Mother Meera

For the past several years Mother Meera, who has otherwise resided in Germany as a recluse, has been traveling abroad to hold public programs. She was just in the States in September but returned once more for programs in Fairfield, Iowa this weekend. This little town in the southeast corner of the state happens to be the home of the Maharishi University, providing a community interested in spiritual events. Originally darshan programs were announced for Saturday and Sunday, but were consolidated into one day. So, early Sunday morning I set out on the four and a half hour drive to Fairfield. The day started off with unseasonably mild temperatures; by early evening the reading had plummeted from 60 to 8 degrees above zero -- a drop of over 50 degrees. Ouch!

There is not much to say about the countryside between here and there. One sees rolling hills, now brown and colorless, many farmsteads, some woodland, and lots of black cows. It may not be driving through the Austrian Alps, but I've been through worse. Just after the Iowa state line I turned straight east, passing through towns like Osceola and Ottumwa. These names are probably the only remnants of the indigenous peoples who once lived here. Fairfield, population 10,000, is a county seat. The center of town is not without charm, though it has surely seen better days. It seems to be thriving. Just off the town square, a charming park with an old-fashioned Victorian band shell in the middle of it, is the new Sondheim Performing Arts Center named, would you believe, after Stephen Sondheim. And it is here that the program took place. I arrived a bit early in order to recover from the long drive and have a bit of lunch. I suspected that there would be at least one vegetarian restaurant in town. As a matter of fact, there were several. I lunched satisfactorily at the Small Planet Cafe. Afterwards I took a walk around the town square and discovered not one, but two Indian restaurants, a few interesting bookshops and stores selling the usual New Age kind of stuff. I wondered how the influx of people connected with the Maharishi University might have affected the town and what their relations with the original townspeople might be. I'm only guessing here, but I would surmise that it is at best an uneasy coexistence, perhaps with some underlying resentment. It is clear that the town has been thriving economically. The new residents and visitors bring cash and revitalization to the economy, but the town has been irrevocably changed. I doubt that any other small town in Iowa sports two Indian restaurants within a block of each other. On the other hand (and here I may be treading on some toes, I realize), the Transcendental Meditation organization is more than a little weird. Some people consider it a cult. Their claims (levitation, anyone?) are preposterous. There have been all sorts of controversies and lawsuits. Just a few years ago a student was murdered at the university here in Fairfield. So how is it that the ever-giggling Maharishi decided to establish his university in a small town in the middle of nowhere? Quite simple, really: Parsons College, which had been in existence for 99 years, folded about ten years ago and the TM'ers bought the campus. Since then they have swallowed up nearby farms and have been building a (now incorporated) Vedic city and other communities. The residents are apparently not obliged to vow singular loyalty to the Maharishi (now deceased, alas) and have been casting their spiritual nets further afield. Many are devotees of Mother Meera or Amma. And that explains why MM's program was held here.

On my ten minute stroll around the town square the wind shifted from the south to the north and within two minutes the temperature dropped at least 20 degrees. This was a portent of worse to come (more about that later). The program was held in what seemed to be an exhibition hall of some sort, rather bare-bones, with small folding chairs and a provisional stage set up in the front. Everything was well organized, with great insistence given to the turning off of cell phones. The program is held in total silence and one is expected to be quiet and respectful at all times. One thing about the MM operation is very un-Indian: it runs like clockwork. MM is always punctual, to the minute. So, after one last explanation of the darshan procedure and one last admonishment to turn off those damn cell phones, MM strode in precisely at 2 PM. I have been seeing Mother Meera for fourteen years now and find that she hasn't changed a bit. She looks exactly the same and exactly the same thing happens every time. It's comforting, really. I was happy to see her again, a spontaneous surge of happiness welling up in me. She is never distracted, never looks about, never coughs, sneezes or does anything except perform the ritual of darshan exactly the same way with every person. It couldn't be much fun when you think about it. But that's what she does. Mother Meera's only splurge, it would seem, are the beautiful saris she wears. This one was a glowing orange with gold trim. The program lasted nearly three hours, and at about 20 seconds per customer (I counted during a spell of boredom), that makes almost 500 people in attendance. MM left the hall at 5 PM and was to return at 6 to do the whole thing all over again for another group. Doing what she does would not be my idea of a good time. I know from past experience that the effects of being in MM's presence are subtle yet powerful and long lasting. I have had a number of mind-blowing experiences in the past, but don't expect them now. Still, I was not prepared for the surge of emotion that welled up in me when I briefly spoke to one of the darshan moniters to thank her for keeping things running so smoothly. Where did that come from? I was not feeling much of anything by the end of three hours sitting on an uncomfortable folding chair.

Exiting the Sondheim Center we discovered that the temperature had plummeted to Arctic levels and that every surface was covered with freezing drizzle. Just what you want for a long drive in the darkness! Conditions improved after an hour of driving and the roads were clear for a while. After crossing back into Missouri and heading south, it began to snow. It was too cold to stick but the ferocious winds created virtual white-outs with clouds of swirling snow. It was the scariest driving experience I have had since crossing the Furka Pass. By the grace of the gods and the Divine Mother I arrived safely home and fell into bed, exhausted by nearly ten hours of driving, but exhilarated by my visit to Mother Meera.

Drei Gesänge

I have uploaded the tracks of my work, "Drei Gesänge" (Three Songs) for soprano and Chamber Orchestra. They are already on youtube, but the format is much more attractive here -- the texts actually look like poems in this format. The soloist is the superb Sarah Tannehill, performing with the UMKC Chamber Orchestra, Robert Olson, conductor. The performance, a premiere, took place on October 10th, 2008 in White Hall of the James C. Olson Performing Arts Center in Kansas City, Missouri.

1. Herbst

Herbst (Rainer Maria Rilke)

Die Blätter fallen, fallen wie von weit,
als welkten in den Himmeln ferne Gärten;
sie fallen mit verneinender Gebärde.
Und in den Nächten fällt die schwere Erde
aus allen Sternen in die Einsamkeit.
Wir alle fallen. Diese Hand da fällt.
Und sieh dir andre an: es ist in allen.
Und doch ist Einer, welcher dieses Fallen
unendlich sanft in seinen Händen hält.

"Autumn"

The leaves fall, fall as from afar,
as if distant gardens in the heavens were wilting:
They fall with a negating gesture.
And in the nights the heavy earth
falls from the myriad of stars into emptiness.
We are all falling. This hand is falling.
And look at others: it is the same with us all.
And yet there is One who holds this falling with infinite gentleness in his hands.

2. Hälfte des Lebens

"Hälfte des Lebens" (Johann Friedrich Hölderlin)

Mit gelben Birnen hänget
Und voll mit wilden Rosen
Das Land in den See,
Ihr holden Schwäne,
Und trunken von Küssen
Tunkt ihr das Haupt
Ins heilignüchterne Wasser.

Weh mir, wo nehm' ich, wenn
Es Winter ist, die Blumen, und wo
Den Sonnenschein,
Und Schatten der Erde?
Die Mauern stehn
Sprachlos und kalt, im Winde
Klirren die Fahnen.

"Half of Life"

Hung with yellow pears
and full of wild roses
the earth bows into the lake,
O blessed swans,
inebriated with kisses
you dip your heads
into the holy, sobering waters.
Pity me! But where will I find,
when it is winter, the flowers,
and where the sunshine
and the shadows on the earth?
The walls remain mute
and cold, the weathervanes
rattle in the wind.

