WMV Music Web Log

"Asking why women's art sells for less than men's elicits a long and complex answer, with endless caveats, entirely germane qualifiers and diverse, sometimes contradictory reasons. But there is also a short and simple, if unpopular, answer that none of those explanations can trump. Women's art sells for less because it is made by women."
Posted by Marilyn, from the NY Times.

I have this idea that music, especially older and "classical" music, needs to be softened up like clay that can be worked more if it doesn't dry out too much. It can't be allowed to harden into brittleness and precious fragility. After all, music comes from human beings and is designed to grasp something larger than itself, something about being human, something more than the score or the sounds that it specifies. The experience of music is supposed to ring larger bells, sound deeper organs, blow larger trumpets than we have on earth. The score is but a pale shadow of the ungraspable "thing" which occasions a musical composition. It was never meant (until recently perhaps) to be a computer program, specifying every last vibration. It was meant as the guide to an intention, a thought, a feeling, an inspiration. It is my impression that at least in the "romantic" period of the 19th century it was pretty well accepted that not everything could or should be notated, that the score was at best a guide through musical ideas, and had to be adapted to instrumentation, performers' abilities, acoustics, audience, etc. What does this mean to me as a performer? Freedom.

I love to translate German song texts - this is fortunate, since they are commonly done so badly that one can't imagine how a composer could have been inspired by such nonsense. (Although the Emily Ezust translations of the Liebeslieder aren't so bad).

Here's my latest try at "Wie Melodien zieht es":

"It is as if melodies drift quietly through my mind, blooming like flowers, sweeping me in fragrance. I try to catch them in words to see them clearly, but they blow away like mist, like breath. Yet, a trace of scent remains in rhyme, evoked from silent buds by tears."

I imagine Brahms' response to this poem - a reflection perhaps on his own creative process, "as if melodies drift through my mind" like flowers. He thinks he has managed to capture only a small residue of their beauty in his music, and this only evoked through sorrow.

I translated "Sonntag" as a kind of country music song, much closer to the folk-ish original than others I've seen:

"This whole week I didn’t see my baby, but I saw her on Sunday. She was standing right at her front door, that gorgeous girl - God, I wish I was with her today!

This whole week I haven’t been able to stop laughing. 'Cause I saw her, on Sunday, going to church, that beautiful, beautiful girl! God, I wish I was with her today!"

I worked a little bit on "Von ewiger Liebe" (a knock out beautiful song, by the way, that Karyn sings so convincingly that you want to propose to her on the spot). Here are the final verses:

Then says the maiden, the maiden she says:
"Our love has no end!
Steel may be strong, iron is strong,
Our love stronger still!

Iron and steel are melted by fire
But who could change our love?
Iron and steel turn into dust;
But our love, our love will last, must last, forever!"

It is too early to tell about the level of interest in the May 7 concert, but we always fret - will a discouraging few show up, and if so, why? Or will crowds flood the studio, latecomers standing uncomfortably at the door, and why? Brahms had an affectionate name for his public, "Publikum", and endowed it with some personality traits, and Dylan addresses it like a lover. WMV is very small scale - half a dozen new (or old) faces make a significant difference at an event. We feel some responsibility that people trust us to give them something meaningful, beautiful, and also fun. In the end, of course, we have to trust ourselves.

Oh well, fretting doesn't help much, does it? "An all Brahms program, all songs? You must be out of your mind!" No, I've got singers who thrill and move me, and a four-hands partner I trust. I've been waiting years for this!

All of us met yesterday at Rock Spring Church, where Elizabeth Kluegel is music director. I could not have been more pleased and excited about this rehearsal. Elizabeth sang Lerchengesang with such crystalline beauty that we all applauded when she ended. Gary Poster sings the Four Serious Songs with the same deep humanity that he brought to the Bolcom cabaret songs earlier this season. The Serious Songs are a direct window into a deep grief, and hard won joy. Brahms was not one to look for stock answers and pat solutions to life's questions. He had neither the faith of JS Bach nor the despair of Schumann. His sober and humanistic view of life is reflected in the passages from Ecclesiastes and Corinthians that he chose to set here.

"Wir sehen jetzt durch einen Spiegel
In einem dunkeln Worte;
Dann aber von Angesicht zu Angesichte.
Jetzt erkenne ich's stückweise,
Dann aber werd ich's erkennen,
Gleich wie ich erkennet bin.
Nun aber bleibet Glaube, Hoffnung, Liebe, Diese drei;
Aber die Liebe ist die größeste unter ihnen."

"Now we see through a glass darkly, in dark words; but later, face to face....
What remain are Faith, Hope, and Love, these three; but Love is the greatest among them."

Karyn Friedman's mezzo is like a viola become human - her mastery is astonishing. Jason Rylander is a superb tenor, completing our Liebeslieder vocal quartet. Pianist Ruth Rose plays beautifully, has great musical judgement, and is a lot of fun to work with. It is such a privilege to be a part of this ensemble!

