Sitzfleisch

Here is a dialogue-journal assignment for my students. I thought some blog-readers would enjoy it.

Sitzen - (German) - verb infinitive, to sit
(das) Fleisch - (German) - noun, meat

Why are we talking about "sitting meat?"

Sitzfleisch is probably originally a Yiddish term, but makes sense in German. It is technically now even an English word, according to the Oxford English Dictionary.

It literally means "the meat on your butt." And I bring it up today because - it is at this point in the semester - where things get hard. If you don't show up every day and do the work, and organize your practice time, you will not have the proper amount of Sitzfleisch.

Why is a pianist telling singers to sit?

First of all, some of your music really needs to be plunked, sat about, and-or thought about, at a keyboard. And all of it could use seated-focused-at-the-keyboard work.

Here is a photo (I've heard they are worth a thousand words) of my activity this past week in Germany. You can see me on the right, playing the accompaniment. Why I love this picture so much is that is shows my beloved colleague, Tara, at the opposite keyboard, playing HER part.

In the photo, we are working on four arias, two of which we premiered last Friday. These were written by her husband. (These will be performed twice in Albuquerque in November).

These pieces are challenging for both pianist and singer. Rhythmically tricky. Sometimes the accompaniment does not generate the pitches for the vocalist. The texts are in several different languages. And not to mention - having the composer in rehearsals means that there "is no hiding."


- Posted en route

Location:Wilshire Ave NE,Albuquerque,United States

Preparation

I have thought so long that a piano should be, simultaneously, the substition and simulation of an entire orchestra. Organists might trump this in some ways, but pianists have a wide dynamic range through physical interaction with the keyboard. 

Twentieth-century composers became curious about color possibilities when a performer was asked to treat the strings with various things, therefore altering the sounds. John Cage asked performers to put nails, forks, tacks, felt, and various other objects in or on the strings. It would create colors closer to a gamelan, Indian drums, or an entire percussion section rather than a keyboard. 

Three of the pieces which I played recently in Germany called for "prepared piano." The composer will put some sort of key or legend in the music before the actual music begins. He or she will lay out a "map" of which notes to treat with which materials. One of the pieces called for some keys to be taped to the fallboard. Another piece asked for notes to be muted (and-or producing overtones) with some sort of putty. The putty in particular was easy because it was able to be removed quickly and re-used. 

I had not done a lot of music like this before initiating the "Albuquerque meets Darmstadt" project. Now, all of the sudden, I was immersed in the possibilities of color which the composers required. 

PHOTO: The inside of the piano while I was practicing "Pulstastung," a multi-movement work by my friend, UNM colleague, and amazing Darmstadt host, Dr. Karola Obermüller. 

Here is a further explanation from the "Prepared Piano" article on Wikipedia. Here is the link if you are interested - https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prepared_piano

Although theoretically any object could be used to prepare a piano, in practical application preparation objects are usually expected to have certain characteristics:

• They are applied directly to the piano strings.
• They must fit in the desired location inside the piano.
• They (usually) should not move from their location during playing.
• They must be reversible (that is, when a properly prepared piano has been "unprepared", it should be impossible for anyone to tell that it had been ever been prepared; no permanent damage is done to the piano).

Additionally, most preparations will change the timbre of the string in such a way that the original pitch of the string will no longer be perceptible, though there are occasional exceptions to this.^[1]

Portraits and Dedications

Coming to Europe has always felt like a homecoming. Many Americans certainly can lay claim to European heritage: my own ancestors came from Italy, Wales, Switzerland, and (former East) Germany. Moreover, much of the music and literature which classical music students in the USA study comes from continental Europe. Even the cuisine of Germany has permeated the area of the country where I was raised. 

Part of the "Albuquerque meets Darmstadt" project is to present composers who are currently living and working as composers in Germany (and that have a tie in some way to either city). I had the distinct pleasure of meeting with composer Cord Meijering, director of the Akademie für Tonkunst, DA. 

His pieces are called "Portraits and Dedications." I got to hear the full story about his time at the Macdowell artist colony (New Hampshire, USA) and the people he met. I loved the tales - artists creating things out of frozen spiders; a Pulitzer Prize elderly author going for walks in the rain and hiding in the mist (she also often repeated herself - her "piece" shows it); a literature professor from the Pacific Northwest who had a quirky, wonderful sense of humor. 

