Category: recenzje

Henry Kramer concert in Halifax

Bogumil Pacak-Gamalski

Few words of personal explanation. Of my wonderful life with my beautiful husband, lover and partner, John. Life that tragically ended with John passing a year ago. Yet life worth every moment, every second. Music, music – it has been such an important part of our life. Through music – in all forms, shapes, and styles – we understood each other deeper, fully. Like the name given by German composer Felix Mendelssohn (1809-1847) to his ‘Songs without words’. Love truly does not need words. As in any true process of creation, words – if used – are only a mere ornament, part of the mechanical structure. True creation begins and ends in a sphere of senses: sound, smell, touch, feeling. Everything else is just a noise.

Therefore, when I walked that wintery evening from Henry Street to Coburg Street and to St. Andrew Church for my normal rendezvous avec la musique – he walked there with me.

What a wonderful rendezvous it was! It was an immense pleasure to listen to the music played by the most gifted pianist, Henry Kramer. Kramer is an American musician recently being offered a teaching position in the Faculty of Music at Université de Montréal, and because of the proximity, he was able to come to Halifax and give us a taste of talent. What a treat, indeed.

One award (among many others) I have to mention is the American National Chopin Piano Competition in Miami, where he claimed the 6th spot in 2010 (the First Place automatically awards the winner a spot in the top piano competitions of the world – the Warsaw International Chopin Competition). But there was a connection to that famous Warsaw Competition: among his jurors was the former  3rd place winner of the said International Warsaw Competition, Piotr Paleczny. I was lucky enough to hear Paleczny playing many years ago during that Competition in Warsaw and to know him personally. He was, as a young fellow at that time, a very sweet guy. And truly fantastic piano player.

Henry Kramer missed that Warsaw Competition ticket – but he did not miss the 2016 prestigious and top-ranking Queen Elisabeth Competition in Brussels. And he got the Second Prize – that is a ticket to just about all concert halls in the piano world.

I was not in Miami to hear him personally there, but remember his concert in Seattle. Remember him well enough to make a note of his playing: don’t forget his name because you will hear of him.

Back to Halifax. Have a chance years later to do that. To be at his concert. How can I describe the overall feeling, reaction? I will use a term I don’t remember using before in any of my musical reviews:

Henry Kramer is a pianist of a very elegant way of playing. That it is. Elegant way of playing. You could say: bravado, astonishing, lively, emotional, technically brilliant. But after listening to him intently, paying attention to how he treats not only the music but the entire piece that makes a player, his arms and body and keyboard, pedals, and the entire massive instrument a one-piece, one symbolic union – that is the term that came to me: grace and elegance.

And what a good term, when you play music submerged in a very specific time of European chamber music of early romantics. Time of Shuberts, Mendelssonhs, and to a lesser degree even Liszts (Liszt belongs more to the next epoch – Romanticism). A time when musicians produce an extraordinary amount of compositions (almost in manufacture-like tempo) to appear in a multitude of salons of political, and Church dignitaries, aristocrats and extra-rich townsfolks. Time of Early Romantics. These were not huge concerthalls, or musical theatres (there were some in big cities – but that was a rarity, not a rule). The salon for chamber music was small, and the guests were not as plentiful. If you play the same music more than a few times – the opinion arises that you are done, finished. You emptied yourself and can’t compose anything anymore. So they did compose. A lot. Franz Schubert composed 20 sonatas (not all of them in a finished form) and a number of larger pieces: 12 (13?) symphonies; circa 10 Masses; over …. 1000 (that is one thousand, no mistake) songs with at least one instrument and many more occasional pieces in different form. No, he was not eighty years old, when died. He was  … thirty-one.  Show me a contemporary composer, who composed half of that volume, I dare you.

Was he a great composer? No, by any means. But he was an important composer and very talented. Had he lived decades longer, had he achieved financial independence and powerful support from powerful patrons – chances are he would have had time and space to compose a few timeless and extraordinaire pieces of music. It was also a time when music was composed in a very strict and form-fitting format. Just as poetry in classic times. The next generation started slowly to dismantle that construct. And then came Gustav Mahler, followed by Schoenberg with his Second Viennese School and music was never the same again, LOL.   

The old Saint Andrew Church in Halifax was a perfect setting for Schubert’s music and for the elegant style of Henry Kramer. The main nave offers wonderful acoustic and being of Anglican (in Canadian, United Church form) type is not too ornate and void of the weight and ballast of Catholic big churches.

From the moment Kramer appeared on the stage with a short introduction to the music – he won the audience with his pleasant way of greeting and talking. There was no ‘pomp and circumstance’ – just a warm and subdued tone.

From the first keystrokes, he was very attentive to musical detail, to the phrasing. Schubert’s Piano Sonata in A Major seemed to be written for him. The Allegro Moderato at the beginning was lovely. It’s a relatively robust tempo but the two melodies and two distinctive themes lead to a lovely passage. And his brilliant way of slowing ‘things down’ in Andante is just that: have time to ponder, exclaim, and reflect. At a certain moment, a listener not familiar with this work might think – that it is, finite. Perhaps little annoyed that it happened so soon, LOL.  Kramer used the intervals splendidly, they were very pronounced as the composer intended.

But forget the intervals, forget the delicacies, the sublime. Here comes the Allegro. Better check your seatbelts! This is a pianist (a good pianist) paradise: time to awe and conquer the audience. And he did. The bravura almost and brilliant style shine here with dances, and passages. The keyboard is used in its entire length and the pianist must grow two or three more fingers, LOL. But it is truly a pleasure to listen to it. Even if you are not an enthusiast of early Romantics (just like me) – I still can come and listen to the entire sonata again – just to enjoy the finale! Bravissimo for the artist!

After Schubert music, Kramer opens to us the world of two siblings, contemporaries of Schubert: Fanny Mendelssohn – Hensel (1805-1847) and Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy (1809 – 1847). Both siblings were very close to each other.

Fanny Mendelssohn

Felix was well well-known and very much accomplished composer in Berlin’s circle. His sister never (partly because of her father’s opposing views) accomplished such a fame during her lifetime but her compositions show a good measure of talent and ability. She was also very respected as a musician by her devoted brother, who often asked for her opinion and advice in his own works. As it happens from all their works the most famous ones often played even now are their songs. Or rather ‘songs without words’ (Lieder ohne Worte), as was the name Felix gave to his most famous composition. There is a story that at one-time friend of Felix offered him to write words for his ‘songs’. The composer is said to respond: “What the music I love expresses to me, is not thought too indefinite to put into words, but on the contrary, too definite.” What a lovely and indeed precise response!

Felix Mendelssohn

The pianist played Fanny’s 4 Lieder for Piano, Op. 8 (no.2 Andante con espressione and No.3 Larghetto), and Felix’s Songs Without Words Op. 19 in E Major and Op. 67 in F-sharp minor. It was a pure musical pleasure. His elegant way of playing was at its best. The depth of emotions coming from the sound he was producing was truly touching. I remembered years ago when I listened to the incomparable Jan Lisiecki playing the extremely difficult and technically challenging piece of Ravel’s Gaspard de la nuit and I thought: how this very sweet and happy young man (I have known Jan Lisiecki since he was fifteen years old very sweet boy when I did my first interview with him) can evoke the atmosphere of pure horror and terror so plainly, so vividly? Talked after his play with him about my question. And his answer was as plain as it could be: it is not enough just to play – you have to feel it inside you, you have to take that symbolic journey to that place, that moment and then transfer it to the tips of your fingers. Just playing every note, in exact tempo is not always enough. And I understood that instance what he meant. Of course. It is so plain. The feeling, the emotion. Listen to famous, dramatic singers of opera! The words are almost comical often. If you just sing them – you could almost laugh, like a satire, not a tragedy. It is the emotion, the timbre of the note you play, and the spirit of the sound you produce that signifies emotions. This is exactly what Kramer achieved when he played the Songs Without Words.  And I repeat: with that musical elegance.

But even the best of us must give up sometimes the comforts of elegance. When you deal with Franz Liszt’s Piano Sonata in B minor, S. 178 you really have no choice. When the Paganini of grand piano composes music that should rival Paganini’s Caprices – elegance and etiquette go away. I often compare him to Tina Turner and her singing career. Was it elegant? Heaven’s forbid, no! Was it great? Of course, it was a wonderful madness! Would Henry Kramer, that elegant musician be able to play such music, to forgo his comfort zone?

Oh, yes. He did it to my delight. That was not a summery evening stroll through the meadow. It was a full gallop! Not even of one horse – it was a herd of wild horses. What a choice for the finale and what a stamina to do it after already playing so many pieces.

Liszt’s sonata is one of his late compositions when he composed mostly for pleasure and not to gain popularity or earn money. It is in a way also a break with the established way musical forms were composed. Sonata, as a sonnet in poetry, has very strict rules.  Three, sometimes four pieces. You state your musical subject in the first part, elaborate more freely on it in the middle, and finish with a recapitulation of the first statement. But Liszt decided to do away with two distinct pieces and used just one. Try writing sonnets in the form of elegies. In a way, he liberated composers from the strict and tight corset of existing musical architecture. Today everyone understands it. We have gone through modernity and postmodernity. But at that time … it received scorn from all the greatest composers. Clara Schuman (Liszt dedicated it to Robert Schuman) said it was ‘merely a blind noise’; Johannes Brahms apparently fell asleep while Liszt performed it; similar scorn was shown by Anton Rubinstein. The only exception was Richard Wagner. Yet, by the early XX century that ‘blind noise’ was recognized as the pinnacle of Liszt compositions. Times are changing.

I can’t tell how many times I heard that amazing, powerful compositions being played by many wonderful pianists. In a way, my favorite was the recording of it by Kristian Zimerman, one of the outstanding pianists of my generation in the entire world.  

But the way Kramer played it was more than satisfied. I listened with full abandonment and total ecstasy of my sensory powers. No surprise that after that accomplishment the audience would not let him leave the stage. The standing ovation had no end. And fully earned. To no surprise, he had no choice but to thank the audience with two extra encores.

We finished with a nice chat and my congratulations for very well-presented program and excellent play. But I started the conversation by thanking him for transferring me that evening from Saint Andrew Church in Halifax to Carnegie Hall or to Vienna Philharmonics.