About the Liebeslieder Waltzes: they are about love, and they are charming and seductive and funny. One can hear in them a somewhat darker tinge as well, reflecting the years that the young Brahms worked as house pianist in Hamburg brothels, playing waltzes, polkas, mazurkas, and songs. "Johannes began playing in the Lokale of St. Pauli in 1846, before he turned thirteen, often playing until dawn." (From "Johannes Brahms" by Jan Swafford - I highly recommend this biography, which includes an analysis of the impact of this startling episode in the composer's life).

Went last night to the Pryzbyla Center at Catholic U to hear and see Maurice Saylor and Andrew Simpson's new collaborative work - they composed and performed music to two 19 minute silent comedies.

One film was a 1929 Laurel and Hardy film entitled Liberty. Synopsis (from Maurice Saylor): "Two escaped convicts (Laurel & Hardy) change clothes in the getaway car, but wind up wearing each other's pants. The rest of the film involves their trying to exchange pants, in alleys, in cabs and finally high above the street on the girders of a construction site. Meanwhile, a trapped crab becomes vicious."

"The second film is a 1928 rarity by the forgotten, but hopefully soon to be rediscovered, Charlie Bowers. Synopsis: Bowers plays a detective from Scotland Yard who is hired to get the bottom of some odd goings-on at the Frisbee household. He is accompanied by his constant companion McGregor, a stop-motion creation that looks a bit like a mouse with antennae or a beetle with fur. They encounter the fuzz-faced phantom, who wreaks havoc as it rolls, rides or flies across rooms and through secret panels causing the ceiling to rain pots and pans, full grown chickens to hatch out of eggs, and pants to dance of their own volition."

Andrew played piano, Maurice played about six sizes of clarinet, and Michael Campbell played percussion and whistle. The movies were amazing and hilarious, the music was terrific and perfectly synchronized to the movies; and the best thing was that it was tremendous fun. What a relief from a day at a Cultural Alliance workshop and then three hours at the Foundation Center. Marilyn and I had a great time.

I want Maurice and Andrew to do a lot more stuff like this. Come to think of it, Maurice's "Hunting of the Snark" was like this, only on a much grander scale (large "Snarkestra", two choruses). I was sorry to miss Andy's recent opera, and the 1 minute compositions last week, which Karren Alenier and Janet Peachey were wild about. Now I'm thinking about how to program some of Maurice's songs in September - one of these wonderful singers, Karyn Friedman, Elizabeth Kluegel, Jason Rylander, or Gary Poster should be able to do it. I'll put them on a program with Scott Wheeler's Dragon Mountain, George Walker's Sonata - all Washington composers!

This is from Marilyn Banner:
I am putting together a show for Prince Georges Community College to be held next winter/spring sometime. The basis is my desire to exhibit the "Still With Us" series in the right places - and a college gallery is one such place. The gallery director says I need to curate a group of artists/artwork to go with my work. So I am thinking and thinking and beginning to look. I want other work that discloses usually hidden stuff about oppression. My work is about the history of antisemitism. I want work on racism, maybe homophobia, maybe classism. But it must be STRONG and visceral, ie it really hits you, and is sophisticated good art at the same time.
I have asked one person so far, Tom Block. His work is big strong disturbing paintings of people who have been tortured and imprisoned - and written about by Amnesty International.
I have asked Lenny Campello for suggestions, and he sent me a bunch of websites that I still have to visit.
The WPA/Corcoran has a slide registry I will look through, and so does the Maryland State Arts Council.
My hope is to get some really dynamite work, and (somehow) money for a catalog. Maybe even a travelling exhibit!

posted by Marilyn

Great feeling of satisfaction today - a rehearsal with three amazingly fabulous singers, success in uploading jpeg images to both websites, Ruth Ann Jordan tuned my Steinway, and I got a good night's sleep. Last night we heard a jazz group at the Natural History Museum that included Keter Betts - Marilyn found the listing in the Weekend section, and we drove downtown. What a deal! $10 gets you three sets of music and one drink. These were some of the best musicians I have ever heard. Marilyn did two nice sketches of Keter Betts (posted on our website under "art") - she kept moving our seats closer between sets, so we were one table away for the last one.

And I got a second violin for the Brahms Quintet on June 21. This morning I had just about given up after calling and emailing half a dozen without success. I was going to ask Sally McLain to play the G major Sonata instead, which would have been OK and more than OK (I definitely want to play it with her). But the Quintet is one of those central works, and I haven't done it since 1996. Time does pass, as the mirror shows, so get your kicks while you can.

As of last month we have a couple of gigabytes more space on the website. So now we can post whole works of music, not just snippets. I am very excited about just having posted the "Household Muse" (La Muse Menagere) by Darius Milhaud as seven MP3s on the website. (See MP3 of the month).

This recording was done at BannerArts studio on that little Yamaha one evening in July 2003, while Mar was out of town. I also recorded the Brahms D Major Variations Op. 21#1, another work that I love. I put them on a CD with great cover art ("BPO2" by Marilyn Banner, a painting inspired by a work of Elizabeth Brown's, and now in the collection of Betty Hauck). I listened to the CD a couple of times in the car yesterday, and thought of sharing the Milhaud on the website. The Brahms sounded too pedestrian; I'll record it again another time. But the Milhaud is tender and nice, very pleasant to listen to. Download it and tell me what you think!

