At the OZ Arts Website:
Burdens from a Distance
Carrying burdens: a universally accepted part of life and timely theme as the world shares a collective burden. Over the course of three years, speaking to hundreds of people from all walks of life, Jana Harper discovered the same underlying concerns we all share: “our loved ones, our futures, our planet, and of course, our health.” This Holding was created from the exploration of these burdens, portraying this portion of the human experience in a raw, beautiful, and thought-provoking way. During a period when many feel more alone than ever in their lives, Harper holds a fitting sentiment about her work: “If This Holding could leave you with one feeling, I hope it is the knowledge that you are not alone.”
This Holding: Traces of Contact, rather than being performed live, was presented as an online film event by OZ Arts Nashville in response to the widespread healthy and safety concerns due to the COVID-19 pandemic. Originally conceived for the stage, once rehearsals were stymied by prohibited in-person gatherings and the assembly of a large audience was out of the question, the entire creative team quickly pivoted in order to re-imagine the work for film. In a live Q & A session following the performance, members of the team commented about the transition of the creative process and how the changed conditions impacted their interpretations and performances of the work as a final product. Despite the circumstances, the production team was thrilled with the outcome, recognizing the performance as a unique product of its time, and voicing appreciation for the ability to utilize uncommon settings and the beauty of nature as part of the narrative.
Divided into seven acts, the film event honed in on individuals, duos, or divided groups of dancers, seemingly socially distanced. Soloists and distanced group dancers interacted with artistic objects, representative of various burdens one might carry, while duos interacted only with one another, portraying various relationship complexities and the burdens that attend.
…the dancer contemplated it, dragged it, entwined herself in it, and attempted to walk while bound by her affliction.
Each solo act honed in on a single dancer, interacting with objects in a tangible representation of human hardship. The first, Emma Morrison, appeared in a verdant
landscape as she related to and struggled with an incredibly long, seemingly endless, artistically rendered “burden.” Sewn from many lengths of different colored fabric and evidently filled with something heavy, the prop resembled a Burmese python as the dancer contemplated it, dragged it, entwined herself in it, and attempted to walk while bound by her affliction. The second soloist (David Flores) appeared in front of a warehouse at night, attempting to pick up and carry a myriad of colored sandbags, lifting one after the other in order to take with him. The ceaseless struggle of picking up bag after bag, bearing their weight, attempting to carry them elsewhere, then only to have one fall, then another, and then another, was difficult to watch and felt painfully authentic.
All three duets seemed to cast light on different types of human relationships, each in its own unique stage, with unspoken intricacies between the two people. The first duo appeared passionate and lustful, yet timid and reserved at times. Close-up person to person contact, combined with the natural landscape and stunning cinematography, created a sense of intensely personal sensuality and exclusivity. The second duo portrayed a more weathered relationship, undoubtedly with history and baggage, but with maturity and contemplation. Rather than looking for the world in one another, the two were stretched out on the forest floor in repose, facing outward in the same direction, pondering the concerns of life together. The final duo characterized a more platonic friendship, filled with love and devotion, yet not without disappointment and hurt. Unexpected combinations of movements channeled quickly changing emotions, ranging from jagged confusion and resentment to flowing warmth and adoration.
The two ensemble numbers, despite appearing in disparate landscapes, functioned similarly in spacing, with each dancer relegated to six feet away from any of the others. The first group number involved each dancer wearing a large sheet of black fabric, wrapped about their body and limiting their range of motion. Over the course of the act, the film brilliantly captured the unlikely landscape combination of greenery and black tarmac, the overarching feeling of unrest and discomfort, and each dancer’s individual relationship with their black burden.
The final act featured the largest number of dancers of any movement, positioned six feet from one another, each enclosed by a snake-like, multi-colored art prop, arranged in a circle around their area. With each dancer wearing a unique, brightly colored outfit, the group of movers stood out against a stark, rooftop pavement scene, devoid of
nature or greenery. As the camera panned and re-focused on smaller groups or independent dancers, each dancer seemed to choose from a library of movements suited to or chosen for their character. One flowed endlessly from one new movement to the next, while another performed a sequence on repeat. Some moved with extroverted emotion, attempting to interact with the world around them, while others looked inward, ignoring outside factors and expressing restrained, introspective affliction. Upon observing the dancers individually as well as in combination, a spectator cannot help but begin to identify on a personal level, watching each character battle their own demons, surrounded by the blunt landscape of concrete structure, yet the vibrant color of human existence.
Jana Harper’s vision for this work came to life with the assistance of movement and assistant director Rebecca Steinberg, composer and musician Moksha Sommer, and filmmaker Sam Boyette. Steinberg’s originality and adaptability to a film setting brought an intimate, confidential feel to the movement of the work, highlighting the strengths of each dancer and utilizing existing relationships to re-imagine multi-person numbers during a time of separation. Sommer’s original score brought warmth and interest to trying subject matter, highlighting sounds of nature in and amongst electronically programmed and live instrumental music. Boyette’s videography beautifully captured the energy, emotion, and depth of each dance number, combining all seven movements to create a captivating work of art.
The collaboration that took place in order to create and carry out This Holding: Traces of Contact is a moving reminder of how unified and connected we have the power to be, whether together or apart physically. Recognizing the burdens that unify us is just another means of learning how to move forward together. Perhaps Harper got her wish—after watching this performance, one can feel only gratitude and hope, knowing there is strength and power in shared experiences with others, trials and tribulations included.
The Nashville Symphony via Youtube:
After the Storm . . .
I’m not sure about you, but I’m already looking forward to putting 2020 in the rearview mirror. We’re not even halfway through the year and we’ve weathered a catastrophic tornado and are grappling with a global pandemic . . . and we’re not out of the woods yet. As our communities gradually reopen and we learn to adjust to what is a hopefully temporary “new normal”, we are all confronted with uncertainty and apprehension about the future. But, even as we adjust to quarantine, social distancing, facemasks, and the elbow bump rather than the handshake – we can still take joy in life’s simple pleasures . . . at least this is what I tell my kids (and myself) after I’ve defused the umpteenth screaming argument over screen time.
So, when I saw that on May 28th the Nashville Symphony had posted a performance of the 5th movement of Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony captured via Zoom, I decided to take my own advice and carve out a few minutes to enjoy a little music and remember that this too shall pass. I know the ensemble had already planned to perform the Pastoral Symphony this Spring before live concerts were put on hold, but given the current circumstances, the 5th movement (Joyful and thankful feelings after the storm) is perfect programming. Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony has long been associated with the composer’s love of nature, and this too reflects current events as our parks, greenways, and trails have been teeming with visitors while other entertainment venues remain closed. All of the mid-state seems to be enjoying a chance to slow down and rediscover the natural beauty we sometimes take for granted. Though we’re not completely out of this storm, a moment of reflection and thankfulness is certainly a welcome prospect.
