• Abstract and Figures
• Public Full-text

SAN DIEGO SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA A JACOBS MASTERWORKS CONCERT IN COLLABORATION WITH THE SAN DIEGO MUSEUM OF ART: “THE ART OF MUSIC” November 14, 2015 SERGEI RACHMANINOFF The Isle of the Dead, Op. 29 ADAM SCHOENBERG Finding Rothko Orange Yellow Red Wine OTTORINO RESPIGHI Trittico Botticelliano Primavera L’adorazione dei Magi La nascita di Venere CLAUDE DEBUSSY La mer De l’aube à midi sur la mer Jeux de vagues Dialogue du vent et de la mer The Isle of the Dead, Op. 29 SERGEI RACHMANINOFF Born April 1, 1873, Oleg Died March 28 1943, Beverly Hills In 1880 the Swiss artist Arnold Böcklin painted the first of what would be a series of one of the spookiest, most evocative images ever committed to canvas. Over the next few years he would produce four variations of that painting, which would eventually come to be known as Die Toteninsel: “The Isle of the Dead.” All versions of the painting show essentially the same thing. Against a dark and threatening sky, a small island reflects the late afternoon sun, which illuminates its rock cliffs and towering cypresses, a tree identified with cemeteries and with death. In the foreground a small boat approaches the island. A dark-clad oarsman sits in the stern, and in front of him a figure shrouded in pure white stands slightly hunched over a long white box garlanded (in some versions of the painting) with red flowers. All who see the painting are quick to interpret what it “means.” Some have seen it as a depiction of Charon bearing the dead across the River Styx, but Böcklin refused to offer an explanation of his work. He is reported to have told a friend that “it must produce such an effect of stillness that anyone would be frightened to hear a knock on the door,” And so he intentionally left it mysterious (even the name Die Toteninsel was supplied by someone else). But no one can see that painting without an immediate visceral response, and over a century later it continues to haunt all who see it. Among those haunted was Serge Rachmaninoff, who composed his tone poem The Isle of the Dead in 1909, eight years after Böcklin’s death. One of the most effective things about Böcklin’s painting is his eerie combination of colors (gray, gold, black, dark green, deep blue), but the curious thing is that Rachmaninoff first encountered the image in Paris in Böcklin’s black and white sketch for the painting, and the composer much preferred that to the color version, which he came to know only later. He said: “I was not much moved by the color of the painting. If I had seen the original first, I might not have composed my Isle of the Dead. I like the picture best in black and white.” In any case, Rachmaninoff caught the mood of Böcklin’s painting perfectly. The Isle of the Dead has one of the most somber openings in all of music. It begins quietly and slowly, with the 5/8 meter catching perfectly the sound of softly-lapping water as the oarsman directs the boat toward the forbidding island. A lonely horn solo sets the bleak mood, and this figure is quickly taken up solo oboe and then trumpet. Pay particular attention to that horn solo: embedded within it is the shape of the ancient Dies Irae plainchant, a theme that virtually obsessed Rachmaninoff (and Berlioz and Liszt before him). The music builds to a great brass chorale on this shape, and soon a dancing violin melody arcs high above. This has been called the “life theme,” a counterbalance to the dark opening, though one should not interpret this music too literally – it remains a mood-piece throughout. The Isle of the Dead builds to a huge climax on great chords spit out by brass and timpani. In the aftermath of that violence, tremolo strings gloomily intone the Dies Irae motif, the music winds down on a quiet wind chorale, and on the rocking 5/8 meter from the very beginning The Isle of the Dead fades into mysterious silence. Finding Rothko ADAM SCHOENBERG Born November 15, 1980, Northampton, MA Adam Schoenberg graduated from the Oberlin Conservatory of Music and went on to receive his Masters and DMA from the Juilliard School, where he studied with John Corigliano and Robert Beaser. His music, which has been widely performed, includes works for orchestra, chamber ensembles, piano and film scores. Schoenberg lives in Los Angeles and teaches at the UCLA Herb Alpert School of Music. He has been composer-in-residence with the Aspen Music Festival and with the Kansas City Symphony, which has recorded several of his works. The premiere of Finding Rothko, by the IRIS Orchestra under the direction of Michael Stern, took place on January 13, 2007. On his website, the composer has offered a program note: Finding Rothko was Schoenberg’s first real professional commission, arranged by Michael Stern for the IRIS