισιν θανατος υδωρ γενεσθαι,
υδατι δε θανατος γην γενεσθαι,
εκ γης δε υδωρ γινεται,
εξ υδατος δε ψυχή –

Ηρακλειτος

“When the soul dies, it becomes water,

when water dies, it becomes earth,

and the earth makes the water,

and the water makes the soul”

Heraclitus

(5th century BC Presocratic Greek Philosopher)

Una furtiva lagrima (A furtive tear)

One furtive secret tear
from her eyes did spring:
as if those youths who can be playful
it ( or she ) seemed to be envious of.
What more searching do I want?
What more searching do I want?
She loves me! Yes, she loves me, I see it. I see it.
Just for an instant the beats
of her beautiful heart if I could feel!
My sighs if they were mingled
for a while with her sighs!
The beats, the beats of her heart if I could feel,
to fuse my sighs with hers…
Heavens! Yes, I could die!
I ask for nothing more, nothing.
Oh, heavens! Yes, I could, I could die!
I ask for nothing more, nothing.
Yes, I could die! Yes, I could die of love.

Una furtiva lagrima (A furtive tear) is the romanza taken from Act II, Scene VIII of the Italian opera, L’elisir d’amore by Gaetano Donizetti. It is sung by Nemorino (tenor) when he finds that the love potion he bought to win his dream lady’s heart, Adina, works.

Nemorino is in love with Adina, but she isn’t interested in a relationship with an innocent, rustic man. To win her heart, Nemorino buys a “love potion” with all the money he has in his pocket. The “love potion” is actually a cheap red wine sold by a traveling con man. But when he sees Adina weeping, he knows that she has fallen in love with him and the “Elixir” works. (Source: Wikipedia)

Here is Roberto Villazon, in the role of Nemorino, singing the famous romanza from Donizetti’s L’ Elisir d’ amore , with the Orchestra of the Vienna State Opera, Alfred Eschwe conducting.

Vesti la giubba (Put on the costume)!

To act! While out of my mind,
I no longer know what I say,
or what I do!
And yet it’s necessary… make an effort!
Bah! Are you not a man?
You are Pagliaccio!

Put on your costume,
powder your face.
The people pay to be here, and they want to laugh.
And if Harlequin shall steal your Columbine,
laugh, Pagliaccio, so the crowd will cheer!
Turn your distress and tears into jest,
your pain and sobbing into a funny face – Ah!

Laugh, Pagliaccio,
at your broken love!
Laugh at the grief that poisons your heart!


Vesti la giubba (Put on the costume) is a famous tenor aria performed as part of the opera Pagliacci, written and composed by Ruggero Leoncavallo, and first performed in 1892.

Vesti la giubba is the conclusion of the first act, when Canio discovers his wife’s infidelity, but must nevertheless prepare for his performance as Pagliaccio the clown because ‘the show must go on‘.

The aria is often regarded as one of the most moving in the operatic repertoire of the time. The pain of Canio is portrayed in the aria and exemplifies the entire notion of the ‘tragic clown’: smiling on the outside but crying on the inside. This is still displayed today as the clown motif often features the painted on tear running down the cheek of the performer. (Source: Wikipedia)

The great Swedish tenor Jussi Bjorling sings the aria in a performance of 1953.




W.A. Mozart: Requiem – Lacrimosa

Lacrimosa dies illa
Qua resurget ex favilla
Judicandus homo reus.
Huic ergo parce, Deus:
Pie Jesu Domine,
Dona eis requiem. Amen

Tearful that day,
on which will rise from ashes
guilty man for judgment.
So have mercy, O Lord, on this man.
Compassionate Lord Jesus,
grant them rest. Amen.

In the video John Eliot Gardiner conducts the English Baroque Soloists and the Monteverdi Choir. This performance was filmed at the Palau de la Musica Catalana, Barcelona in Dec. 1991. It starts with “confutatis” and continues with the “lacrimosa”.

Credit: I thank Manolis for contributing the Heraclitus quotation, in addition to his endless stream of comments, thoughts and ideas.