Saariaho’s World
Saariaho’s World
We’re in a different world now. One where harmonies flourish and disintegrate. From delicate flutters to hideous screams.
This is so...new music. The audience barely outnumbers the performers. The intimacy is intense. These lucky few get to experience something unique, something poignant. They were daring enough to step into this world of reflection, sorrow, outrage, resignation. This is Kaija Saariaho’s world.
What are we doing here in this cavernous Napa theater on Friday afternoon in August? Honoring a giant. Saariaho had been carving her own path for decades when she tragically passed. It’s oddly fitting to perform a concert of exclusively Saariaho at a place and time that precludes almost anyone from attending. Only the most determined fans would make the effort. And Saariaho was just that, determined.
Her music is so Saariaho. She is effectively a genre in her own right, with countless composers taking after her. Timbre is of utmost importance. And contrast. From the lightest whisper to the most ferocious outburst and a split second.
Now she’s having a moment. Last June, Esa-Pekka Salonen and the SF symphony gave a riveting performance of her opera, Adriana Mater. Saariaho had just died of cancer a week before the performance and Salonen, a close friend of hers, was understandably shaken. He found the strength to lead a memorable performance of one of her greatest works.
This past Spring, the SF Opera puts on the most talked about production of the year, Saariaho’s Innocence. I was fortunate to be able to attend the dress rehearsal and I will never forget it. This opera told the story of a man who is grappling with the fact that he knew his brother was going to commit a mass shooting. Nothing could be darker. Saariaho’s score provided the perfect undercurrent for this experience. It was one of those performances where clapping feels disrespectful. How could we dishonor the space in which this drama unfolded with our noise? In what world is clapping the correct response to being emotional destroyed? And yet, every member of the production deserved every clap and then some because it was perfect.
Then we find ourselves performing in the inaugural New Music Decanted festival, a shockingly ambitious and well-run festival of Saariaho’s entire chamber music catalogue. Cellist, Eric Moore is at the helm of this endeavor and god bless him for it. Finding the funding for a festival on this scale takes skill, dedication, and luck. This is the type of weekend that may never happen again. Because Saariaho is niche and Napa is somewhat remote. But here we are performing two string quartets, a string trio, a solo for violin and electronics, and a cello and organ work.
Learning a program like this is daunting and endlessly engaging. The detail in the score is overwhelming and evocative. It often feels like she is asking the impossible of the performers and I think that is the point. Life is impossibly complex and her music reflects that. When I listen to recordings, I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
In What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, Murakami compares writing long novels to grueling manual labor. He often finds himself exhausted from overexertion because writing is hard. I imagine Saariaho must have subjected herself to similar herculean efforts to produce all of her work.
Retrospectives provide a snapshot of an entire artistic path. It’s one of the ultimate honors an artist can receive to be featured. Saariaho is absolutely worthy of the retrospective. Richard Linklater’s film, Boyhood comes to mind. This epic film was shot over thirteen years with the same actors, so they grow up before your eyes in one sitting. Those intrepid music fans in attendance at our concert were able to witness decades of Saariaho’s development in one concert.
At the post concert reception, I knew I could only stay for a brief time as I had to get home to finish packing for my flight to China that night. I spoke to a couple who drove up from Santa Cruz for the weekend to take in the festival. Coincidentally, they had seen us perform with the Le Beouf brothers in Santa Cruz years earlier. It’s inspiring to meet music fans who will literally drive for hours because they understand that this is a special moment
Another man I met had donated the organ on which Eric Choate performed Offrande. Our world runs on the generous spirit of supporters. Life is about having a positive impact on the world and this person could not have been happier to see it all come to fruition. An organist himself, he knew this type of opportunity doesn’t happen often.
In our capitalist economy, the arts often get left behind. There’s no profit to be had, after all. The venue must be owned or rented, the staff and the musicians compensated for their efforts. Ticket sales typically cover less than half of those expenses. Performance is not a scarce resource that people or companies need for survival.
The arts help us to live life to its fullest, to understand ourselves and our emotional connection to others and the world around us. It’s difficult to put a dollar value on that. When one struggles to pay for the necessities in this inflation plagued economy, dropping hundreds of dollars on concert tickets is often impractical.
It’s the passionate fans who already have what they need, who are searching for meaning in life rather than monetary return on investment, that keep this beautiful cycle afloat – compose, perform, record. Grants are a vital cog in the wheel, but the grant application process is resource intensive and often ends in a rejection letter. Once you’ve won continued support from a foundation, said foundation could shift gears and pull that funding with little warning. And how frustrating it is to repeatedly attempt to convince an anonymous panel that your art is worthwhile. The competitive nature of these grants demonstrates how sorely needed arts funding is – demand outstrips supply.
So I say to you, new music champions, stay active in the arts. Drive for hours to be in a crowd of twenty to hear a work that may never be performed in that city again. Donate under used instruments, dedicate a portion of your estate to your favorite arts nonprofit, ask your company to match your donation, tell your friends how great that performance was. It’s these under the radar efforts that make sure a genius like Kaija Saariaho has a fighting chance to thrive.
-Doug Machiz