3. Gesang des Orpheus

"Gesang des Orpheus" (Rainer Maria Rilke)
Wandelt sich rasch auch die Welt
wie Wolkengestalten,
alles Vollendete fällt
heim zum Uralten.
Über dem Wandel und Gang,
weiter und freier,
währt noch dein Vor-Gesang,
Gott mit der Leier.
Nicht sind die Leiden erkannt,
nicht is die Liebe gelernt,
und was im Tod uns entfernt,
ist nicht entschleiert.
Einzig das Lied überm Land
heiligt und feiert.

Sonnet to Orpheus, Part I: xix

Though the world changes form
as quickly as do clouds,
all things completed return
to their source.
Over tumult and change, soaring
unbounded and free,
your prelude endures,
god with the lyre.
The pain of life is not acknowledged,
the lessons of love are not learned
and what Death has veiled,
is never revealed.
Only your song throughout the world
consecrates and rejoices.

Glurns

It has been six weeks since I returned from Europe. Now that the crisp, clear days of autumn have arrived I can't help thinking back nostalgically to the Alps, wishing I were there now, hiking in the serenity and glory of the mountains. Some of the most memorable moments of the entire summer are from the drive from Graz through the Alps to Switzerland and back. I covered a great deal of territory in too short a time and wish, especially, that I had spent more time in the South Tyrol. I have already posted my fleeting impressions of that segment of the journey along with some of my own pics on this blog, but there are plenty of photos I did not post. I intend now to add a few of the unpublished pics as I reconsider them.

In a blog posting I mentioned passing through the small medieval town of Glurns in the South Tyrol, the Alto Adige, in a corner of Italy that abuts both Switzerland and Austria. Glurns is the last town on the road heading towards the Swiss border at Mustair. I just passed through Glurns, driving under an ancient tower of the medieval walls and exiting at the other end. I did stop long enough, however, to take one snapshot, parking my vehicle in a small carpark on the side. Glurns was an enchanting place - at least for the ten minutes I spent there! It was such a surprise to come across this little town in the middle of nowhere. I have since done a little research on Glurns. It is considered the smallest town in the Tyrol with a population of 800 and celebrates a history that goes back to the 12th century; in Roman times it was a trading post on the north/south route traversing the Alps. It was once an important town. The German name Glurns is derived from a much older Rhaetio-Romansch word. The Italian appellation for the place, Glorenza, is admittedly much prettier, but it is a creation of the 20th century, after the region was amputated from the corpse of the Habsburg Empire and presented to Italy after The Great War.

I have temporarily selected my photo of the Glurnser Haupstrasse to be the wallpaper on my laptop. I still want to savor that moment frozen in time. It was, I remember, a warm afternoon in late June, a Saturday. There is not one soul to be seen on the street (though I did see people out and about when I turned the corner). The buildings, possibly four or five hundred years old, lean slightly like old men hobbling down the street. The cobblestones are well-worn. An old church tower is visible a short distance away, and beyond that the mountains that are probably on the Swiss side of the border. The other, admittedly finer, photos show the town to better advantage. (Unless I had rented a plane I wouldn't have gotten the aerial perspective.) The sporty convertible on the right is not mine; the ugly barricade on the left mars the view. But still, this is the moment I remember, a brief glimpse of a delightful, peaceful and somewhat mysterious place in a forgotten corner of the world.

Farewell to Graz

The summer at AIMS came to a smashing conclusion with the Meistersinger Competition finals and concert. Two preliminary rounds had been held earlier in the summer. There were eight finalists left and two alternates, each of whom sang one aria with the orchestra. The event was held in the Helmut-List-Halle, a kind of all-purpose arena built by one of our most generous supporters. The space was formerly a factory of some sort but it has been nicely converted into a performing space. It must seat well over a thousand people and the place was packed for this concert. What we heard was la crème de la 2% milk. I haven't been particularly impressed with the level of singing in the opera studio this summer, but these ten vocalists were very good. I'm glad I was not a judge. Four external judges were brought in, including Ileana Cotrubas, who had an international career in the 60's and 70's. We heard such diverse selections as "Großmächtige Prinzessin" (Zerbinetta's aria), "Dich, teure Halle", "Ah, fors' è lui", and "Abscheulicher, wo eilst du hin" from Fidelio -- some pretty big stuff! The orchestra was, as usual, wonderful. The one orchestral selection on the program was the first Walzerfolge from "Der Rosenkavalier". After the prizes were rewarded (and the audience was polled by ballot for an Audience Favorite) the orchestra launched into a rousing performance of "Stars and Stripes Forever". The revelation of the evening: who knew that "Stars and Stripes" had a harp part? The poor dear was plucking her fingers raw and, of course, you cannot hear one single note of the harp since the brass and percussion are going full blast. She might have been playing "Lady of Spain" for all we knew.

Today, Friday, is the Catholic holiday of Maria Himmelfahrt (Assumption of the Virgin) and virtually everything in town is closed. I knew that there was to be a performance of a Mozart Mass at Maria Trost in the morning, so I decided to make my way up there. It was a 'Hohes Amt', a high mass and the music, Mozart's "Missa Solemnis" was part of the service. I expected the place would be packed; it was standing room only. It's a good thing I arrived 45 minutes early. I haven't witnessed a Roman rite mass in decades. It is in itself grand theater, with processions, scads of altar boys, sumptuously robed clergyman (actually, I think it was a bishop who was officiating), bell ringing, clouds of incense, lots of standing, sitting, kneeling. I enjoyed the spectacle -- and, it was all in German! Then there was the music. The Missa Solemnis is a work of Mozart's I have never heard and it does not rank as one of his strongest works, but still, the mark of his genius is evident throughout with ingenious harmonic invention, masterful use of solo winds, effortlessly conceived melodies and a sense of playfulness even at the most serious moments. Soloists, chorus and orchestra were all excellent. Hearing this mass in the glorious basilica of Maria Trost was truly wonderful; music and architecture blended into one aesthetic unity. After the service I hiked down to the Heim. There was a thunderstorm during the night and again the forest was fragrant with the smell of pine and wood. I shall miss the beautiful city of Graz and all the wonderful things it has to offer. I have been richly blessed in the experience of this summer. Tomorrow I make my way back to the States via Munich and Washington D.C.

Auf Flügeln des Gesanges...

"On the wings of song..." begins a poem by Heinrich Heine, exquisitely set to music by Felix Mendelssohn. The two performances of my Lieder program were an affirmation of how special and wonderful the genre of the art song is. I am happy to report that both performances of the Liederabend went off successfully. Actually, they were outstanding concerts. I can take a little credit for that, but I know that there was a lot of luck involved as well: I just happened to end up with some of the best singers in my studio; that was none of my doing -- it just turned out that way. Hence, I was able to assign some substantial songs to my charges. Secondly, they really surprised me with the level of their musicianship. I was able to sit back and enjoy two evenings of beautiful music. I also chose a very interesting theme for my program and that put a wide range of songs at my disposal. It wasn't my original intention, but putting Beethoven's "Kennst du das Land" at the beginning of the program and Wolf's at the end was a brilliant idea (if I do say so myself!); it provided the perfect framework for the evening. I have always, as a coach, been insistent on good diction in the singing of Lieder. I reminded my charges that they would be singing for a German-speaking audience, that the people listening would expect to understand the text of every song, that many would know the poems already. (Our programs here at AIMS are printed in German and there are no translations.) While watching hours of prliminary auditions after we got here I was dismayed to see how many young singers flailed their arms about, made gratuitous gestures, or otherwise fidgeted while performing. All that is distracting to any performance. I decided that I would pay attention to the physical expression of my singers. I encouraged them to find a stance comfortable for them, preferably hands and arms at sides, and allow the audience to read the story and emotions in their faces. I was delighted to see that virtually every student in my concert did exactly that. Their stage deportment and delivery added to the high tone of the evening.

