UPCOMING EVENTS
| November 2, 2007 8PM |
Ballet conductor for The Rebecca Davis Dance Company production Helen Keller. Prince Theater, Philadelphia |
| November 3, 2007 2PM & 8PM |
Ballet conductor for The Rebecca Davis Dance Company production Helen Keller. Prince Theater, Philadelphia |
| November 10, 2007 | Immaculata Symphony - Tchaikovsky, Dvorak, MacDowell – Guest conductor |
| November 18 , 2007 |
WCU Orchestra – Cohen Memorial Concert. Bruckner 4th, etc |
| November 20 , 2007 |
CSU Orchestra Victor Liva, conductor - Robert Schumann, Concerto in A minor,
Peter I. Tchaikovsky, Symphony No. 5. Waetjen Auditorium |
| December 10, 2007 7:30PM |
Trio Casals: Tchaikovsky Piano Trio. Philips Library, West Chester University |
| January 8, 2008 | Trio Casals – Crosslands Concert, PA |
| January 20-27, 2008 | Samuel Barber International Music Festival at West Chester University – Artistic Director |
| January 24-26, 2008 | Conductor, PMEA District 12 Festival Orchestra. Owen J. Roberts High School. |
| January 27, 2008 | Wilmington Community Orchestra - Shostakovich Cello Concerto no. 2 |
| February 1, 2008 | Cello Masterclass. Lehigh University. |
| February 2, 2008 | LLMEA Student Orchestra – guest conductor |
| February 24, 2008 6PM |
Works for solo cello by Lars Halle. The Salon, 400 S. Sydenham Street, Philadelphia. |
| March 2, 2008 | WCU Orchestra |
| March 3, 2008 | Philadelphia Academy of Music - Cello recital |
| March 7-11, 2008 | Trio residency with Sylvia Ahramjian and Kenneth Boulton – Southeastern Louisiana University, Hammond |
| March 19, 2008 | Chamber Music at WCU – Messiaen Quartet for the End of Time |
| March 26, 2008 | Trio Casals – Kendal at Longwood, PA |
| March 28-April 12, 2008 | Cello concert tour of Russia (tentative) |
| April 20, 2008 | WCU Orchestra |
| April 26, 2008 | Kimmel Center, Philadelphia - WCU Orchestra |
| May 10, 2008 | Trio Casals, North Creek, NY |
RECENT PERFORMANCES
September 2, 2006 - Sembrich Museum - Recital. Bolton Landing, NY (Brahms, Shostakovich, DeFalla).
August 17 & 18, 2006 - Festival “Magie Barocche” - Sicily (Scicli and Noto)
May 2006 - Romanian Radio Chamber Orchestra - Cello Concerto in G Major by Mozart, arr. Marinescu
May 2006 - Orquesta de Extremadura, Spain - Conductor and soloist - Beethoven and Mozart
December 2005 - Recording session in Moscow - Russian Philharmonic Orchestra (conductor). Music by Stephen Limbaugh III
BLOG
The only difference between you and your dreams is "you."
After a few comments I decided to explain myself. If you want to be successful, you have to have big dreams. And small and medium dreams, too. They are all good. But the big ones are those that matter. How easy is to attain the big dreams? I think it is hard. It is so hard that most people stop before they achieve the dream. There are almost always obstacles; they will slow you down, they will try to stop you. But don't stop. You make the decision when to stop going after your dreams, so your actions and decisions make the difference between failing your dreams and achieving them.
To be a great artist you must be not right!
This is what Konstantin Krimets said while sipping a beer at the outdoor terrace of the Moscow Conservatory restaurant. It was a sunny day of early summer in 2000, after the second recording session of the Miaskovsky cello concerto, and both of us were tired from the session and an afternoon of sightseeing. It had gone well. This was my first recording with the Russian Philharmonic Orchestra and the experience was very inspiring, stimulating, and rewarding at the same time.
I had met Krimets the Sunday before. As soon as I arrived in Moscow I requested a rehearsal with the conductor and a pianist so we cold go through the tempi. Krimets conveyed the message that I should go to his dacha – the weekend house that any respectable Muscovite owns and uses to recharge their batteries, and we would work there, and get to know each other and enjoy a little relaxing time (that meant a lot of Vodka). That would have been too complicated, so I asked him to meet me at a rehearsal room. He is a short man, with a round, protruding stomach, a red beard and a shiny head, looking a little like Lenin has a child with Friedrich Engels. After I played through the concerto, his first question was: “How did you dare turn down my invitation to visit my dacha and call me into the city on a Sunday.” Acting as translator, my friend Sam Teitel, a great diplomat, gave Krimets a very complimentary answer, praising his wisdom, generosity, and artistry, and explaining that we did not have transportation.
As main conductor of the Mosfilm studios for several decades, Krimets has great experience recording in the studio, and he knew well the Miaskovsky. His tempi were a little slow, but his command of the orchestra was indubitably strong. After the recording he continued his a-little-too-confident behavior, walking downtown Moscow with his shirt open, the hairy belly sticking out, hands behind his back, all while proclaiming that Stalin was a great man. Remember that Stalin killed millions of his people on his way to building a military empire encompassing many nations.
After a few days of working together, Krimets started using a few words in English. So now, we are relaxing with a beer, trying to make some conversation, some with a translator, and parts directly in English. I asked him about the recording and if he had any career advice. I recall him telling me that I would play the Elgar very beautifully, after which he said: “To be a great artist you must be not right.” My first thought was that he made a grammar mistake and meant something else, maybe that a performer has to be right in order to be an artist. When he repeated the same words, rather that disregard his comments, I started thinking. It went against all we are taught in school: to respect the tradition, the notation in the score, to carefully plan and build musical phrases, and when to breathe and how to change the bow, and to carefully analyze a work to discover the inherent truth, which we should dutifully attempt to bring out. And then, after a few seconds, it hit me. We have to make a composer’s work our own, and bend it and twisted and become it, and play it “real” and spontaneously as if we make it up on the spot, and do whatever it takes to a make it powerful so it moves people. If we play it pre-designed, pre-calculated, it is only canned and it will be one out of thousands of similar items. It doesn’t mean that we should not respect the score; it means that we must make the notes alive and take music beyond the score. Let go of inhibitions, and challenge the listener, be it a master, or a friend or somebody out there in the audience. And that was one moment in my life when I know I became a different musician.
