lascia ch’io dica addio
Lascia ch’io dica addio
Al caro albergo mio al praticello.
E con un guardo solo
Dia pegno al mio duolo
A la capanna al bosco et al ruscello. //
Domenico Pioli, used as a motto by Giuseppe Tartini
I made this video out of pure inspiration. It’s a movement I couldn’t stop thinking about this spring and I had to record it. To me it represents this sweet, but melanccholy time that comes at the end of winter, when you can taste the spring coming, but it’s not there yet. You’re leaving behind the comfort for excitement; that’s what the poem talks about. Leaving home, leaving what is known and comfortable, for something new, exciting, possibly life changing.
Tha fact that it’s performed without the bass makes the lonely place from which the melody is coming, even more loud and clear. And I think it shows how melodic is Tartini’s writing, you could literally sing the melody like a song -
Bach Academy | Modena and Saint Donat
18-27 July 2024
Modena, a city of fast cars and slow food. // Bach Academy, a meeting of diverse souls in an expansive universe of movement and melody - Bach’s timeless legacy. // Saint Donat, a place united in a desire for peace and sharing a common language.
photo: Paolo Rolando Guerzoni
Modena
Saint Donat
Wit and Mirth
“two guys and a gal going with the(ir) gut”
Oude Muziek Festival Utrecht, Nizozemska
S članoma ansambla Nocturnalia se dobimo 31. avgusta.
Srečamo se prvič po pol leta in v zraku je čutiti vznemirjenje in pričakovanje tega, kar nas čaka. Ker okoliščine tako nanesejo, bomo teh nekaj dni skupaj vadili na konservatoriju v Haagu, čeprav vsak od nas biva na svojem koncu, jaz pri prijateljici v Amsterdamu, Pablo, ki je že odigral en koncert festivala, pa kar v Utrechtu, kjer se odvija ta priznani festival, na katerem imamo srečo sodelovati.
Vseeno se dobimo v obmorskem mestu, na čudovito urejenem in prostornem konservatoriju, kjer imamo občutek, da je vsaj prostor na naši strani, če že čas neizmerno hitro teče. Koncert imamo 3. septembra, kar pomeni, da imamo tri dni, da pademo v skupni ritem, ponovimo program in če bo vse po sreči še dodelamo in izpilimo skladbe iz programa. Na tej točki smo vsi že več ali manj navajeni na tak ritem dela, saj je projektno delo nekaj normalnega, ko ljudje živijo na različnih koncih sveta in vsak živi svoje življenje. Zato smo hvaležni, ko se v prvih odigranih skladbah potrdi to, kar smo imeli v spominu. Da med nami vlada posebna glasbena kemija, ki kljub nekaterim tehničnim pomankljivostim, tke glasbo skupaj.
Naš koncert je koncert za neznane, nastajajoče skupine, katere Festival Oude Muziek Utrecht (Festival stare glasbe Utrecht) podpre s koncerti, ki so stranski del programa (imenovani Fringe) in publiki nudijo zastonj dopoldanske in popoldanske koncerte, nam pa sproščeno in zainteresirano publiko v okolju, ki mrgoli z najboljšimi glasbeniki našega področja, stare glasbe. Biti del tako velikega festivala, je že samo po sebi posebno doživetje, tako da smo veseli, da nam je dana ta priložnost.
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Prvi dan mine v znamenju preigravanja programa in bolj hitro, kot bi si želeli, se kazalci na uri obrnejo do prve (in po dolgih potovanjih potrebne) pavze in nato do trenutka, ko nas čistilka ob 22.30 prijazno opomni, da se šola zapira.
Ko se po enourni vožnji z vlakom, metroju in avtobusu, ter par metrih hoje, vrnem v prenočišče, je zunaj že trda noč.
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Naslednji dan se ponovi scenarij prejšnjega. Zjutraj malo poklepetam s prijateljico Ano, ki me prijazno gosti, nato pa že hitim na avtobus, metro in vlak, ki povezuje Amsterdam s Haagom. Ko prispem tja imam čas še za hitro kavo, saj s čembalistom še pričakujeva čelista, ki tja prihaja z drugim vlakom.