The Symphony’s performance is available to view on YouTube and is presented as a kind of mosaic of individually shot videos that have been cleverly edited together to show the musicians in an approximation of a symphonic seating order during tutti sections – with the strings down front and winds in the back. The audio is impressive, as I imagine that multiple sound files were painstakingly edited together to create the whole. This was no small feat, but the overall product sounds relatively seamless. As smaller consorts or soloists emerge, individual video panes are enlarged and highlighted, lending a sense of intimacy to what could have felt static or removed. All of the video was obviously created by the musicians themselves, filming and recording their individual parts at home – and this was particularly moving as those we usually see on stage in formal dress are presented here in t-shirts, in living rooms, surrounded by the framework of everyday life.
I think it is safe to say that in recent months, we’ve all felt vulnerable at one point or another. I know that I have. But, there is a strength in recognizing that this is a shared experience. The willingness of the Nashville Symphony’s musicians to perform from their homes, to invite audiences in, and to make this a very personal experience, serves as a reminder that art music, even stalwarts of the classical canon, aren’t artifacts to be admired from afar, but are living pieces of art that continue to evolve and communicate the more they are shared with one another.
As a resolution to the “storm” it follows, Beethoven’s 5th movement also reminds us that storms will eventually pass, and until we’re out of this one, I welcome the chance to share more music with the Nashville Symphony from afar. So, if you could use a moment of thankfulness, click the link below and take a stroll through the countryside (or your neighborhood) in true Beethovenian fashion to enjoy a gift of joy and clarity courtesy of the Nashville Symphony.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=umObaE_5bXI
From the Pedestrian Bridge:
Chatterbird Performs Honstein
Down Baby Down by New York composer Robert Honstein (b. 1980) is a piece for percussion quartet in six movements. One imagines that the composition process started with the composer making a comprehensive list of noises that can be produced with a cello before unceremoniously crossing off “use a bow”. The piece, which runs just over 20 minutes, features cello, desk bells, woodblocks, and (what appears to be) 18 gallon storage bins with kick pedals attached. Taps, knocks, dings, booms, slaps, plucks, and hums are used intermittently as the performers mirror each other’s movements across a table adorned with a myriad of small percussion toys.
The piece develops slowly, but attention and interest is earned through an ever changing landscape of sounds and textures. The video, featuring Chatterbox’s Jesse Strauss, Maya Stone, Celine Thackston, and Aaron Walters is well performed, well shot, and well produced. Downtown Nashville and Cumberland Park serves as a background for the recording. An extra layer of interest is added by imagining the curious looks the quartet undoubtedly received from bachelorette parties finding their way to Broadway over the walking bridge in the video’s background. It’s a fun time! Check it out here: https://vimeo.com/415016631#at=1190 or on the homepage of their website: https://www.chatterbird.org/ or just click below!
Down Down Baby, by Robert Honstein from chatterbird on Vimeo.
A Virtual Release
Timbre Cierpke Debuts Digital Release ‘Gullfoss’
The subject of the arts during quarantine has been written about ad nauseam. I’ve found that these articles seldomly tackle the art or music they are tasked with, but instead serve as a cathartic experience for the writer as they sort through the complex web of emotions that accompanies “finding moments of peace amidst these troubled times.” With this in mind I will restrict my mention of the current pandemic to the following sentence: I listened to the virtual release of Timbre Cierpke’s Gullfoss during the lockdown. Moving on.
Nashville’s own Timbre Cierpke is a composer, conductor, harpist, and songwriter who self-identifies as a Romantic Minimalist. Her recent work Gullfoss was written for Alias Chamber Ensemble, SONUS Choir, and Vox Grata Choir. It originally premiered on February 24th, 2019 at Vanderbilt University. The online release, which was recorded and mixed by John Hill, is available for streaming on Bandcamp here: timbre.bandcamp.com. The track runs just over six and a half minutes.
Gullfoss is a water fall located in the canyon of the Hvítá river in southwest Iceland. Cierpke, upon visiting this natural landmark on a family vacation, felt compelled to write a piece that encapsulated her experience. While I have not visited Iceland personally, I do hold the distinction of having dated two seperate girls who have. One visited the country on a study abroad trip to do scientific research on glaciers. The other visited because her friend found exorbitantly cheap plane tickets and, no doubt, engaged in all manner of debaucherous behavior while exploring her Nordic roots. On both accounts I’ve heard it’s beautiful. This tone poem for string quartet, flute trio, and double choir serves as a convincing third account to the country’s quiet and rugged beauty. In her program notes Cierpke described standing in awe of the flowing waters as the piece began to take shape in her mind. The first section opens with a still but ambiguous chord in the flutes. After a moment female voices begin to add to the tapestry of color. As more notes appear the texture thickens, but the tranquility remains. The sound disperses, and this process is repeated. A quarter of a minute in another brief silence is interrupted by unaccompanied voice, which is followed shortly by flutes and a sudden entrance of the strings. Until this point the female choir has been singing only vowels. The strings initiate the beginning of the text (which was written by the composer and is sung entirely in Icelandic). The text reads:
“I am your heart, You are my blood
Come to me
I am coming, I am falling
Love flows in and out of herself
There is nothing that divides us”
The moment the text enters, Cierpke explains, represents the water at the lowest cascade calling for the water at the top to join it. There is a call and answer section between the female choir and the full choir that culminates near the two minute mark with a grand ensemble moment. This is followed by a rich and satisfying cascade effect in the strings and winds which both evokes the image of the water flooding into the gorge and serves to transition into the next section of the piece. As things settle the mid range of the strings and male voices usher back in a sense of peace. A final pseudo-canon section acts as a bridge to the last moment of the work. The music disappears into the distance.
Cierpke’s talents are on full display in this piece. She certainly has a unique style which comes from her diverse musical background. Elements of folk music, art music, and contemporary music are adeptly woven together toward a clear and concise purpose. The harmonies are pleasing and her proficiency in orchestration is evident.
There is something about waterfalls. Miles and miles of stillness give way to a dramatic change of elevation. The transition can be tough; it can be fast, jarring, and unexpected, but one hopes that after the fall things return to normal. There is a metaphor in there somewhere. I am reminded of the 1968 film Lion in Winter. There is a scene where the main characters are being held prisoner in a dungeon. They hear Henry coming down the stairs to kill them. Richard says: “He’s here. He’ll get no satisfaction out of us. Don’t let him see you beg”. Geoffrey replies “You fool! As if the way one falls down matters!” To which Richard replies “Well, when the fall is all that’s left, it matters a great deal.”
Maybe we all have something to learn from Waterfalls and Timbre Cierkpe’s piece. I encourage you to go online, stream this work, and make a donation if you’re able. It might help you find a moment of peace during these troubled times.
How You Can Help:
It’s Your City, Give a Little Bit Back…
The Federal Stimulus is coming your way any day now. Far be it from me to act as if I know where best to spend your money, especially if you are one of the great number of people in our country that finds themselves temporarily unemployed in this crisis. In fact, the request here is not really for you, but it is for those people who have been lucky enough to keep a job in the current depr recession. For you, the stimulus check is simply a windfall, and it was likely meant to be spent by you in order to keep the economy afloat until we can get out of this nightmare.