Spacer z poezją i poetami młodości. Cz.3 – emigracyjna.

Bogumił Pacak-Gamalski

Londyn 1981. POSK, gazety polskie („Orzeł Biały”, „Dziennik Żołnierza”, „Tygodnik Polski”), serdeczna przyjaźń z generałem-pisarzem Tadeuszem Alf-Tarczyńskim. Potem kontakt korespondencyjny z Giedroyciem, którzy przysyłał mi  do obozu uchodźców we Włoszech paczuszki z wydawnictwami abym pilnował, by polscy towarzysze niedoli uchodźczej je czytali, by wyjeżdżali w świat z minimalną choćby wiedzą o współczesnej historii Polski, literatury polskiej – słowem,  by nie byli ‘chłopami przywiązanymi do beznadziejnej roli PRL”.  Kilka już lat później, podczas pierwszego powrotu do Europy (wtedy jeszcze nie do Polski) umówiłem się z nim telefonicznie i pojechałem do jego Maisons- Laffitte, do redakcji „Kultury”. Mieliśmy bardzo długą, przedłużaną stale z obu stron, rozmowę. Biedna pani Zosia Hertz, która bardzo pilnowała by Giedroyc nie tracił czasu na rzeczy mniej istotne, kilkakrotnie usiłowała naszą dyskusję przerwać i ja grzecznie wstawałem z krzesła, a on łapał mnie za rękaw i śmiał się: siadaj, siadaj, jeszcze nie skończyliśmy. Bardzo żałowałem, że już nie zdążyłem na poznanie uwielbianego przeze mnie Józefa Czapskiego, którego wówczas w Paryżu nie było.

 Zetknięcie się wtedy z poezją Łobodowskiego, Wata, Balińskiego. Później, już w Kanadzie, z Iwaniukiem, Czajkowskim, Buszą, Czerniawskim, Śmieją, Czaplicką.  Naturalnie z czasem tych poetyckich i personalnych ‘znajomości’ przybywało. Ale ubywało (jak to z latami się dzieje) mojej młodości. Aż odeszła. A w tym tekście mówimy o wierszach i autorach mojej młodości.

Barbara Czaplicka pisała wiersze bardzo ciepłe. Była zdecydowanie liryczką. Trochę właśnie tego Staffowskiego ‘malowania pejzaży’ natury ale i człowieka. Publikowała większość swych wierszy w londyńskich „Wiadomościach” Grydzewskiego (kontynuatora przedwojennych „Wiadomości Literackich”). W Kanadzie znalazła się bodaj dziesięć lat po wojnie (przyjechała z Anglii). W torontońskim wydawnictwie polonijnym Polski Fundusz Wydawniczy wydała swój bodaj jedyny zbiorek wierszy zebranych. Nigdy więcej już z jej wierszami się nie zetknąłem.  Ale ten zbiorek i te wiersze pamiętam. Właśnie za ich ciepło, które bardzo mnie ujęło. Czasem warto wrócić do poetów zapomnianych. Bo często są zapomniani niesprawiedliwie, choć ich styl nie był odbiegający od modnych wówczas nurtów literackich. A nurty – wiecie, jak w modzie. Nie zawsze dobre i mądre. A czasem też krótkotrwałe. Przepiękne wspomnienie jej czasów młodości (dzieciństwa?) w ujmującym konterfekcie dwóch Żydówek: Chai i Ruty. Takiego wspomnienia, konterfektu naturalnie nie można czytać bez pamiętania strasznych lat hitleryzmu i Zagłady.

Żółta wystawa Chai: dziobate czajniki,

Garnki, miotły, plecione z wikliny koszyki.

W drzwiach stoi Chaja w czarnym, koronkowym szalu:

Pod spłowiałą peruką starość pełna żalu.

A dalej – serce dobre w deskach okiennicy:

Sklep grubej Rut w fartuchu – beczki ze śledziami,

Sery z koziego mleka, lada z bajgełami –

Rut, karmiącej żebraków na biednej ulicy.

/ …….. /

Spotkały się na ścianie dwa cienie kobiece

i rozbłysła serweta w kolorowe kwiaty!

A nad świecami czarne, brodate chałaty

I piękne smutne oczy wielbłądów pustyni.

/…/  [i]

Wiem, że już nie żyje od wielu lat. I nic więcej. Przez to, że zmarła długo przed 1990 – na strony literatury polskiej w Kraju nigdy nie weszła. Nie istnieje gdziekolwiek (dostępny mi przez Internet) jakikolwiek jej biogram, jakiekolwiek wspomnienie że była, że pisała.  I bardzo to niesprawiedliwe. Źle o sumienności badaczy polskiej literatury świadczy. Może ktoś ten wpis mój i surowy a sprawiedliwy zarzut odczyta na jakimś wydziale filologii polskiej i jakąś prace doktorancką zrobi? Lub esej badawczy chociażby napisze? Wstyd, że biała karta pozostała. Znalazłem jeden zapis w Archiwum Emigracji na UMK w Toruniu. Jednozdaniowy, bez daty śmierci. W tym Archiwum spędziłem sporo czasu w latach 90. spotykając się z jego twórcą, prof. Supruniukiem – historykiem dziejów literatury polskiej emigracyjnej po 1939, muzealnikiem. Szkoda, że tak mało, nic prawie. Jedne co udało mi się ustalić, to fakt, że była siostrą znanej pisarki emigracyjnej Zofii Bohdanowiczowej.

I tylko jeszcze pierwszy tercet z wiersza ‘Zmartwychwstanie „Karmy” ‘:

Już znudziły się rządy starogreckich losów…

Zapadł siwy zmierzch bogów w literackim świecie,

Z chmurnych marzeń Olimpu, logiki Chaosu.[ii]

Najsilniejsze (wówczas) wrażenie wywarła na mnie poezja Józefa Łobodowskiego. Jego pierwsze wiersze czytałem jeszcze w Londynie, w 1981. Był to zbiorek pięknych wierszy zatytułowany „Pamięci Sulamity”. W pewnym względzie wyjątkowy zbiór poetycki, gdyż w całości, z autorskim wstępem biograficznym o „Sulamicie’, poświęcony młodej, niesłychanej urody polskiej poetce  pochodzenia żydowskiego – Zuzannie Ginczance. Ginczanka była wydana w łapy hitlerowskich oprawców przez Polkę we Lwowie kierowaną antysemityzmem i chęcią zysku finansowego. A ten cały zbiór Pieśni Łobodowskiego poświęcony jest tejże poetce, jest jego jedyną godną heroiną – Sulamita-Zuzanna.  Ostatnie badania w Polsce wykazują pewność, że Ginczanka była rozstrzelana przez hitlerowców w Krakowie w styczniu 1945.

Ze względu na pochodzenie etniczne ale i sam fakt, że młoda poetka uwielbiała „Pieśń nad Pieśniami” Salomona – Łobodowski te wiersze spisał właśnie w stylu tej biblijnej Pieśni. Opierał się zwłaszcza na ich literackim tłumaczeniu wersyfikacyjnym na hiszpański przez San Juana de la Cruz. I zdecydowanie sam Łobodowski użył tej formy nie przez jej pochodzenie etniczne, do którego ani kulturowo ani religijnie Ginczanka wagi nie przykładała (nie znała nawet języka jidysz) ale przez jej zauroczenie tą pieśnią Salomona i jej wyraźnie erotycznym, miłosnym zabarwieniu. Więc ta kunsztowna forma (w tym wypadku i w tej sytuacji i czasie absolutnie adekwatna i mistrzowsko przez poetę użyta) wierszy dodaje ich uroku, wagi, jest jakby  uniesieniem wspomnień o Sulamicie na ołtarze legend antycznych. Nie trzeba dodawać, że Łobodowski był kiedyś w Zuzannie zakochany, jak wielu innych artystów warszawskich.

(Kiedy po latach czytałem najbardziej głośny i ceniony przez samego Miłosza poemat Andrzeja Buszy, napisany stylem biblijnym „Kohelet”  (imię jednego z mniej znanych proroków Starego Testamentu) – nie spodobał mi się ten styl i byłem generalnie poematem rozczarowany, głównie właśnie przez użycie tej specyficznej poetyki.  A Buszę jako poetę bardzo cenię i lubię jego wiersze.)

Zacząć muszę więc od pieśni pierwszej Łobodowskiego, Pieśni która od końca, od śmierci Sulamity, zaczyna opowieść jej życia:

Nie pasałaś swych stad na górach Galaadu,

nie biegałaś pod namioty Kedaru.

Nie widziano twoich drobnych śladów

wpośród winnic znojnego Engaddi.

Nie witali cię pasterze śniadzi,

kiedyś szła przez Heseboński parów,

aleś była jako szafran i cynamon

i cieszyła się wołyńska cisza wiejska,

czarnowłosa przyjaciółko hebrajska,

och, Szulammit, Szulammit,

och, Zuzanno![iii]

Nie pamiętałem wówczas głębszego bólu po Stracie opisanego tak lirycznie i patetycznie jednocześnie. Jeśli porównać mogłem, to jedynie do strof żalu Kochanowskiego po utracie ukochanej Urszulki w jego czułych Trenach.

I te dziedzictwo literackie, te geny kulturowe, Łobodowski tak w swej Pieśni ujął:

 „Pieśń nad Pieśniami”, zaklęta w rytm czarnoleski –

ciężkie dukaty, wydłubywane z poetyckiej kieski –

jakże jej było nie smakować ich okrągłości?!

Rytm, uświęcony przez poetę z Czarnolasu,

połączył z natchnieniem z najdawniejszych czasów[iv]

Jeszcze dziś dreszcz mnie przeszywa, gdy czytam te wersy.

Poezja Ginczanki była w Polsce mojej młodości kompletnie nie znana i zapomniana. A zachwycała się jej talentem, wierszami (i urodą) cała literacka Warszawka Międzywojnia. Dopiero ostatnie dekada coś w tej mierze zrobiła i o niej się pisze. Tuwim ją uwielbiał. Ale na długo przed bardzo późnym ponownym ‘odkryciem’ Zuzanny Ginczanki w Kraju – pamiętali ją poeci na emigracji. Pamiętał serdecznie wspaniały Łobodowski.  