The first performance took place at 6 PM (there was another Liederabend scheduled later in the evening elsewhere) in the Landeskrankenhaus Kirche, the church of the provincial hospital. The extensive campus of this hospital is just down the street. It is practically a city unto itself with separate buildings for each specialty. (It wouldn't surprise me if there were an Ingrown Toenail Building, or a Jock Itch Pavillion there.) The complex was built in the first decade of the 20th century, in what is known here as Jugendstil, which we call art deco style. The small church, more like a large chapel, is also in this style. It's a charming venue with acoustics that were flattering to singing. I was told that the annual concert there would be well attended, and it was. I have no idea who those people were, but they certainly liked what they heard. At the end of the performance the applause continued for such a long time that the performers had to appear for a second ensemble bow. I have never seen that happen here before. The repeat performance was in the Odiliensaal, a small concert hall we have been using all summer, that is part of the Institute for the Blind. Even though we were competing with a chamber music recital across the street the Liederabend was well attended and well received. Afterwards I celebrated with colleagues by indulging in a well deserved glass of beer and a schnapps. [The photo is in the Odiliensaal before the second concert; these are all the vocalists -- the pianists hadn't arrived yet.]

The daily grind

As we head towards the end of the AIMS program the frequency of events has increased. There are sometimes three concerts on one day in various locations. There was a concert of Spanish music, a Russian evening, an operetta program (performed three different times), and evening of spirituals, several student recitals and, this week alone, three different Liederabende. There was one on Sunday late morning in the Meerscheinschlößl, a charming little palace that now belongs to the university. I am told that Mozart once performed in the hall in which the concert took place. Imagine that! The orchestra performed last Thursday's concert two more times outside of Graz and they are playing their final program this Thursday. Monday we also had a visiting artist, renowned baritone Bo Skovhus, do a masterclass. Whew!

Karlskirche

The weather was very changeable, alternating between showers and sunshine. I had walked the entire way from the Südbahnhof, a distance of many miles, but as the sun was shining brilliantly when I exited chez Liechtenstein I abandoned my intention to take the tram back into the center and walked along the Donaukanal instead. This is not actually the Danube itself, but a canal that runs parallel to the river. The center was still crawling with tourists but that did not deter me from taking a seat at an outdoor café to watch the world go by. And there was a lot of world to watch, believe me. On the walk back to the rail station I made a detour to view the Karlskirche with its curious columns modeled after the column of Trajan in Rome. I was actually looking for the apartment house where Brahms lived for many years. He had a view of the church from his window. Much to my disappointment I couldn't locate it, but my photo shows the view that Brahms would have seen. A few blocks from the Karlsplatz is the home of the Wiener Musikverien, one of the most famous concert halls in the world, home of the Vienna Philharmonic and site of many important events in music history. (It was already late evening, so the lighting in the photo was not the best.) We arrived back in Graz before midnight, on the last direct train of the day.
Having seen so much material splendour in the way of royal accoutrements and palaces, I couldn't help reflecting on where all that wealth came from. The Liechtensteins won territory the usual way, through inter-marriage, wars or gifts from generous rulers. But in the end that wealth was acquired from the back-breaking work of peasants who were heavily taxed, frequently brutally treated without any recourse to justice, and who often starved to death. So that one family could wallow in luxury countless thousands suffered a miserable existence. Looking at European history is enough to turn one into a raving Marxist. It is no wonder there were frequent revolutions in Europe and it is no wonder that heads rolled. Marie Antoinette, it should be remembered, was the daughter of the Empress of Austria, Maria Theresa.

Palais Liechtenstein

I walked further along the Ringstrasse and then north a few miles through a beautiful residential area to the Palais Liechtenstein. This is one of several residences in Vienna of the prestigious Liechtenstein family which now rules one of the smallest countries on earth, the Principality of Liechtenstein, nestled between Austria and Switzerland (and yes, I've been there!). The family's fortunes rose when they helped turn the tide against the invading Turks in the early 17th century and were rewarded generously by the then Kaiser. With time their fortunes and holdings waned until all they had left was one tiny, though scenic, piece of real estate. (The current Prince, btw, is Fürst Hans-Adam II von und zu Liechtenstein.) But while the going was good they built many palaces and furnished them with the best art work to be had. The newly refurbished Palais Liechtenstein houses only a small part of the complete holdings (the rest of the collection is still in Vaduz) and it is considered to be one of the greatest private collections in Europe. The palace itself is magnificent. The main hall, the Herkulessaal, is one of the largest palatial halls in Vienna. My jaw dropped when I entered this enormous room ringed with marble columns. Only the best Italian artists were employed in building and decorating the Palais. Every room has gorgeous frescoes, but the one in the Herkulessaal is stupendous in its size and splendour. After I purchased my ticket in the entry hall (not too shabby either) I then proceeded up one of two grand staircases. I heard what sounded like a large string orchestra playing somewhere in the building. What luck, I thought, there's live music as well! It turned out to be a string trio rehearsing for an upcoming concert in the H-saal. In the marble hall the reverberation was so great that it sounded like an orchestra of a hundred strings. The collection of paintings, sculpture and furniture is exclusively Baroque, mostly Italian and Dutch masters, and all of it the finest quality: Rubens, Hals, van Dyck, Guidi, Canaletto, etc. I have always especially admired the portraits of Anthonis van Dyck. Although his subjects were well-to-do burghers usually dressed in the formal black attire of the period, each individual has a unique personality and it looks like each one is ready to open his or her mouth and speak to you. Van Dyck's work is a miracle of portraiture. The ground floor houses the magnificent library (17th and 18th century collections) and a huge ceremonial carriage. These guys knew how to travel in style too! Behind the Palais lies one of the prettiest formal gardens in Vienna. It is now a public park. (The photo shows part of the garden and the Palais.) My time spent here was alone worth the journey to Vienna.

Die Ringstrasse

The inner city is encircled by the famous Ringstrasse, a wide boulevard that was added when the former city walls were torn down. Some of the grandest buildings in Vienna adorn it, including the Opera House and the Austrian Parliament building. The latter was built in the mid-1800's in what is called the 'Historic' style, that is, it is a replica of Classical Greek architecture. It is more grandiose than any ancient building ever was. A statue of Pallas Athena Parthenos commands attention front and center. It is now, of course, the seat of the government of the Republic of Austria which came into being after the disaster of WW II.

