Finding Treasure in Humble Media: Learning from Bartok and Homer

David and I made plans to visit Philadelphia so that we might see the exhibit American Watercolor in the Age of Homer and Sargent. It turns out that we had a lot of company in Philadelphia because the NFL Draft was taking place at the same time as our visit. In fact, this first-time outdoors event took place right in front of the stairs-made-famous-by-Rocky of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, where the exhibit is (for just two more weeks!) Walking over to the museum, we passed by block after block of barriers and idling engines powering the fun for fans. It was a warm day and we felt the welcome refreshment of cool air and relative quiet. It turned out to be an excellent day to be at the museum as the featured exhibit that we traveled to see had been packed throughout its tenure thus far, but that day, because of the NFL hubbub, the crowd was gently encountered.
     We walked into the calm, dimly lit (to protect the watercolor) exhibit. I was immediately struck by  a couple of things: 1) watercolor here refers to transparent watercolor (called simply watercolor) and also opaque watercolor, also called gouache (I thought they were different) and, 2) graphite (pencil), chalk and pastel were routinely used in conjunction with watercolor. The artists were not purists about using only transparent watercolor. Of course, they did not have to be purists. They were already using a medium that was not considered 'professional' or salon worthy. Watercolors were employed by women and hobbyists, along with school children. So the artists were freed from the typical bonds of academe and market. Some of the works in the exhibit were sketches and studies. But most were finished work. Many of the earlier pieces gave the same effect as oil paintings. The virtuosity was quite amazing (and it also explains the use of opaque watercolor and Chinese white.) But gradually, as we absorbed the teaching of the exhibit, one could feel the loosening liberation allowed by the medium.
    Winslow Homer's is the first painting you see, drawing you in. His astonishingly fresh work appears throughout. This made me wonder: why does Homer's work look so fresh? Is it because painting was a natural activity for him? His mother painted with watercolor (her work is included in the exhibit). He also had thorough practice in observation, having made illustrations of action during the Civil War. This required fresh, accurate and fast perception. Watercolor works very well with this sort of composing. There is no reworking or continual tweaking of the composition.
   At the end of the exhibit, there is a compare and contrast room of work by Winslow Homer and John Singer Sargent. Both artists' work are breathtakingly beautiful, of course. Sargent is simply virtuosic with complicated masses of people (or alligators).  Every stroke is perfection. Homer's work is more rustic and immediate. You feel the bright sun or the cold water and heavy skies. Homer is intimately involved with nature. In the very last room, some of the artists' art materials are exhibited. Sargent's tubes of watercolors are on display and Homer's well worn box of pan watercolors with brushes that must have been transformed when laden with watercolor.
   The exhibit left me refreshed and affirmed in my newfound use of economical but versatile materials.

Bartok Harmony, 8 x 10", opaque watercolor and Cray-pas
This painting was created in response to a performance of Bartok's Quartet No. 3,
performed in November by the Daedalus String Quartet, in Lexington, KY, November 2016.
please see my blog from 11-21-16: Back to the Church of Bartok

    David did some brilliant preparatory work and discovered that on Saturday, the Curtis Institute of Music would be presenting all six string quartets by Bela Bartok. We thought we would walk over and stay for the first couple of quartets. It turned out that this was not merely a recital by world class students, but a whole project: The Bartok Project. Students studied Bartok and the background of the period in which he wrote the six quartets. The works were composed during a roughly 30 year period, basically from the build up to WWI through the beginning WWII. Bartok's world (in Hungary) was in a state of despairing flux.
    Before each quartet was performed, the four musicians would make a brief presentation about Bartok, his influences, the quartet or the world at the time of the writing of the quartet. This exercise enhanced the experience of listening to the music even above the spectacular renderings by amazing musicians. A different quartet of musicians presented each of the six quartets. We learned that Bartok was an introverted personality, personally quiet in nature. He had a keen interest in folk music, a humble media that Bartok brought to his compositions. Bartok shared this interest in Hungarian and peasant folk music with compatriot composer Zoltan Kodaly. The upheavals referred to above were coming into play. We listened to Quartet Nos. 1 and 2 with this in mind. I am sure that you are not surprised that we were determined to stay for more when the intermission arrived--plus, there was pizza!
    After a lovely luncheon repast, where we were able to mingle with the musicians, we settled in for Quartet Nos. 3 and 4. The recital was in the Gould Rehearsal Hall. The musicians were seated facing each other and the audience encircled the musicians. We were encouraged to change our seats and vantage point, which David and I did. This has helped me remember what I heard during which quartet because I could envision where I was sitting and only had to narrow it down to two quartets! These quartets are known for their dissonant qualities, though I think we have become more accustomed to dissonance. Bartok creates a lot of texture in his quartets. This particularly came through in this segment (at least, that is what I noticed from this vantage point--all the texture for pizzicato, ponticello, using the back of the bow to strike the string (col legno--I had to look that up!) snapping the string so hard that it hits the sound board. Bartok used all sorts of techniques in an experimental manner. Was he freed up by his use of folk music? In the Quartet No. 4, the harmony was such that it sounds like another instrument, such as an accordion is in the mix. It was an extraordinary effect.
    You know by now that we stayed for the whole project. After a break with cake, we reseated for Quartets Nos. 5 and 6. It was a bit of serendipity that as we moved, the musicians changed their arrangement. The viola and cello were across from each other and the two violins likewise opposite each other. I was able to see the violist for every quartet. This pleased me immensely. Presentations around Quartet No. 5 centered on mathematics, nature and Bartok's love of symmetry. My ears perked when the discussion covered some of the same territory that I addressed when talking about my ideas about harmony, including the golden mean and the Fibonacci sequence (please see my blog, Harmony...naturally, 2-9-17) . Abigail Fayette, violin, passionately spoke of how Bartok's compositions were complex and yet simple; like nature. I felt this explanation most acutely during the two 'night music' movements, the second and fourth, when I could hear the night sounds; harmonious bullfrogs and gentle wind through the grasses.  Quartet No. 6 was Bartok's last full piece composed in his homeland of Hungary. He knew he would be leaving. It is full of his sadness: Mesto, Mesto, Mesto, Mesto--all four movements.