Córki jerozolimskie, nie budźcie ze snu Sulamity,

póki nie zechce obudzić się sama.[v]

Poeci emigracyjni w Kanadzie.

Jedno z pierwszych moich poszukiwań po wylądowaniu tu. Bo o czymże tu dumać na torontońskim bruku? Zanim ich jeszcze poznałem osobiście – już chciałem znać z wierszy. I natychmiast pierwsza palmę dostał poeta z Ontario właśnie – Wacław Iwaniuk. Najbardziej mi bodaj ze wszystkich poetów kanadyjskich tamtego pokolenia odpowiadał stylem, formą wiersza. I przede wszystkim – języka. Słowo znaczące to, co oznacza. Bez koloryzowania. Prawie prozatorsko, a jednak poetycko. Bo słowo proste ma wielką moc i wagę, gdy się je z szacunkiem traktuje. Pisał głównie po polsku ale większość wierszy publikował w tłumaczeniu na angielski, często własnym. Olbrzymia zasługa tłumaczeń tych wierszy należy się Jagnie Boraks (Lillian Boraks-Nemetz), którą potem poznałem w Vancouverze i do dziś bardzo cenię wymianę uwag z nią, stosunki serdeczno-koleżeńskie.  Tłumaczyła też wiersze innych polskich poetów. Ma duże zasługi dla polskiej poezji w tłumaczeniach na angielski.

Iwaniuka tomik wierszy który pierwszy czytałem był właśnie po angielsku. Więc takie te fragmenty tu będę przytaczał, bo tak jego poezję wtedy, w czasach młodości, poznałem.  Jeden krótki w całości. Jest w pewnym sensie kwintesencją jego poetyki, formy. Oszczędność, a przez to waga każdego słowa. Bo, powtórzę raz jeszcze: wiersz to nie ciągi zdań. Wiersz to słowa. Każde na wagę prawdy.

Madrigal

In love

As in all loves

The spine blushes.

Bones and muscles blossom.

Sheets inhale the beads of sweat.

Words are few

but they pierce the air.[vi]

Cóż więcej można powiedzieć współczesnym językiem poetyckim o miłości? Frazeologia tu zbyteczna, kiedy ‘pościel wdycha krople potu’. Metafora jest prosta, może nawet rażąca dla duszków bladolicych – ale jakże prawdziwa, szczera. I to znowu przypomnę: szczerość poety to sine qua non poezji współczesnej .

Iwaniuk też, jak tylu już tu wymienianych, ‘popełnił’ wiersz o poecie. Kim jest w jego wizji:

/ …/

Yes, he erects his signs

at each  turn

of his own painful labour,

similar to Homer’s marble voices.

/ …. /

Still some people wonder,

they regard such a poet as a charlatan

(not even an alchemist)

who has deformed words,

freed them from rules and principles

violating the sanctity of grammar,

to emerge finally with a distorted cento,

so painfully mutilated,

which he then calls

a poem.[vii]

Maja Elżbieta Cybulska w swojej pracy o Iwaniuku  pisze, że on ‘odpoetycznia’ poezję i ‘upoetyzowuje’ prozę.[viii] Sam Iwaniuk zaś w jednym z wierszy dodaje:

Nie wiem co jest prozą a co jest poezją

ale słowo gdy szczelnie pasuje do treści

smakuje jak owoc

i to jest chyba poezja. [ix]

Więc jednak wiedział i rozumiał. I odróżniał. Proste.

Zetknąłem się wówczas z wieloma innymi autorami emigracyjnymi i w Kanadzie i USA. Nie chcę wymieniać nazwisk, bo wszystkie pewnie bym już dziś nie spamiętał. Ale nikt, prócz wymienionych wyżej na mnie wówczas wrażenia takiego nie zrobił, jak ci poeci, których wspomniałem.  Jeszcze kilka lat później, na początku zamieszkania w Vancouverze, miałem możność dobrego i głębokiego poznania poezji wspaniałych (a jakże innych jeden od drugiego) Bogdana Czaykowskiego i Andrzeja Buszy. Wspólpracowałem z nimi blisko, publikowałem ich teksty w swoim roczniku twórczości „Strumień”.  Ale ‘gumkę’ lat musiałbym zbyt już naciągnąć, by tamten okres mógł nazwać czasem mojej młodości. Byłem już człowiekiem dojrzałym.

No i jeden jeszcze ‘szkopuł’ – umarło się śmiercią naturalną literaturze emigracyjnej. Zmiany polityczne w Polsce literaturę polską na nowo scaliły. Bez względu na to, gdzie mieszkał polski poeta. Bo ,narodowość’  poety i pisarza określa narzędziem twórczości. Czyli języka w jakim się tworzy.

[i] druga i trzecia zwrotka  oraz fragmenty 9-cio wersowej ostatniej zwrotki wiersza ‘Ulica’; s. 11 (B. Czaplicka, „Wiersze”, wyd. Polski Fundusz Wydawniczy, Toronto, 1986)

[ii] ibid  s. 49

[iii] z Pieśni ‘Na smierć Sulamity’, pierwsza stanza, s. 17 (J. Łobodowski, „Pamięci Sulamity”, wyd. Polski Fundusz Wydawniczy, Toronto, 1987)

[iv] ibid. s. 27

[v] ibid s. 52

[vi] ‘Madrigal’, s. 36, tł. Jagna Boraks (Wacław Iwaniu, „Dark times”, wyd. Hounslow Press, Canada, 1979)

[vii] ibid, z wiersza „Who calls what a poem”, fragmenty, s. 60, tł. Jagna Boraks

[viii] M. E. Cybulska „Wacław Iwaniuk – poeta”, s. 16 (wyd. Oficyna Poetów i Malarzy, Londyn, 1984

[ix] ibid. s.16

The success of the Polish film director in Canada’s premiere movie festival, TIFF.

by Piotr Jassem

“Green Border” movie poster (@Kino Świat)

I had a pleasure meeting Jason Gorber, a prominent Toroto-based movie critic, at the Green Border screening on Tuesday. Today, I have read his comment:

“A masterpiece from an underappreciated master of both big and small screen, Agnieszka Holland’s searing look at the refugee crisis on the border between Belarus and her native Poland is as profound as it is provocative.

The performances are astounding, the narrative horrifying, resulting in a story that’s deeply unsettling and emotionally raw.”

(below a Polish language version)

We wtorek, na projekcji Zielonej Granicy, miałem przyjemność poznać znanego krytyka filmowego z Toronto, Jasona Gorbera. Dziś przeczytałem jego komentarz:

“Arcydzieło niedocenianej mistrzyni dużego i małego ekranu Agnieszki Holland, jej wnikliwe spojrzenie na kryzys uchodźczy na granicy Białorusi z jej rodzinną Polską, jest tyleż głębokie, co prowokacyjne.

Gra aktorska wprawia w oslupienie, a narracja poraża, co skutkuje historią głęboko niepokojącą i emocjonalnie surową.

From “Pogwarki” editor: more reactions to Holland’s “Green Border’ reception on TIFF, follow the link to “New York Times” –https://www.nytimes.com/2023/09/15/movies/toronto-international-film-festival-highlights.html

Of Lovers and Friends and friends and lovers

Bogumil Pacak-Gamalski

Of lovers and friends. Of the most unfortunate ones, who were friends and became lovers. Oscar Wilde once described that dilemma clearly. And trust me – he knew a thing or two about it. Yes, of course, I’m taking off that famous line from the Ballad of Reading Gaol. Yes, yes – that line: ‘Yet each man kills the thing he loves’, which is followed, by the end of that stanza, with: ‘The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!’[i].  The year was 1898, he was just recently released from prison in England. Went soul, heart, and financially broken to France, to try to re-established himself. Of course, too late. Just the Ballad remained, a shadow of a once proud, elegant poet, a member of society. With the misfortune of falling in love with some rich boy. Who, with tears or glee (who knows) sold him to the gallows trying to save his own skin (and father’s money, naturally).

Thus, boys and girls alike, for heaven’s sake – do not fall in love with your friends. Rather, become friends with your lovers.

Narcissus and Echo by John. W. Waterhouse

In the Prologue to the “Alchemist”[ii], Paulo Coelho writes beautifully the story of Narcissus’s death. Of course, Coelho would not have been such an amazing writer, if he had merely repeated the thousands years old story told already hundreds of times by others.  No, he added a sweet surprise at the end. So humanely grotesque (as all Greek gods stories were): when the goddesses of the forest came to the Lake, where gorgeous Narcissus drowned, they asked the Lake: Why do you weep? and expectedly the Lake replied I weep for Narcissus. The goddesses were understanding, they themselves chased the boy through the forest, trying to see his famous beauty, the beloved of Apollo himself. And they admitted to the Lake, with a hint of jealousy, that although they pursued the boy, the Lake alone could see his beauty the best.  At that moment the old story takes a different, shocking turn when the Lake replies: But… was Narcissus beautiful? A conversation ensues, as expected. The goddesses explained that obviously since Narcissus so often admired his own reflection in the Lake waters, the Lake must have noticed his beauty. The Lake paused, thought, and after a while replied: I weep for Narcissus, but I never noticed that Narcissus was beautiful. I weep because, each time he knelt beside my banks, I could see, in the depths of his eyes, my own beauty reflected[ii]. What an amazing twist to the old tale! I love writers and poets, who tell us: oh, come on! don’t be timid – allow yourself to dream, to tell the secret and true thoughts, and desires. Mirror, mirror – tell me if I am … . LOL  

Thus, be a friend of your lover. Avoid the terrible pitfalls of friends, who become lovers. There are really very few brave souls, who survived the utter honesty of true friendship in forming eroto-romantic union. Poor Andre Gide felt forced to explain his “Immoralist”[iii] by the timid (and so obviously false, LOL) words in the Preface to his little, yet so sweet book. Thank God at the very end he was able to utter the most powerful explanation in the history of art: To say the truth, in art, there are no subjects, which only sufficient explanation is the art itself[iii]. O! Little critics with overblown moralistic egos – be quiet already. You are not a philosopher but a scribe jealous of a writer.

