A Concert

The "ResidentieOrkest" is one of the better-known symphony orchestras in Holland and its home base is The Hague, the Residence of the Queen and of Parliament (hence the name, I suppose). For years I had a season ticket, but after my husband died, I gave up. Anyway, from this year on the orchestra will not limit itself to The Hague, but give concerts in Leyden as well, which they apparently stopped doing some 20 years ago. The "Stadsgehoorzaal", the concert hall in Leyden is smaller than the one in The Hague. The advantage is that one is much closer to the orchestra, so it is a far more intimate experience. This evening Christian Zacharias was the conductor, as well as the soloist in Mozart's Piano Concerto (nr. 27). Because of his double function, the grand piano was placed in such a way that the keys were facing the audience, and the soloist was facing the orchestra, sitting with his back towards us. It was amazing to see how seemingly  effortlessly Zacharias changed from being the soloist to being the conductor, even doing two things at the same time, using his head, and his shoulders to conduct. And probably his eyes and facial expressions as well, but we could not see that. It was a marvellous performance. Christian Zacharias seemed happy to be able to share his joy of music with us and also inspired the orchestra by his enthusiasm and beautiful performance.

Because this was the first concert of this orchestra in Leyden, apparently organised after the programmes for this season had been printed, there was no programme available. Instead the conductor introduced each piece to us personally. Unfortunately there were no flowers either, which Christian Zacharias clearly deserved. A bad omission of the organisers? We tried to make up for it by applauding till our hands hurt! And to top it all I got my ticket at half price, since this was a new venture and not everybody was aware of this concert. I hope this will become a tradition. (the concerts, not the half price although I would not mind that either).

Schubert, Entr'acte nr. 1 from 'Rosamunde' and his Symfonie nr. 8 'Unvollendete',

were played as one piece, without a pause, being written in the same key. Zacharias said that he considered the Entr'acte from Rosamunde to be the third movement of the Unvollendete, although it came first! It is a way of looking at it. But I must admit it worked very well indeed.

The progamme began with Ravel, Le tombeau de Couperin. Here is a recording of that piece, played by the Berlin Philharmonic conducted by Pierre Boulez.

Choral Evensong

Just back from Choral Evensong in The Hague. At the Friday practice we were dangerously short of male voices, but fortunately Christina had persuaded some good singers to join us tonight, so that surprisingly the sound was now well-balanced because of these trained extra voices.

The psalm had an unusual chant. What I really loved was the anthem, Tribus Miraculis by Luca Marenzio. Here it is, sung a wee bit faster than we did. But I think it sounded good. I had only attended one single practice as I had been away, but loved singing it. For once the altos have interesting and challenging parts. It is a joyful anthem.

Latin text

Tribus miraculis ornatum,

diem sanctum colimus:

Hodie stella magos duxit ad praesepium:

Vinum ex aqua factum est adnuptias:

Hodie a Joanne Christus baptizari voluit,

ut salvaret nos,

Alleluia.

English translation
       

We solemnly observe this day ornamented with three miracles:

today the star led the magi to the manger;

today wine was made from water at the wedding;

today Christ desired to be baptized by John in the river Jordan so that He might save us, :alleluia.

Portobello Road

And then there is Portobello Road, the farmer's market and antiques market. With bric-a-brac and rubbish, china, but also real antiques, priceless, furs, plus buyers wearing furs without being sprayed with paint by angry activists. This is Notting Hill with a different clientele. 

genuine furs and leather

The street is a long, colourful vein pulsing right through this very distinguished, wide, and elegant area of London, indeed built on a hill with Notting Hill Church on the highest point, views extending in all directions. In contrast to Portobello Road with its colourful houses and shop fronts, here white stucco fronts, cast iron decorative gates and balconies, big palms in pots and tall windows. Portobello Road carries a stream of visitors, thickening as the days goes on, like a stream of lava or a colony of ants, marching along or loitering, taking pictures, browsing the many stalls and window shopping. The locals have already done their weekly shop for food, as we have, buying the crisp fresh loaves displayed on the stalls, the delicious cheeses and smoked meats, the root vegetables, such a variety here, colourful as well. The trendy cafés at that end of Portobello Road fill with locals who meet each other over a cafe latte or a nice lunch, gossiping. Many young professionals seem to live or congregate here. Mews are leading off Portobello Road, probably the former stables of the grand and rich houses and apartment buildings on the roads and avenues of Notting Hill. They are regrettably but wisely closed off for visitors. A pity, because as far as I can see they look very attractive and artistic. I only get a glimpse of them. But given the number of visitors coming here, even on a very cold Saturday in winter, I understand that decision.