Med vajami pride do par trenj, saj kljub lahkotnosti in ljubezni do programa, ki jo vsi delimo – gre za angleški barok, ki se prepleta z vplivi folk glasbe -, vsak po svoje čuti in prenaša stres potovanj in osebnih pričakovanj, ki jih koncert vseeno prinaša s sabo. Na srečo vaje še vedno speljemo profesionalno in presenetljivo produktivno, saj nam uspe dati osebna nestrinjanja na stran.
Naslednji dan je že čas za to, da program stoji, kot naj bi stal (čeprav glasbeniki radi rečemo, da je dobro vedno nekaj pustit, da se zgodi na koncertu, je to včasih težko skombinirat s perfekcionistom v nas) in po popoldanski vaji in preigravanju programa, se s Pablom odpraviva v Utrecht na koncert Festivala – Le Banquet Celeste in Monteverdijeve L’incoronazione di Poppea. Prvič stojim v dvorani Tivoli, ki mi je zaradi Youtube posnetkov zelo domača na izgled, a občutek, ko si prisoten v dvorani, je nekaj popolnoma drugega. Prevzame me toplina arhitekture same, ob prihodu glasbenikov na oder, in enega mojih prvih idolov baročne glasbe – Damiena Guillona, mi srce zapoje. Tudi glasbeniki rabimo navdih in to je prav tisto, kar po dolgih dneh vaj in potovanj potrebujem. Predam se glasbi in četudi mi komični elementi ne pridejo do živega, saj sem preveč utrujena za to, sta mojstrstvo izvajalcev in Monteverdijeva zvočnost dovolj, da se umirim in sprostim.
Naslednji je že dan koncerta in sama se vznemirjeno odpravim v Utrecht že zjutraj. Naš koncert je planiran za ob dveh popoldan. Pred tem grem še na koncert prijateljice in čudovite violinistke, Darie Spiridonove, ki je prav za to priložnost priredila Bachove sonate in partite za solo violino, za dve violini. Koncert je čudovit in da mi še tisti zadnji kanček navdiha in motivacije, ki ju potrebujem, da se spravim v razpoloženje za koncert.
Ko prispem do teatra, me tam že čakata Pablo in Alex, sproščena kot vedno, kar je pravo ravnovesje moji konstantni želji, da bi stvari imela pod kontrolo. Preden lahko začnemo vadit, je treba uglasiti še čembalo in orgelski pozitiv in v tistem hipu sem že malo nervozna. A komaj začnemo s tonsko vajo, se stvari postavijo na svoje mesto, čeprav je dvorana majhna, v njej vlada prijetno vzdušje in vsi trije se veselimo koncerta.
Izkaže se, da je koncert poln publike, proti pričakovanjem. In hkrati publika zelo pozitivno sprejme naš s folk glasbo obarvan program, kljub temu, da meni sredi druge skladbe poči struna na violini (morda naredi to koncert še bolj zanimiv?).
Po koncertu se čuti adrenalin, nekaj lepega je v zraku, ko koncert uspe. Vsi smo lažji in bolj sproščeni in sprejemamo svet z neko odprtostjo, ki drugače ni vedno prisotna. A naše poti se že razhajajo, Pablo lovi nočni vlak do Barcelone, kjer se naslednji dan nadaljuje naša mini turnejica. Midva z Alexom in njegovo punco, pa izkoristimo večer za sprehod po večernem Utrechtu. Mesto ima prav poseben šarm, ki se ga težko opiše. Severna estetika, kombinirana z nizozemsko sproščenostjo.
Contratemps Sant Cugat, Španija
Naslednji dan me čaka nov izziv. 22ur na avtobusu od Amsterdama do Barcelone. Vmes menjam avtobus v Marseillesu. Potovanje z avtobusom sploh ni tako slabo, če se le nanj pripraviš. Udobna oblačila, blazina, zadosti pijače, nekaj prigrizkov, knjiga, dnevnik, slušalke in … neprespana glava. S slednjo lahko pol poti z lahkoto prespim.