Die Hofburg

I headed next to the Hofburg, the royal residence of the Hapsburgs. Much of it is open to the public and it houses various museums. You could spend days there and not see it all. Just before entering the complex I encountered a uniformed marching band that processed out of the courtyard playing Viennese favorites, to the delight of the tourists (including myself!). I opted to visit the Schatzkammer (Imperial treasury) which houses the collection of royal crowns, robes and other artifacts of the Hapsburgs (and some Napoleanic stuff thrown in as well). The array and quality of treasure is mind boggling. (The pic shows a small part of a ceremonial necklace in solid gold.) The exhibit also provides a useful overview of the rise of the Hapsburgs. It seems that they suffered from a perpetual identity crisis and spent much of their time attempting to prop up their legitimacy as rulers of a far-flung empire by erecting grand buildings all over the place. It was their intention to impress everyone with their imperial might: We're here and we're Hapsburgs -- and don't you forget it! The Hofburg is impressive, no doubt about that. So is the rest of Vienna. Graz, with all its small town charm, is small potatoes compared to the Imperial capital. With the demise of the Holy Roman Empire which spluttered to a close and finally bought the farm in 1804, Franz I declared himself Emperor of the remainder of Hapsburg holdings which became the Austro-Hungarian Empire. It always was an unnatural arrangement as a small minority of Austrians lorded it over a restive population of Slavs, Huns, Turks, Italians, etc. It all came crashing down at the end of the Great War.

Vienna

It would have been a little odd to spend nearly six weeks in Austria and not visit Vienna at least once. I seriously considered going on Saturday but decided the round-trip train fare at 68 euros (= $100) was too steep for a one-day excursion. When one of the faculty organized a group to travel together, qualifying for the discounted group rate (bringing the fare down by half), I felt I couldn't pass up the opportunity. We took an early (7:30 AM) train from Graz. The downside with the arrangement was that I was stuck on the train in the company of lively and LOUD young Americans. We went our separate ways once we arrived at the Südbahnhof in Vienna. I decided on what I wanted to see and made my plan for the day.
I have been to Vienna a number of times, the first time was as a high school kid on the Grand Tour with my mother in 1962. The last time I visited was twenty-four years ago, in 1984. That's quite a long time. Walking into the center of the city one passes the Belvedere Palace (now an art museum) with its beautiful grounds. The photo is from the gardens looking towards the city center. The house where Anton Bruckner died is in a house on the palace grounds. You can't swing a dead soprano in Vienna without hitting a place where some famous composer lived or died. The heart of the city is the famous Sankt Stephans Dom (cathedral) with its distinctive tile roof. It is a large Gothic church, and very beautiful. Unfortunately, Vienna is such a tourist magnet that the inner city is swarming with people, all jostling to get the best camera angles. It makes you wonder whether it is worth the effort to visit such places. The Dom was like the proverbial sardine can.

Liederabend

In less than a week the Liederabend (song program) I am preparing will be presented two evenings in a row. This is, of course, the main reason for my being here at AIMS. The eleven singers and three pianists I have been coaching have all been working hard and all are on track to do this program. (I wish a few were a bit more solid in the memory of their pieces, but that's par for the course.) We are all excited about doing it. The students appreciate the fact that much of the program is unknown; I'd venture to say that two thirds of the twenty-two songs programmed will be unfamiliar to the audience. But what treasures await them! There are two songs by Schubert that are rarely done: "Lied eines Schiffers an die Dioskuren" and "An die Leier". Both have melodies that seem to have fallen out of heaven, the kind of exquisite lyricism that only Schubert could have come up with. The same goes for "Suleika I", a substantial Schubert song that is not often performed. The one example of 20th century style is Wolfgang Fortner's "Hyperions Schicksalslied". I'll bet few listeners will know that either. Fortner, a contemporary of Hindemith, wrote in a similar style. The first half will end with the spectacular coloratura tour de force "Amor" from the Strauss Brentano Lieder. The second half of the program includes two rarely heard Schumann songs, and of those I am particularly fond of "Lied der Suleika". Of the two Brahms songs programmed, "Die Schale der Vergessenheit" will be a revelation; it's a mature piece with drama and sweeping Brahmsian lines. There are half a dozen Wolf Lieder, three of them settings of Goethe's translations of Persian poetry. They are perhaps the most obscure pieces on the program. I adore the song "Als ich auf dem Euphrat schiffte", a gem of a song in two pages. In the poem a man is floating down the Euphrates in his boat; his ring of betrothal slips off his finger into the water; the sun rises through the trees and he wakes up from his dream. He says: "Sag Poete, sag Prophete! Was bedeutet dieser Traum?" -- Tell me Poet, tell me Prophet, what is the meaning of this dream? The program is framed by two settings of Goethe's "Kennst du das Land", Beethoven's at the beginning and Wolf's magnificent version at the end. The official title of the program is: "Kennst du das Land? -- Sehnsucht nach Italien, Griechenland und dem exotischen Osten" (Do you know the far-off land? Yearning for Italy, Greece and the exotic East).

Head for the hills

The pics are another view of Maria Trost and a view of the countryside from the terrace in front of the basilica. After a cloudy morning, the day promised to be a fine one. I opted for a long hike, walking up the hill behind us to Maria Trost. There is a short cut through the neighborhood that takes you right to the forest preserve and the wide trail up the hill. It was alive with walkers, bikers and joggers. What a marvel that you can live in a fairly large city and be in a lovely forest in no time. The walk to M.T. takes an hour and ten minutes. I once more visited the basilica and once more admired its magnificence. One thing I missed on my first visit were two side altars that each had glass shrines containing (supposesdly) the skeletons of saints. They must have been midgets because they would not have been more than three feet tall. It is, to my mind, an utterly grotesque practice of the Roman church to venerate the decrepit remains (and obviously spurious ones in this case) of long gone people. That might have been helpful to prop up the faith of the simpletons in the Middle Ages, but in the 21st century it is absurd. I had the naughty idea of opening the glass casket of Saint Bonus and putting sunglasses on his skull -- Ole Boney lookin' mighty fine in his Foster Grants, grinnin' away in his phoney dentures...

There are several trail options from M.T. I took one headed south. It stayed on the mountain ridge, affording views of the beautiful countryside and passing through a few villages. One never tires of the glorious displays of flowers everywhere, in gardens and in window boxes. Much of the trail was in the forest; after yesterday's heavy rain the air was redolent with the scent of the fir trees and earth. There were some pastures and orchards; the apple trees were heavy with fruit. I discovered a roadside growth of blackberries that had just ripened -- that was my refreshment. Here the bikers and joggers were fewer and it was quiet and still. At a place called Altes Fassl (a beer garden, naturally) I had the option of going down the hill to the next village without knowing whether there would be a bus running (it was Sunday), so I decided to retrace my steps and head back the same way to M.T. (if it was so nice the first time, it would be nice the second), where I could catch the tram back to the Heim. In all I walked at least 16 kilometers (12 miles) -- not a bad hike. I was really tired by the end of it and went to the fabulous restaurant Häuserl im Wald with a group of my colleagues for a fine dinner.