On a recent trip to Cleveland I had all my things in a carry-on luggage. On arrival, I realized that the security at BWI let me through will a number of items that are forbidden: a large tube of toothpaste, two bottles of cologne, laundry detergent in a metal tube, a Swiss army knife, and a few other things. Even more interesting, last week I took an international flight out of Philadelphia for St Maarten and after checking in, and right before I was to get in the security line, I discovered that I was given a boarding pass with the name Patricia Rohan. I went back to the same employee, who seemed rather shocked and who asked me: "How did that happen?"
Torn between two musical worlds
I am now in Cleveland to rehearse the Schumann Cello Concerto which I am playing on Tuesday with the Cleveland State U. Orchestra led my good buddy Victor Liva. This is a busy week. It does not bother me that I flew in this morning (after driving 2 hours to BWI - cheaper flights) and returning to West Chester tomorrow morning, and flying out again on Monday and returning back home on Wednesday. The challenge is to somehow split my artistic soul between playing and conducting on Sunday Bruckner's 4th Symphony (along Mozart and Gomes). When I perform or conduct, I do best when I become the piece, when all the themes live in my brain and heart, and in the middle of the night I get woken by the rhythms of a certain piece, and I smell the sounds and feel the harmonies. So, what am I supposed to be now? Schumann's cello concerto and its singing voice, or Bruckner's large scale, brass brilliant, with its wide Alpine vistas of the symphony. For the first time today, I felt torn between the two. I need to be a faster chameleon, to change my color on the dime. Hard, I don't know.... And I definitely need to become Brucknerian before Sunday; I hope to memorize this great work, but it's an hour of music.
Thursday was a free day. I did some practicing in the morning, then met with Allan (R. Scott, the Music Director of Helena Symphony and conductor for the concert) for lunch. Since we were going to an elegant restaurant, a beautiful 19th century building that long time ago used to be a gentlemen’s club, I wore a nice shirt and tie. We had a great time talking about pieces and conductors and eccentric musicians. After visiting the Civic Center, where the concert was going to take place, I changed into casual clothes and snickers and went on a hike up Mont Helena. It was a perfect day, great temperature and perfect visibility, which was rather lucky, since Helena has been plagued by forest fires which blacked the sky for days and made breathing challenging. It took me about 1h and 10 minutes to get to the top, and the view was incredible, you could see the whole city at the foot of the mountain, the beautiful cathedral with two spires, and the huge plateau stretching for miles in all directions, until the mountains sliced it on all sides. The height at the top was about 5400 feet, an elevation of 1500 feet above the town. As I started climbing, I could feel the altitude and my breathing got heavy quickly. I had to slow down a bit and pace myself. Since, I was supposed to return to the Symphony office by 4:45, so I rushed down, making it in about an hour.
That night I had dinner with Mary Williams, the orchestra’s Executive Director, and we talked about everything, from the business of a non-profit, to singing, to traveling and family. I was keen to ask her about her experience in Romania, as she was a diplomat at the Embassy in Bucharest during Ceausescu’s time, right around the big earthquake (7.2 on the Richter scale, March 4, 1977, Friday night, 9:21 PM, during the showing of a Bulgarian movie). Any “top secret” information discussed is not available.
The rehearsals and the concert went well. I had a great time, it is really awesome to play the Elgar, a very moving work, perfect for the cello, and the musicians did a fabulous job. Allan was very sensitive in his conducting, the phrasing seemed fluid, and I had really nice interaction with the orchestra. Playing the piece felt like living Elgar’s life and mine combined in a 30 minute span, it was a powerful experience and I could not speak at the end. After the second movement - Allegro - the fast virtuosic perpetum-mobile like, the audience gasped audibly, and at the end, they sprung up in a standing ovation.
The last few days I had a chance to meet several of the musicians, Stephan, the concertmaster, and his girlfriend Carrie, nice people and good musicians, commuters from Bozeman. Many musicians play 2-3 orchestra within driving distance. Stephan discovered that Wednesday’s crossword puzzle had a clue, 45 down, that was highly unusual: “Internationally famous cellist soloist with the Helena Symphony this weekend.” I could not believe it, this was me. Except it had space for only 5 letters and my shortest name (first name) has six. So I had to solve the puzzle to find out my new name - the solution was: Ovidu (the i missing).
At the dress rehearsal the first cellist, Linda Kuhn, listen from the auditorium, a large space with over 2000 seats, and she said the balance was perfect and that the cello projected beyond expectations. I was so pleased for having this instrument that I could afford, made by Georg Gemunder, in New York, in the mid 1800’s, one that gives out a rich, dark sound, and also projects well. It helped that I had just changed the strings to Larsen soloist for the A and D, and Spirocore Tungsten for the G and C, and especially the adjustment done by Whitney Osterud in Wilmington, who is a genius of a repair person, and sound adjuster.
Linda is a great cellist, having studied with Janigro in Germany and with Zara Nelsova in Cincinnati, and what are the odds of that: she is also very nice. Have you noticed that most good musicians are also great people (especially cellists)? Her daughter Kelly also plays with the orchestra, and she is only a sophomore in high school. It was nice to hang out with the cellists.
So now I am in the plane, having made my connecting flight in Salt Lake City.