Marilyn's maiden blog posting:

We just came back from visiting four galleries on the Bethesda “art walk.”
I’m not sure why it left a bad taste in my mouth.

I know three of the gallery owners and two of the artists. One of the artists I hadn’t seen in maybe 6 years. She was pitching her work to a few visitors, and showed absolutely no recognition of me. Did she know who I was? She had been in my artist’s group for months. Could she have forgotten? Did my red hair fool her? Was a visiting colleague/ artist at the bottom of the heap, compared to a potential buyer? Which one is my guess?

Another gallery had no special show. I know the owner. She is an artist as well as a gallery owner. She told us all about her plans and successes and thoughts. She asked nothing about me or my work. Hmm. She had ALSO been in an artist’s group with me.
She asked Carl about Musica Viva, but strangely I don’t believe there was space for an answer. Carl says she is like a man. I agreed – I have met maybe ONE male artist (in addition to my husband) who has asked me about my art, in, say 25 years.

There was another gallery with a one-person show by a colleague. Yes, now that I think of it, she had visited my artist group once upon a time. She coolly said hello. No hint of warmth. (She’s not a warm person.) But oh, the “professionalism!” The place reeked of it. The gallery owner was polite. The place was packed. The work was colorful and would go well in any large suburban dc house. Everyone was being very careful. I thought I was in a bad dream.

The fourth gallery was more friendly. We had bought work from the owner (also an artist), and he had come to our house to deliver it. So, at least he recognized us, had seen my work, and knew about Musica Viva. He said hello, handed us wine, and even chatted. He was in selling mode.

There is an uncomfortable thing that’s been happening. Someone asks Carl how the music thing is going. He says “Great! We are going to have to find a bigger space, as Mar’s studio is so popular.” And the response is always the same: “What about Strathmore Hall?” There's something they don't understand.

I am feeling very invisible, despite a show at the Ratner Museum, some shows lined up at local colleges, decent sales, and respect from some very fine artist/peers. Well, going to other people’s openings can make one feel invisible.
But no, it’s an attitude (their attitude.)
Why is it that some people can think BIGGER than themselves, and so many cannot?

I think I want to play a solo program. It's that swoony feeling I get when I look at my pasted up scores, in plastic drawers from the Container store piled six high in the back room. Tonight I read through the Stravinsky Sonata - I know it quite well, studied it in 1969-70 in Buffalo with Leo Smit (a Stravinsky and Copland student, and perhaps my favorite teacher). This is a cool piece, figuratively and literally; at least it masquerades as cool, or presents a cool exterior - it has a passionate core, which confused me at one time. The passion must be kept implicit and slightly distanced for the piece to balance properly. It would take very little to make it presentable; things which once looked like problems do not anymore - the satisfactions of late middle age. I will place it in an envelope next to the piano, a secret envelope of music for a solo program. What else is in it? I can't remember, but I put some other things in there - a C minor Chopin Nocturne that I puzzle over periodically, (what was he thinking with all those rolled C major chords), some other things. Things I have never performed to my complete satisfaction. Other things that I regretfully abandoned many years ago - the great Bartok Sonata, some Mozart, some late Beethoven. A Haydn Sonata. It seems like a forbidden luxury to practise these. But if not now, when? The Berg Sonata, the Brahms Intermezzi....

I could do it at the Ratner, on a reasonable piano, with minimal expense. It is so possible that it is scary.

Yes, my life has changed since leaving NIH, a little like wading into a river. It is turbulent and exciting, and there have been some disappointments. Rejection from the Meyer Foundation, no response from NPR, lack of interest from Strathmore Hall, a cancelled concert at the Czech Embassy, the US postal service losing my postcard order (ironically), and somebody outbidding me on ebay for a piano (damn!). And it's only April. My brother reminds me that I've become a freelancer - that is, a musician hungry for any and all paying gigs; and that the iron rule of freelancing (at least for the first few years) is that you can never say no. On the other hand, I ran into Raycurt Johnson playing violin at the Woodley Park metro stop (fabulous acoustics!), and I felt like a member of the club. So things are turning up - a memorial service, two recording gigs, maybe another home concert or two. There are all kinds of new possibilities - I list them in my journal daily. I think about music to write, songs to arrange, solos to polish up, musicians to work with, composers to contact, venues to approach, letters to write, CDs to make, programs of every kind of music performed in every conceivable setting.

Next up, after a house concert with Karyn and Gary and poet Judith McCombs, a Brahms birthday program, on the very day of his 172nd birthday, May 7, 2005. At the studio, our most popular venue, with four wonderful singers, duo pianists (me and Ruth Rose), and the poems of our late friend Polly Craft, read by her daughters Helen and Sarah on the day before Mothers Day. Gary Poster has agreed to sing the Serious Songs, (his is the perfect voice) which will nicely balance out the Liebeslieder Waltzes; and Karyn Friedman and Elizabeth Kluegel will sing some of the lovely duets and some of the exquisitely beautiful lieder. This one feels very very right.