Thal

It's the weekend again and that means time for an excursion somewhere. I witnessed a mass exodus Friday morning as Aimsers left town in droves, headed for various places of interest. One of the German diction coaches with whom I have become friendly (there are three coaches for German, one who does French and Italian and one for Russian) organized an outing to the neighboring town of Thal this afternoon. Six of us, four faculty and two students, took a tram then two busses to get there. It has two main attractions, depending on one's interests: one is the church of Sankt Jakobus; the other is the Arnold Schwarzenegger Museum. Thal happens to be his home town and they are very proud of their local boy who became governor of California. Of course, we went to view the church but were also amused by the Schwarzeneggeralia. The church was a small Baroque building which received a modern addition some twenty years ago. I have never seen anything quite like it. The floor is made of stones embedded in concrete, the kind of thing you might find in a seaside grotto; there are various paintings with biblical themes and strange characters. None of it is particularly good, in my opinion. It is unique, it is colorful, but on the whole it is kitsch. As has been the case every day this week, thunderstorms developed. The countryside was lovely, what we could see of it in the rain. Some of our party left to return to Graz and three of us ended up in a local café where we enjoyed some lovely Kaffee und Kuchen. There was a family celebration of some kind on the terrace (the light rain had stopped) and eventually a local guy in Lederhosen brought out his accordian and began serenading the celebrants (and us unavoidably) with his playing. It was the kind of spontaneous local event you often wish to experience in a foreign country. We just witnessed it by accident. And speaking of spontaneous events, a thunderstorm just rolled through as I was writing this, leaving a gorgeous rainbow in its wake (see pic).

Grazer Leben

I've just finished my fourth week in Graz. It was again filled with activities, but not as hectic a schedule as previously. The week's orchestra concert again took place in the fabulous Stefaniensaal in the center of town. The program included the overture and vocal excerpts from "Die Entführung aus dem Serail" as well as excerpts from "I Pagliacci". Some of the singing was good, some was only adequate. The concert ended with a mesmerizing (is there any other kind?) performance of Ravel's "Boléro". It's hard to imagine it being done as a ballet, as was the original intent. It is fun to watch a performance of "Boléro" and pick out who has the solo. At the end of the performance the conductor had the percussionist who played the snare drum take a bow in the front of the stage. It is perhaps not 'difficult', but if you screw up on it you ruin the entire performance.
The experience of living in a foreign country is so different from visiting as a tourist. With time you relax and tune into the rhythms of everyday life. Grazers seem to be relaxed and easy-going. I feel much more comfortable here than I ever did in Germany; Germans tend to me more critical and are apt to express their disapproval if things are not done according to their exacting rules (Ordnung muss sein! is one of their favorite slogans). I've heard the opinion expressed more than once that Austrians are two-faced and insincere. That may be true in Vienna, but it is not the case here. In my month in Graz and surroundings I have always encountered courtesy and helpfulness from the Austrians. Now, if they could only get the laundry thing figured out...

Sankt Maria am Leech

One day I was visiting the university music library (to which we have free access) when I espied the nave of a Gothic church down the street. Since this is Europe, it was likely to be authentic. It turns out to be THE oldest church in Graz, called Sankt Maria am Leech, and is consecrated to Saint Kunigonde. The original structure was built in 1201 but that was destroyed in 1250 by the invading Magyars (naughty Magyars!). The present church is from 1275. The stained glass windows are 13th and 14th century. I had to wait nearly a week for a sunny day to take this interior snapshot. It's a small church, almost a chapel, but enchanting in its unpretentiousness. The Baroque altar and puplit fit in harmoniously with the stark Gothic vaulting.

Graz Cathedral

The Grazer Dom is one of the few remaining buildings in the Gothic style to be found in the city. The main structure is 15th century, but there are the usual Baroque additions (main altar, chapels, organ loft and pulpit) in the interior. It's a lovely old church, but it doesn't make that strong an impression. The organ loft, however, is magnificent (see photo). The outside of the Dom is rather plain and the building is not situated in a place of prominence. It's easy to overlook, actually. Next door is an imposing Mannerist (Late Baroque) edifice, the Mausoleum of the Holy Roman Emperor (and member of the Hapsburg family) Ferdinand II. Doing a little checking on him, I read that he was fanatically Roman Catholic and instrumental in setting the Thirty Years War into motion. Thanks a lot, Ferdy; Europe really could have done without all that. He was born in Graz, hence the presence of his tomb here.

Architecture

I love being in a city with beautiful, interesting buildings. The Europeans get major points for the preservation of their architectural legacy and poor marks for most of the modern buildings I've seen. Graz is typical. It has some of the ugliest modern buildings I've ever set eyes on, with the Kunsthaus (House of Art) downtown as the prize winner. It's a hideous purple blob, completely alienated from the other buildings around it. And then near Griesplatz (where the laundromat is located), they built a high rise, where all the surrounding buildings are no more than three stories, that is monumentally ugly and is totally out of place. What were they thinking? Aside from that, Graz is exceptionally pretty. The neighborhood where the Heim is located was built up in the late 1800's and there are entire streets of neo Renaissance façades, many with Italianate wooden shutters, and stylish villas. It is a delight to walk around here. One photo is the Seebachergasse which I pass every morning on my way to my studio in the Volksschule Elizabeth; the other (with the flowers) is behind the Grazer Dom (cathedral).

Maria Trost

As I already said, there is plenty in our Grazer backyard to explore. One of the streetcar lines near the Heim runs up into the hills behind us and ends below the pilgrimage church of Maria Trost (Maria the Comforter). It is in fact a Basilica, built in the 18th century, during the lifetime of Franz Josef Haydn. I'm not a big fan of Baroque, but this church is truly magnificent as it was conceived and built in one unified style, Baroque going into Rococo. It sits on a hill, dominating the landscape at the edge of Graz. Stepping into the cool interior from the harsh sunlight was a breathtaking experience. I didn't expect anything quite so gorgeous. Particularly impressive is the ornate organ loft. There is a wide path that goes through the forest from Maria Trost and ends not far from the Heim. At first you think you are in the remotest countryside, but then you discover charming villas and homes in the hills, and have glimpses of the city below. I am liking Graz more and more.

Maria Trost interiors

A view of the main altar, the pulpit and the organ loft.

Mürzzuschlag

A view of the town from the Brahmsweg. This photo is borrowed from someone else's posting. I took a photo from the same spot, but as it was cloudy, mine didn't turn out as well. You can see why Brahms was so taken with the landscape. But if he came back now he wouldn't recognize the town. He'd no doubt be horrified at its 'modern' appearance.