No, not France but Notting Hill

   I spot several perfect and unusual inkwells and inkstands in the antique shops. But here they certainly come with a big price tag, so I just feast my eyes.

And what to think of a clothes shop which has a huge collection of old sewing machines lined up on shelves against the walls and the shop windows!

just a colourful picture of the market

London again

Another interesting exhibition which I went to see was in the Natural History Museum, Wildlife Photography of the year 2011.The photo's are amazing. Of course getting a wonderful picture is not just chance or a stroke of luck. Most photographers have gone to a lot of trouble to take those shots: lying on their stomach in shallow water for a full day, if that is what it takes. Hiding in huts in extreme cold conditions, hoping not to be trampled by a herd of bison. Whatever, the outcome is wonderful. The website shows all the photos and one can even order copies/prints online: on canvas,  paper, cardboard, framed or not, delivered at  one's door. Here is one of the photo's of a polar bear swimming, taken by Joe Bunni from France:

The nice thing about the exhibition is that the photos are not printed but shown on big computer screens. Like slides the light shines through them and they look much better than in print. Also one can still see them well even if there are lots of people, which fortunately wasn't the case when I went to see the exhibition. A new competition is open for amateurs and professionals alike. But after what I have seen, not even in my wildest dreams would I think of joining such a competition, as I take just snapshots! Although these pictures of wildlife on Picasa shot through my kitchen window in my tiny back yard, are not bad either. I admit the background should have been hazy. Just about everything is in focus, which is not really professional, although it was an exciting spectacle.

   The Evensong in St. Paul's was strange. To begin with the space in front of the cathedral, so the cathedral close if there had been one, was surrounded by a encampment of the Occupy Movement, the movement against economic inequality.  As it was towards 5 o'clock and getting dark when I got there, my picture is of very poor quality and blurred. I had no tripod, just a small camera. 

The police had cordoned off paths towards the steps of the cathedral, so that the entrance to the cathedral would not be blocked. But it was weird smelling the food that was being prepared and seeing all the multicoloured domed tents, in a variety of coulours. Inside the cathedral I could not hear sounds from outside, except for police sirens, not unusual in London.

   As far as Evensong was concerned I was a bit disappointed. Although I was early no one was allowed to sit in the choir stalls, as two large groups of foreign students were allocated there. Sitting just at the beginning of the nave, the sound does peculiar things and seems to whirl around in the dome between the choir and the nave, so that I found it terribly difficult to "hear" the music and the melody. Besides, the choir was reduced to just men, no boys, the canticles were sung in Latin and were chanted as well as the responses. I think I prefer Westminster Abbey, which seems to be far more intimate in spite of being a big cathedral as well. But St. Paul's seemed aloof to me, and lacked the spiritual atmosphere I had hoped for and expected.

   A concert in St. Martin in the Fields was more rewarding. It was a concert by candlelight and even more often disrupted by police sirens. But the atmosphere was intimate, and the music, although just chamber music, brilliantly performed by the Belmont Ensemble of London, even Eine kleine Nachtmusik sounded fresh and new. There is a new entrance to the crypt next to the church, and the crypt itself has undergone a transformation. It is all modern and efficient, but it blends in well with the rest.

   Another concert I went to with a friend was in the Royal Festival Hall, all Prokofiev by the London Philharmonic Orchestra. We had high hopes of the cello concerto op.85 and were really looking forward to that, but were both disappointed by its apparent lack of a theme or themes. We decided that perhaps it had to grow on us. It seemed extremely difficult for the cellist, Danjulo Ishizaka, and his performance was brilliant, but neither of us took to the music. The Suite Lieutenant Kijé and Prokofiev´s Symphony No. 7 were a real joy to hear.

A recording of part of the cello concerto

   Around this part of the South Bank also a lot has changed favourably. There are numerous small restaurants now under the railway lines in the arches where once were only grotto warehouses and boarded up premises. Now it is an area where people like to spend an evening out. I had not been to London for three years and was amazed at the many improvements and changes. Clearly the upcoming Olympic Games have speeded up those improvements.