The dilemma of choosing if a friend could be a lover was a paralyzing complexity for Jean Genet in his amazingly honest story of “Prisoner of Love”[iv]. More so even, because it is intertwined with the love and passion for the Palestinian cause.  Did he consummate his love for the Palestinian boy or was it just a Platonic passion? The powerful novel/memoirs, written in France (his last work, shortly before his death), were treated as not very important literary achievements. Au contraire, mes amis – it is one of his best. Powerful, very deep psychologically, insightful. This book and a little (in size comparison) booklet “Out of Place”[v] by great intellectual Edward Said taught me much more than any historian about Palestine and its tragic People ever could. But it is a different subject.

How can you write about friends and lovers without mentioning three amazing people: Polish writer/intellectual and modus vivendi of Parisian art circles – Konstanty Jeleński; his wife, famous Spanish-Italian surrealist painter Leonor Fini[vi] and Italian aristocrat, painter and diplomat Stanislao Lepri. All of them lived happily and joyfully in sexual and friendship union until their deaths. How did they survive all the pitfalls of such a union? I personally believed that that Jelenski and Lepri were the primary lovers most of all, and Fini was their artistic, crazy, and much senior femme fatale.

In 1995 Jelenski invited me to visit him in Paris.  But, when I finally arrived – his sprawling and beautiful apartment on rue de la Vrilliere was a circus in full swing. Leonor was just preparing her special exposition in the Senate of the French Republic.  Paintings were everywhere: on sofas, on beds, on chairs. And people were constantly coming and going. Friends from all over Europe. Poor Kot felt so bad, I had a chuckle. He quickly rented me a room in a small hotel nearby, on rue Croix des Pettits Champs. I was happy, telling you the truth. My gosh, I was young then, and Paris and her evenings and nights were so … appealing? Appealing, for sure, LOL. This way he had more time to concentrate on the crisis at hand (Leonor’s Exhibition) and I could concentrate on things (shall we say?) not only intellectual. Hmmm. After all – late evening walks along the Seine could be very  … exciting? Enough said.

But back to friends and lovers – Leonor, Konstanty (Kot or Kocik in Polish – sort of French un minou, which definitely would be a much more proper name for Jelenski, who was truly a very sweet guy), and Stanislao.  How did they survive for so long? Especially that at the beginning there was one more constant female shadow – a true femme fatale of their ménage à trois: Konstanty’s formidable mother. Madame Rena Jelenska de domo Skarzynska, from very old Polish nobility. Rena couldn’t stand Leonor. She didn’t mind at all (was actually fond of him) Stanislao Lepri. But that old crazy Spanish whore?! Poor Kot. Even more tragic because he actually truly loved both women: his mother and Leonor. But on the subject of staying together till death – I think that Kot, Leonor, and Stanislao could because actually, they all slept with each other (separately at the beginning, I assume) before they became friends. They were the happy part of the equation: lovers, who become friends.

Last but not least here is a more modern case of brilliant Irish novelist Colm Toibin in his multi-layered novel “The Story of the Night”[vii]. 

The novel is truly a masterpiece of combining so many complicated subjects and themes without losing for a moment the personal story of its protagonist – Richard Garay.  Richard leads many lives: English, Argentinian, artist, businessman, even (for a brief moment) politician. But most of all – gay in a very macho dominant male world of South America. Another constant is the presence of his dear friends: Susan and Donald.

The writer (himself an openly gay writer) does not shy from describing many of Richard’s lovers and one-night encounters. But it is the brief encounter of sexual attraction revealed by Richard toward his straight friend Donald that warrants mentioning. Encounter – which is important to note – planned by Donald. He ‘just’ wanted to check if, as he suspected, Richard was homosexual … .  No sexual encounter ever happened. But, yes – it couldn’t be denied that Richard was aroused and willing. Even the fact that the act itself was never consummated – it changed their friendship dramatically. In some way, it wounded it mortally.

Therefore, my dear boys and girls, please take it as the wisdom of almost god (meaning me, naturally). If you must experience the forbidden truth and fornicate, please choose a stranger rather than a friend. With a stranger, you have nothing to lose (other than your presumed virginity). If you are lucky the experience will bring you a lot of joy and satisfaction, at worst – it will be a disappointment (first times often are, nothing to be ashamed of). With a friend, the stakes are much higher and sometimes lasting lifelong bitterness or guilt.

And do read a good book before. Not really educational. A good literary book. Like one of these mentioned above.

[i] Selected Poems of Oscar Wilde including the Ballad of Reading Gaol, by Oscar Wilde; CreateSpace Publishing Platform, 2017; p. 56

[ii] „The Alchemist”, Paulo Coelho; pub. Harper One, 1993; p. 197

[iii] “Immoralista”, Andre Gide, by Wyd. Zielona Sowa, Cracow, 2006 (Polish translation by I. Rogozinska)

[iv] „Zakochany Jeniec”, Jean Genet; wyd. W.A.B, Warszawa, 2012; p. 486 (Polish translation by J. Giszczak)

[v] „Out of Place”, Edward Said; Random House, 1999

[vi] https://rynekisztuka.pl/2011/12/16/leonor-fini-i-konstanty-a-jelenski-portret-podwojny-w-warszawie/

[vii] “The Story of The Night”, Colm Toibin; McClelland&Stewart Inc., Toronto, 1997; p. 312

Alors – encore une fois, s’il vous plaît

by: Bogumil Pacak-Gamalski

These words often came to mind, seriously and in a playful mode, during my last Saturday visit to venerable Music Conservatory in Halifax.

First of all – finally something different than baroque music that seem to be in a bloodstream of Maritime musicians (or Cecilia Concerts –   most popular,  almost singularly exclusive organizer of  musical performances). Who doesn’t love Vivaldi and Bach? We all do! No, not so much. Not all and not all the time, anyway. Specially in my case. The same canons and styles repeated thousand times with slightly different arrangement and these funny rococo dresses, white powder and astonishing wigs  – could make you bit nauseating  … .

Halifax venerable Conservatory of Music

No this time, no. That was the music at its most glorious times. The times of Beethoven and Brahms. An ornamental intermezzo with less known (for a good reason) English composer Frank Bridge separated the German giants of great music. Immortal music. 

Whenever I am in Berlin and walk through the Tiergarten (Berlin’s Hyde Park), I like to go and sit on bench near the monuments of German’s giants of music: Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven. Only a short distance further is monument of Wagner. Never saw any of Brahms in Berlin. His famous and wonderful monument is in Vienna and modern, symbolic style sculpture in his native Hamburg –  that one I have seen many times as it is located just a stone throw away from my favored walking park in Hamburg – Planten un Blumen.  But enough of cities, monuments and parks I like to walk in. Back to music. In Halifax, not in Germany.

Let’s start with absolutely wonderful and musically very mature Gryphon Trio of Annalee Patipatanakoon (violin), Roman Borys (cello), Jamie Parker (piano). With addition of equally talented and very energetic  Ryan Davis (viola) it made brilliant quartet.

It is such an immense pleasure to listen to musicians, who effortlessly play with such unison and harmony! Each could be and indeed is a soloist in her/his right. But as member of an musical ensemble they become one. All the strings combined sounded like they were played by one soul with many hands. No unnecessary showmanship but unity in sound, tempo and tone.

Pianist Jamie Parker and his style of playing was very familiar to me. By no accident, of course. Parker studied in Vancouver under the tutelage of no one other than Lee Kum Sing. I recalled many long chats with Lee Kum Sing about his method of preparing young pianists to stage career. And the many traps and very insidious mannerism that lurks for musicians hungry of applause.  In early middle and conservatory level musical schools, teachers tend to tech how to play an instrument. But are very oblivious to the teachings of public expressions and stage unforgivable atmosphere. It is only in later years, if they are lucky enough, that they might found someone, who would teach them that. Someone, who has a stage/soloist experience. Typical music teacher in a conservatory or even an university is good theorist, good musician – but failed or couldn’t even begin a soloist career. It takes stamina, courage, perseverance and clear vision to become one.

In Halifax Conservatory the  hall was full. I was pleasantly surprise that a large section of the audience was below the typical here custom of silvery hair covering age of substantial life experience.  Not that there is nothing wrong with it. Especially if that composure still hides an eternal youth! No, it simply saddens me often that so many young people avoid such experience of good music. Chances are that if you don’t get that shot early in your life – you will never discover the beauty of so called classical music (I despise the term myself – music has only two genres: good and bad, period). And it is, for most part, a good music. Music that expands your horizons, your emotionality.

Anyhow – my luck this evening resulted in choosing my seat – between two empty seats. Alas, empty not for long. Just before the music started playing – two very young men sat on both sides of me, LOL. Probably below the age of twenty. 

Music. How to begin? A good suggestion would be: play most likely the absolute god of all music. The incomparable Ludwig van Beethoven.  And why not a composition, when The Great One was founding his totally unique, own musical style. The Piano Trio No.5 in D major, opus 70.

That composition (also known simply as a “Ghost’ – often combined with Macbethian origin) is superb on many levels. And is has been many years since I heard it full in a concert hall.

They began. The strings play the Allegro vivace wonderfully. Every note is essential, not replaceable.  The cello seems to lead dancing guests, the tempo and direction of the troupe. You can see the dancing group of guests in some forest, some meadow.  Very diminutive, quite sound of piano is somewhere, far away, only in moments yet it seems so constant. The sound of air around.

Then comes the Largo. Totally different in every aspect from I and 2 part. Ghostly indeed. My mind for split second jumps to memory of Ravel’s ‘Gaspar the la Nuit’.  Naturally, my comparison would have been absolutely alien to Beethoven as he died many years before Ravel composed ‘Gaspar’.   But the atmosphere is there. Specially in the piano parts. The piano plays here the leading part, the strings follow.

Presto returns to the happy  yet,  majestically vibrant procession like in Allegro, albeit in different melody and  more robust tempo.

After that trio I was sold fully. Uncanny-funny  side note: large city surroundings offer sometime surprises even for much more solid stages. It did during this concert in a perfect moment – during Largo. Distant noise of flying nearby helicopter.  I noticed some listeners were petrified. I found it very amusing and … interesting. In Largo, that distant monotonous sound was like a military drums of funeral march.  It fit the music very well.