Pilgrimage

This was billed as a 'free' weekend, meaning no rehearsals or concerts were scheduled. Most everybody has taken off for somewhere, Budapest and Vienna being the most popular destinations. A few brave souls have ventured as far as Venice (but you really need three days to do that). I deliberated Budapest, which I have never visited, but decided that it was too far and too much hassle for a short weekend trip. I also considered going to the Salzkammergut, one of Austria's most beautiful areas, but it's hard to get to hotels without a car. Why go off so far afield anyway? There is certainly enough to explore right in my backyard here. I opted to make a day trip to the curiously named town of Mürzzuschlag. It lies northeast of Graz, about half way to Vienna. Its main attraction is the Johannes Brahms Museum. The composer spent two summers in M-schlag and composed, among other things, his Fourth Symphony here. He loved to walk in the woods above the town and extolled the beauties of the landscape. On my way there I passed Frohnleiten, which I visited just a week ago (it seems like a month ago), changed trains in Bruck an der Mur and was in M-schlag in an hour and a half. There is a terrific special rate for weekend train travel in the Stieremark; you can travel anywhere in the province (albeit on the slower regional trains only) for the low price of 11 euros ($16). What a deal! After the charming and overly pretty-fied town of Frohnleiten, M-schlag is a shock. It's just plain ugly. It seems that every old building in the center of town has been pulled down and has been replaced with ghastly glass and metal boxes, circa 1960's. The town square is a parking lot. What a pity; the Mürzzuschlagers could have learned something from their neighbors down the road in Frohnleiten. The only thing worth looking at is the lovely Baroque church and its graceful bell tower. The Brahms Museum, privately owned and operated, is actually in the house that the master occupied during his summers in M-schlag. It has interesting and informative displays of the composer's life and his travels. The most touching object is a piano that he actually played on. Playing it was verboten, but I did put my fingers on the keys that he touched (see photo). I undertook the two and a half hour hike along the Brahmsweg, a hiking trail that supposedly follows Brahms's own wanderings in the hills. I'll second his assertion: the landscape is magnificent. Unfortunately, after a sunny beginning to the day, it clouded over (it does that a lot in the Alps). I was able to combine both Culture and Nature in one excursion. An added delight to the day was running into an older couple I know only slightly from the program, Evangeline and Beaumont Glass, in the museum. They are a friendly, cultured and elegant couple. We sat in the salon, a small concert hall of the museum, and chatted for a long while. Later we shared the train ride back to Graz. As I had an hour and a half to kill waiting for the regional train for the return journey, I was forced to visit a local café and had no choice but to devour a slice of Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte with coffee. It's a rough life here in Austria.

Activities

Another week has drawn to an end. There is so much going on in the AIMS program that it is hard to keep up with it all. There was another low-key recital on Monday in a nearby hall which I didn't feel I needed to attend. On Tuesday the entire voice/coaching faculty was invited to a rustic restaurant outside of Graz for a special feast, called here a Buschenschank. Nearly everything served is either grown or processed on the premesis -- smoked meats, cheeses, home baked bread, apple cider and apple wine and, for dessert, Apfelstrudel. The restaurant is perched on a hill overlooking a wide valley. It was somewhat cloudy and in the distance the setting sun poured through on the beautiful landscape. It looked like a Tiepolo painting. On Wednesday we had the second orchestra concert. The theme for this one was operetta and musical theater. Only the best students are selected for these, of course. There were excerpts from "Lustige Witwe", "A Little Night Music" and "Kiss Me Kate". The star of the evening was Stacey Stofferahn Uthe, the soprano from the UMKC Conservatory, who sang "Vilja's Lied" exquisitely. The rest of the singing was nothing to write home about -- so I won't. The orchestra opened the concert with the overture to "Der Zigeunerbaron" (Johann Strauss). That was a fitting, though daring choice: the Austrians know how their music should sound and everybody has heard the Vienna Philharmonic play this piece. To their credit, the AIMS Festival Orchestra gave us Strauss with flair and style. The concert ended with a spectacular performance of a suite from "Star Wars". It was a very chilly, rainy evening and there was talk of cancelling the concert. I'm so glad it took place. The venue for the concert was on top of the mountain in the city center which once was crowned by a nearly impregnable fortress. All that is left of it are the foundations (from the 13th century) and these served as the walls for the semi-open concert area. The view of Graz at night is wonderful.
Friday night I was invited, as a guest of the wife of the director of the program, to a musical theater concert presented by select AIMS students at the Palais-Hotel Erz-Herzog Johann in downtown Graz. From the name of the hotel you can tell that it is a fancy place. I don't know who Grand Duke Johann was, but the Austrians love him. Maybe he invented Apfelstrudel or something. The concert was very well done. We then tucked in to an elegant buffet and polished off a few bottles of a Steiermark Sauvignon blanc. A good time was had by all. The AIMS program is designed so that every student with a modicum of talent can find some venue in which to perform. A student who is motivated can benefit greatly from the many opportunities offered here.

Everyday stuff

Transportation. There are a lot of things to admire about life in Europe. For one, the transportation system is enviable; trams, busses and trains will get you just about everywhere. Not only is there an extensive tram/bus network in Graz, but they run frequently -- even on weekends. Everything is up-to-date with automated ticket machines and every stop has a digital sign that tells you how many minutes you have to wait until the next tram or bus. Most of us here have purchased a monthly pass ($60) which enables us to ride anywhere, anytime.

Laundry. Just don't get me started! This is one aspect of living here that makes us want to bang our heads against a wall in frustration. There is a laundry room in the Heim, but using the washers and dryers is bizarrely complicated. I can't even begin to describe the process; you need an advanced degree in mechanical engineering to do your laundry there. The concept of 'coin-operated' seems to be unheard of in Austria. Besides the matter of operating the machines (and all I want to do is wash my clothes, not find a cure for cancer!), the washing room in the Heim is booked solid for weeks in advance. The other day I schlepped over to the one and only automat in town, entailing a tram and a bus ride, with my laundry. The place was nice, it was clean, but it was also expensive. Washing and drying two loads cost me over $15, about three times the cost in the States. Maybe I should go the way of some Europeans and simply not wash my clothes or myself at all (and what's up with that?), or I could find a nice spot on the edge of the Mur river and bang my clothes on the rocks.

Food. Here I can go into ecstacies. Austrian cuisine is wonderful. One can eat so well in this town, and usually for a reasonable cost. Every restaurant I have been to so far has offered dishes for vegetarian guests. Some delicious specialties are: Schwammerlrisotto (delicate local mushrooms baked with cheese and rice); Semmelknödel mit Champignon Rahmsauce (Bread dumplings with a mushroom cream sauce); Gemüselaibchen (vegetable cutlets); Spätzle mit Käse (a kind of small pasta variety with grated cheese). You can wash it all down with the wonderful local wines and beers. And for dessert there are the famous Austrian Torten and ice cream creations. Konditerein (café/bakeries) are numerous. The down side is that this luscious cuisine is heavy with cream and cheese. If I'm not careful I may have to reserve two seats for my flight home. I try to walk as much as I can, and occasionally leave out a meal. But going out to eat is so pleasant; usually there are sidewalk tables, or there is a nice quiet garden in the back, and there are interesting colleagues to hang out with. And then there's that great beer. Every restaurant is family owned and is unique -- no franchises like Olive Garden, Applebees, etc. that serve mediocre, boring food and have the ambience of a cardboard box.

Frohnleiten

Today I was a bad dog. The faculty was invited to hear and judge the contestants in the "Meistersinger" competition this weekend. Being selected for this is a high honor in the AIMS universe, it seems. Unfortunately, the process -- preliminaries, semi-finals and final round -- would take up many hours of both Saturday and Sunday. I had a long week of teaching and, to be frank, the last thing I wanted to hear was more singing. The forecast for today, Saturday, was for warm and sunny weather. After a week of rain I just couldn't resist an outing and skipped out on the competition. There are, after all, about 30 other people who will be listening to this.
Where to go? All of the Steiermark and beyond awaited me. I opted for a short trip to the town of Frohnleiten. It's an old town of medieval origins that had strategic importance guarding the only bridge north of Graz over the river Mur, the same river that flows through Graz. I made my way to the Hauptbanhof (main railway station) and took the half-hour train trip north. The Graz railway station is an ugly modern affair, not one of those grand old stations one finds in some other cities. When the bombs fell in WW II the train networks were prime targets, of course. There are mountains around Graz, but not high ones. Just north and west of the city they get bigger. Frohnleiten is a delightful, picturesque little burg nestled in the mountains, perched on a rise above the river. It consists mainly of a large main square adorned with lovely old buildings, some from the 16th century. The modern city fathers went a little too far in their modernizing of the square, in my opinion; it looks like a cross between a mall and a play area, something like Disneyland on the Mur. But it is still very pretty. It doesn't take long to see the town and the one Baroque church. There was a tourist info place and the nice young man there suggested some easier hikes in the area. I headed north to the next village of Rothleiten, then turned into a lovely side valley towards Gamsgraben (the map he gave me was very helpful). The first few kilometers paralleled the autobahn. Despite the impressive scenery, the rush of auto traffic was a downer. But once in the side valley it became truly pastoral. I could see where new houses were being built in the villages -- weekend homes? people commuting to Graz? Living in a side valley whose road is a dead end, with mountains and forests on all sides and a cheerful brook running through the middle of it would be a fine location for a house. Sign me up.