London continued

"Doing" two concerts, Evensong in St Paul's and two exhibitions in a four day visit isn't so bad, I think. What I specifically wanted to see is the exhibition in the British Library, Royal Manuscripts, the Genius of Illumination. And at the same time see this "new" building, not so new anymore, near St. Pancras Station and the adjoining huge Victorian Hotel. The exhibition is stunning. How people in even the fourteenth century could illuminate mss in such minute detail and in such small script is amazing given the fact that they used primitive utensils like quills. The colours are as strikingly bright and brilliant as they were at the time the manuscripts were composed. It is absolutely amazing. I had expected very tiny books, with perhaps one character illuminated and some full page illustrations,  but almost all exhibited books are huge tomes with the most spectacular illuminations. In the margins leaves, birds, monkeys, but also quite naughty pictures, as usual. Perhaps because the scribes and monks got bored by all this piety? There is so much to see and discover. Somewhere in a top corner I spot a rabbit or hare, blowing a trumpet. Many of the books are Bibles or Psalters, made for the many queens, kings and noble lords and ladies in England and France. Of course they were all related by inter-marriage. I really lost track of the number of Henry's, Edwards and many others.

The Catalogue with a picture of one of the illustrations

A great deal of the earliest books dating from the 13^th century were illuminated in Bruges, the blue, red and yellows as vivid as the Flemish tapestries, the gold as shiny and brilliant as if newly applied. And there is an abundance of gold. In some books from Bruges we see the hand of the same illuminator – the same birds appear in the margins, a tit, a finch, two angels, their wings very delicate and almost translucent. In a very small space of hardly a few centimetres, Abraham is painted with his 12 sons who at the same time represent the 12 apostles. It is just incredible that such miniatures could be painted in such detail. Either the scribes or monks had perfect eyesight, or they worked with magnifying glasses. I could not find any information about this.

   During the Middle Ages people certainly weren't as prudish as the Victorians. In one illustration the story of Saul and David is depicted. David could have stabbed and killed Saul when Saul was relieving himself in a cave. But David did not want to kill an anointed king. There is a tiny drawing of the scene with Saul crouching on the floor of the cave, bare bottomed, with his royal cloak hitched up and a crown on his head. David is hiding behind the King somewhere in the cave.  Quite amusing. Of course the crown was for the benefit of the people so that they could identify the king, but still... Neither were people then so shy of painting nudes, as we see in the illuminations of Adam and Eve in Paradise and Christ on the cross. Perhaps this prudishness comes later, and had its heyday in Victorian times.

   There was too much to take in in one visit. The catalogue is splendid, but weighs a tonne and so I didn't buy it. But their website is very beautiful and gives many of the illustrations in detail. Besides one can zoom in on the illustrations. And last but not least there is an app for iPhones and Android phones, which is not at all expensive.

   The building, although modern, is of red brick and perfectly fits its surroundings. Inside it is modern, efficient and beautiful. Many of the treasured books in the Library are permanently exhibited in rooms which the public is free to enter. A far cry from the distinguished but old and cramped premises in the British Museum.

London

Christmas has come and gone, 2011 has gone, a new year, another month.  And a visit to friends in London after all the carols, parties and too much unusual food.

   To escape from my Dutch birthday I avail myself of a cheap Eurostar offer. Why is a Dutch person celebrating a birthday  condemned to slave away providing friends and guests with coffee, cakes, drinks and all sorts of treats? In other countries birthdays are either ignored, or one is treated on one's birthday. Friends may prepare a surprise for you, may invite you to a meal or take you out to dinner. Not so in Holland.  If one has a partner who serves the guests and sees to their needs, it is OK. But being single, it is hard labour. It is very nice when guests taking leave tell you they have had a wonderful time, such interesting conversations, so marvellous to see old friends again. Wasn't it lovely? How often have I heard that and thought: Oh, was it? Good! But personally I haven't had a chance to talk to anybody, but have been too busy serving my guests. So I escaped!

   Avoiding the hassle of airports I take the train. It is a wonderful experience, a chance to meditate, enjoy the country, read, doze and generally relax. There is no escape, neither the need to think. And in my case far more convenient than taking a plane. There isn't a lot to see in Holland, as the train goes mainly through very urbanised areas. Once on the Eurostar, the fast train from Brussels to London, it is a different story. Belgium and the North of France seem rather empty. It is a dull day, the sky pewter with rose coloured slits where the sun tries to peep through. The land is wet, the furrows filled with water reflecting the sky. Rows of bare trees on the horizon are sharply drawn against the open skies, the structure and pattern of their branches beautiful and unique. Riding horses in a muddy paddock seem too elegant and proud for their dreary surroundings. Near Calais, nearing the sea, the skies are absolutely superb. Clouds like plucked cotton wool hang in shrouds from the sky, which is full of darker clouds, the sun desperately trying to find a place to escape through.

   We dive into the Chunnel, to escape some 25 minutes later to bright sunshine. It is pure joy after many days of dull and dark midwinter weather. England, here I come.