Next cello objective: learn the clarinet/cello/piano trio by Vincent D’Indy for a performance in 2 weeks and prepare the Schumann Concerto for a performance in Cleveland in November.
Soiree rehearsal and new recipe
Earlier today I had a rehearsal with piano for the benefit soiree that takes place tonight on behalf of the Helena Symphony. I met pianist Judith Diana at St. Paul’s United Methodist Church, a beautiful new church in town, with beautiful light wooden floors, huge windows letting in a lot of light, some well placed stained glass windows, and a nice piano. It was fun, and the music selected certainly helped - the Swan, the Scherzo from the Shostakovich Sonata, a tango by Francini, Vocalise by Rachmaninov, Valse Sentimentale by Tchaikovsky, Dimitrescu. I especially had fun with the tango, which I have not done in a long time, since I actually recorded it for my first CD in the 90's. In addition I will play two solos: Bach's first Prelude and Flamenca by Rogelio Huguetty Tagell (sometimes spelled Tahel). I cannot believe, there is no information on this composer, nothing in Grove, nothing on the Internet, nothing in Music in Print. This piece is part of a whole solo cello suite, and I found the printed version at the Free Library of Philadelphia, along two other pieces by him. But nothing else, nationality, dates.
Last night I went to Albertson's, one of the grocery stores here, and got some food for lunches/dinners, if I want stay in. So, I improvised this appetiser which is very tasty. Try it: Bread (or toast, even better), black caviar (I used Romanoff) and avocado. You may want to mush the avocado, spread it on the bread and then put the caviar on top (no salt needed). Perhaps a drop of lemon would give it a kick.
"wide bucks don't always score high"
This morning I got up at 4 AM to catch a flight to Salt Lake City, connecting to Helena, Montana. Tomorrow I have benefit soiree recital and on Saturday I am playing the Elgar Concerto with the Helena Symphony. As I arrived, I immediately picked up a couple of free newspapers to get a feel of the place. The news and editorials are very different than the Philadelphia area. So, I am trying to learn new things and I came across this nice article: "wide bucks don't always score high."
It goes like this:
"If you're concerned with how well your buck measures against a skinny steel tape and the "official" scoring standards (Boone & Crockett, SCI, etc.), appraise the rack for more than width. High scoring mule deer bucks generally have deep forks, impressive mass and a couple of inches of brown tine as well as considerable spread. What constitutes a "deep" fork? A buck with tines that equal or exceed the distance from its eyes to the tip of its nose is an excellent animal."
Glad to know, I feel better. Stay posted.
In 1994 I went to Chautauqua for 5 weeks, to study and play chamber music and in the student orchestra. I had a great time meeting new friends, some from Europe, others from the US. I remember playing Bartok first quartet with a first violinist from Finland, Lotzi from Romania on second and a violist from Cleveland Institute of Music. It turned out that the Finn and I had the same birthday. Bragging to everyone there about it, Aurora, another violinist confessed that she had the same birthday as well (July 11). Needless to say we celebrated it together in the only bar in town, having some beer and chicken wings. Jeffrey Solow, who was one of the professors there joined us and it was fun.
One of the unusual things about the Institution is the fact that it is a dry campus. Note that this is a small town, with houses and restaurants, and no alcohol could be served or purchased. This year, one of the restaurants was allowed to sell wine with dinner for the first time. SINNERS!!!
The principal cellist of the resident orchestra is Chaim Zemach, a wonderful person with a rich youth. Born in Bulgaria, he emigrated to Israel, and the the US, where he still teaches at Montclaire College in New Jersey, right outside New York City. I recall spending a lot of time with him and a bunch of other soccer aficionados watching the 1994 Soccer World Cup. Some of the other soccer fans were Marius Tanau (he plays with Detroit Symphony now) and Calin Muresan, principal cellist now with Lansing Orchestra. We all knew each other from Romania.
So, this summer I went back for a day, just to check out the place and hear a concert by the Chautauqua Symphony. Colin Carr was playing Shostakovich second concerto, one of my favorites, the same concerto that I am playing this season in January. As I am walking down an alley (cars are not allowed on a regular basis on campus), a man on a bike, wearing a helmet, passes on the left at a fairly high speed. It would have been practically impossible to recognize anybody, but I had a strange feeling that I might know this man, so I yelled: "Mr. Zemach?" The man stopped, looked at me and said: "Ovidiu, how are you?" Shocked that we both recognized each other so easily, I told him that it had been 14 years since we saw each other and almost as long since we had any contact. He replied: "Has it been so long?" Mr. Zemach is probably now in his 70's, but he is going so strong. I guess is the cello and his passion for life and music. Later that night, he seemed to have a great time playing; looking at the program, I noticed that all musicians had by their name the year they began to play in the Chautauqua Symphony. Only one person was new, most had at least 10 years, and several musicians had been there for 30-40 years.
That night the orchestra sounded wonderfully. The highlight was the Shostakovich cello concerto, it was "so" exciting. Carr played like a monster, he spent a ton of energy and had it all right in his fingertips. The character and the sound were excellent. At the intermission, he was friendly, and we spent several minutes talking about the performance and the different editions available. We'd met two summers ago, when he played with the West Chester University Orchestra in Italy at a summer festival in Catania. That concert was conducted by Daisuke Soga, so we did not collaborate directly. Then, he played Schumann, but he did not impress us, it seemed rushed and lacking a certain sentimentality that is so pervasive in Schumann's concerto. In any case, his Shostakovich was much more exciting and in character. Another wonderful musical element were the acoustics of the Amphitheater, so lush and resonant, probably the best open air theater I have seen. I hope to be back next summer.