After a short intermezzo the stage is taken by our pianist and the youngest but not lacking in talent, viola soloist, Ryan Davis. They both played a two short pieces of British composer from the turn of XIX and XX century, Frank Bridge. Bridge was , at his time and place, very well-known player of viola. These two compositions (Pensiero and Allegro Appossionato) are a good testament of his knowledge of the instrument. I see it mostly as an ornamental music, what we would call today: popular music. And I am sure it was popular in London’s salons of that time. It certainly allowed Davies to shine as an exceptionally musical viola player. In Allegro he was brilliant.

In music, the term pensiero  would be closer to largo in character and meaning. It represents  a heavy, uneasy thought, longing. The most brilliant representation of it would be, of course, no other than the music of Verdi in his unforgettable choir in Nabucco – Va , pensiero, sull’ali dorate . Frank Bridge composition definetly is not sull’ali dorate (… on golden wings). But it is pleasant to listen to.  

Last but by any means not least, comes Johannes Brahms complicated Piano Quartet No. 1 in G minor. Brahms was so absorbed in his own prestige, in his almost neurasthenic fear of not living up to the greatest of greats in music, that he worked on his pieces over and over for years at a time. Changing note here, tempo there or even scale. The end was mostly brilliant composition but, at times (I think) it lacks soul. Music must be a story. A story of epic proportions, human story of struggle: in grief and in joy, despair and happiness.  It is very original construction of musical subjects unfinished, un-ended. As sentence ending many times without a period. Sentence beautiful, nonetheless.

I think that it must pose a challenge for musicians to play it, to find the right pace and continuity. I thought that the Gryphon Trio with Ryan Davies played it splendidly.

You truly start to like it, to have sort of understanding of the music, in the middle of part two (Intermezzo – Allegro) and 3rd part (Andante con moto) brings some continuity and lyrical story to follow, to imagine.

Finally comes Rondo alla Zingarese. One of the most intense finale of the entire period in music. Let me use more precise, elegant terminology:  it is insane, it is crazy. And it is wonderful.  How does it end? It doesn’t! When you are sure that a powerful finale stopped playing and you are just about to jump to your feet with applause – the musicians play another finale, almost identical but not exactly. And again, and again … .

Even if you are not the greatest fun of the serious music – please go once to a concert of Johannes Brahms Piano Quartet N.1 in G-major, op. 25. And if you absolutely can’t stand this type of music – stay away for the first 3 parts – but, for Heaven’s sake, come back to listen to Rondo alla Zingarese.  It will change your opinion of so called ‘classical music’! I guarantee it. You might even scream at the end:  encore une fois, s’il vous plaît !

The Gryphon Trio with Ryan Davis concert in Halifax, April 29, 2023

Ci, którym sztandary nie kłaniały się …

Każda wojna, każda rewolucja, każde powstanie jest brzemienne w mity, legendy chwały i bohaterstwa. Cmentarze ze szczerniałymi od starości krzyżami, z białymi brzozowymi krzyżami, małe kapliczki i tabliczki po lasach, na rogach ulic, tynkach kamienic. I wielkie pominiki z marmuru, granitu, stali. I nazwiska-symbole dowódców, żołnierzy. Ma też bardów. Zwłaszcza tych, którzy polegli w walce, jak Baczyński lub Gajcy. Każda wojna, walka na śmierć i życie ma też setki nieznanych lub bardzo mało znanych młodych poetów, twórców sztuki, którzy tej wojny, tej walki nie przetrwali, a przedwczesna śmierć uniemożliwiła im rozwój talentu, publikacje. Twórcze zaistnienie w historii swojego kraju. Więc, gdy rocznica już siedemdziesiata ósma Powstania Warszawszkeigo nadeszła – nic nie pisałem na jakichkolwiek forach i w jakimkolwiek formacie. Dajmy im już usnąć, bo ten ciągle powracający szmer i walka słów o sens tej hekatomby już zbyteczny. Historia. Teraz zwłaszcza, gdy nikt prawie z tch, co o tym opinie wydają w tamtym czasie nie istniał. Nawet w zamysle rodziców. Nawet Powstania Styczniowego i jego przywódców tak nie szarpano, jak tych z tego 1944.

Teraz, blisko dziesięć dni od tej daty wybuchu Powstania, od jego obchodów chcę jednak przypomnieć, poniekąd symbolicznie tych, o których w tych obchodach nie wspominano. Tych nie znanych lub prawie nieznanych, bardzo młodych żołnierzach-poetach Armii Krajowej. Skłoniła mnie do tego wymiana zdań z dyrektorem Książnicy Pruszkowkiej, który w tych obchodach w Pruszkowie pod Warszawą brał udział. Bo przypomniało mi to postać Stanisława Kowalczyka, wyjątkowo uzdolnionego poety, o którym bez wątpienia, gdyby tą wojne i ten rok 1944 przeżył, byśmy usłyszeli dużo więcej, a literatura polska miałaby nowy, piękny rozdział. 23 sierpnia 1944 ta nadzieja, ta szansa na nowe publikacje, nowe wiersze – zgasła.

Poniżej publikuję zdjęcie ze stron rocznika “Strumień” (wydanie z 2007) z moim esejem na temat jego twórczości.

Sam, w latach gdy w Pruszkowie mieszkałem (sypiałem raczej, bo mieszkałem de facto w Warszawie, gdzie żył cały mój świat) lubiłem tą drogę do Pęcic. I od tegoż, 2007 roku, na zawsze już mi się z Kowalczykiem będzie ona kojarzyć. Więc: non omnis moriar – dla mnie, Polaka całe życie z literaturą związanego, Stanisław Kowalczyk na zawsze tej literatury ważnym fragmentem pozostał.

Musings on music, art and it’s poetry and echo of Jean-Luc Therrien concert

Bogumil Pacak-Gamalski

When I was a young admirer of classical music, I sought well established, famous musicians. To be at a concert of someone known to be a master, virtuoso of an instrument. To listen to music played the way the music ought to be played. Orchestral or solo, chamber type or powerful experience of full orchestra in a symphony directed by an admired director!  Ah, for young, hungry for excellence youth – that was the pinnacle. I am glad I did it. Solid base, fundament is very helpful. For as long as you are not too timid (I wasn’t) to allow yourself to freely like or dislike certain composition, specific type of music. Art is not a religion. Art is freedom foremost. Of course, it didn’t hurt that I lived in a big city, that was very well known for its affinity for music and no shortage of good concert halls, musicians –  Warsaw. Even in communist times (or perhaps in spite of it), culture flourished in Poland. And (that must be acknowledged) it was affordable, fully supported by the government. The results were not always pleasant for the authorities but wonderful for the public. Art schools of all sorts and levels were also heavily subsidized by the communists. And art was our escape from the dreary and boring life around. There was no shortage of exceptionally talented people in every field of culture. The most difficult task was for writers, the easiest for musicians. Visual arts were somewhere in between. With written or spoken word your intentions (freedom, truth) were clearly visible, audible. So writers and poets had to manipulate, use so called ‘writing in between the lines’ technique. But musicians could escape they eye and furry of the censor much easier.  Particularly (as often was the case) if the censor was not very perceptive or of more feeble then intellectual mind. As it is often the case with censors.

That solid base allowed me to be comfortable to change my tastes in music and musicians. With time I preferred live concerts with younger, knew players, voices, sounds. The masters, after all, are always within arm’s reach on the vinyl, CD’s, online.

It is a marvelous journey to observe a young player blossoming, becoming mature musician. How his playing changes and goes through a metamorphosis. It is thanks to these players that an old, sometime very old, sheet of music that you have heard so many times – becomes alive again, young, vibrant. As it should. The composer might be gone long time ago but the music must be kept alive, current. Otherwise a concert is like a visit in a museum – interesting, enriching but often too long, tiring at the end. Canons are important for technical reasons, not for spirited interpretation. The overwhelming desire must be always kept on the essence of art and being an artist: what story I have to offer to the listener? What is my commentary on beauty or philosophy, ethics and esthetics to a contemporary listener? Of course, the trick is to remain respectful and true to the notes written often very long ago. Being always aware that circumstances and habits change with epochs. But human soul, dreams, emotions remain the same for millennia. Therefore you must try to find in the composition and your study of the composer biography, that inner message, the emotion that should be immortal. The story of human condition. And you, the pianist, violinist, trumpeter, flautist, guitarist must tell the story in your own voice. We, the audience must believe that you are telling us your own story. Just like Hamlet on the theater stage should no longer belong only to Shakespeare – you must become that Hamlet and it must be a contemporary voice. It must be your desire, your despair or triumph that will move us.

Just playing good, properly adhering to the tempo, intervals, tonality, melody will not do much for art. It might be proper, might be even elegant. But it lacks creativity. Just because you go every Sunday to a church to attend mass, know the hymns, the prayers – does not make you pious. In this way art and religion are very similar indeed: they require fervor and passion in the ultimate consumption.

Have been lucky to observe, over the years, many carriers and artists. Known some of them personally, with some have even become friends (that is rewarding but also difficult for someone who writes about their art). Some exceptional, others less but still truthful to their search. Still, others have given up the stage for the safety of teaching careers in musical schools, in academia. Stage is not for everybody. It could be a terrifying place. But it also offers the freedom to fly, to soar. Just make sure that your wings are strong. Rewards could be amazing.

On April 30th, at the evening, I drove over hundred kilometres from Halifax to Lunenburg to listen to a young pianist, Jean-Luc Therrien. He was just about to end (except for one more concert in Antigonish) his tour of Debut Atlantic, well established artistic venue supported by Canada Council for the Arts. Afterwards, I planned to write a review of the concert. But life, at times, has other plans for us and I had to postpone writing it. To a point that typical review becomes obsolete. Your own memory and emotions are no longer as vivid as a day or two later.  Yet, I wanted to mention it and the pianist, for it was a very good musical experience. Worth mentioning.

Alas, on that day I drove to Lunenburg in search of that young passion in music, for new musical meeting with new pianist. Almost like on a first date: with a bit of tension and trepidation but excited and looking forward to it.

The setting was similar to my previous concert outing in Halifax, in St. Andrew United Church, with acclaimed pianist Richard-Hamelin and a young cellist Cameron Crozman. Again, Therrien concert was in an old, Central United Church, with beautiful stain glasses, settled in district filled with gorgeous old churches.

It was such a shame that the venue wasn’t either advertised properly to local community (considering the fact that Lunenburg and its neighbour, Mahon Bay, are  small towns with densely populated smaller downtowns) or the locals are interested only in tourist dollars, not in supporting and admiring culture. The small audience that gathered inside was definitely not disappointed. And the young, smiling and very pleasant pianist did not show lack of enthusiasm for music or respect for listeners.

