It is now early August, and our time in Greece is rapidly coming to a close. I’m pleased to report that our performance of “Agamemnon” at the Oiniades Theatre Festival was a success.
It was a unique cultural experience for me to sit in the midst of the Greek audience during the performance. To get an idea of what I mean, first take everything that you know about audience etiquette at theatrical or musical performances in the United States and throw it out the window. At the beginning of the performance, the audience quieted while the musicians tuned, but shortly thereafter, the commotion began. People talked and gossiped, kids ran around, camera bulbs flashed, cigarettes went ablaze, and cell phones rang constantly. Like in America, people fumbled for their mobile phones when they rang, but for a completely different purpose. Instead of silencing the phones, people ANSWERED them and carried on conversations right in the theatre! There was often more activity happening in the audience than on-stage!
As I said, it’s a unique cultural experience. Aside from the mobile phone aspect, this must be how audiences in 17th and 18th century Italian opera houses behaved! Despite the general commotion, once something of importance starts happening on-stage, the audience snaps to attention. For instance, when the handmaids brought out the purple cloth for Agamemnon entrance to the palace, you could have heard a pin drop. In short, I learned that you must EARN the audience’s attention here - it is not granted by default.
We were afraid that attendance to our performance would be lax due to the language barrier (our show is in both English and Greek), but we were wrong. I have no official head count, but the mayor of the city estimated that roughly 500 people attended. Not bad at all.
I took no pictures during the actual performance, but here is a gallery of pictures from tech week, including the final dress rehearsal.
After-Party
After the show, we tore down the set and raced back to Katohi to change clothes for our dinner with the mayor. Dinner started around midnight, and we ate outdoors in the town square. I thought it a feast fit for a king - they brought out platter after platter of delicacies, and we ate “community” style by passing plates to one another. All in all, we feasted until 3 AM. Wow. It was a memorable experience.
My next post will cover our adventures in Corinth, Mycenae, and Nafplio. Stay tuned!
Time flies. This past week was our “tech week”, meaning that every evening we rehearsed “Agamemnon” at the Oiniades theatre with full set and costumes. Our final dress rehearsal is this evening (Saturday), and Sunday evening is our performance.
The mayor of the village of Katohi wants to take us out for dinner after our performance. Keep in mind that our show will not start until 9:30 PM, so we’re likely looking at dinner around midnight. While that may sound bizarre to my American readers back home, it’s perfectly normal in Greece.
Two years ago, the mayor took us all out to eat after our performance of “The Bacchae”, and he liked the first piece I wrote for the show so much that he demanded an encore performance around the dinner table! It’s a different mayor this time, so we’ll see if anything like that happens again.
Delphi
As I promised in my last post, here’s an update (plus pictures) concerning some of our recent adventures here. Back in June, our first weekend excursion was to the ancient sacred site of Delphi. We left early on a Saturday morning and had a three-hour bus trip, the last hour of which was uphill, through twisting, treacherous terrain. We all held our breath when our bus driver attempted a 180-degree turn on a tiny mountain road with no guardrail to stop us from careening off the cliff, but the driver did a masterful job.
This was my second trip to Delphi, and I found the ruins just as impressive as I did the first time. Most things were just as I remember them, such as the lovely temple to Athena and the vast temple of Apollo (the oracle itself). Please see the collection of pictures below.
There’s a lot to see at Delphi in addition to the temples, such as the ancient theatre and the Stadium at the top. It’s customary to engage in a foot-race in the Stadium, but unlike my last visit, no one was allowed into the Stadium this time. That minor inconvenience did not stop two members in our company, who proceeded to jump the rope and race through the Stadium, much to the dismay of the guard!
Once we descended from the mountain, we cooled off in the museum. Unbelievably, I was able to take some pictures of the famous “Delphi Charioteer” statue without anyone around it!
Yannina
The following weekend (in early July), we took another day trip, this time to the city of Yannina. This was my first visit there, so I had no idea what to expect. Yannina is a fairly-large city in north-western Greece. Since it has a major university, I kept humorously trying to envision it as Lawrence, KS, but with mountains and ocean.
Our first stop was the famous wax museum, which contains dozens of life-size sculptures all impressively created by a single man. No pictures were allowed inside the museum, so I regret that I have none to show you now.