Composers need a "point of entry" and why not start with living, breathing, people? 

PHOTO: the Akademie für Tonkunst (musical arts) sign. 

Tonight (and now, back to practicing)

http://www.ztix.de/event.php/725158

Tonight is my solo concert at the Darmstadt Akademie für Tonkunst. 

I am so grateful for the hospitality I have received by my hosts, Peter and Karola, their children and Karola's parents, Prof. Theo Nüßein, Prof. Mark Lutz, Professor Mr. and Mrs. Volker Blumenthaler, Ms. Monika Teepe, Mr. Cord Meijerling, Ms. Tara Venditti. 

I must also thank the many composers who have made contributions for tonight's programme: Drs. Karola Obermüller, Peter Gilbert, Rick Hermann, José-Luis Hurtado, Cord Meijering, Volker Blumenthaler. An additional (future) debt of gratitutde goes to Drs. Steve Block, Daniel Cummings, and David Bashwinner for future contributions to the "Albuquerque meets Darmstadt" project. 

I have so many wonderful memories from this week - a week I will never forget. 

Tschüß!

Surround Sound

The night after my arrival in Darmstadt, my friend-extraordinaire, composer-extraordiaire, and amazing host Peter and I took a voyage on the trams into the center of Darmstadt. It was to hear a piece written and "conceived" during the Darmstadt FerienKurse. 

PHOTO: Promotion poster, containing an interesting reflection. 
 

The work of the night was "Prometeo," (read more here - https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prometeo) a tour-de-force for multiple choruses, orchestras, vocal soloists, ensembles, three conductors, and a team of virtuoso sound engineers. The total ensemble was split up and divided all around the room. The audience was asked to enter in small groups, wearing masks. We were then guided by an usher to our seats, which were arranged in circles of sixes, seatbacks together (so within an "island" of chairs, you faced out). At various points within the piece, the audience was asked to circle around two places, so that you could experience the "surround sound" in total.

Not only that, but for the opening "Prologo," you were asked to sit with your mask on. Despite my jet "leg" (see this post), I probably only nodded off for about 30 seconds of a masked prologue. Not bad. (Though I'm still suffering from some jet leg).

PHOTO: Promoteo-mask-selfie, taken in my practice space for the week.

Luigi Nono (bio is here - https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Luigi_Nono_(composer) ) was an avant-garde twentieth-century composer, Venetian-trained by Gian Francesco Malipiero (one of the comopsers who was the subject of my masters' thesis). He was a student at the Darmstädter Ferienkurse in the 1950s. According to the placard outside of the concert, "Prometeo" was conceived with the things that he had learned from his colleagues in Darmstadt. 

PHOTO: Here is a favorite shot of mine of Venice (ca. early June, 2012).

This isn't exactly a piece to take a road-trip listening to, but since performances are rare (size, difficulty, expense, electronic necessities), I'm thrilled that I was able to hear a performance of this quality, and in a location that was so important to its creation.

Jet leg

Currently here in Darmstadt, Germany! I attemtped to go to bed for the night at 9PM - perhaps a mistake - because by 11:45 pm I am wide-awake. 

Time to write. Which I haven't been taking much of lately.

I was reminded today of "doing Europe Kristin things" and why this is important. To me, European travel and work has been synonymous with summer for - a while. If I were to get a major summer engagement, I would move the Europe time (in some way) but not give it up. 

For me, it is a beloved pilgrimage. 

I am being hosted by musicians-extraordinaire, colleagues, friends KO and PG (co-faculty members at UNM) in their lovely flat in Eberstadt. I arrived on Thursday and honestly have been practicing so much - I have not found the time yet to see Frankenstein castle or go to nearby cities by train. My concerts are both coming this week.

My husband calls it "jet leg" I think out of a mis-hearing - but his philosophy is that if you have many legs of a trip, the worse the jet leg. 

I can't say that I argue with him. But I'm relatively used to funny sleep patterns - they've plagued me all of my life. Now, I know enough to detach and to do something enjoyable in order to get back to sleep as soon as possible. 

PHOTO: The labyrinth in Grace Cathedral, San Francisco, CA. A reminder that travel and music of all kinds is not necessary a direct path - but has "legs." Backturns, connections, jogs, swerves. Each (jet) leg teaches us a lesson.