Instead of dropping it into your savings account, why not spend that stimulus check on the organizations that enrich our community? Do your part in ensuring that Nashville will continue to have some of the very nice things that it enjoyed up until last month, like a world-class Symphony, Opera and Ballet for starters and some smaller, cutting-edge artistic organizations. Here we will go through a few of the organizations that are struggling, what they are doing and how you might support them:
Nashville Opera
Like most of arts organizations here and throughout the world, the remainder of Nashville Opera’s season is either cancelled or postponed. The much-anticipated performance of Verdi’s Rigoletto has been rescheduled as the finale for next season. They have just recently posted a pair of wonderful children’s operas, Bear Hub/Abrazo de Oso! and Little Red’s Most Unusual Day on their site and youtube. They were also scheduled to reveal next season’s programming on April 11th, but understandably, from pandemics to tornados, things might be behind. Certainly Rigoletto will be part of the season, and given company’s history, some other wonderful productions. Why not subscribe here?
Nashville Ballet
The Ballet has closed down its productions, schools and activities through April 24th. I personally was looking forward to the Modern Masters production, it looked to be wonderful again. Recently, they have placed online “Trees on the Mountain,” a choreographic film set to Rhiannon Giddens’ and Francesco Turrisi’s song, featuring Nashville Ballet’s Company Artists Mollie Sansone, Brett Sjoblom & Owen Thorne. The performance is chillingly beautiful, and resulted from the same collaboration that brought us the Lucy Negro Redux. Give it a watch and then go get a subscription for next season. Here is a teaser, but I think you only need to hear one word: DRACULA!
Nashville Symphony
One of Tennessee’s largest and longest-running non-profit arts organization, the Nashville Symphony continue to buck the national trend by depending on a majority of their income from ticket sales. Typically, this would be a good thing, but when concerts get cancelled, they become vulnerable much more quickly than more grant dependent organizations. Nevertheless, our Symphony is actively working to stay involved with the community offering home educational resources and home performances by their world class musicians. The Director, Maestro Giancarlo Guerrero just hosted an interactive talk on Gustav Mahler’s Tenth Symphony on April 8, and promised to give more in the future. You can subscribe to their exciting 20-21 season here.
Now part of the government stimulus package includes forgivable payroll loans to organizations. However, smaller arts organizations work through hiring their artists through independent contracts. Thus, the need here is even greater. However, this also means that, because these organizations are smaller, you well get a much bigger bang for your buck.
Intersection
In an email, Intersection’s Director Kelly Corcoran emphasized their community role of “relevance, content and meaning during this time.” This month they had a scheduled premiere of a new guitar concerto by Leo Brouwer to be performed by Carlos Barbosa-Lima as well as other works by Tania Leon and Ileana Perez Valazquez in partnership with the Global Education Center, which sadly is postponed until next season. They had been providing weekly teaching at the Juvenile Detention Center and “while the in-person instruction will likely not return this season, they are working on the creation of some mobile learning kits so the teachers can still be paid for that work and continue to engage with the students at the JDC.”
Corcoran continues: “Generally, we have shifted our focus for the remainder of this season to the sharing of collaborative content and the lifting up of composers. We see this as a time where we can still fulfill our mission of creating excitement around new music. We’re sending out weekly “composer peeks” where we feature a composer (all female composers for now) and share some repertoire and encourage our community to dig deeper into these composers and learn more about them.” For digital updates she suggests that you subscribe to the newsletter and follow them on social – that’s where you will find the weekly “composer peeks” which could last up to 40 weeks! (the most recent “peek” includes links to a bio and two pieces by Nashville composer Cristina Spinei). To subscribe to the newsletter and to donate to help this important organization continue its work visit here (newsletter subscription at the bottom of the page).
Chatterbird
Celine Thackston, Director of Chatterbird, informs MCR that they have also had to push concerts to next season, with some performances added to a concert in November 2020 that features a collaboration with Leila Adu on a commission and premiere of a large-scale chamber piece with two vocalists and youth choir. Leila’s November commission is focused on environmental activism and will feature arts & activism workshops to be offered in collaboration with the Oasis Center, Youth Empowerment through Arts & Humanities, and Turnip Green Creative Reuse.
In addition to the loss of ticket sales, Thackston notes that these smaller organizations are also suffering from the “… diversion of potential grant money as funder priorities shift in response to coronavirus” as well as individual donors “…considering the many issues in Nashville that donors are being asked to respond to.” When asked about next season, Thackston was cagey, but enthusiastic, “At this point […] Our next mainstage event is Leila’s concert in November 2020. We have several concerts that we’re planning for the season; we will be touring in support of Hello Gold Mountain; and will have more exciting announcements on the other side of this that we’d love to share when the time is right.” For now she points readers to the trailer for Hello Gold Mountain, but indicates that there will be a new video out in May – the result of a collaborative project with composer Robert Honstein. You can set up a small 5$ monthly donation here…it will feel so much better than another boring cup of coffee (when we are allowed to go to Starbucks again).
New Dialect
Banning Bouldin, Founder and Artistic Director of New Dialect, the contemporary dance collective, is actively working to shift a number of the season’s choreographic residencies online, which will allow for many of the company’s artists to remain engaged for most of the season. Further, they are working for their artists, “We have also been active in our efforts to connect independent contractors with New Dialect to resources available through the CARES Act, the Artist Relief fund, and the SBA. Operating and project-based grant funding from the Tennessee Arts Commission, Metro Arts Commission, and the NEA has helped us provide artists in our collective with additional financial support, as we reimagine the rest of our season’s projects in this new reality.”
While unsure of the future, Bouldin is sure of the collective’s adaptability and innovative strength, remarking that “…collaborative improvisation is the foundation of our artistic practice and spills over into everything we do.” By far the most optimistic statement I’ve heard in the face of uncertainty. Like Chatterbird and Intersection, New Dialect’s rich Social Media presence and content deep website provides a look at what they are up to now, and what to expect in the future. There is also a space to contribute.
Again, I can’t tell you how to spend your stimulus check. I can suggest that these six organizations improve the community around them and enrich our lives through art. They are part of that beautiful network that makes Music City so much more than Broadway and the Country Music Awards. Why not subscribe to a season from the Ballet, Opera, or Orchestra and make a similar donation to one of the smaller groups? I bet you can do it and still have enough left for a fancy dinner when the restaurants reopen. In the meantime, why not a gift card? This way, next season, when we’ve woken from this collective nightmare, you will find yourself more closely connected to our wonderful community—isn’t that connection one of the things we are missing most right now?
On the Internets
Live Music in the Time of COVID-19
As Shelter in Place orders have been enacted in the majority of the United States over the last few weeks, musicians and entertainers of all kinds have suddenly found their livelihoods turned upside down. Nashville is a hub of the entertainment industry, and naturally has high numbers of talented musicians trying to figure out how to manage life and music from quarantine. While it is questionable whether social technology makes life better in a general sense, in this moment, it would seem that it does.
My Facebook feed practically hums with music content: live streaming solo shows from living rooms, live streaming band shows from undisclosed sheds in the greater Nashville area, beautifully spare quarantine music videos. Two Irish pubs in town hosted concerts to empty rooms in order to share tunes with their patrons; “Stay Home” music festivals bring musicians from around the world together on one program. So where do we find this content? What platforms and technology are they using? How can we continue to support musicians in a meaningful way until pubs, clubs, and coffee houses are once again buzzing with songs?