After lunch, we took a short ferry ride to a small tourist-trap of an island, filled with dozens of little trinket shops, all containing practically the same trinkets. The main attraction on the island was the Ali Pasha museum, which was essentially the place where he lived and was murdered. Apparently he was shot several times and had his head delivered to the Sultan on a silver platter (remember that Greece was swallowed up by the Ottoman empire for about 400 years). Please see the pictures below, including the pictures of a painting representing the death of Ali Pasha.
Once again, thanks for reading! Stay tuned for updates and pictures about Corinth, Mycenae, and Nafplio.
Greetings from Greece! It’s been about a month since we left the USA, and much has happened. Rather than try to recount all our activities in a single entry, I’m going to break it up into more manageable posts.
Music
First of all, the music for “Agamemnon” is completely finished. Since we left for Athens in June, I’ve composed roughly 25 minutes of music for the show, scored for clarinet, viola, percussion, and chorus (plus soloists). Whenever and wherever I had an opportunity, I wrote, often completing an entire piece a day! I remember sketching a few tunes on the plane, and I even wrote an arietta for Clytemnestra while sitting at the American School of Classical Studies in Athens.
We have one week until we perform “Agamemnon” as part of the Oiniades Theatre Festival, and I’ve been busy rehearsing the chorus for the last month. Our performance is on Sunday, July 27, and we will also have at least one performance back at the University of Kansas in late August. Unlike last time, when I played the role of Dionysus in “The Bacchae” (Euripides), I actually get to sit in the audience and watch the production. What a treat! I like to joke that I should just start enthusiastically singing along with the chorus during the performance, pretending that all the tunes are well-known, popular tunes. That should confuse the Greek audience pretty thoroughly!
Athens
Before I get carried away talking about the production, allow me to switch gears and document our travels a bit. Getting to Athens from Kansas took a LONG time. Once we claimed our luggage, we jumped on the metro headed for the hotel. See the picture in the gallery below of myself, Kat, and Dennis Christilles (the director) on the metro looking very tired and greasy after our long series of flights. Dennis is so tired, his eyes are closed!
I also included a few obligatory pictures of the Acropolis.
This is my third stay in Athens (counting the previous two visits from 2006), and honestly, it’s one of the scarier cities I’ve ever visited. Our hotel (on Menander street) was a fairly-nice hotel in a disturbingly-bad neighborhood. Every night we saw hundreds of angry-looking Middle-Eastern immigrants swarming in the streets outside the hotel, blocking all traffic. The women in our group were advised not to leave the hotel in the evening without a “man-shield.” Unbelievable.
Fortunately, none of us ran into any trouble, and we got to enjoy our time trekking around the city.
Since this is an outing of mostly theatre people, we were naturally fascinated by the Theatre of Dionysus, just down the hill from the Acropolis. Also see in the gallery above a photo of our entire group in all of our exhausted glory. Keep in mind that our Acropolis tour was mere hours after we stepped off the plane in Athens.
Katohi
After a few days exploring the attractions in Athens, we boarded a bus headed for the village of Katohi, our “home away from home.” Katohi literally means “The Occupation”, and while practicing our Greek in the Athens hotel, we alarmed the desk attendant by telling him we were traveling to “Katohi.” Having never heard of such a small village, he thought at first that part of his nation must be undergoing a hostile takeover. Given Greece’s history, I can’t blame him (they were swallowed up by the Ottoman Empire for about 400 years). Katohi itself actually was occupied by the Germans for part of the 20th century, hence the name.
Anyway, we safely made it to the tiny farming village of Katohi. Since life moves at such a slow pace here, not much has changed in the last two years, with the exception that there are now TWO Internet cafes instead of one. The empty elementary school where we reside is just as I remember it. One main difference is that we actually have glorious air conditioning in two rooms, which makes living in a school during the Mediterranean summer much more tolerable.
On the day we arrived, many people turned out to meet us, many of whom I had met on the previous trip. We exchanged Greek kisses (both cheeks), and one young woman actually started singing some of the pieces I wrote for the show last time. It was a nice feeling. I appear to be some sort of mini-celebrity in the village - many people remember me as Dionysus from “The Bacchae.”
Living in an elementary school is not the most luxurious of settings, but the local residents tried very hard to make us welcome. They cleaned the school thoroughly and set up beds for us. I just try to think of it as glorified camping.
Just outside the village of Katohi is the ancient Oiniades theatre. For us, it’s a profound and humbling experience to perform in a place where music and theatre were performed thousands of years ago. We’ve only been out to the theatre twice so far, but beginning next week we will rehearse there every afternoon and evening. Here are a few pictures of our humble abode, plus the Oiniades theatre. Just look at that view!