Practical advice to deal with injuries
I have struggled with various injuries, generally tendinitis, for years and I know what an impact they have on musicians. The healing time for tendinitis is about six months, if all goes well. Here are some thoughts:
1. Adjust your technique, and in general your way of using your arms and the whole body. Use more of the back, the triceps muscles, and the upper arm. Use opposite muscles to balance those that are overworked. Sit properly. Tendinitis is a repetitive injury. Other activities contribute to the injury, such as typing, some types of sport. When typing or using the mouse emphasize the other hand or switch hands frequently. Have a proper working place - a gel pad, an ergonomic keyboard, a chair with an appropriate height. Computer use is number one as the cause of repetitive injuries; Playing a musical instrument is number two. If you are a musician, you got them both (assuming you have entered the modern age, but then you would not read this blog).
2. Stretch, especially stretch the muscles involved. Stretch always before and after playing, typing, etc.. also between sessions. Find a set of stretches that are appropriate to the injured area. Stretch and hold 5-10 seconds. Do not overstretch. Make sure that there is good blood flow to the area before stretching - heat has been applied.
3. Take frequent breaks.
4. Strengthen the muscles in the affected area, and in general the upper body.
5. Use heat to heal chronic injuries (a heat pack, or warm/hot water). For some people alternating heat and cold is beneficial. Heat increases blood flow, which heals injuries. Tendons have very limited blood flow (that's way it takes so long to heal).
6. Massage (self or professional). Look into ART - Active Release Technique - a type of massage that greatly speeds up recovery.
7. Apply an anti-inflammatory or natural gel/cream. One of my favorites is Arnica, based on a plant. Acupuncture helps. Doctors also recommend Anti-inflammatory medication; personally I did not find anti-inflammatory medication to be helpful long term.
In Moscow, food is abundant, varied and expensive. I copied some of rare specialties found on the menu (with my thoughts). These are real items.
- beef language
- gentle to the penalty of lamb (I am not sure what part of the lamb the penalty is)
- complex broth prepared on the basis of beef
- a trout entirely
- a string bean siliculose boiled (only one string bean; it sounds yummy and chemical)
- cabbage color (you get only the color, not the whole cabbage)
- shish kebab wrapped in fatty environment (very healthy)
- the chicken of tobacco, fried on a brazier (XXX rated)
- a fillet of the salmon baked in a cheese armour (you need good teeth and a steak knife)
- a sazan under the recipe of Emir Buckara. Moves with vegetables and fruit
Drinks:
Wines: Shably, French fault, Italian fault
Scotch: Dzhemison, Dzhonni Walker - blek a label
Gin: Balantajns
For the fifth time in Moscow, I enjoyed 8 days recording with the Russian Philharmonic, eating wonderful food - Russian, Uzbek, and Armenian, having some good beer (my favorite - Edelweiss, locally made, reminding me of Chimay), and just walking the streets of this vibrant city. The Red Square never gets old, it is simply spectacular, especially at night. No surprise it made the final list for the modern Seven Wonders of the World. In June, the sun sets after 10 PM, and it is still light around 11:15. It is a cool feeling to be alive for so many hours in the day, and see everyone around you full of vitality well into the wee hours of the night.
I had 5 recording sessions, generally 4 hours long, and the last one 6 hours. It is intense, but thrilling to work with such good musicians and very professional players. Sure, this is work, and sometimes not everything comes out perfect from the first reading, but certainly they learn fast, and the process is rewarding. The bulk of the project was recording music by Samuel Barber: the piano concerto with Carl Cranmer (who did an awesome job) - the last movement in 5/8 gave everyone a big workout and some serious challenges - the ballet "The Souvenirs" - a delightful salon-like set of dances, the opera "the Hand of Bridge," and "Four Songs" never recorded in their orchestral version - Nocturne, Monks and Raisins, Sure on this Shining Night, and I Hear an Army. The singers were sopranos Emily Bullock, Kathleen Flynn, tenor JR Fralick, and baritone Randall Scarlata.
We also recorded the beautiful Romanza for violin and orchestra by Andrea Clearfield. The piece was only premiered this spring with Gloria Justen and Orchestra 2001, led by Jim Freeman, who also commissioned the work. Last day we recorded David Laganella's "under ethereal," a piece that feels like riding a ray of sun that continuously changes its spectrum. We Randy Scarlata we also read two of my Three Songs for baritone and orchestra, but we ran out of time to really do a CD ready recording.
I am now waiting to get the first edit, hopefully by mid-July. While waiting, I teach with Sylvia at the PA Governor School for the Arts, a totally free program for the top music and arts students in Pennsylvania. Erie is great, as great as a "lost in time" mid-western city can be. Most food has sugar in it, and the entertainment du-jour of the locals is drinking. Presque Isle is nice though, and we go to the beach a few times a week, usually in the weekend. And last Saturday we went to Chautauqua, where I attended the festival 14 years ago, and heard a great Shostakovich Cello Concerto no. 2 with Colin Carr. It was nice to hear and reconnect with him, two years ago he did Schumann with the West Chester University Orchestra in Sicily.
Jeremiah Barkus - accepted to Tanglewood Festival
Peter Volpert - second chair - Pennsylvania All-State Orchestra
Robert Heald - will attend U of MD - College Park
Ioana Velicu - selected to participate in the International Cello Festival in Fort Worth, TX; performed as soloist with the West Chester University Orchestra as winner of the solo competition
Meghan Hoefert - soloist with the West Chester University Chamber Orchestra
Jeremy Zimmerman - second place, MTNA competition - college, string division
It is going well, perhaps better than expected. I have finished the Vocalise, pretty much all orchestrated and today I wrote and orchestrated (in sketch) about 3/4 of another song. Tomorrow I hope to finish it. I probably have by now about 6-7 minutes of music. Dan Shapiro has been instrumental in writing it down in Sibelius and I look forward to having it all entered. It will be awesome.