Let’s start with platforms. The most mainstream live streaming platforms are Facebook, Instagram, and YouTube, and in my informal survey, Facebook is the most used, though not necessarily best, platform. Twitch is known as a home for gamers, but many musicians are taking advantage of the streaming service. This article in The Verge by Dani Deahl outlines some of the benefits of Twitch versus other platforms, specifically related to monetization. Concert-specific platforms are also keeping musicians in the virtual spotlight: StageIt has taken over the space Concert Window vacated when it closed down last year, as a service that allows performers to set ticket prices and number of ‘seats,’ creating an exclusive atmosphere for their concerts.
Many musicians are using third party apps to improve the streaming experience on Facebook or Instagram. Vocalist and guitarist Jake Taylor uses MySet, which allows artists to build a set list of all their songs so audience members can request them. MySet is built to allow fans to tip performers; it also encourages fans to pool their tips for a common song, giving it a game-like element. Taylor, who has toured internationally with country acts and regularly fronts a band on Lower Broadway, likes the streamlined system, finding it easy to see requests at a glance and minimizing time spent scrolling through comments and emojis while live. Taylor is also experimenting with Cinamaker, a program that allows the performer to edit multiple camera angles into a single video stream in real time. A self-proclaimed tech geek, Taylor uses a GoPro Hero7 camera and a Bose Compact speaker system to deliver crisp audio and visuals. “The audio and visual quality of the performance are very important to me,” Taylor relays. “I want to limit the distractions people experience while they are watching, to make it feel like I am right there in the room with them. I’m fortunate to already have a lot of the tools on hand to be able to accomplish that reasonably well.”
While some musicians are using high end tech, others are throwing up a cell phone and going for it. Singer/songwriter Rachel Solomon has spent the last several years playing up to six nights a week in various and sundry international piano bars; when Solomon decided to jump into the fray of livestreaming shows she stayed true to her brand and is offering up a twice weekly virtual piano bar via Facebook Live. Solomon acknowledges that cell phone audio quality isn’t ideal (she has plans to upgrade her sound with an iRig interface that allows a microphone cable to plug into a phone), but says the opportunity to stay connected to her audience is worth whatever reservations she might have. “When I return home from my piano bar residencies for “time off,” I have difficulty adjusting to life without regular performances where I get to connect with an audience one-on-one, fulfilling song requests.” With gigs canceled for the next several months, Solomon had a similar feeling of, “Now what?” So she turned to live-streaming, “Not only to subsidize a little bit of missing income, but also to subsidize that missing connection with an audience in my favorite way: taking their song requests.”
Not surprisingly, different groups and organizations have jumped in to streamline the glut of live music offerings. Lower Broadway bands Whiskey, Cash and Roses and Three Lane have started live streaming under the banner Six Foot Serenade, serving up Broadway staples. Six Foot Serenade has started recruiting other musicians to stream under their banner, effectively curating honky tonk content from their living rooms. NPR has a recommended list of national streaming concerts; Now Playing Nashville has a sister list of local performers.
How do live streaming shows stack up in the money department? Most streaming concerts feature a virtual tip jar of some sort, and word on the street is that people are being generous, but streaming doesn’t replace the revenue generated by ticket sales, or even a four-hour shift in a honky tonk. Musicians may look to alternate methods to support their craft, such as Patreon. Patreon offers fans a chance to support their artist of choice for a few dollars a month, and the artist has the opportunity to create special content for their patrons. Tune Supply, a business started by intrepid New York Irish musicians Caitlin Warbelow and Chris Ranney a few days before St. Patrick’s Day, has a slightly different model, catering specifically to traditional Irish music fans. Warbelow and Ranney have a roster of some of the top Irish musicians, singers, and dancers in the country; people can order a set of tunes through the site, and their order is matched with one of the performers who then make a custom video for the recipient. It’s a boutique niche to be sure, but it shows the creativity people are engaging in to continue to make music in the face of isolation. (Full disclosure, I am on the Tune Supply roster. I would, however, write about them even if I weren’t, because they are that cool.)
despite being scared for their health, their futures, and their livelihoods, musicians know that music is healing, both for the player and the listener
Speaking as someone with a busking background, I find the current online atmosphere remarkably similar to a busy Boston subway station: talented people plying their trade to crowd after crowd, trying to catch the eye and ear of the person in a hurry, and entice them to drop some change in a bucket. Most of the musical offerings are delightful: stripped down versions of popular songs, new material written to fit the current moment, and there’s always a musical saw. There’s a lot of heart being put on display. Amongst the various online musician groups I belong to, the sentiment I have seen expressed over and over again is that, despite being scared for their health, their futures, and their livelihoods, musicians know that music is healing, both for the player and the listener. Musicians are live streaming despite their technological or personal insecurities- have you ever tried putting on a full-out show to an empty chair? It’s unnatural and unnerving, especially for people who make their living communicating and reading other people- in order to provide a moment of peace or healing to those who need it. As Taylor said, “The energy from a streaming show is vastly different from the energy of a live show, but we are still bringing happiness to people. We are in this profession because music is in our bones, and in this moment we are being who we are meant to be.”
At the Schermerhorn
A “Simple Gift” from the Nashville Symphony
The program presented by the Nashville Symphony this past weekend had been highlighted on my calendar for a few months now. All works performed were less than one hundred years old, and all composers represented hail from either North or South America. In a genre dominated by Western Europeans who died before the invention of the telegraph, this program is a welcome change and further establishes Nashville’s commitment to exploring the breadth of symphonic music.
The program was billed as Appalachian Spring and the music of Alan Hovhaness, Heitor Villa-Lobos, and Jennifer Higdon joined Aaron Copland’s classic to convey to audiences the pairing of tradition and innovation present in each of these composers’ works. Copland has long been considered a major contributing voice to the developing “American” symphonic sound, but his ability to assess and adapt multiple influences into a personal and accessible style is mirrored by the other composers on the program. Each has managed to find a distinct way to blend tradition and innovation.
Hovhaness’s “Mysterious Mountain” – a symphony presented in three movements – started the program. The contemplative treatment of the first movement was highlighted by the solo statements from the oboe and trumpet surrounded by lush strings and ethereal responses in the celeste, almost acting as a protracted introduction to the fugue statement of the second movement. The strings had a chance to show off some technique in the second movement’s fugue, navigating the rising syncopated subject with clarity and a mounting sense of momentum. The third movement once again returns to the spiritual and understated grace of the work’s opening, and brings to mind composers who would later work in a similar style such as Arvo Pärt and John Tavener. The symphony’s interpretation was spot on – allowing climaxes enough weight to be effective, but not letting them overshadow the subdued grace of the work’s overall arch.