A cake for The Bartok Project, cut in golden mean proportions, third by third, in layers of 3 and 5?

     What an opportunity for David and me to learn more about Bartok and have our appreciation grow in such a rich way. The weekend was a reminder to me that sometimes the solution lies in returning with humility to see life in a fresh way and then create.
   
 

Back to the Church of Bartok

Bartok Harmony, Opaque watercolor and Cray-pas, 8 x 10"

Growing up, my family belonged to the Unitarian-Universalist Church. At some point, after I had started playing the viola, a small instrumental (mostly/entirely strings?) ensemble was formed. It was called Bartok's in honor of the Hungarian composer Bela Bartok (1881-1945). The thinking at that time (the mid to late '60s) was that Bartok was under-appreciated. Our leader was Dr. Wagner, a chemistry professor at the University of Kentucky. He had high hopes for our little band. I remember him becoming very angry with his son, Russell, our cellist, who went on to become a luthier in the Chicago area. I had only 2-3  years of experience on the viola under my belt and the music of Bartok (which naturally, was featured) was way beyond my skill-set. My older brother, also a violist, was part of the ensemble. He was more adept. We carried on, no doubt propelled by Jenny Wagner, who went on to be the Assistant Concertmaster for the Chicago Symphony. Meanwhile, I muddled through and had great anticipation for what would follow the Friday practice session--our weekly spaghetti supper!

     So imagine my excitement when I learned that our local chamber music society would be sponsoring a concert by the Daedalus String Quartet including Bartok's String Quartet No. 3. And, since they are trying out new venues this year, it would be at the U-U Church. I would be able to actually hear Bartok's music in my old haunt. It would be my chance to hear the argument for Bartok within the decagonal confines of my youth. 

      We arrived on a cold, but sunny afternoon. When the the church was built, it was way out in the country. Now, you have to watch carefully for the turn. It comes up quickly after the houses end in a concentrated suburbia. The church provides a welcome green space in the midst of development. The trees and arbors have been growing for decades and are taking on an ancient quality. The sanctuary space remains decagonal, but where we had sort of a theater-in-the-round quality to the worship space, there is now a modest rise in the altar area. This was the "stage". The musicians walked up from the lobby area in the back to take the stage. 

     The concert began with Beethoven's String Quartet No. 1 in F major, Op. 18, No. 1. Now, I have actually worked on this quartet with the Fauve Five, but that is another story. Before playing Bartok's String Quartet No. 3, the cellist, Thomas Kraines* gave us a little back story. He explained that Bartok's first three quartets are considered "difficult." The harmonies were different for their time and perhaps, still so.  But, the listener can always hear the folk melodies, on which the composition is structured, by listening to the first violin. I kept that in mind as the four beautiful musicians began. I was listening for what had prompted Dr. Wagner to hold Bartok in such high regard. The music is highly textured. There are bits of folklife emerging, but also a surround of dissonance, almost. Ah, there it is. Bartok is the composer for the church of my youth. The Unitarians (as I thought of us) wanted to hang their faith on an easy yoke of tradition and ritual (folk tunes) and all around would be individual voices, which are uniquely harmonious in their sense of freedom. This reminds me of a quip I used to make about the U-U church: most people believe that their faith is the only true one, Unitarians believe that they alone, as individuals,  are correct. I learned something important at this concert. It is not the individual, it is a community of individuals, happy to be together in this warm, but slightly wild world, feeling free, but so contentedly tethered to the common melody. 

The view outside of the decagonal

      Thank you to the Daedalus Quartet for such a satisfying concert. Every member was excellent in their performance and uniquely beautiful (like Unitarians!) What a warm presence on a cold afternoon. Loveliness abounded both inside and out. The setting and the music were perfect!

* David "googled" Thomas Kraines and learned that both his parents are mathematicians. His father is an Algebraic Topologist (Emeritus) as is David.