Here Comes Treble: The Arts - Jewels Of Life
A widely-travelled Russian lady told Isabel Bradley that individuals need to feel oppressed or to have lost their dreams before they can do something new.
That thought led Isabel to muse on the stresses and strains which have produced great works of art.
For more of Isabel's splendid columns please click on Here Comes Treble in the menu on this page.
She was elderly – eighty-three. She was cheerful, widely travelled, and fascinating to talk to. Her life was difficult. Having survived the Second World War, she left her homeland, Czechoslovakia, in 1948, unable to return even to visit family until almost fifty years later.
“I firmly believe,” she said, “that art, in whatever form, is a method of escapism. When a nation is oppressed they produce painters, musicians, composers, ballet dancers of the highest standard. Look at Russia – her people were oppressed by the Tsars and their paternalistic regime, then they were suppressed by the communists; but look at the quality of their musicians, their ballet companies, their authors and composers.”
She paused a moment, then continued, “Individuals need to feel oppressed or to have lost their dreams before they can do something new. I have two prints of Picasso’s paintings in my home. One is of a beautiful lady dressed in blue, painted when he was young and filled with dreams of one woman. The other is from his cubist period, painted after his dreams were shattered.”
Perhaps her hypothesis could be summarised as, ‘The arts thrive when the talented suffer’. This is certainly illustrated by individuals, though I’m not sure that it applies to nations, as she suggested.
As a young flute student, I studied under a marvellous musician who trained in France at the famous Paris Conservatoire of Music. He fought as a member of the famous French Underground through the Second World War. A while later, he left France to build a new life for himself and his young family in South Africa. With the help of pure, unemotional Baroque music, he taught me the physical techniques of playing the flute – arrangements of Bach’s Inventions, Handel sonatas, the cerebral genius of Telemann. “You have to experience suffering before you can play the more emotional romantic music, Isabel,” he said.
Recently, I’ve enjoyed working with a young Russian pianist, born, raised and educated in St. Petersburg. Compared to my easy school days, Olga’s were a nightmare spent rushing from ‘normal’ school to full-time music school, then finding her way home in the dark to spend many hours doing homework supervised by her mother to the nth degree. When she was halfway through her final training at the Conservatory, she left her family and Russia to live, study and teach in South Africa. Here, she survived a bad marriage and divorce – enough suffering for anyone – and has found happiness with her new, loving husband. As well as receiving a superb musical education, she conquered the problems life presented her. When Olga plays Chopin, Tchaikovsky or Liszt, audiences listen, wrapt: tender passages evoke tears; tempestuous moments, awe and wonder. As an accompanist, she provides a magic carpet on which my flute-sounds float in sheer ecstasy.
Think of Bach, who produced and raised twenty children. His prolific output of music reflects his life-style.
Mozart, the eternal child, died when he was only thirty-five. Being a child prodigy, he had no true childhood, though he was the darling of European aristocracy. As an adult, he had to match his childish promise of greatness. No longer doted on by his social betters, he struggled to earn a living as a mere musician. His music is youthful, his deep emotions disguised and seldom given full expression.
Beethoven found communication with language difficult. He suffered the physical and emotional agonies caused by deafness. Every emotion he experienced was poured into his music. Anguish, anger, pain, joy and love, shone in every delicate note and crashing chord.
Suffering also affects other art forms. Authors I have met speak of delving deep into their inner selves, discovering the worst and the best that they are, before being able to write convincingly. Some authors, poor things, must have discovered ghastly traits in themselves, considering the many gruesome works on library shelves!
Art, like a perfect jewel, reflects life in all its many and glorious facets.
Until next week, “here comes Treble!”
By Isabel Bradley
Copyright Reserved ©