Perhaps the opening piece, Prelude et dance op.24 by Jacques Hétu was the most difficult to play. Not only for the fact that this Canadian (from Quebec) contemporary composer is probably not very popularly known. It is composed with extensive pedal work and requires a strong, modern piano. I’m afraid that the old, venerable grand piano of Heitzman (best Canadian piano maker in XX century) could not fully reproduce the sound that Hétu intended. Yet, definitely it was a very interesting composition and I listened to it with great interest.

The next part paid off any misgivings in multifold. Third part of great Suite bergamasque – one of the most played and loved Clair de Lune. Heard it so many times played by the greatest pianists. But chased away any thoughts of any comparisons, which would have been unfair. Let the young man play it the way he hears it in his soul. And he did. Maybe a bit timid at the very first phrases but the rest was beautiful. So poetic. With that interpretation he sold me. The rest of the concert I just enjoyed myself.

Jean-Luc Therrien is definitely an emotional pianist. His music comes not only through his fingertips but also from his heart and soul. It is not yet pristine and fully disciplined technically, but it flourishes by full emotional immersion of the pianist. You can always improve your technical skills if talent, luck and perseverance gives a long stage career. But that God’s given touch of emotionality cannot be learnt, it must reside in your soul from the very beginning.

That was seen also in somewhat diabolic prelude of Debussy: the F-sharp minor “What the west wind saw” – fast paced and full of arpeggios composition not for timid pianists.

Therrien finished this part by playing one of the giants of romanticism (Debussy personal hero) Franz Liszt Mefisto Waltz No.1. I must admit that I never liked that composition and do not see it as a musical achievement of this great Romantic pianist and composer.  Therefore can’t offer my personal opinion on Jean-Luc Therrien play of it. It sounded proper – that’s all I can say.

Second part of the concert was difficult and challenging for any pianist. Introduction of modern Canadian composer from Alberta, David McIntyre in “A wild innocence“. It was very short and technically interesting. But in a whole – lacking artistic musical purpose. I suppose, since the entire tour is organized traditionally  by Canadian Council of Arts – the repertoire must include domestic contemporary composers.

True challenge and musical artistic genius was brought by the final piece, Sergei Prokofiev Sonata no.2 op. 4. It is very transformative music composed in times of great upheavals and changes in artistic expression. It is also affected by personal sorrow of Prokofiev due to sudden and tragic death of his close personal friend. Yet, as a true artist, the composer packed the score with much deeper, philosophical discord of great changes on the horizon of humankind. It has parts that seem almost too easy, almost not worthy the title ‘classical music’. Somewhat reminds me of music by Gershwin on the other side of Atlantic at the same time. But it is all misleading. The ‘easiness’ of these parts underscores the other parts of the compositions. One compliments the other. It speaks in new language, different of languages of Debussy, of Liszt, Chopin and Mozart. I thought that Therrien played it splendidly. Emotionally and with great musicality. I could clearly see young Prokofiev overwhelmed with sadness of losing very close friend and escaping to memories and happy times, melodies and finding somehow peace in the finale were he brings all the rhythms, all the movements of previous parts into conclusion. With somewhat stoic understanding, even moments of lightness: nothing is forever, nothing is given in perpetuity. Neither in private life nor in world habits, styles, epochs.  

It was very nice that the small group of listeners  wanted to show the pianist how much they enjoyed his concert and did everything not to stop clapping and almost forced him for a bis. He definitely gave us all big joy and pleasure. The pianist obliged and play a small piece of Robert Schuman’s music. Elegant but not empty. In times of Schuman, in between musical epochs, compositions had to be formed elegantly, while a good composer still could enrich them with true meaning, thought or emotion. Many things could be said about Schuman as a composer – but never that his compositions were not a good music.

Therrien recorded two CD that are worth mentioning: Piano Preludes by American-Spanish label Orpheus Classical ( Claude Debussy Book 1 of Preludes and Franz Liszt Symphonic Poem no.3, S.97 (nota bene: Liszt was the father of this musical form). Therrien arranged it himself for solo piano.

Second of these recording is a CD produced by French label Klarthe. It contains an array of fantaisies by many composers played by duo of Jean-Samuel Bez (violin) and Jean-Luc Therrien (piano, of course).

Of these two recordings, I particularly liked the ‘Piano Preludes’ produced by Orpheus Classical.

Cello and piano

Cello and piano

by Bogumil Pacak-Gamalski

Stainglass windows in St. Andrew Church

Live music. On stage. Not through live stream or any other video, electronic, mechanical transmission. I had an immense need to be there again, missed it so much … .

Tierras Oscuras – Flamenco en Rouge

On November 16, 2021, during a timid opening of any live performances, I was able to attend a local (from Halifax and Cape Breton) performance of powerful storytelling mixing the musical fire of Andalusia and hard life of miners in times gone in Cape Breton. The audience at the Pier 21 Canadian Museum of Immigration was small, seats sparsely placed. There were no renowned, world class dancers, singers, players. But what a power, what a spirit of true flamenco! I was riveted, mesmerized and at the same time had a hard time not to join them on stage (after all – flamenco is an art of mature performer, who knows the taste of victory and defeat – not a juvenile, who knows only how to boast, not understanding the meaning of it all). After the performance I had a chance to chat with all of the performers and made sure they were aware how beautiful their storytelling was, how dramatic and well prepared. And, of course, a long chat about the history of flamenco, of Andalusia.

But it did not quenched my thirst for more formal  setting and opportunity of listening to great music played by great artists and composed by geniuses.

It came finally with an opening of popular impresario, the Cecilia Concert organization responsible (for many years now) for organizing such events in Greater Halifax.

The concert of world renowned and one of the best Canadian pianist, Charles Richard-Hamelin and young cellist, but already recognizable and with growing musical prestige, Cameron Crozman.  

There is some semblance in physique of Richard-Hamelin and the great winner of 1970 Warsaw Chopin International Piano Competition, Garrick Ohlsson. I think that there might be also a slight similarity in their style of piano playing (and such perceived connectivity would not be something to frown about, as Ohlsson is a giant among Chopin’s interpreters). The Warsaw Chopin Competition is indeed something very special among players. It serves as a spring board to fame of almost all of their finalists and definitely makes the winner career a fait accompli. Charles Richard-Hamelin is no exception. In 2015 he received Silver Medal at that Competition and very prestigious Krystian Zimerman (himself a former winner at the Competition and a player of enormous statue) Prize for best performance of Chopin’s sonata. The 2015 Competition was the first time I heard Richard-Hamelin. As I did (in Warsaw) in 1970 Olhsson playing. The next one, in 1975, was the triumph of Zimerman and I remember it as vividly as it would have been yesterday – he just mesmerized the audience. For a teenager (as myself at that time) that was as big as winning the Soccer World Cup. Speaking of Canadian pianist and the Warsaw Competition one can’t forget to mention the last one in 2021 and the amazing victory of another Canadian – Bruce Liu. I have wrote a bit about it on these pages in November 8, 2021.

Pianist are, undoubtedly, the top class in fame and splendour of all other instruments among classical music stars. In a way – the prima donnas of musicians. But that does not take away from other instruments. Especially if there is a good marriage between a good composition and a good player. Cello player is always in demand for transporting notes, that no other instrument can portray as good as that soft sound. Just listen to some recordings of unforgettable cellist, Pablo Casals. No other instrument can convey such an array of emotions as those venerable strings. The violin, its’ diminutive cousin, produces beautiful sound but lacks the depth of the tone coming from very limited resonance (due to the size difference).

Cameron Crozman, at age 26, is definitely the raising star in Canada among cello players. Not only in Canada, though. His talent was noticed and rewarded by many world-class orchestras and directors, especially  chamber music ensembles. For me, the concert in Halifax was the first chance to hear him playing. I am very glad, I did.

Bach, Franck and Chopin

  

The first of compositions was one of only six cello suites composed by J.S Bach – the Suite No. 2 in D minor. Probably written after the death of his first wife, Maria Barbara in 1720. The Bach suites are among ones of most popular music played by cellists. But it wasn’t the case during his lifetime and after his death. They were almost completely forgotten and many musicians were not even aware that he wrote such music. It was not until great cellist, Pablo Casals, re-discovered them as a teenager in a second-hand shop in Barcelona in 1889.  It wasn’t until 1936 when he recorded them in London for first time. Since then, they become one of the most popular solo pieces for cellists around the world. There is even dispute among scholars whether Bach originally wrote them not for cello da gamba but for smaller, over the shoulder, viola da spalla. Suite No. 5 was originally composed for lute.

As entire baroque music, they are strictly structured in prelude and a string of Renaissance/baroque dances. In this case: allemande, courante, sarabande, minuet and gigue.

The slightly austere, neo gothic church of St. Andrew, with beautiful stained glasses on walls of the main nave and stained glass rosette behind the altar/stage provided perfect setting for this music. And the acoustic was wonderful as the young cellist with red hair sat to his instrument. The music flowed so nicely. His left hand showed the elegance of every note, tone and interval of this composition. I was specially taken by the fourth part, the Sarabande and the vision of evening stroll of Bach through the cobblestones of German city, remembering places he visited with his wife, reminiscing their time together. Formal, very courtly Minuet ensues as in saying that life goes on and times brings closure. Final part is in a form of Gigue and is a typical epilogue for typical baroque suite. Can’t understand that rigid formality from my perspective of XX century man, as Gigue is the last melody I would have used for this type of composition. Yet, it must be said that the Gigue in Suite No. 2 is far from lively dance of Italian gentry. Yes, it has the rhythm and melody – but used in such a way that it becomes a music of accepting life as it goes on. I thought that Crozman played that part superbly, more in a reflective than virtuosic style.

Belgian born but Parisian by choice composer Cesar Frank (1822-1890) is definitely not a canon of modern concert halls and performances. I know I have heard his music before – but if asked, I would have to strain myself immensely to remember that music. Although envisioned by his father as piano player (a solid career in Romantic times Europe) – he ended up playing organs in one of the big churches in Paris and later become a professor of organ music in Paris Conservatory in 1872. And finally had time to prove to the world that he is a talented composer. One of his monumental work (and monumental it is in its form, character and, let’s say – weight?) that I have never heard before (of that I am sure because it is really hard to forget such curiosity) is the Prelude, Aria et Final, Opus 23.