Mysterious Mountain was followed by Bachianas brasileiras No. 2 by Heitor Villa-Lobos – a selection from his series of compositions that repurpose and adapt established art music formats to pair with traditional Brazilian cultural influences. The overly romantic sentiment in this work paired nicely with the meditative nature of the first selection and the solo cello and tenor saxophone statements in the second movement (Aria) warrant specific praise. The driving rhythm and infectious motion of the fourth movement was well conveyed by the ensemble, and as the “locomotive” nature of the ostinato began to grind to a halt, listeners could be seen almost physically anticipating the piece’s final stinger that would send the audience into the intermission.
The program continued with a live recording of Jennifer Higdon’s Low Brass Concerto, a piece that has received a high amount of press and praise since its commission and premiere by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra in February of 2018. The commissioning ensemble was fairly specific about the parameters of the composition and in a Feb. 2018 article concerning the premiere, The Classical Review quotes CSO principal trombonist Jay Friedman as requesting that the work be a “serious piece of music and not a showpiece for large-sized animals”. This is an understandable concern given that the low brass are often characterized in very narrow terms and few composers are able to coax a full expression of power, lyricism, and technique from these versatile instruments.
Higdon’s treatment allows for subtle chorale statements, and powerful displays of virtuosity without pandering to the hair-parting, park and bark aesthetic one might imagine at the mention of a concerto for low brass. She treats the instruments largely as a unit, allowing the individual musicality of each player in the section to contribute to the musical mosaic. Each musician is given a chance to shine individually, but the most compelling moments of the piece feature a high degree of teamwork among the four soloists.
Paul Jenkins (trombone), Derek Hawkes (trombone), Steven Brown (bass trombone), and Gilbert Long (tuba), were nothing short of dazzling. The soft chorale section that opens the work highlighted the lyrical sensitivity of the section, and the climax featuring interlocking articulated fireworks shared by all four players really put the section’s virtuosity on full display. Though I was thoroughly impressed with the musicality of the soloists, the work is relatively short and I found myself wishing that there had been a few more solo moments for each player. But, in a concerto that is largely designed to highlight the abilities of a section rather than any one individual, perhaps extended cadenzas would run counter to the intent of the commission. Given the buzz about the piece in the past few years, I wanted to hear it live for myself and I look forward to revisiting this performance when the recording is released.
I will admit that when I purchased my subscription series last year, I chose this past weekend’s concert primarily because I wanted to be present for the live recording of Jennifer Higdon’s Low Brass Concerto. Hovhaness and Villa-Lobos also held their charms, as I don’t know their music all that well and I was eager to experience it first hand.
Though it may be almost blasphemous for me to admit it, when purchasing my tickets for the concert, Copland’s well-known piece was almost an afterthought. I’ve heard this slice of Americana many times, and was much more eager to explore new and lesser known works. I didn’t think that there was much more that I could draw from any interpretation of Suite from Appalachian Spring. I could not have been more wrong.
Before beginning the piece maestro Guerrero briefly addressed the audience from the podium. He shared in the community’s sadness and grief at the destruction and devastation that the recent storms have created throughout our region. But, he was also resolute in his confidence and assurance that the people of Middle Tennessee are strong, compassionate, and possessed of a volunteer spirit that will see us all through hardship. As Guerrero reminded us, Appalachian Spring represents an embodiment of these cherished American ideals, and serves as a poignant reminder of the indomitable nature of the human spirit.
…the fragile silence and subsequent thunderous ovation that followed the end of the work left no doubt.
As the piece opened with the pure expanding string statements and plaintive woodwind lines, I began to experience this music in a new way. My own immediate community of Mt. Juliet suffered extensive damage as a result of the recent storms, and while my family is safe and our home undamaged, many families we know have suffered terrible loss. As we begin to heal as a community, I have been overwhelmed by the volunteerism, donations, and expressions of encouragement I see throughout our city. Copland’s work has long been held to represent “American” ideals and archetypes, and as I listened to the musicians of the Nashville Symphony infuse Copland’s melodies with their own resolution, determination, and compassion, I felt a sense of hope and community.
Copland’s sparse orchestration, simple beauty, and hopeful melodies were well translated by the Nashville Symphony’s musicians, many of whom were also directly impacted by the recent storms. The performers and the audience shared the spirit of this music together, and should anyone doubt the significance of the performance of this piece for both the musicians on stage and the audience contributing to the experience – the fragile silence and subsequent thunderous ovation that followed the end of the work left no doubt.
Often when I visit the Symphony I am reminded of the power of music, and this past weekend was no different. A piece of music that I thought I knew revealed itself to me in a new way, and I am thankful for the sense of community and fellowship that I experienced sharing this music with my fellow Middle Tennesseans.
At Oz Arts Nashville
New Dialect Performs Poignant Double Feature
Six amorphous figures appear on a dark stage as music fades in. The figures split into pairs and slow dance as the lights go up. It’s the kind of slow dance that you see in movies. The kind of movies where it takes an hour, a break up, and a triumph of the will before the two main characters, in a high school gymnasium turned Sadie Hawkins dance floor, realize that they were meant for one another. The girl rests her head on the guy’s chest as they share – if only for a moment- completeness. This is how First Fruit, Rosie Herrera’s new ballet, opens, the only caveat being that each of the characters are covered head-to-toe in Post-It notes.
Grants from the N.E.A., the Tennessee Arts Commission, Oz Arts, and the Danner Foundation made this world premier possible. In January of 2020 Herrera conducted a week long workshop with 67 participants from across the country. In the weeks following she collaborated with the dancers of New Dialect to create First Fruit; the the first of two works on New Dialect’s program last weekend at Oz Arts Nashville.
Warm and familiar-sounding Spanish music serves as a soundtrack while the neon squares of paper dance from the performers to the floor. Soon enough the stage, which had started black, is littered with bright colors. As layers shed from the dancers, bright street clothes and leotards are revealed. It is difficult, with a work of this nature, to nail down a specific and concrete meaning, but the performance is broken into roughly four main movements. Each scene seems to explore different endings to romantic relationships: heartbreak, drifting apart, abuse, and lasting love (in no particular order). One memorable scene features a female dancer who slowly and methodically rips a fallen post-it note to shreds. A male dancer, on the opposite end of the stage, writhes in agony with each motion. The end of each scene is heralded by the company rushing out and using a cardboard flap to cover a character (or characters) as they lay on the ground.
The integration of the post-it notes as costume, prop, and set is brilliant. The choreography itself is inventive in that it is always subservient to the narrative. The production runs a full gamut of emotion. It is quirky, sad, strange, beautiful, passionate, and mesmerizing.
The second production of the evening was The Triangle by Nashville Native and founder of New Dialect Banning Bouldin. This work, which played to sold out crowds last year, is a visceral and emotional study on our cultural obsession with overcoming. In a pre-event discussion she described this work’s unique creative process. Bouldin, a sufferer of relapsing-remitting multiple sclerosis, described her first attack as the catalyst for this work. “3 and a half years ago I experienced my first episode of MS. I spent the first 36 years of my life an advancedly coordinated, athletic, professional dancer… I woke up one morning unable to feel my legs. I had tremendous difficulty balancing and walking. It was a very scary time for me. I Remember crying when I was sitting in my car and realized I wasn’t going to be able to drive myself… and having the very reassuring thought that I don’t have to be able to walk and I don’t have to be able to dance to make dances”.