Basketball standards in music - dream on
This is a quote from Yahoo Sports: "Bryant, who played all 48 minutes in Thursday night's loss to the Los Angeles Clippers, was 7-for-26." That means that he shot the ball 26 times and made only 7 shots. Great. Next concert I'm going to go for it, be very spectacular and miss 3/4 of my shifts. Or maybe by mistake I'll hit the wrong string in the Dvorak concerto, play the whole thing a 5th lower. Just jump high off the chair 'cause it looks good. I know that the audience will be very patient and wait for that one spectacular passage in double stops that I get sometimes. Cheers if I make it, and sighs of disappointment when I don't. After the concert I'll hold a press conference and reveal that the nail on my middle finger was too long and it was an off night. And the opponent (the conductor) played particularly hard ball that night, so it made it a little harder. I am writing to Congress to propose a law extending basketball standards to all professional league musicians.
Composing?? You must be kidding.
This June I will be back in Moscow to record with the Russian Philharmonic. We got two grants to record a CD with music of Samuel Barber: his Piano Concerto, the Souvenirs (a delightful ballet), The Hand of Bridge (a short chamber opera) and four songs never previously recorded. It will be great to do this project, especially since it will involve some great friends: Carl Cranmer, Randy Scarlata, and Emily Bullock. Since I am there already, I thought I would record some new American works, to go along with the Concerto for Brass by Stephen Limbaugh. I asked several composers whose music I particularly like, and only Larry Nelson has responded with a resounding "Yes." So, what the heck, if nobody is interested in having their music recorded by a fantastic orchestra, I decided to write a song cycle for baritone and orchestra. By the way, I never composed before. And crazy as I am, I want to get it written and recorded in two months.
I started last week, with an eventual middle song - a Vocalise, inspired by the homonym by Rachmaninov. I think it would greatly match Randy's beautiful voice. It is a melismatic (obviously) incantation, with a Middle Eastern feel, and spacious discourse. I felt like "E" so it is in a modal E. It changes here and there. I got about 5 minutes of the piece sketched out. Now the annoying part, I tried to use the Sibelius notation system today and it was painful. It took me 20 minutes to figure out how to write a triplet. In the end I got about 20 measures orchestrated, but I hate the sound - it's minimalistic (not animalistic, come on, be serious). I have to go back and redo the whole thing, simplify it. I got some tone colors in my head, chords in the woodwinds doubled by the piano, harp, pedal E's and a Mark tree coloring the silence here and there. If you don't know what that is, research it.
I'll try to keep you updated about how it goes. Hopefully I can pull it through.
Wish me good luck.
The mistery woman in the dean's bathroom
A week or two ago, our dean was approached by a man on the cleaning staff at the university with humble apologies for a tremendous faux-pas. He said that at 6 AM that morning, while attempting to enter the private bathroom in the dean's office to clean it, he walked on an elegantly-dressed lady standing behind the door. The man jumped up, scared to death, and yelled "I am so sorry" while quickly closing the door. He thought about calling the police but decided against it. The dean was initially confused and then he realised the mistake. He had stored in the bathroom a mannequin wearing a beautiful Chinese outfit won at a benefit auction, head piece, and full regalia. It definitely looked like a real person. I found out that the mannequin had created many other problems in the prior days, first by triggering the automatic toilet-flush over and over again, then by getting sprayed by the air freshener on the wall. Could this be a Chinese spying mannequin with a life of its own?
Longing for a free world (part 4 - final)
I got to Leipzig Sunday afternoon. I was now rested after a good night sleep, and ready to visit the city. So, violin and bag in tow (I could not find any luggage lockers or storage) I started looking for a hotel. I had now some money, and I was tired of being homeless. As luck has it, I could not find any room, even after trying several hotels, which seemed rather strange. Finally, I decided to walk around. I recall getting to the Gewandhaus, the new concert hall, and watching concert goers enter the main lobby for some event. I kept walking and since I had no map of the city, I asked for directions to Thomas Kirche; after wondering for about an hour I got there; unfortunately I could not get in. I started wondering back towards the train station, thorough the city streets, with some 1950's buildings and a general state of cleanliness. It seemed a quiet city.
Back at the train station, I went to the restaurant, I got some good German beer, and sat at table with other travelers, all weary and tired (some even drunk). One of the young guys, seemingly alone, started talking, and I realized he was bashing the communist party. If you recall, early September 1989 had marked the start of the German riots and I was shocked that anyone would talk in public in such a dangerous way. I was even more surprised to realize that no police was in sight or at least they did not pick up the guy. I got out of there fast and decided to spend the night in the train station. That is a beautiful, massive, elegant building, with one huge main hall where all trains pull in; the same space houses all the stores, offices and restaurants and has no waiting room. The only place to sit was on some benches on the walkaways between the tracks, but there was no way to sleep in the noise. Every train at arrival and departure made awful screeching nosies from the breaks and the wheel systems, and blew the horn to cap it off - all noise was amplified in the cavernous building as in the nearby Gewandhaus - I had my own modern music concert.
Eventually, I decided to get a better sleep and boarded a train for Prague. I had an acquaintance living there, who had given me her phone number before I left Romania. She was a pianist, Anda Bogza, a year younger in school, and I knew her from years before as a student of Ludmila Popisteanu, the top teacher at Enescu High School in Bucharest. Her name was now Anda Bogzova, changed to sound more Czech. The arrival in Prague was next morning, around 7 AM. I knew the train station and the city a bit from a previous visit. The first thing I did was to change some money and then I called my friend. It was early, about 7:30 AM, but what the heck. She answered and said "my God, you are here. Come over right away." I took the subway and got off near the Charles Bridge. She actually lived a 1/2 block from the bridge, where she was renting a house with her boyfriend. I could not believe how nice she was and hospitable she was, especially in contrast with my ex-classmate. She saw me, and I probably looked terrible, since she said: " here is your room, go take a nap." I obliged and slept until about noon. When I got up, I was ready to get going. She and I visited some old familiar places, you know, the usual tourist attraction, Charles Bridge, Hrad, the City Hall Square. If you've been in Prague recently, it is scary now because of the crazy tourist atmosphere: overcrowded, cheap souvenirs and not much peace. At that time tough, there were hardly any foreign tourists, so I had a great time getting the feel of the place, the street scene as it was experienced by the locals. I recall with great fondness the concert I attended at the Rudolfinum Concert Hall to hear the Prague Symphony.