I am very glad that Charles Richard-Hamelin gave a very good explanation of this composition. It helped a lot. It consists of Allegro moderato a maestoso (Prelude); Lento (Aria) and Allegro molto ed agitato (Final). From these musical terms – allow me to offer less serious tone – two describe it the best: maestoso and agitato. The least one is moderato. It also shows that if you cook for many years Indian cuisine, when suddenly you make Beef Wellington, you add to it Indian spices.  The result could be interesting, maybe even tasty – but it is not Beef Wellington. Specially in Paris. Franck played for many ears on huge organs  at St. Clotilde Basilica. That colossal instrument could not only swallow many concert pianos of Paris, it also had so many leg and hand operated pedals, stops and keyboards (yes, the large ones have more than one keyboard) that the listener could really think that heavens opened up and filled the air with its’ own music. But Franck decided to do the same on the piano.

Thanks’ heaven the Yamaha grand piano C7X comes with the third, middle pedal called sostenuto. It is a version of the sustain (left) pedal but operates only on chosen string/notes. It gives the ability to produce a sound that resembles organ pipes. But one must not overuse it. In this case, Richard-Hamelin had to. To say it plainly – that composition is a colossus that requires not only amazing technique from the player, it also requires a big physical stamina. I am so grateful that he possess both. I have no idea what poetic purpose that composition serves – but it was amazing to listen to it. Enjoyed it very much just for the sheer sense of showmanship and absolute control of the instrument by the player. Now, thanks to Charles-Hamelin, I will always remember the music of Franck. Probably not choose to go to concert hall to listen to it again, but definitely remember it.

After a short intermission we were served the main course: beautiful sonata for cello and piano by lyrical master of Romanticism, Frederic Chopin. The opus 65 sonata in G minor was composed in 1846 and dedicated to Chopin’s close friend of many years, cellist Auguste-Joseph Franchomme.

Both of them collaborated and co-composed earlier a Grand Duo Concertant for piano and cello (in E major, numbered as B. 70) that received very favorable opinion of Schumann. The sonata is fully composed by Chopin and it’s cello part was not composed in any part by Franchomme, although it is more than likely that both Chopin sought advice and opinion of his dear friend. That might be the source of somewhat strange and not necessarily wise comment of our young cellist, Cameron Crozman, in an introduction, that the cello has stronger and weaker parts, the stronger being possibly composed by Franchomme. There is no musical literature that would support such strange assumption.

The sonata has special historical meaning in Chopin’s life: it would be the last composition of Chopin and the premiere in Salle Pleyel on Feb. 16, 1848 was his last public concert in Paris. Unfortunately, the Paris premiere omitted the first part (Allegro moderato). That was corrected by Franchomme shortly after his friend death, as the cellist returned to Salle Pleyel on April 6, 1853 and played (with Thomas Tellefsen, also Chopin’s friend and pupil, as pianist) the entire sonata. Louise Dublin, a world renowned cellist, wrote in her excellent blog on Aguste-Joseph Franchomme, that the second premiere was received enthusiastically and quotes respected and feared (by musicians) Paris critic of that time: “The main piece was a sonata by Chopin for cello and piano…the piece has something intimate and mysterious, everything in it is plaintive and melancholic… Franchomme, on his eloquent cello, found admirable expression, giving the beautiful melodies of Chopin a penetrating sweetness, full of religious poetry.” .

Of course, no recording of this prapremiere and premiere concerts exists, therefore it is impossible to compare that play with the performance of Cameron Crozman and Charles Richard-Hamelin in Halifax.

The only reflection could be my own satisfaction, pleasure or lack of it.  And satisfied I was, very much indeed. It is worth mentioning that the duo of these two musician was a premiere in its’ own right. They have never played together before. But the partnership sounded very good and pleasant. Despite Crozman earlier spoken remarks, I have not noticed the ‘weaker’ and ‘better’ parts of his viola da gamba. All was played softly, poetically. In my short notes, that I tend to take at concerts, I wrote: what a beautiful conversation of two instruments! In scherzo and largo it was like a dance of two souls and such a nice, like echo, repetition of viola’s themes by piano.  It all closes with very elegant marriage of the two scales: G minor and corresponding major in allegro. Sort of mini danse du triomphe.

VCS Gala Concert in Vancouver’s Playhouse Theater

Bogumił Pacak-Gamalski
/synopsis in English – full article in Polish below/

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R. Blechacz, Vancouver, May 22, 2018 /photo: B. Pacak-Gamalski/

Vancouver Chopin Society presented on April 22, at the Playhouse Theater, a concert of Rafał Blechacz—one of the best pianists of his generation.  It was not the first time Blechacz performed in Vancouver—the same society gave us the opportunity twice before: in May 12, 2013 and May 02, 2008.  In 2013 (at Chan Centre) it was a special Gala Performance for the Society’s 15 Anniversary, this year it was the 20th Anniversary. Are we to conclude that next time Blechacz will play for us on the West Coast is going to be in May 2023, on the 25th Anniversary? If that’s the case—worth waiting for.

The last wonderful concert of this amazing pianist at the Vancouver Playhouse Theater was nothing short of a musical delight. The boyish, almost diminutive body hides a giant of the keyboard. Yet, his touch, the way he plays, seem to be effortless, ever so gentle and delicate. There is very seldom a dramatic gesture or a theatrical swoop of his fingers dropping down like a bird of prey on the black-white keys of the piano. It is much more like a delicate hovering just above them and almost willing them to produce a sound without a physical touch. But let be assured that when it comes to long and very exhausting passages of Schumann’s Sonata in G-minor – he does do the physical work perfectly. And so in the famous, grandiose theme in Chopin’s Polonaise No 6 in A-flat major!
Vancouver Chopin Society – you couldn’t have found a better gift for yourself and for us, Vancouverites, to celebrate your 20th Anniversary!

Rafał Blechacz took us on a chronological  journey through the end of XVIII to the half of XIX century in music.  Definitely most revolutionary 100 years in music development of Western Civilization. In perfectly scored, full of baroque charm of Mozart’s Rondo in A minor; and a full Sonata No 08 of the same Austrian genius. Followed by no other but arguably the greatest of composers, Ludwig van Beethoven ‘s  Sonata No 28 in A major. Both composers in their sonatas heralded at moments the coming of end of both, the classicist and baroque style of music and gave hints of what was to be known in art as the Sturm und Drang—the protagonist to romanticism.

22 maja, w Playhouse Theater miał miejsce szczególny recital:  Koncert Galowy 20-lecia Vancouver Chopin Society, jednej z czołowych organizacji muzycznych wyjątkowo zasłużonych dla kulturalnego milieu Vancouveru.  Naturalnie ze szczególnym naciskiem na propagowanie muzyki Pana Fryderyka, wszak nie jedynie.  Pięć lat temu, 15-lecie organizacji celebrowano w Chan Centre występem właśnie wschodzącej gwiazdy firmamentu pianistycznego, Rafała Blechacza.  Koncert ówczesny był sukcesem. Więc dziwić się nie można, że postanowiono sukces powtórzyć i zaprosić pianistę ponownie w tym roku. Tym razem już zdecydowanie nie wschodzącą, a w pełni już widoczną gwiazdę muzycznego nieba. Co dało się wyraźnie zauważyć już od pierwszych taktów, które popłynęły  z koncertowego Steinwaya ku widowni.03-DSC00164

W spotkaniu i przyjęciu po-koncertowym znajomi zadawali mi pytania dlaczego taki a nie inny repertuar pianista wybrał, co jest lub może być powodem takich a nie innych wyborów muzycznych na koncertach? Zapewne bywa tych powodów wiele: od dość pragmatycznych (muzycy to wszak też ludzie i wolą grać utwory dobrze przez siebie opanowane), sytuacyjnych i wręcz geograficznych (u gospodarzy miło jest zagrać coś, z czego sami są muzycznie dumnie:  w Budapeszcie Liszta, w Warszawie Chopina lub Szymanowskiego, w Niemczech—tu sporo do wyboru— Bacha lub Beethovena, itd..). Podobne pytanie skierowano do obecnego na koncercie cenionego komentatora muzycznego Vancouveru, Geofreya Newmana, który starał się najlepiej, jak potrafił to wyjaśniać. Mnie w doborze Blechacza na ten koncert uderzyła wyraźna chronologia  utworów i kompozytorów.  Wątpię aby przypadkowa. Mozart, Beethoven, Schumann i Chopin. Jeżeli Bachowska fuga i canon były filarami epoki przeszłej baroku i klasycyzmu, to właśnie Mozart i Beethoven, jedni z najbardziej uznanych geniuszy muzycznych czasów nowożytnych, byli heroldami nowego: romantyzmu. Romantyzmu, którego czołowym przedstawicielem był Schumann, a kwiatem najbardziej chyba z tą epoką związanym, właśnie Chopin.

Mozart był tego ‘przechodzenia’ ze starego w nowe chyba przykładem najlepszym. I stąd być może czysto barokowe Rondo c-moll było ukłonem wobec odchodzącej epoki salonowych kontredansów, menuetów i utworów ściśle sakralnych na rzecz tegoż nadchodzącego ‘nowego’ wyrazu muzyki. Blechacz zagrał rondo z wyjątkowa elegancją i starannością godną sztywnych reguł i zasad rządzących ówczesną muzyka salonową. Rondo Mozarta jest utworem tanecznym wedle ścisłych reguł spisanym i jakkolwiek nie do potańcówki go skomponował—ale tańczyć  go bez przeszkody można.  Raczej niemożliwością by było ‘normalne’ tańczenie szopenowskiego mazurka, gdzie melodia i tempo tańca były tylko luźnym szkicem, który posłużył Chopinowi do roztoczenia wizji muzycznej o skali  wielokrotnie wyższej niż sam taniec spod wiejskiej chaty i małych dworków by świadczyć miał.