Bouldin’s experience with MS opened a line of questioning which led to the development of 13 short works that she calls “Limitation Etudes.” She describes The Triangle as a natural outgrowth of these ideas. Confinement and constraint play a major role throughout the work. It opens on an ensemble of dancers connected in a maze of straps. As one dancer escapes she does so at the expense of another. At times it is difficult to watch; paralysis is an uncomfortable thought. The dancers found themselves confined to chairs. They are limp and powerless as the hands of others drag them across the stage. They fall and struggle to get up, and that was the most moving part of The Triangle for me. However difficult it was, they never stopped striving to get up. The dance is an artistic statement about our societies’ romanticization of striving that resonates far beyond physical disabilities.
This stint of shows will launch New Dialect into a three year touring initiative of these productions. They were one of five Southeastern dance companies to be selected by SouthArts to participate in the program. These works will continue to have life and meaning in other towns and communities as New Dialect acts as a cultural diplomat for the Music City across the country.
the Nashville Symphony
Beethoven and Genius: an Interview with Maestro Guerrero
This weekend, February 20th through the 23rd, Nashville Symphony will present an all-Beethoven concert, including the ground-breaking Eroica symphony, the somewhat confusingly titled Leonore Overture No. 3 (one of several written for Beethoven’s only opera, Fidelio), and the classically oriented Piano Concerto No. 1. The concert is dedicated to the 250th birthday of the composer, which will occur in December of this year.
Beethoven’s Symphony No. 3 in Eb major, often spoken of fondly as the Eroica, short for Sinfonia Eroica (“Heroic Symphony”), marks the transition between music of the Classical era and the beginning of the Romantic era. Beethoven built upon the musical foundation of his predecessors, synthesizing the styles of Mozart and Haydn while innovating in virtually every facet of the classical symphony; form, harmony, dynamics, and emotional content are all expanded upon.
Fidelio is Beethoven’s only opera, though he did compose a number of overtures for it in an effort to set the opening scenes as effectively as possible. Leonore No. 3 is actually his second attempt, and though widely considered the best as a piece of music, audience members found it to be overwhelming compared to the relatively light scenes at the start of the opera. The Piano Concerto No. 1 is the earliest of the three compositions, and thus the influence of Haydn, and especially Mozart are clearly heard here. Yet Beethoven’s voice is unmistakable and his mastery of the classical forms of Sonata and Rondo undeniable.
This past Monday I had the honor to speak to Maestro Giancarlo Guerrero who will be conducting this weekend.
Jack Marlow: Good morning Maestro.
Maestro Guerrero: Hello, how are you?
JM: Very good, thank you for taking this time out of your schedule, I really appreciate it. So we are going to talk about Beethoven, my first question, kind of a nebulous one, but what do think Beethoven means to us today, why is he relevant in your view?
MG: Well you know the same things that inspired him in the early 1800s, in terms of passions and politics and love, depression, and challenges in one’s own life have not changed in human beings, so I think there’s a deeper connection. When we listen to not only Beethoven, but all great composers, going back hundreds of years, their music sends a message that is very much relevant to today’s world. In many ways we are able to understand what are the things that truly inspire us. Really he is no different from artists nowadays who are writing things that are almost a time capsule of the times in which they are living.
I promise you at that point, that is my favorite piece on the face of this earth.
JM: Right, thank you. Time for an easier question, do you have a favorite piece by Beethoven, any instrumentation, piano or-?
MG: You know what, it’s really whatever I am conducting at the time, to be honest with you. That is one of the questions we get asked the most as musicians, that’s almost like asking which is your favorite daughter or son. In many ways the best answer I can give you is whatever I happen to be working or conducting at the time. And the reason is very simple, you have to remember that we program our seasons sometimes two or three years in advance, so there is a kind of long gestational process of preparing the piece, getting it ready, deeply analyzing it, so finally you get in front of an orchestra and an audience and you’ve been waiting three or four years sometimes to get the piece done, so I promise you at that point, that is my favorite piece on the face of this earth. Because then when it’s over, it may be a long time before that piece comes back again, so it’s like spending time with a dear friend, and then you hope you get to spend time with that friend again in the future, and sometimes it can be another five, ten years, or maybe never, you never know how these things work.
JM: Yeah I feel that way just as an audience member. I’m a huge fan by the way, I go to every classical series concert I can. Why these specific pieces? It makes sense, with the Eroica, but why the first Piano Concerto?
MG: A lot of it has to do with scheduling, over the last few years we have done the other four concertos kind of recently, and the first it’s been almost nine years. So a lot of time it just kind of comes down the scheduling, which pieces make it into a program. One reason this program came together is that I wanted to showcase three aspects of his writing. In the case of Leonore 3, this was written for his only opera Fidelio, and then his piano concerto is basically the standard for piano players – they master each of the five. And then in this case the scheduling helped narrow it down to the first one. Then the Eroica, to me it’s been a while since I’ve done it, since I believe my first season here in 2009. So it’s a piece I haven’t done myself in a while, and I wanted to bring it back, and in many ways this is the one symphony that basically shattered the existing ideas of classical structure in classical music- traditions of music that were left by Hadyn and Mozart. Beethoven broke it immediately with this one piece and in many ways this one symphony is the starting point of what became the Romantic period. No slow introduction, just two very big, loud chords – I’m sure it must have been very shocking to the audience, and to this day it sounds very fresh. And plus the political inspiration of this piece that originally was written for Napoleon, Beethoven was a big admirer of the ideals of the French Revolution – equality, democracy and so on. So when Napoleon declared himself emperor, Beethoven became so enraged that he actually ripped off the title page, removed the dedication to Napoleon, and instead dedicated it to the memory of a great man.
JM: Fascinating.
MG: Remember that during the time Beethoven was writing this, during the Napoleonic wars, he himself had to deal with bombings from the French, they bombed Vienna during his lifetime. So these were very turbulent political times. And in human history those are always around, so in many ways this piece represents a time capsule of the turbulent political times that were being lived through in Europe at the time.
JM: Right, thank you. Possibly relevant to our own times. How many times have you conducted the Eroica?
MG: Once. Can you believe that?
JM: Wow-
MG: I’ve only done it once, and if you were to ask me why, I couldn’t give you an answer. Many of these things just fall off on the side, without any reason. I mean we have to go through so much repertoire every season, that every now and then it takes a moment for you to say “hang on a second, why haven’t I done this piece in a while, I love it.” So the fact that we have this birthday, this is the opportunity. Really doing it now – there’s a part of me that feels a little guilty. It’s been such a long time, and not for any particular reason. It just never came around, not on my radar, but now I promise it is very much on my radar.
JM: Have you learned anything specific in the score, details perhaps that didn’t jump out last time?