Eventually I realized that Anda's boyfriend was a little jealous or uncomfortable, so I made my mind to book a hotel room, to avoid any uncomfortable situation. After four days of wonderful times in a great city, I decided to head back to Romania. I stopped in Budapest for a day, then the final train ride to Bucharest took me another 10 hours. I got nervous at Curtici, but the border was simpler coming back. When I arrived home, I found out that the morning after my stay in Leipzig there had been a huge youth gathering, followed by a riot in the city and fighting with the police. I had missed the beginning of the German revolution by a couple of hours.
Longing for a free world (part 3)
Free to go back, I took a local train to Arad, a city about 15-20 miles from the border. I'd been there as a kid, visiting for one day as I went to a summer camp in nearby Savarsin. Then, I took a fast train back to Brasov, to spend the weekend, before returning to Bucharest on Monday morning to try to clarify my passport and visa situation.
If you know how any perfected bureaucracy works you can continue the story. Back at the passport office in Iorga Street, I took a number and then waited and waited, and waited. The communists were really good at making people wait (although the immigration service or the IRS here work as well). After a couple of hours, I made my way to the counter and I requested that my visa be changed from West Germany/East Germany/Berlin to East Germany only. The officer took a pen and simply crossed out West Germany/Berlin, handed me back the passport, and said "that's it, you are OK now." Imagine my shock seeing that the only thing needed was to cross out the destination, a simple thing that could have been done at the border. I felt like screaming, although that would have been rather unwise.
Never giving up on a plan, I decided to try to travel again, this time by plane though. I went to the TAROM office (Transporturile Aeriene Romane - Romanian Air Transportation) and purchased a ticket to East Berlin for two days later. Wednesday morning I showed up at the airport with a small duffel bag, a violin and a cello bow. My plan was to try to sell the violin and the cello bow to make some money so I could buy some food items, maybe a cool pair of jeans and whatever else I could bring back from abroad. In the airport I met Tiberiu Olah, well know Romanian composer and professor at the Conservatory in Bucharest, who was going to Berlin as well, except to West Berlin. Lucky bastard. He told me that that Friday, Horia Andreescu was conducting the Berlin Radio Orchestra with cellist Marin Cazacu as a soloist and they were going to stay at Hotel Minerva (?). Olah and I travelled together, got off the plane, and then parted ways at the border check point, where the left gate opened towards communism and the right gate towards freedom. I had tears of envy seeing him go through the right gate, and I had a terrible urge to follow him. I was too afraid, though. So, I chose the East Berlin. From the airport I took a train to Alexander Platz, in the center of the city, then I found my way to Hotel Minerva. At the reception they called Horia Andreescu, and miracle: he answered. I said hello to him (he did not know me, but know some of my cousins). Kindly, he suggested I called Marin, which I did. Marin was very happy to hear from me (I had recently won a national competition which he judged), and invited me up to his room. I told him my whole story, including that I had no place to sleep and no money, and he immediately said: "stay in my room for one night at least". I was very grateful, needless to say. Later the same day I walked around the city, went to the zoo, and made my way to a music school, where I met with the director and offered for sale the Ivacson bow and the violin. He kept the instrument and bow and asked me to return the next day. It was so incredible to be free to explore a new city, a new country and try to accomplish something - a simple task, even though I really did not speak any German. The next day I did more visiting and returned to the music school, where I had the good news of a sale. The school committee had met and decided to purchase the bow from me for something like 900 Deutsche Marks (eastern currency). Cool. I took the money, the violin and went shopping. I tried to buy a fruit juicer, none to be found anywhere, and bought some trinkets, I believe. For the second night, I had to make different plans. In Alexander Platz they had a nice, fancy hotel, about 20 stories high. Unfortunately, no rooms available. I liked their lobby though, so I hung out there starting at about 10 PM. Afraid I would be kicked out (as in any communist country, you could spot the secret police checking people out), I went to a higher floor, where I found a great couch and stretched there for a while. Except, some people saw me and asked me some questions, which I had no idea how to reply. I was sure they were going to call the reception desk, so I decided to sleep in the staircase. Around midnight, I went between the 15th and 16th floor and stretched there on the cement floor, trying to sleep a little. The floor was cold and hard, and every once in a while, tourists would use the stairs between the floor laughing and yelling, as party goers do. No way to sleep. After a couple of hours, I decided to go back to my couch. What a luxury! Sweet! Warmth, soft leather. Better then the staircase. I was just dozing off, when I heard a" Was machen sie hier?" which in a loose translation is "what (the -uck) are you doing here?" The security had gotten a hold of my idea and they did not like it. When my answers did not make sense, I was "politely" invited to leave the hotel.
So, here I am, in Alexander Platz train station at 3 AM, no trains until 5 AM, sleeping on a double bench across from a bum (unless the guy was another Romanian tourist, but I could not tell). At 5, I took the train to the main train station, and decided to go visit my good buddy Bobo, who was playing violin in the Nordhausen Orchestra. His mother had given me his address and phone number. On the way, I stopped in Potsdam, to visit the wonderful palace and gardens, and later that day I boarded a train for Nordhausen. I called Bobo, but no answer. Later that night, I arrived in the charming little town not far from the border with West Germany, walked to the orchestra dormitory and rang the bell. A nice German lady open the door, and I made myself understood that I was an old classmate of Bobo. She said that he was not there, that he might be at his girlfriend's and have me directions. At his girlfriend's place I was greeted by the mother, who told me that the two were in Leipzig and proceeded to call them to let them know that I was visiting. After a little chit chat about life and music (the daughter was a cellist) I returned to the orchestra dorm, where the nice lady invited me to stay in Bobo's room until the next day. I was rather exhausted and a bed sounded like a miracle.