The first time we visited the theatre, a local news reporter met with Dennis and myself and asked us questions about our production of “Agamemnon.” She documented all of our responses, making a special note that I composed all the music right here in Katohi. I haven’t seen the magazine article for which the interview was intended yet, but a local friend of mine joked with me that I’m going to be famous in Greece after the publication. Yeah, right!
Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for coming updates (and pictures) about Delphi, Corinth, Iannina, Mycenae, and Nafplio!
I’m typing this post from my hotel in Athens, Greece, where I am unbelievably able to pick up a wireless internet connection (with only one bar of signal!). Two years ago, when I made my first trip to Greece, I wrote a post right before I left. This time, I’m a little behind.
I’m returning to the Oiniades Theatre Festival as a guest composer, this time for a modern adaptation of Aeschylus’ Agamemnon. As before, Dennis Christilles (a professor of theatre at KU) is creating the adaptation and directing the play, and I am composing music for the choruses and interludes. I’ve written some of the music already, but will write the rest in Greece.
I love this Greek experience because it is truly unique. The vocal abilities of the actors, plus the instruments involved, vary each time, and somehow I have to create a musical score that works with the forces we have available. It is truly a show custom-created for the ensemble.
Last time we produced The Bacchae by Euripides. This time it is Agamemnon. Unlike last year, I will not be playing an acting role - only a musical one. So what’s the premise of the show? In a nutshell, Agamemnon has been gone for ten years, laying siege to Troy in order to capture and bring back Helen. At the beginning of the play, a watchman notices that signal fires have been lit, signaling the fall of Troy. A herald eventually arrives, bringing news that Troy has been destroyed and that Agamemnon and his surviving forces should return home soon.
One would expect this to be good news, especially to Clytemnestra (Agamemnon’s wife), but one must remember that she has been at home brooding for ten years. Not only did her husband abandon her for a decade in a “rescue” effort that sapped Greece of its resources, he also sacrificed their daughter Iphigenia in order to receive favorable winds for their passage to Troy. To make matters worse, Agamemnon returns with a pretty Trojan prophetess as his concubine (Cassandra). To put it lightly, Clytemnestra is just a bit “peeved.”
Clytemnestra welcomes Agamemnon home, insisting that he walk on a red carpet into the palace. Agamemnon is hesitant not to seem prideful or arrogant, but eventually concedes. He goes into the palace and is murdered in the bath by Clytemnestra. Cassandra prophecies about her own death to the unbelieving chorus, then walks into the palace and is also slain by the raging Clytemnestra.
The play ends with Clytemnestra attempting to justify her actions while Aegisthus delivers a boastful speech that nearly ends in a brawl. Clytemnestra chastises him, stating that there has already been enough blood spilled today. The chorus then drops a foreboding hint that Orestes (the son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra) will surely return in order to seek vengeance for his father’s murder. Yes, Agamemnon is the first in a trilogy of plays about the cursed House of Atreus. If you want to read further, start with an overiew of the Oresteia.
I leave you (for now) with this, the supposed “death mask” of Agamemnon, which is on display in a museum in Athens.
I have limited internet access in the village of Katohi at Oiniades, but will create at least one new post and upload some pictures in July. Until then, my best wishes to all of you.
Inspired by Ferdowsi’s Shahnameh (Persian Book of Kings), Feridoun is a loosely-programmatic work depicting the struggle and coming to power of one of ancient Persia’s earliest kings.
In Persian mythology, the lands were ruled by an evil tyrant named Zahhak. Two snakes grew from his shoulders, and Zahhak ordered that two people must die each day in order to satiate the snakes. Fear spread amongst the people, and they longed for justice and revenge. One night, Zahhak dreamed that a boy named Feridoun would eventually dethrone him. Terrified, he ordered that this boy be found and killed.
For years, Feridoun’s mother kept him one step ahead of Zahhak. When he was a teenager, he learned that Zahhak had sacrificed and fed his father to the ever-hungry snakes. Enraged, he joined a small uprising against Zahhak and led his envoy into battle. Singlehandedly he defeated Zahhak and bound him in a cave beneath Mount Damavand. The tyrant cast down, Feridoun ruled the earth with benevolence and justice for the rest of his long lifetime.
Musically, Feridoun is a through-composed piece, each section directly relating to an aspect from the story. Many of the sections have subtitles, a few of which are “Zahhak,” “Kaveh’s Revolt,” “The Battle of Zahhak and Feridoun,” and “The Divine Farr.”