Ko prispem v Barcelono, me v trenutku objame španska toplina. V meni se v južnih krajih nekaj zgodi. Kot da bi se prižgala vžigalica in se počutim 3krat bolj živo. Ko prispem v sobico, ki jo najemam, se preoblečem v poletno oblekico in kljub utrujenosti, komaj čakam, da stopim na barcelonske ulice.
Poleg tega me fanta že čakata, v Barcelono sta prispela že dan pred mano. Prvi dan si vzamemo turistično. Tudi to je del ustvarjanja. Nahranit je treba dušo, in želodčke, zadihat drugačen zrak, dojet kje si in pustit, da vse kar si naredil v prejšnjih dneh zori, medtem, ko odnosi med nami zorijo na drugih ravneh.
Poleg tega je dan v znamenju iskanja prostora za vaje, saj to, da imaš nekje koncert, še ne pomeni, da imaš zagotovljen tudi prostor za vaje par dni pred koncertom. To pade na naše rame in organizacijske spretnosti. Na srečo je Pablo, Španec iz Madrida, človek, ki se zna povezati z ljudmi in tako nam uspe zagotoviti, da lahko dva dni pred koncertom vsaj nekaj ur posvetimo skupni vaji.
Naslednji dan gremo vadit v Sant Cugat, majhno mestece kakšne pol ure izven Barcelone. Vaja mine, kot bi mignil, saj je treba najprej uglasiti čembalo, ki v zelo vprašljivem stanju, potem pa hitro pogledamo, katere so tiste skladbe, ki potrebujejo našo pozornost - glede na koncert izpred par dni. Ko ravno pademo v vajo, je ura, ko se muzej zapira.
Tako se počasi napotimo nazaj proti Barceloni, za še en skupni večer v tem lepem mestu, med tem, ko se med nami vnamejo zanimive politične debate, brez zadržkov - kot se to rado zgodi, ko sta glava in telo utrujena.
Naslednji dan si uspemo, s Pablovo pomočjo, izborit vadnico v Baladoni, obmorskem mestecu severno od Barcelone. Tja nas pripelje vlak in že nam pogledi uhajajo proti plaži. A treba je na delo. Zdaj spet čutimo pritisk koncerta naslednjega dne, ki nas tudi žene, da smo ta dan v vaji še toliko bolj prisotni. Ker program že poznamo, se pojavijo nove ideje in začne se raziskovanje, kaj vse je še mogoče narediti iz skladb. Ta del ustvarjanja mi je res pri srcu, saj je tukaj, kjer se začne svoboda in prava ustvarjalnost, sploh, če si z ljudmi, ki čutijo podobno kot ti in imajo isto veselje do glasbe.
Zvečer posedimo na plaži in se predamo pomirjujočim zvokom valov.
Naslednji je že naš zadnji skupni dan in čeprav nas misel ne veseli, z veseljem izkoristimo ta zadnji dan skupaj. Sicer se naše srečanje začne z malo slabe volje, saj smo že ob srečanju izven urnika, a malo živčnosti pred koncertom je normalno. Ko prispemo v Sant Cugat, ugotovimo, da je koncert na prostem, na sicer čudovitem trgu pred antičnim samostanom, a na kar visokem odru, zvočno podkrepljenem z mikrofoni. Ker sem na srečo že igrala klasični koncert, me stvar ne spravi povsem iz tira, čeprav to za klasično glasbo sigurno niso idealne razmere. Tonska vaja mine v znamenju prilagajanja na veter, dejstvo, da se med sabo ne slišimo najbolje, in da nam pri tem trušč okoli nas ne pomaga kaj dosti, prav tako pa ne vklopljajoči in izklapljajoči se mikrofoni. A na srečo sta moja kolega sproščenega duha in prepričamo se, da bo vseeno lep koncert, saj je ideja kljub vsemu lepa - pripeljati staro glasbo blizu ljudem, ki je niso vajeni. Tistim, ki ne zaidejo pogosto v koncertne dvorane, na prostem pa se ustavijo in prisluhnejo.