The next day, later in the afternoon, as I was walking down the street, a car stopped by the curb and Bobo jumped out. "Hey, how is it going?" I asked him? "Not too bad, what are you doing here?" he answered. I told him the whole story and we started walking back. I was a little taken aback, but it was clear that he was uncomfortable. At the dorm, he was shocked to hear that I used his room. I apologized. "Who let you in?" "The manager lady" I answered. "Not possible." "It is true." "I do not believe you, Germans would never do that." "Ask her." "I will not." Then, embarrased, I said: "If you do not want me to be here I will just leave." "You better." So, I zipped my bag and left. "Wow", I said to myself, "people change," and left for the train station, having decided to go to Leipzig, Bach and Mendelssohn's city. (to be continued)
Project - Four Ways to View a City
I am very excited about the new project with Chamber Music Now. Friday night I had the first meeting with one of four teams creating new works of art for me. All four pieces will be presented at the Annenberg Center in two performances on May 19, and they all have images of Philadelphia projected on a huge screen, and at least three of them have electronic music in the background.
Composer Andrea Clearfield presented me with about five pages of her new composition "Sonic Circuit," although according to her the title might be "Open Circuit." Chris Garvin, from the University of the Arts is coordinating a team that will "wire me" and connect my motions to images on a screen in the background. I will have several sensors attached to my arms and some under my behind. I asked the specialists: "no implants, please." I think I am safe. There will be a sound loop that I will trigger with my right foot. The evening was so exciting... Andrea's piece is haunting and rhythmically very edgy at times, and the images on the screen are generated by three computers mixing them and changing the pictures as the sensors will respond to what I do. The images are very poetic - here a corner of a historical building, there framing for new construction, and I understand there will be some slices of nature. You cannot miss this performance, not many people are doing this kind of art.
Later that evening I attended the second half of Marilyn Nonken's performance for Chamber Music Now. She is a spectacular pianist and the second half featured "the People United Will Never Be Defeated" by Frederic Rzewski. What an incredible performance of a monster of a piece. 50 minutes - 36 variations on a Chilean resistance song from the 60's. It goes from decadent melodies to cries of pain and gun shots, from sweet harmonies to clusters. Time ceased to exist, and it was all a tale of distant and exotic places. But then the reality of Ms. Nonken's performance would bring me back to the hall. You could see a lot of intensity on David Laganella's face; he was turning pages standing near the pianist, and just following the text was rather challenging, I am sure. I was not sure whether he was always watching for her nod to turn the page or just peaking at her decolletage.... difficult choice, I am sure.
After the concert: party at Ricky Belcastro and his fiance, Lily. Ricky is writing one of the other pieces for the May performance. He is composing a work about the bar scene in Philadelphia, and the cello plays the role of the drunkard. As the piece progresses, I will have to produce sounds that will mimic that perception of slight imbalance, exuberance, and whatever else happens after a beer (or two). I look forward to getting most of the work next week. The screen will have clips of the story and some animation. The "beer bathroom trip" is apparently suggested in some growling sounds on the cello - low register played sul ponticello.
Longing for a free world (part 2)
Note: You might want to start with Part 1, published previously.
Well, I was sick of being stuck in Romania, so I decided to travel anyway and go visit East Germany or as they called the Democratic Republic of Germany. That night I boarded a train bound for Berlin, sharing a compartment with a Polish man who was returning from Turkey with some merchandise for sale in his home country (doing cross-border traffic of cigarettes, jeans or other western articles was part of living in Easter Europe). Polish citizens had more freedom to travel and they were regarded the Balkan merchants. After a whole night of travel, we got to Curtici, the border town in Romania, the place to be "checked" before entering Hungary. I'd been there before, on the way Germany in 1981 and 1985, both times passing through successfully, despite the very strict controls, both in terms of passport/visa control and the physical part, which consisted of a thorough check of the luggage, below the seats, bathrooms, and overhead compartments, as well as some body frisking. This time it was clear that they were up to even tougher controls and almost abusive behavior.