MG: Oh of course! Always, you know there’s always new editions coming out, new scholars that come out with new information, revised, and further exploration of the manuscript. Like any other great piece of music, great piece of art, it’s a living organism, these things evolve over decades and centuries. And we have to keep re examining them with fresh eyes and fresh information. Plus you have to remember I am not the same person I was ten years ago. So I’m looking at this from a very different perspective of a person who has been with the orchestra for more than ten years, and my kids were very little, and now I have teenage daughters – of course that’s going to affect my music making! How could it not, like when you read a book the second time you see different things because you’re basically a different person. So for me it’s always exciting because I get to know an old friend and love them even more. A lot of the things we find out have to do with logic – sometimes there is some ambiguity with things like articulation, or dynamics, and when you study the pieces further you apply logic – you almost have to guess really, like CSI Beethoven_ I’m trying to figure out what they were writing. Even now with computer programs that write music, like Finale or Sibelius, they are not perfect. I do enough world premiers to know even modern pieces have some ambiguity. So imagine two hundred years ago these people were writing with ink and pen, smudge all over the paper by candlelight – of course there’s going to be mistakes. So it’s up to us to use the best of our abilities to figure out exactly what it is the composer intended. In some cases, the worst part of it – there is a very fine line between a bad mistake and something brilliant. Whether the composer was going for something very unique or it’s just a mistake – there’s a fine line. It’s the same fine line between crazy and genius. So a lot of times you are forced to make what I call executive decisions.
…to be a genius at that level… I think there has to be a certain degree of madness
JM: Genius is an interesting one to discuss, you could think of Beethoven as the man that pioneered and really popularized that concept in the western imagination. Do you think genius exists and did Beethoven have it?
MG: Of course it does! But as I said, to be a genius at that level… I think there has to be a certain degree of madness associated with this. Because you’re seeing the world, I believe, in so many different layers, they have the ability to process information in a way that most normal people don’t have. By the way Beethoven was not by far the first, we could go back to Da Vinci, Michelangelo, we could go back to Mozart. These were artists and human beings that left such a mark that even to this day we are in awe at the things they did. Because as I said they process information and put it into their own art or artform , and it’s simply astonishing. When you think about the amount of work these people left – in many cases a very short period of time, and without the comforts of modern technology that we have nowadays. I think it’s just a complete miracle. And for those of us who do this, for me in particular, I find it incredibly inspiring and it’s a wonderful excuse to walk away from the craziness that is the 21st century with its fast-pace. When you get to sit down with a work that’s forty-five minutes long, and really delve into the mind of a composer, that like most of us had great experiences but also inner demons. All of that is seen very clearly in his art, and the same could be said of Mahler, Stravinsky, Mozart Van Gogh, Picasso, and any other great artist to this day that is making us reconsider the meaning of life in many cases.
JM: So you mention Mahler, Stravinsky – it’s kind of hard after the death of Stravinsky to think of a leading composer of the 21st century, the Beethoven of our time if you will. Who would you say is that person?
MG: To me, John Adams. He is by far the most performed music composer on the face of this Earth. And so we can go by that, John Adams has been able to find, I think, a following, while he’s alive he’s been able to enjoy great success, that even Beethoven would have wished to have, or Mozart. So there are some that I think have continued to set the standard, but he is not by far the only one. Think of Penderecki in Poland, or Philip Glass. I think what you are describing is that since we have such access to information right now – well back then the composer had a more slow recognition time because it took sometimes years for us to hear the pieces that were premiering in Europe to get to the United States, or vice versa. Nowaday when a piece gets premiered in Berlin we are able to hear it immediately. So that creates a much bigger pool of composers for us to pull from. There’s just so much easily accessible music immediately on our phones.
JM: With the Eroica, the 19th century is often framed musically as a debate between the programmatic and the absolute, Wagner versus Brahms and so on. Do you hear the Eroica as a programmatic piece, and if so do you have a kind of story or program in your mind?
MG: Well remember that the original inspiration for this was Napoleon, and the ideals of the French Revolution. There’s a degree of anxiety that came along with something so shocking in the history of Europe. The French revolution – I mean there was great fear among the monarchies of Europe because this was the beginning of the end for them. And of course as usually happens with big political upheavals all of the plans and works that the people promised, none of them came to fruition. I mean that is always the case, they always promise the wonders of the Earth, and then at the end the reality is that the personalities take over and usually it becomes a problem, a dictatorship. So the fact that Beethoven thought of Napoleon and the French Revolution experiment – you can hear that in the music, that he was feeling alongside everyone in Europe. Even if the composer did not intend to write something about something in particular, how can they separate themselves from their own personal lives? Whether it’s something associated with love, or in the case of Beethoven personal challenges, realizing at the time he was becoming deaf. All of these things must have an impact. So I don’t think there is a thing called absolute music. Even Mozart, who may have written 41 symphonies – everyone of these works were written at a time when something was happening in his life and this must have had an impact.
JM: I’m no Beethoven scholar, but I know there’s somewhat of a controversy about his original tempo markings, and I was wondering what your thoughts were about that.
MG: Yeah well it’s not so much of a controversy, what happened is that Beethoven knew Mälzel who invented the metronome. And as you can imagine the first prototype of it was not perfect. And we now know that the metronome Beethoven had access to was not quite precise. So a lot of scholars will tell you that some of the tempo markings, all of them if you ask me, seems a little on the fast side. But then again, it’s hard to say for sure. What we do know is that after getting the metronome Beethoven was so excited to have a new toy, that after the fact he started putting metronome markings on all of his pieces. He wanted to test his new machine and see how well it worked with his works. There’s been I believe two or three recordings of the Beethoven cycle recently where the big selling point is “oh we’re using the Beethoven markings.” Well you know what, they don’t work in some cases, sometimes they are just over the top fast, and you don’t get to really appreciate the music because it’s moving too fast. Beethoven was a master of the inner voices, and if the music is going too fast you miss out on the intricacies in the middle. Even the most demanding composer in my lifetime has never told me “it’s 72 to the quarter note, and it has to be 72 to the quarter note – “ Never! Every single one of us as conductors or performers have to put our own personal stamp on it. For me these metric markings are more of a starting or reference point. What’s more interesting though, to me, is the relationship between the movements. 120 in the first movement, 60 in the second movement, you know the second was intended to be half as slow. To me that is much more interesting than the number itself. Because the number was dictated by the acoustics of the hall, the virtuosity of the orchestra, and the personality of the conductor.
JM: Right, checks out to me at least. Last question: what do you see as the future of classical music in general, and in Nashville specifically?
MG: We are living in an incredible time of access to information. Orchestras these days are absolutely incredible. Nashville Symphony is a world class, virtuosic orchestra that can tackle not only the challenges of Beethoven or Mozart, but also the great challenges of recording live the music of our time from living American composers. I truly believe that orchestras need to continue to reach out to their communities. It is our responsibility in Nashville and in the rest of the world, for orchestras to service the people that live in those communities. Orchestras really should enrich the quality of life of the communities that they belong to. And Nashville is no different, I’m very proud to belong to a city that is proud to call itself Music City. And there is so much activity – great quality world class music activity happening in Nashville. The symphony needs to remain relevant, we need to remain a part of that environment, of what makes Nahville important So far us, it is all about servicing and bringing music to our community and making sure that this music has relevance in what is happening in Nashville. We just really have to think about – what you program in Nashville should be very different from what you program in New York, very different cities. A big part of it is really trying to keep your ear on the ground and figure out what Nashville needs from the Symphony. And as long as you do that you’re always going to have music lovers come and continue to support it. And remember this question was also being asked around Beethoven’s time, “what is the future of music?” Things haven’t changed, Beethoven was new, Mozart had world premiers. This is nothing new. The question that continues to be asked is making sure that the music we play has a place at the table, and that people feel a connection to it personally and spiritually. But we have one of the best concert halls on the face of this Earth so that helps a lot.