Koncert na koncu res lepo uspe, ljudje veseli, prav tako mi, ki doživimo par bližnjih srečanj znotraj glasbe. In to je tisto, kar najbolj polni, še posebno, če se ta bližnja srečanja duš preslikajo tudi v življenje izven odra. Srečni in veseli, se že oziroma v oktober, ko se bomo spet srečali v Sloveniji.
Control Your Release
You close your eyes, and you can hear the music - you can almost see it. The body vibrates with the sounds that you want to produce. But once your instrument is in your hands, all vibrations stop, the music settles down. There is only quiet. Quiet desperation, accompanied by your self-doubt.
Does this sound familiar? The feeling of wanting to create, but being blocked by your mind, your body, even your heart?
Classical musicians are very good at controlling. Since we were little kids, we were taught how to control our bodies, what we can and what we can’t do. How to discipline ourselves. Year by year we became more square. And more frightened, and doubtful. If we are not one of the lucky few prodigy artists, for whom technique hasn’t been a real issue since their young age, our battle with the instrument and ourselves continued long into our adulthood, and maybe it’s still going on.
It’s interesting, how most of the conversations I have now with kindred-spirited musicians, is about learning to release, to let go, to accept. About being grateful and mindful of your playing. What would happen if that would be how we teach classical music, or music in general, already to the kids?
Of course, discipline and self-control are two very important things, especially in a technically demanding discipline such as classical music. But it shouldn't be a barrier that in the end prevents us from expressing ourselves.
In recent years, this topic is not very new anymore either. Many musicians, even world-class famous Alina Pogostkina, for instance, are beginning to talk about the toxic environment they grew up in and how we could approach classical music, from a different mindset and thus have a richer experience of it, together with our audiences.
What happens when I let go of control?
These are life lessons hidden here not just for playing your instrument, but for life. I can see the evidence clearly in mine.
When I loosen the control over my bow grip, my sound opens up. Similarly, when I don't cling to people around me, suddenly they want to spend more time with me and I feel lighter in their company. They probably don’t feel like I’m choking them with my presence anymore.
When I embrace my violin, instead of gripping it tightly, I feel her closer, she becomes a part of my body, she starts moving with it. In parallel, when I learn to embrace and comfort myself, I become more compassionate and gentle towards others. When I know how to embrace, I more easily accept embraces from other people.
Of course, we need to control or guide some things, so they can become more in line with what we need. Posture, breath, for example. But even those, all our control should do, is control our release. Guide the relaxation and let go of any stiffness.
As much as classical music is quite rational when you get lost in it, it can also be emotionally one of the richest experiences you can get. But for that, again, mindfulness is needed. I spent years losing myself in my thoughts, analyzing, observing, and comparing when listening to classical musicians. But I try not to do that anymore because music is something else entirely. It's feeling the vibration of the sounds through your body, letting go of any thoughts and feeling the rawness that can spring from that. Things you cannot put in words exist and through art, we can feel them. There's no need for explanation, but there is a great need for acknowledging that which can't be expressed.
Embracing baroque, releasing perfection
When I embarked on a journey of discovering baroque music and the baroque violin a few years ago, I didn't have any idea how much it would change the way I think about music and how I approach my instrument.
In the beginning, it was hard, I felt like a fish out of the water. But slowly, as I accepted my shortcomings - and still do - and started to appreciate every little progress in the right direction, I discovered the power and richness of being flexible and vulnerable. It happens when we learn new ways of doing things we thought we already knew.
Many things force a baroque musician to have flexibility. Choosing to play on gut strings- strings that get out of tune all the time, meaning having to adjust your pitch and where you put your fingers constantly; the strings that break easily and thus are way more unpredictable than steel strings. It is a wild ride sometimes, and not always super nice, but at the same time, it's worth it.
There is something about not having full control, that makes you let go of perfection and brings you closer to the true purpose of what you're doing. If there exists a great chance of a string breaking in the concert (and it happens), there's no other way than to laugh it off and deal with it. It's just a concert after all. But in the chase after perfection, we often forget this and a concert becomes a battle for life and death.