After the physical control, an officer collected all passports and left. After about 20 minutes of harrowing wait, the Polish man was asked to collect his luggage and get off the train. Although nervous, I started relaxing, since I was not asked any questions. Well, I relaxed too soon, because another officer appeared, and told me to follow him, luggage and all. Since my papers were OK, I though it was just some stupid abusive control, and after everything would be OK. On the platform, there were dozens of officers with AK47's watching everybody, and you could see inside the building many travelers waiting to be processed. This was highly unusual, since the train station was in the middle of nowhere, and it was obvious that all these people had been taken off the train. After a short wait, I was called into an office, a small, dirty room, with a dirty window facing the platform, a desk, a simple wooden chair, a freestanding wooden coat hanger, and the omnipresent portrait of Comrade Ceausescu. The officer, it might have been a captain or perhaps higher rank, had a blue uniform, was in his 40s and was "somewhat" well fed; his hat was sitting on the desk, a desk that was eerily empty. The meeting started by him looking through the passport, page after page, asking me all the questions in the world such as my name, age, occupation, height, weight, eye color, hair color, parents' occupation, place of birth, place of employment, what train I had traveled on, boarding station, destination, etc. After he was done with his research, he waited for several minutes, seemingly unsure of what he was going to ask next. All of the sudden you could see light at the end of his tunnel: he proceeded to tell me that my passport has an exit visa for West and East Germany (issued by the Romanian authorities), but it did not show an entry visa for West Germany. I replied that I was not traveling to West Germany therefore no visa would be necessary. The officer said that the stated destination of trip does not match the paper work and I cannot travel any further. I asked them to process my papers and cross out the word West from the visa stamp in the passport, if that was all that was necessary. I emphasized that I was a good friend of Colonel Cazacu, the head of the passport office (which was an exaggeration, because I only knew him incidentally; his daughter was a violinist friend of mine), and that he had told me that the papers were correct. You cannot imagine his rage, swear words, foam at his mouth; it is hard to describe it. He was saying things such as "I'll get you arrested," "You're a defector," "You are a spy." The nicest thing he said was: "get your ass out of here and go back home." Needless to say, there was no arguing. So, I got out trying to figure how I was going to return to Bucharest, an 8-10 hour trip. While waiting outside, I started contemplating the scene. People scared and agitated, children and some adults crying, families separated with some people in the train (one was not allowed to get off the train in the border station, unless requested by the authorities) and their loved ones on the platform awaiting processing. The most shocking scene was the sight of a Hungarian family, all in the train, practically hanging out the window, except the grandmother of the family, who was on the platform, all imploring help with their eyes. She had been taken off the train for possessing an alleged antique vase - basically a 10-dollar vase for which they had a receipt, which the poor woman was shaking in the air (the receipt, not the vase), seemingly to make it more visible. It was unbelievable to see the train starting and these people being separated, and screaming something in Hungarian, probably to the likes of "stop the train, let me get on." I will never forget the eyes of her grand children - the panic, the fear, the sort of "goodbye for ever?" It is hard to forget the woman's tears, shame and humiliation after the train left. I was certainly happy to be alone and be "free" to go back. (to be continued)
A few weeks ago, on a beautiful, sunny, Thursday afternoon (it must have been early October, since later it got awfully cold and rainy, especially on Thursdays), I decided to poll the cello class whether or not we wanted to have the class outside. Conducting classes would make more sense, since you can carry your baton with you and maybe a score, but the cello class? You must be kidding me. You got to carry cellos, bows, music stands, chairs, music, binders? Try opening the Swope back door without banging the cello on all door jambs. Well I guess I can sell anything since we voted unanimously to take all the stuff and go behind Swope Hall. We set up two groups taking turns playing and we had a lot of fun. The wind got in the way a few times, trying to turn pages at odd moments, but we made it work. We also took turns conducting while using a manhole cover for a podium.
I though it was a cool idea, so I suggested we do a cello crusade, playing in various places on campus, in Sykes Union, on top of the gym, playing in the crosswalk. I emailed the idea to one on the writers for the Quad (the student newspaper) - Frank Fraser - who is also an excellent bass player, asking if we can do an article about crazy cellos or at least get some pictures taken. We started talking, and then Frank decided it was better to do a feature article on me (hey, I did not mind). We set up a time for the interview and an appointment with the Quad photographer. We took photos outside, with me playing the cello on a bench, under a beautifully colored fall tree. The article should come out next week.Class playing the cello.
Labor Day, music and the Sembrich Museum
This Labor Day weekend I performed a recital at the Marcella Sembrich Museum in Bolton Landing, NY. This is a wonderful little gem of a museum - the famed Met singer's summer studio - with the salon overlooking Lake George. The space was small, but intimate and comfortable. Pictures of famed musicians, artists and politicians decorate all the walls, and several personal articles (manuscripts, trophies, jewelry, etc.) are displayed in cases. The recently refurbished Steinway has a deep, melancholic tone, which worked so well with the cello. The sound in that room was so full of beauty, it was inspiring to make music. The pianist was my friend Hiroko Yamazaki, she really played exquisitely, and the final passage in the Shostakovich sonata was perfectly intense.
We stayed at the house across the street. Our hosts were wonderful, Anita and Charlie Richards; they are retired schoolteachers and now manage the museum and the summer events. Mrs. Richard's father worked for Mme Sembrich, initially he was her bookbinder, but later she hired him to take care of her property. Mme. Sembrich left in her will that he should live in her house until his passing. When that happened, the estate put the house up for sale, and his daughter, Mrs. Richards, and her husband, bought the house and live there now. They have a small Bed and Breakfast, and they are very gracious hosts. We did a lot of story telling and laughing, and we enjoyed some wonderful German pancakes. One of the concertgoers lives on a little island on the lake, they came to the concert by boat... how cool is that? The museum curator is Richard Wargo, a wonderful opera composer. We enjoyed watching selections of his Ballymore, an opera premiered in Milwaukee by the Skylight Opera, with which I played as a sub in 1992. I hope to be back at the Sembrich Museum soon.
Last night I played a trio concert with Sylvia and Carl. It actually started at 6:30 PM with a workshop for the residents of Camphill Village - Kimberton Hills. It was my idea to bring together music and art in this workshop. We selected the first movements of the Schubert Trio in B Flat Major, and the Corigliano Sonata for Violin and Piano, respectively; Mimi Coleman, the art therapist the Village had set up three long tables on one side of Rose Hall, and several dozen residents and guests first listened to our music, then on the second reading expressed in pastel the sounds they heard, and the thoughts and images that came out of the mind and soul.
I knew it was going to be challenging, having to deal with a new situation. Due to the right ear condition that developed more than a month ago, I could not hear anything coming from that side. It made it so weird to try to balance and play together in a trio. All the sounds were coming from far on the left side, as I was hearing the other two instruments as they sounds reflected of the left wall. I could barely hear myself.
After the first piece (Schubert) we admired the different shapes and colors, some simple drawings, some flowing, beautiful spring colorations. For the second piece I sat down and drew myself a picture, which someone thought looked like Kandinsky.
The concert went well, but the Schubert is so demanding, there is so much detail and it must be perfect in each breath, bow or chord. What a transparent piece that feels heavy when played. I look forward to next week, when we'll do it four times with a different pianist, Alexandra Costin, friend from Romania.