Chamber Orchestra, and was written in 2006 while the composer was just beginning doctoral studies at Juilliard. After experiencing a “visceral reaction” to a group of paintings at MOMA by the Abstract Expressionist artist Mark Rothko, Schoenberg decided to make Rothko’s art the “muse” for this piece. Although played without a break, it is in four distinct movements, each devoted to a specific Rothko painting and named after the principal color used in the painting. (Coincidentally, the order of the four movements turned out to be exactly the same as the order in which Rothko completed the paintings.) These four movements are delineated and linked by a gentle three-chord motif the composer has labeled “Rothko’s theme.” Finding Rothko doesn’t try to portray Rothko’s use of color and shape, or attempt to “set” the paintings to music. The artworks are simply a pretext, an inspiration. Yet the choice of paintings and the color connections between them formed a narrative in the composer’s imagination that is expressed clearly in the music. “Orange” opens with “Rothko’s theme” and is somewhat atmospheric – a Copland-esque dawn, perhaps. The composer describes it as “a reflective moment yet to be fully realized.” “Yellow,” on the other hand, “is the realization of that moment,” and is the most upbeat of the four movements, beginning with a rocking minimalist accompaniment that gradually expands into a broad, bright landscape. The painting on which “Yellow” was based included a streak of red, providing an immediate narrative connection to the third movement. “Red” is intense, drawing on the saturated colors of the painting; the composer interprets that intensity in the movement’s jagged, irregular rhythms and mercurial personality. The final movement, “Wine,” is based on the last of the four paintings Schoenberg saw in person. It was the most difficult to locate and gain access to, and the journey to find it inspired the spirit of the piece and is the source of its title. “Wine” repeats “Rothko’s theme” and develops it gradually through slow, haunting phrases toward a shining final apotheosis. [Program note by Luke Howard, Ph.D.] Trittico Botticelliano OTTORINO RESPIGHI Born July 9, 1879, Bologna Died April 18, 1936, Rome Many composers have written music inspired by paintings; the opportunity to take a static arrangement of color, shape and space, and transform that frozen moment into dynamic music-drama has been difficult to resist. In the nineteenth-century, such works were usually written as virtuoso vehicles for pianists: Liszt wrote some pieces inspired by the Italian masters, and Mussorgsky composed his Pictures at an Exhibition, based on paintings by his friend Viktor Hartmann. But in the twentieth century, particularly after sensing the range of color Richard Strauss had discovered in the virtuoso orchestra, composers turned to the orchestra for their painting-inspired music. Some of these works have become accepted parts of the repertory, such as Hindemith’s symphony Mathis der Maler, based on paintings from Matthias Grünewald’s Isenheim altarpiece. More recent examples include Martinů’s Frescoes of Piero della Francesca and Gunther Schuller’s Seven Studies on Themes of Paul Klee. It was natural that Ottorino Respighi, a cultured man who was much in love with the Italian renaissance (and heavily influenced by Strauss’ tone poems), should turn to masterpieces of Italian painting for the inspiration of one of own his orchestral works. Doubtless Ravel’s dazzling orchestration of Mussorgsky’s Pictures in 1922 had an influence on him as well. But when Respighi composed his Trittico Botticelliano (“Botticelli Triptych”) in 1927, he used not the huge orchestra of Ravel’s orchestration or of his own Pines and Fountains of Rome, but a chamber orchestra. He chose three paintings of Sandro Botticelli (c.1440-1515), a Florentine artist famous for his use of color and his paintings on mythological and religious subjects, and wrote a three-movement orchestral score that is all the more effective for being modest in scope and restrained in manner. This is not to suggest that the Trittico Botticelliano is dull or muted music. Far from it. But the use of a small orchestra brings a restraint to this score, a welcome change from the opulence of Respighi’s Roman tone poems. The first movement, based on Botticelli’s painting Spring, is full of swirling motion as the season comes to powerful life. In Botticelli’s painting, Venus, Mercury, and dancing graces stand on striking black grass, while above their heads the trees burst with flowers and oranges. Respighi’s delicate writing for winds here contrasts with powerful fanfares and canonic writing, and the music reaches a climax full of trills and shimmering sounds as the power of spring unfolds.

Load more

  7

Copy Link