Furthermore, playing music wrapped in ambiguity - at the same time following an endless set of rules, but also learning to let that go and find the true essence of music behind it - is another way this experience enriched me and widened my perspective on what is essential to music and what is not.
When I release this notion that things exist just in one way only, the sensation is simply liberating. It's the perfect antidote to the constant need for control that weaves through our lives.
Mnemosyne | How Our Memory Influences The Way We Create
We create because we remember. We create because we forget. Would humans be what we are without this unique characteristic of ours?
The idea came to me from a podcast featuring Stephen Fry, one of my favourite writers, thinkers and orators, talking about Greek mythology. His quote goes, The Arts are the daughters of Memory. In literal context, it means that Muses, the Patrons of Arts, are the daughters of the goddess Mnemosyne (the goddess of memory) and Zeus. But it makes sense even if we look at the statement from different directions. It can make us look freshly at what memory is and how it affects our creation.
I had conversations about this topic long before – how remembering makes us suffer but consequently makes us creative. And also, how lucky we are that we can forget – pain and beauty. If we would remember the pain, we would be paralyzed with fear of ever trying anything risky. If we could remember love and beauty, if the awe of it remained alive in us, we wouldn’t desire and seek it so persistently and repeatedly. There would be no need for art, beauty, music.
"Our memory “is never a precise duplicate of the original [but] a continuing act of creation”. And how flawed our perception of time is — almost everything that occurred a year ago appears as having taken place either significantly further in the past (“a different lifetime,” I’d often marvel at this time-illusion) or significantly more recently (“this feels like just last month!”)." - Maria Popova
For me, the questions I ask at this point would be two. Are you creating from the need to reflect, remember, preserve? Or is your creation a consequence of the urge to explore possibilities, future, to look beyond what is known to you in the present?
In both cases, I think creating is venturing into the unknown. Time, after all, is relative, and so is our memory. We remember only fragments of reality, and as we remember, we are already creating a new reality. When recalling events, stories, feelings, no memory is hundred per cent accurate, we unconsciously bend the past, so that it aligns with our present reality.
This knowledge can help us be more open and accepting of the diverse views we have on past (or future) events. But it can also inspire us to tell stories from different angles. Our mind is creating constantly, without us even knowing it. So it’s no wonder, that we humans have this need for making new things, expressing ourselves and constantly rediscovering our truest expression.
Even with a memory us ours, which seems like our superpower, we always remain a mystery, even to ourselves.
Forgetting – a forgotten, but essential side of the memory
What about forgetting? It’s an even more fascinating, and truly essential part of our memory. Without forgetting, there would be no wonder, one of the magical qualities (and sometimes a curse) of human beings. Without wonder, there can be no true creation, there can be no love. Wonder makes us ask an endless chain of questions, makes us stop, listen and learn, and eventually try to replicate what this wonder has awoken in us.
For me, even if I’m mostly interpreting other people’s creations, the emotions and experiences I bring into the process, come from two places. Remembering and hoping. Sometimes recreating. I write, make music, take photographs, all from the painful awareness, that every moment is fleeting, it can't be repeated and the only way to stop it, is trying to recreate it. The feeling of eternity that some moments evoke; laughing with soulmates, enjoying the richness of solitude on a long walk, I’m always coming back to this. The sorrow that lies in brokenness. The light that follows it. Hoping, because luckily I forget. I, as a human, have the capability of forgetting betrayal, disappointment, physical pain of taking a risk. And that’s why I’m capable of hoping, for a better tomorrow, for the next magical moment, filled with light. A moment that stops time and makes me feel whole instead of broken.
Music-making as a tool for better memory
There is another side to this coin. We not only have the ability to memorise, but we can train our memory and make it better. The research has made it obvious that learning music is a way to develop both sides of our brain. By learning to play an instrument, our whole brain develops better. You can watch this video for a clearer explanation of this phenomenon. As Dr Robert Zatorre shows us in his TED talk, playing music has an enormous value for how it makes our brains work.