* This work includes extended techniques for both flute and piano, plus the usage of some small percussion instruments.
About
Inspired by stories from Ferdowsi’s Shahnameh (Persian Book of Kings), Div is a work depicting the dual facets of these colorful beings.
A “div” (pronunciation: deev) often has negative associations, and in Persian mythology is an evil spirit akin to a demon that loves to cause harm and destruction. However, some divs may actually be helpful and benign. Unlike in Judeo-Christian tradition, a div is a physical being, often pictured with combined human and animal features. Though they have two arms and legs like humans, often they feature tufted tails like a lion, hairy, multicolored bodies, and bestial faces. Divs are frequently mentioned in the Shahnameh; one famous story involves the struggle between the Persian hero Rostam and the Akvan Div, a white demon whose name means “evil mind.”
Musically, the first half of the piece represents the malevolent side of divs, whereas the latter half represents their benign nature. Subtitled Ahura, a Farsi word representing the “right” kind of divinity and the moral opposite of evil, this latter half utilizes much of the same melodic content, though slightly transformed. Does the work end in a pure, righteous state, or do some elements of the “evil” div mischievously return? The listener may fully decide.
Div was commissioned by the KU Helianthus Contemporary ensemble.
Lamb of God is a heavily-revised, but surviving “early” piece. It was originally composed as a Men’s trio, but later expanded for Men’s Chorus. This recording is of the KU Men’s Glee Club, directed by my friend Tod Fish.
Oh, just for the record, I’m singing the tenor solo in the middle of the piece.
Commissioned by Tod Fish, this work brings to life one of the “war poems” by Sextus Propertius (c. 50 – 15 BCE). The story is told from the point of view of a mortally-wounded soldier (Gallus) addressing another wounded soldier who is stumbling down the ramparts. Seeing his wounded comrade recoil in horror at the sight of his wounds, Gallus addresses him as a friend (“I am part of your closest armed comrades.”).
The poem (and the music) abruptly shift to a sense of urgency as Gallus tells his friend to leave. “Don’t stop! Get out and save yourself!” By leaving Gallus behind, the soldier can make it home to his family. This fate does not await dying soldiers like Gallus, who tells how he almost made it through enemy lines, but was struck by “an unknown hand.”
The final section contains Gallus’ simple, yet powerful, request – to be remembered. The idea of bleached bones lying uncovered is not only disturbing, but it is a permanent disfigurement of the funeral ritual – one that was not lost on the Romans. “…let him know that these bones are MINE.”
Original Text
Tu, qui consortem properas evadere casum,
miles ab Etruscis saucius aggeribus,
quid nostro gemitu turgentia lumina torques?
pars ego sum vestrae proxima militiae.
sic te servato ut possint gaudere parentes,
haec soror acta tuis sentiat e lacrimis:
Gallum per medios ereptum Caesaris enses
effugere ignotas non potuisse manus;
et quaecumque super dispersa invenerit ossa
montibus Etruscis, haec sciat esse mea.
My Translation
You, who hurries to avoid our common fate,
wounded soldier from the Etruscan ramparts,
what makes you turn your wide eyes toward my moaning?
I am one of your closest armed comrades.
Thus, save yourself, so that your parents may rejoice,
but let my sister know of my fate through your tears:
that Gallus stole away through the midst of Caesar’s swords
but was unable to escape an unknown hand;
and whoever will come upon these scattered bones
on the Etruscan hillside, let him know that these bones are mine.
My doctoral composition recital went well… really well, in fact. I should have the recording in a few days, and when I do, I’ll post a few audio files. Stay tuned.
Also, the “Joy of Singing” concert is Tuesday, April 1st at the Lied Center here at KU. The concert starts at 7:30 pm. Each choir at KU will sing one piece, demonstrating a variety of choral literature that is performed here.
I am pleased to say (and this is no ‘April Fools’ joke!) that for the first time on a public venue, my good friend (and KU alumnus) Dan Forrest and I both have a piece on the same concert.
The Men’s Chorus is performing my Lamb of God, and the Chamber Choir is performing Amen, from Dan’s Words from Paradise.
Needless to say, if you are in the area, consider attending. It should be a real treat.
Tomorrow (30 March 2008) is the day of my doctoral composition recital. As you might imagine, I’m simultaneously exhilarated, anxious, stressed, pumped, panicked, and elated about it. Here are the details:
It’s a different mayor this time, so we’ll see if anything like that happens again.
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