Rothleiten

A view of the neighboring village of Rothleiten nestled in the mountains, in the Gamsbach valley. It clouded over a bit, so the pic is a little dark. The fields were unmown and covered in wild flowers. It was a lovely place to take a country walk.

Local charm

An old house in the main square, covered with ivy and bedecked with flowers.

Frohnleiten

A view of the town perched on a hill above the river, taken from the bridge over the River Mur. The previous historic wooden bridge was taken out by flooding in 1938. It was reconstructed in concrete after that, but in a style fitting to the historic setting.

Der Hauptplatz, Frohnleiten

A view of the main square from the steps of the church, Our Lady of Baroque Overkill. The town has won awards for its displays of flowers in the town. I believe it -- its gorgeous!

Decor by Tammy Faye

This is an interior shot of the church in Frohnleiten. I would describe the style as 'Tammy Faye Baker Baroque'. Could they have crammed any more decoration into this place? It's stuffed to the rafters with frescos, statuary, gold doodads, etc. My reaction as I walked in the door was: Egads!! But for those who like Austrian Baroque, this is the real deal.

Der Stephaniensaal

Yesterday I had a break in my mid-afternoon teching schedule and went down to the shady school playground (this is an elementary school, remember). I planned to do a little reading, but after a while an orchestra rehearsal commenced in what is ordinarily the gymnasium of the school, a room accessible from the schoolyard. Doors and windows were open. The glorious sounds of Beethoven's "Egmont Overture" overwhelmed me; there was no way I could read with such (live!) music pouring into my ears. Entering the rehearsal space I could feel the floor vibrating -- talk about total immersion! Beethoven often sends me into a state of immediate ecstasy; his music possesses a primal power like no other; the human spirit strives for and dwells in an exalted realm in his music. I looked forward with great anticipation to tonight's program.
The first orchestra concert of the season took place downtown in the Stephaniensaal, a concert hall built on the model of the Vienna Musikvereinsaal. It's one of those lavishly ornate, beautiful old European halls. Alas, the best laid plans went awry. I left in plenty of time for the concert, planning to have a light supper downtown, but I ran into colleagues and we were delayed. They wanted to go to a restaurant and suggested a charming little Italian place (run by real Italians!) near the hall. Who can say no to the company of two lovely women and the prospect of great Italian food? Not even I. The upshot was that we arrived at the hall just as the doors were closing for the beginning of the concert, so I heard the "Egmont" through closed doors. It's a good thing I heard that rehearsal or I would have been really disappointed! The rest of the program consisted of excerpts from "Fidelio" and, after intermission, five songs of Joseph Marx and Strauss' "Don Juan". Marx is a native of this area. I know his music only slightly. The songs are written in a lush, late Romantic and quasi Impressionistic style. They are over-orchestrated but very colorful. The vocalists chosen for the evening were of varying degrees of accomplishment. The Strauss is, of course, one of the most formidable tests of orchestral playing. The AIMS ensemble rose to the occasion, playing with finesse and suppleness. It was a superlative performance. Their level of playing astonishes me. It is no wonder that some orchestra members have returned for twenty years in a row to play with this ensemble. I think I would come back here in the future just to hear them!

Another openin', another show

On Monday evening, the first day of lessons and classes, there was a recital showcasing the AIMS faculty. It was supposed to take place in a nearby hall but since it was raining non-stop it was decided that the concert would be moved to the large hall of the Heim. I got to hear my colleagues and enjoy their considerable talents. The program covered the gamut from opera to operetta, cabaret, art songs, piano solos, and music parody (an amusing rendition of Rossini's "Barber of Seville" overture for piano, 6 hands). My own contribution was a performance of a song I had written for basso Gustavo Halley, entitled "Sokrates und Alcibiades" (text of Hölderlin). It is one of five songs I wrote for Gustavo some 15 years ago. He performed them in Kansas City at that time, but not since. So, we dusted off this one song for this concert. It was billed as an "Österreichische Erstaufführing" (Austrian first performance). It sounds more impressive in German than it really is. It was very well received. A few days ago I had an e-mail from another colleague from the Conservatory who is teaching at a summer program in Orvieto, Italy. He informed me that a student of his who is in the program there (a bass I worked with last semester) performed some of the five songs on a concert at the Opera House in Orvieto. When it rains, it pours, apparently. Two European performances of my music in one week -- I don't know if I can handle that! Anyway, the AIMS faculty concert was really very fine. There is an impressive assemblage of talent here.

The Austrians are famously polite, and I can attest to that. The other day I went to a Friseur to have a simple haircut. It was a local place, in the Leonhardstrasse, nothing fancy. The woman who cut my hair was charmingly attentive and solicitous, explaining to me what she was doing at every turn, making every effort to please. She made me look ten years younger. I think I'd like to take her back to the States with me as my personal friseur.

Festive Opening

Now that we have the long process of hearings behind us and have somehow managed to schedule everyone in their classes, lessons and coachings, the AIMS program is up and running. The opening ceremony took place Sunday afternoon in the Aula (grand hall) of the Karl-Franzens-University. The Festival Orchestra played a few selections and there were speeches from representatives of the mayor's office, the Governor of Styria, and the director of the program, Dr. Tom King. The university was built in 1895, in the heyday of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy, when little Austria ruled much of Europe. There are many surviving government buildings from the period all over Austria (and the former empire), all done in the handsome classical style. The orchestra players come from professional ensembles in the US and Europe. It is extremely competitive to land a chair, I'm told. Most are young, college age, so it is a very pleasant surprise to hear an orchestra of such professional quality. They began with John Adam's energetic "A short ride in a fast machine". After a few (blessedly short) speeches we heard the "Tannhaeuser Overture". That was wonderfully played -- it just blew me away. After a few more remarks an assembled choir sang "America the Beautiful", an Austrian folk song, "Hoch vom Dachstein an", which was lovely, then the national anthems of the USA and Austria (which I have never heard: "Land der Berge, Land am Stome" -- who knew?). Finally, the orchestra ended the program with a spirited and polished rendition of Dvorak's Slavonic Dance in g minor. I am thrilled to be here and be a part of this!