Even if it may seem, and we increasingly treat music solely as entertainment, the actual research shows us that music is much more than that. It is a survival necessity and maybe even more importantly, a crucial tool for the better development of human beings. Why don't we use it better?
Chamber Music | Lessons Lived And Learned
Sometimes you find people with whom making music feels as natural (or even more) as playing by yourself. You give each other the support and energy that elevates the music to a whole other level. When that happens, that's magic occurring. Also, because it is an extremely rare thing to happen. When you find people like this, you should treat the relationships with care and nurture them, because it won't happen too often.
When this isn't the case, when you play with people you are not exactly friends with and maybe even have different musical preferences and opinions, there is still magic to be found in the music. We just have to be willing to work with what we have, employing the skills we can learn and always, always have the main goal of what we are doing in our heads. Music. Transmitting this magical language that speaks to people directly, in thousand different ways.
I made a list of lessons I learned, along the way, playing with many different musicians. How we can be more successful in communicating in chamber music, which is a really vulnerable, but the most beautiful, intimate, musical formation. A lot of things seem pretty evident at first, but sometimes we don't think about them when making music. Until it's too late and we suffocate the music instead of letting it live and flourish.
Don't ever assume fun/enjoyable rehearsals equal a good concert.
Listening comes before playing (once you learn the notes).
Try to communicate your ideas clearly and emphatically. It's a precious skill.
It's not about you or your ego. It's always about the music.
Consequently, egos should be left at the rehearsal room door. (ego lock room invention, anyone?)
Getting along in music doesn't always mean getting along in person. And vice versa.
Less talking, more playing.
Chamber music (which is almost all music) is about listening and responding, discussing and experimenting, less than planning.
If you can't manage to merge two contrasting ideas with words, try coming together by playing.
Don't get stuck on your ideas if they don't work, however smart they might be. Be flexible, adapt.
Different instruments, like people, have different characteristics. Listen and learn from diversity.
Listen to the sound of the group from the outside, even when you're playing. That way you'll blend better with others.
Music has a life of its own. Let it breathe, let it live.
Do you have something interesting to add to the list? I'm always eager to learn more on the topic, let me know about lessons you learned along the way in the comments below!
One Of My Favourite Bands Changed Its Name
And it struck a chord
It struck a chord I didn’t know was in me.
The thing is, I kept thinking about it. I was continuously hitting replay on the band’s new song, under a new name, just to grasp the difference that this new identity will bring to their music. This obsessive action proved their importance to me, one I didn’t even realize was so big. Maybe they made the right move after all.
Through this obsession, I learned the meaning behind their original name, something I never bothered to look into before. How the band formed and why they decided it’s time to go on a new path. Just like that, I got to see them as entirely new musicians, even if their music has been on my playlists constantly for the past few years. Needless to say, my appreciation for them and their music only grew.
Change Shouldn't Shock Us
This transformation proved something else to me. Something that made itself very clear to me this past year.
After my breakup, during the lockdown last spring, I made a vow that a change is the only reasonable get away from anything. Or to anything. Change is life. Or better said, change is the oxygen of our life.
However, as soon as my grieving process was over, the statement I repeated to myself so many times, sort of vanished. The thing I was so sure of in the moment of despair when I needed to see the light in any shape or form, lost its importance. I found the new self that I was satisfied to live with, and the need for change went away with this discovery.
When we are all right, we get settled into our lives as they are. It’s hard to move from there. Even if we are increasingly fine instead of excited, sad, joyful, heartbroken, enraptured, you know, alive, it’s hard to move in a different direction. To make a change to our stagnant living.
Last year after seeing how this great sadness in my life also turned me into a person that was feeling more alive than ever, I vowed that from then on, I will always seek change.
It is so much easier to make a vow than to do something about your life when you don’t have to. Maybe you need to change the name of your band to adjust your music to what you really feel inside. And maybe, the brave move of these marvellous musicians brought me the much-needed awareness and reminder that change is a good thing, that I should seek and create it rather than run from it. Simply adjusting the tune to a different me, the one already residing inside.
You can listen to the new song here.