JM: Well I can speak for myself that I love Nashville’s programming, I’ve learned a number of new composers I had never heard of, and I’ve gotten to enjoy some standards – I’ve never gotten to experience the Eroica live so I’m really excited for this weekend.
MG: Sweet. You know, it’s funny this actually is a really unusual program for us – Beethoven, a one composer program, and he’s dead, so kind of unusual program for us.
JM: Can’t wait to hear it, thank you for speaking with me Maestro, have a great day.
MG: Thanks so much Jack, take care.
I am confident that Maestro Guerrero will have the depth of knowledge and the personal warmth required to bring out the best of Beethoven’s music, Nashville is fortunate to have the chance to see such a skilled conductor and orchestra perform some of the best music composed in such a beautiful concert hall.
Nashville Ballet
Blurring Ballet Lines: A Series of Moving Dialogues on Gender Identity and Stereotypes
Does movement imply gender? Do accepted norms impact freedom of self expression? Is creativity subconsciously limited by culturally-imposed stereotypes? These are the types of questions choreographers Carlos Pons Guerra, Erin Kouwe, Matthew Neenan, and Jennifer Archibald grappled with in Nashville Ballet’s production of “Attitude—Other Voices.” As cultures, expectations, and expressions shift over time, this type of artistic commentary uniquely provides a tangible interpretation of human struggle and progress.
“Private Balls,” choreographed by Carlos Pons Guerra, provided a wonderfully curious, yet poignant perspective on the desire to dance together, specifically with someone of the same gender. The piece portrayed countless elements of what desire looks and feels like, but no movements were depicted in an overtly sexual manner; rather, the array of emotionally charged gestures conjured feelings of incredible beauty, melancholy, longing, hesitation, relief, and wonder. With a variety of romantic and post-romantic pieces provided by the accomplished and sensitive Alessandra Volpi at the piano, the dancers portrayed an inspiringly non-traditional narrative against the underlying conventional ballet music.
Contributing to the personal-feeling storyline of the ballet was the enchanting, innocent voyeurism that attended the costume collection of the dancers. The all male-presenting cast of characters wore an eclectic collection of undergarments ranging from boxers, undershirts, vests, briefs, and dress socks, to long-sleeve silk shirts, gauzy tops, bow-ties, and cummerbunds. As each pair danced together, the language of movement exhibited an array of feelings between the couples: love, humor, passion, wistfulness, freedom, and security among others. As the narrative unfolded of one particular dancer facing his own desire to dance with another, the audience moved through the journey with him, experiencing the breadth of movement-invoked emotions along the way. Guerra’s choreography juxtaposes quaint charm with emotional gravitas, intimating out-of-reach experiences and emotions for an audience hungry for understanding.
Erin Kouwe’s “Auto Poet” elicited a much more philosophical response to gender roles, cast with all female-presenting dancers in a variety of pure white, androgenous apparel. Kouwe described the process behind the piece in her choreographer’s notes: “Our work began with individual hyperlogic: each dancer moving toward the desire of their own method of physical thinking. We pulled apart the threads of that logic, slowed it down, observed, and defined it in order to know the desire that made it. Does the desire embedded in our logic reveal any subtext about who we are? … The limitations feel at once arbitrary and powerful. Pulling apart the threads of limitation and desire led us into chaos and closeness.”
With insight into the cognitive origins of this piece, the choreography is immediately recognizable as a reflection of that process. To the untrained eye, movements are combined in such a way as to seem random yet matter-of-fact, focused yet chaotic, angular yet graceful, and pieced together in a strange yet beautiful way. Perhaps due to the movement choices, but also influenced by Louis York’s original music, the piece took on a sense of contemporary, authentic beauty, highlighting unrestrained expression in an intellectually provocative way. Kouwe’s compelling language of expression deconstructs boundaries, inspiring curiosity and awareness.
Matthew Neenan’s “There I Was,” with a lush yet minimal, emotionally integral score composed by Christina Spinei, was born out of the choreographer’s own experiences with loneliness. Highlighting a career spent surrounded by fellow dancers yet constantly feeling alone, Neenan captured the internal battles fought by questioning gender expression in the ballet world. With contemporary artwork by Vadis Turner suspended from the rafters above the stage and intriguing costuming providing stark contrast between vibrancy and shades of gray, Neenan’s large-scale choreography of a 25-person cast wove all elements together into a work of emotionally affecting grandeur.
Following the main character, portrayed by company member Brett Sjoblom, the audience was drawn into an emotionally-wrought journey of questioning, gender exploration, alienation, denial, torment, resolve, and recognition. Sjoblom’s interpretation and characterization of this role conveyed an intimate, passionate, and unlimited understanding of Neenan’s choreography, communicating emotional fervor in every step, bend, and gesture. The use of such a large cast added an incredible depth to the overarching message of the work, portraying a wide array of human experiences and emotions, banding together in the end en masse, seemingly seeking the same thing collectively: acceptance.
“Posters,” with choreography by Jennifer Archibald, original music by Louis York, and poetry by Caroline Randall Williams, served as a dialogue about womanhood and re-claiming feminine-associated stereotypes, characteristics, and experiences. Archibald notes about her creative process, “I have focused on the women, and the untold experiences that women may or may not choose to share. To take gendered norms and re-conceptualize, reclaim and subvert them in ways that are active, self-governed choices is empowering.”
Beginning with all black, simplistic costuming, male and female-portrayed dancers interacted in smaller groups of twos and threes, enacting experiences in which the women’s actions were dictated, expectations were set, or specific reactions were assumed. Archibald’s choreography reflected each female figure’s internal struggle, movements suddenly shifting from compliance to conflict and back, jarring the audience’s understanding of each interaction. With Louis York’s songs titled “Raging Bull” and “You and I,” a sense of uncomfortable unrest began to build, eventually arriving at a passionately charged dialogue reflecting the relationships on the stage.
With intermittent spoken word by Williams, the music continued to grow, swelling with up-beat, soulful, world-inspired sound as dancers one by one appeared in a new black and yellow costume and a brightened outlook, changing the narrative to one of empowerment and joy. Each couple now moved with equal intention, seeming to support the other without any expectation, definition, or assumption. Louis York’s song “Posters” embodied the message Archibald chose to champion in the piece, defying all cultural impositions and seeking to redefine womanhood in whatever shape it chose to take. As the final work and program came to a close, the audience responded overwhelmingly with genuinely appreciative applause and a standing ovation, smiles inspired on faces and hope instilled in hearts. Nashville Ballet’s decision to commission new ballets on such a culturally relevant theme was a timely and exceptionally welcome one, continuing to cultivate an audience eager for inspiration and artistic commentary for an ever-changing world.