But the best was yet to come. In the early evening we were bussed over to the other side of town, to Schloss Eggenberg, for the formal reception. This was billed as a high drag event, so everyone was dressed in their best. The Eggenberg Palace was built in the 17th century by the Eggenberg family which, just after it was all completed (it took three generations), promptly died out. And more's the pity as the world was deprived of the possibility of, somewhere down the line, an Eggbert von Eggenberg. The palace is sumptuous Baroque to the rafters and is surrounded by a gorgeous park with magnificent old trees. We assembled in the Planetensaal (which was stifling -- all the windows were closed because of real candles burning in the chandeliers; if you want ambience, you have to suffer for it). This magnificent room is the crown jewel of the palace. We endured a few (again, mercifully short) welcoming speeches and were also treated to a performance of the first movement of Beethoven's Septet, superbly played by select members of the orchestra. There was an elegant buffet and drinks after that. It was a lovely evening. I intend to return to chez Eggenberg someday to visit the museum and explore the extensive grounds. A pride of peacocks struts about the place, the males displaying their finery to anyone who shows even the slightest interest. What odd, but gorgeous, creatures they are.

The photos show part of the facade of the Schloss at dusk; the inner courtyard where we were serenaded by a brass ensemble playing appropriate Renaissance and Baroque selections; and a surreptitious pic of the septet in flagrante delicto. (Gustavo Halley is seated to the right). [N.B. remember that clicking on any pic will enlarge it.]

Saint Lenny

This is the view from my window of the Heim, the steeple of the Baroque church of Sankt Leonhard. In the previous few years I had a view of the Green Mountains of Vermont from my summer abode. I think this is a fair exchange. I made a brief visit to this church the other day. The facade is unmistakenly Baroque, the back part of the nave is Gothic and the front part is modern. Somehow it all works. In the 17th century it was very common for Gothic churches to be re-done in the newer Baroque style by adding ornate altars and faux columns (Baroque is very big on faux). The modern section would surely be a result of damage from WW II. A bomb fell on the church and destroyed part of it. It was an all too common occurrence.
I discovered the Botanical Garden not too far away. I look forward to exploring the hothouses and the gardens. The neighborhood behind our street is lovely. Unfortunately, the Elizabethstrasse, on which the Heim is located, is a very busy four-lane thoroughfare. Vehicles come racing down the street continuously. You take your life in your hands to get across it.

For the past few days we have been hearing all the vocalists (130 of them) and about a dozen pianists. There are 34 singers in the Concert Studio so, gratefully, I didn't have to listen to all the auditions. Everyone sang two pieces of their own choosing. I was pleasantly surprised at the level of singing; many of the participants are younger, but nearly everyone offers something to work with. The staff are very supportive. When one soprano sang "Vilia's Lied" the entire voice faculty spontaneously joined in during the chorus bit at the end of each verse. Occasionally, when someone is exceptional, there will be spontaneous applause from the 25 to 30 people who are listening. There are three coaches for the Concert Studio and we each have a themed recital repertory list. My colleagues here are friendly and gracious. We were easily able to agree on dividing the students so that each of us has at least one mezzo and one male singer. (From that you may gather that there is a preponderance of sopranos -- and you would be right!) I revised my (rather comprehensive) repertoire list to meet the reality of what I have to work with. I discover that I can still put an interesting program together. The 11 vocalists and 3 pianists I get to work with this summer will present a full-length Liederabend just before the end of the program in August.
The building where we will be teaching is just down the street, in a Volksschule (elementary school). It's an old building with huge rooms and 15 foot high ceilings. Brand new pianos have been moved into the rooms. I have a lovely grand in mine. With the high ceilings and absence of any kind of acoustical material, the sound is quite live. The most modest soubrette, Petunia von Pippskveek, will sound like Birgit Nielson singing in these rooms. I continue to acquaint myself with the large staff, meeting some new people every morning at breakfast: coaches, conductors, voice teachers, language teachers, etc. We're a diverse and interesting group, I will say.

And finally...

These are the last three photos: the view of Lausanne, dominated by the Gothic Cathedral (consecrated 1275), was taken at dusk; another view of the Villa Diodati looking towards Lac Léman; the last is self explanatory -- just to prove that I REALLY was there and wasn't shooting photos of some random villa!

Brixen

Bit by bit I am adding most of the pics I took on my road trip. It seems like ancient history, but just a week ago I was still in Lausanne. These four pics are from the delightful town on Brixen (Bressanone in Italian) in the South Tyrol, or what the Italians call the Alto Adige. I visited this town by accident as I missed a turn on a roundabout, ended up going down a one way street which brought me to a parking space in front of the bridge into the old part of town. That was serendipity! You can see one of two churches in the main square (the place is VERY Catholic), the square itself and the inside of the baroque cathedral. The Pope is scheduled to make a short holiday in this town soon. There were banners in welcome all over the place. I am amazed that these pictures came out so well. That *&^%$# camera may be complicated to operate, but it does take photos of remarkable quality -- even though I barely know how to operate it! [BTW, click on any image to enlarge it.]

Getting Started

Now that my travels are over for a while, my entries will become less frequent. But I intend to give updates on my life and activities here in the city of Graz now and then.
There are three students here from the UMKC Conservatory, one of them an older, experienced soprano with whom I have worked in the past. She arrived yesterday and I took her to dinner at the local cafe so that she wouldn't have to deal with too much new stuff (language, funny money, etc.) She's in the opera program, so I won't be seeing all that much of her. There is also one student who was at the Seagle Colony for two summers. She is one of the sweetest young people I know. I'm glad she's here. My closest connection here, Sarah and Gustavo Halley, have been raving about Graz for years. They think it is the most wonderful place in the world. Granted, the inner city, one of the biggest in Europe, has been declared a World Heritage Site by UNESCO, but it hasn't made that much of an impression on me yet. It is slowly growing on me as I get to explore more. Just behind the Elizabeth Strasse, where the Studentenheim is located, there is a beautiful neighborhood of old villas. At the turn of the last century this area was at the edge of the city and the elite of Graz built their homes here. Some are in Italian Renaissance style, some in Jugendstil which, in the decades before WW I, was very big in Vienna. Each villa is surrounded by spacious grounds and gardens. It is a lovely place to take an evening walk as it is quiet and there is little traffic. From a vantage point at the end of this street one can see nearby green hills and fields. Is this the city or the country? Yesterday I took a long walk in the Altstadt and passed the Opera House. If you have read some of my earlier blog entries, you might remember the photo of R. Strauss, G. Mahler and G. Puccini at the side door of the Opera House after the Graz premiere of "Salome". Yesterday I stood on that very spot and wondered what other important figures from the music world had passed over it. On another walk I passed an old house with a plaque announcing that the famous conductor Karl Böhm had first seen the light of day there. The most famous favorite son of Graz these days is Arnold Schwarzenegger, and I hear the Grazers are very proud of him. Local boy does good and becomes Governor of California -- not bad.
Today we had an introductory meeting of the vocal staff and students. There are 130 vocalists (and there is an orchstra here as well). There must be 50-60 faculty/staff, including voice teachers, opera coaches, Lieder coaches, diction coaches (including Russian, French and Italian), stage directors, German language teachers, opera accompanists and Lieder accompanists. It is quite an impressive group (so, what am I doing here?). Compared to the small and personal experience I have had for the past 12 summers, this is a little overwhelming. I don't do well in large groups. Tomorrow we start hearings of all the vocalists for placement in the programs and assignments to upcoming concerts. Of course, 75% of the singers are sopranos. I'm curious to hear what the level of singing is here. Most of the stronger voices will no doubt be in the opera area.