Grana po Rondzie Sonata a-moll, K310, była już zgoła innym utworem.  Jakkolwiek  w finale (Presto) łatwo  odnaleźć melodie właśnie ronda o tyle Alegro maestoso i Andante cantabile już dają wyraźnie postrzec proto-romantyczne nastawienie na wyrażanie uczuć ludzkich w ich nagim, emocjonalnym kształcie. Jak choćby uczucia kompozytora spowodowane śmiercią matki w 1778.  W nagłych, nie anonsowanych zmianach tempa i ustalonej tonalności.  Cały ten, wypełniony  omal ciemnym żalem pozorny chaos w sposób wyjątkowo czysty i wierny odtwarzał Blechacz bezbłędnie. Każdy dźwięk był wyraźny, niezagubiony i  nie zagłuszony następnymi.

08-DSC00171I w końcu sam wielki Ludwig van Beethoven.  Sonata A-dur Nr 28, op. 101. Ilekroć jej słucham w wykonaniu innych pianistów, zawsze  jakby inaczej brzmiała.  W tempie pozornie tym samym ale jakby mniej lub bardziej ekspresywnie wyrażanym. Być może to  jej ‘specjalność’. Sam kompozytor nie ukrywał pewnego rozczarowania, wewnętrznego smutku wynikającego z czekających Europę wielkich zmian politycznych, własnego zdrowia (zauważalna już utrata słuchu), starzenia się.  Jest bardzo klasycznie zbudowana, ma echa fug, canonów bachowskich. Ale silnie emocjonalna.  Blechacz, wydało mi się i tu, znalazł złoty środek. Być wierny każdej nucie. Bez pośpiechu i bez ukazywania własnych emocji, bez ulegania chęci zabłyśnięcia w trudnych figurach muzycznych, lub raczej bez chęci przygaszenia blasku muzyki blaskiem własnej techniki pianistycznej. A nie łatwo się tego wyrzec przy częstych i dość długich trylach … .

Część druga  koncertu osiadła od razu silnie w muzyce romantycznej.  Robert Schumann, przez wielu uznawany jeśli nie za ‘naj’,  to jednego z  największych kompozytorów Romantyzmu.  Jego Sonata  Nr 2 op. 22, często zwana ‘Wielką’, komponowana była przez artystę w okresie kilkuletnim,  przy surowej asyście Klary Wieck, późniejszej żony kompozytora, zdolnej i popularnej pianistki niemieckiej. To właśnie Klara była finalnym edytorem pierwszej publikacji sonaty i miała duży wpływ na kształt ostatniej części sonaty: słynnego Presto. Ta pełna, czteroczęściowa sonata nie jest utworem łatwym do grania. Wymaga nie tylko wysokiej dyscypliny pianisty ale i dobrze opanowanej techniki. Zwłaszcza w  pierwszej, określonej, jako ‘rasch wie moglich’ (możliwie najszybciej), by potem powrócić z wyższym jeszcze wymaganiem technicznym w końcowej partii (owe słynne presto) ostatniej części ronda.  Końcowej edycji tegoż presto dokonał nie kto inny, jak Joachim Brahms, uznawany przez Schumanna za geniusza muzycznego.

Było wielka przyjemnością słuchać tą sonatę w wykonaniu Blechacza. wydawało się, że całkowicie zanurzył się w jej charakter i grał tak, jakby muzyka sama nadawała mu swoje brzmienie i treść.  Znowu—zasko0czył mnie  swa wewnętrzną dyscypliną, skupieniem się nad kompozycją,  nie siedział na scenie przed setkami osób, a gdzieś w gabinecie, sam tylko z pianinem. Zapewne nie jest trudno wrażliwemu muzykowi wpaść  w taki ‘trans muzyczny’ przy jakimś temacie, jakimś pasażu, figurze muzycznej—ale trwać w nim przez cały, długi utwór (lub takie wrażenie sprawiać) nie jest rzeczą częstą.

Gdy się pisze takie, jak te, wrażenia z koncertu, siłą rzeczy ma się ochotę wtrącić tu i ówdzie: ‘pamiętam, jak X grał to tak i tak a Y w tym miejscu przyspieszył tempo dla  wrażenia’. Czasem jest to zwykła figura stylistyczna, ozdobnik do tekstu, czasem faktycznie czyjąś grę aż tak się pamięta .  Dzisiaj jest to dużo łatwiej zrobić, bo wystarczy  poszukać w swojej domowej muzycznej dyskografii lub zwyczajnie w Internecie danego pianistę i utwór odnaleźć, przesłuchać ponownie.  Ale bez autentycznie idealnej pamięci i idealnego słuchu—któż spamięta , po latach, jak  X czy Y grał tą czy inną sonatę, fugę czy mazurka? Natomiast pamięta się  łatwiej nastrój koncertu, własne wrażenia z odbioru muzyki, urok … lub nudę. Co owszem, nie wstydźmy się przyznać, się zdarza.  Otóż dla mnie, z całego  koncertu (poza jednym szczególnym wyjątkiem, o czym na końcu wspomnę) ta właśnie sonata Schumanna zostanie jako kwintesencja tego wieczoru.  I, podejrzewam, po latach jeszcze słuchając gdzieś Blechacza,  z przyjemnością wspomnę jak grał Schumanna w Vancouverze, w 2018 roku.

Ostatnią część koncertu Rafał Blechacz poświęcił naturalnie panu Fryderykowi.  Jego czarującym mazurkom i ukoronował finał majestatycznym Polonezem As-dur Op. 53.06-DSC00168

Trudno, by nie wpadać w banały wielokroć przez  (pewnie przeze mnie też czasami …) wielu powtarzane, silić się na opis gry Blechacza w tychże kompozycjach Chopina.  Mało chyba z nas, Polaków, nie słuchało po wielokroć tychże utworów. Nawet ci z nas, którzy sal filharmonicznych nie zwykli odwiedzać.  Chopin jest u nas wszak chlebem powszednim od kołyski prawie.  Ktoś by musiał faktycznie tego biednego ‘polskiego’ Chopina niemiłosiernie maltretować,  byśmy  nie klaskali zachwyceni po każdym mazurku, polonezie.  Zwłaszcza po TYM polonezie, którego przewodni temat muzyczny każde polskie dziecko potrafi chyba zanucić, nawet  nie zdając sobie sprawy, że to właśnie Pan Szopen go skomponował.  A przecież odniosłem wrażenie, że Blechacz i ten utwór grał nieco inaczej. Mniej brawurowo, subtelniej.  Jakby za każdym razem przed pojawieniem się tego słynnego tematu-refrenu—pianissimo do granic ‘ssima’ zbliżał, wyciszał, by następujące nieuchronnie forte bez uderzenia silnego w klawisze wyodrębnić, zwielokrotnić efektem. Może był to wynik ‘przyzwyczajenia’ wszystkimi  muzycznymi interpretacjami do tej ostatniej części koncertu?  Może tak już Blechacz moje ucho wytrenował w partiach poprzednich, że nic innego się nie spodziewałem niż kolejnej precyzji i subtelności muzycznej pianisty? Fakt pozostaje faktem, że bez względu czy użył fortelu akustycznego czy grał z wyjątkowym wyczuciem— efekt końcowy  taki, jaki zamierzył osiągnął: zachwyt słuchającego.

Takoż i zbliżyliśmy się do zapadnięcia kurtyny.  Zwykle jednak, rozpieszczani przez  muzyków, oczekujemy zawsze prawie na bis, na encore.  I teraz mowy nie było by oklaski ucichły zanim młody, szczupły pianista nie zasiądzie  ponownie do fortepianu.  I tu, co zapowiadałem wcześniej. Ów moment czaru muzycznego. Spod palców popłynęło cudeńko muzyczne urzekające wszystkich. Tak byłem się w to wsłuchałem, że za nic potem w stanie nie byłem przypomnieć sobie kogoż ten klejnocik był autorstwa.  Tak przecież znany, lubiany! Aż zły na siebie byłem. Jakby celowo tenże młody pianista tak mnie tą muzyką oczarował, żem o świecie zapomniał.  Na szczęście w sukurs przyszedł sam odchodzący Prezydent Chopin Society, Iko Bylicki, podszeptując: Brahms. Ach!  No właśnie, przez Shumanna już obwołany geniuszem, jeden z ostatnich wielkich niemieckich kompozytorów blisko 200 lat, od XVIII do początków XX wieku. Czasem właśnie geniusz nie po dziełach wielkich, monumentalnych poznać można , a od drobnych kwiatków, od pierścioneczka kunsztownego, a nie od kolii wielkiej. Intermezzo Nr 2, Op. 118. Perełka muzyczna najczystszej barwy.  Widać było, że coś, co wytchnienie i radość sprawia samemu pianiście. A bez wątpienia słuchającym.

Po koncercie miał miejsce uroczy ‘wine and cheese’, możliwość spotkania i wymiany kilku (dla niektórych zwyczajem nie zawsze miłym: kilkuset) słów z pianistą, spotkań i wymiany wrażeń ze znajomymi od dawna nie widzianymi (lub widzianymi po raz pierwszy). Trochę śmietanki ,socjetowej’, typowej na takich spotkaniach. Miło było przedstawicieli Konsulatu Generalnego (zdaje się—nie od nich tą wiadomość dostałem–niezbyt już długo tu pozostającego, ale komuż potrzebna placówka w mieście-bramie z Ameryki Północnej do Azji?) spotkać, którzy Gala Koncert patronatem objęli. Miło było rozmowę dłuższą i mądrą z profesorem Lee Kum-Singiem uciąć.  Zdań kilka zamienić ze znanym komentatorem życia muzycznego Vancouveru Geoffreym Newmanem (dobrze, że niezbyt długiej, bo dwie osoby o silnych przekonaniach o swojej racji nie najlepszymi są partnerami do rozmów, ha ha ha).

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Zarząd Vancouver Chopin Society /photo: B. P-G/

Bardzo miłym akcentem było spotkanie całego, lub większości, Zarządu Stowarzyszenia Chopina, gdzie w sposób niezwykle miły podziękowano za wieloletnią pracę przewodzenia organizacji  Prezesowi Iko Bylickiemu i przedstawienia nowego Przewodniczącego. Życzyć należy nowemu Zarządowi podobnych sukcesów, jakie do tej pory organizacja odnosiła.

spotkanie po koncercie
R. Blechacz z G. Newmanem
prof. Lee Kum-Sing
R. Blechacz z autorem