The many faces of Modernity

This was a “concept” concert—a piano concert featuring images from the Library of the Performing Arts archives. A pretty good concept. The execution? Not so great. Images were chosen via a free association method, e.g., Arnold Schönberg’s music was paired with images (displayed on screen—sort of like a slide show from a recent vacation) of Vienna, composers he was influenced by, other professionals in his milieu (Freud, Franz Lehar), and works of artists he was in close contact with (Kandinsky, Klee, etc.). And the cycle of images repeated two or three times during the performance of the music.

The pianist was Zélia Chueke, who played very well throughout. Her program consisted of Drei Klavierstücke, op. 11 (Arnold Schönberg, 1874–1951); Les Soirs Illuminées par l’ardeur du charbon and Étude retrouvée (Claude Debussy, 1862–1918); Fanfarres (György Ligeti, 1923–2006); and Tapestry and Water color (Ricardo Tacuchian, b. 1939).

Not exactly household names—in fact, five people left after the first piece, one after the first Debussy, and three more during the Tacuchian.
Their loss, in my opinion.

The Schönberg was a bit angular (the onscreen Cubist images played off of that well) but was not overly offputting. The Debussy pieces (one whose manuscript was discovered in 2001, but written in 1917; the other manuscript found in the Morgan Library in 2003, written in 1915) were clear, clean evocations of late-Debussy style—washes of pianistic color, but with rather inviting forms. The Ligeti score was brief but with varied and contrasting sections. To be honest, after I’d seen the first go ’round of the slides associated with each piece, I focused more on the pianist. That was the right choice, for me.

The last two pieces were written by a composer that Ms. Chueke has a working relationship with. Apparently, Mr. Tacuchian has done some research into visual and aural input into the connections between music and the visuals. With Tapestry (2011), he was said to be exploring the shapes of the movements of creating tapestries and transforming that into his music. I didn’t make that much of a connection. Water color (2001) began with a wash of sound that one would associate with watercolors, but included some dense passages as well, all the more impressive since the piece was composed for the left hand only. (That was in the program notes, but I was reminded of it when I focused on the pianist after the first round of slides and saw her right hand at her side.)

Curious about that, I asked her after the concert (questions were, indeed, encouraged). It turns out that it was written for a pianist who could only play with his left hand. But by the time it was completed, he was no longer performing as a pianist (he had become a conductor), and Ms. Chueke gave the world premiere. Pretty cool—and I never would have known if I hadn’t asked!

ConcertMeister