 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
Posted: |
Mar 26, 2010 - 9:54 AM
|
|
|
|
By: |
niente
(Member)
|
I am writing this from a purely secular point of view…
My first glance upon the Pieta was from the near the entrance of St. Peter's Basilica. Even from a distance and with sunlight still streaming in the corner of my eyes I could feel a strange heat rising to my head, like a sudden wave of inexplicable embarrassment and humility. I simply could not fathom why this smallish, pale, life-size sculpture kept me locked in its grip as I approached it. As I stood right in front of the downturned face of this forlorn woman holding her dead son it was as if I could actually sense the blood rushing through her veins. As if I could see her chest moving, sighing and breathing. Without doubt it was the most humbling experience I've ever had in the presence of something created by the hand of man. I felt so small and insignificant before it. Its mere existence loomed over me and made me feel as though my entire life was only temporal, fleeting, transient and that the stone gently positioned in front of me had more import, significance, permanence. Awe metamorphosed to intimidation, which I sensed was not the intention of its creator, Michelangelo but the unfortunate baggage that I carried inside me conjured up by the ultra-perfect depiction of these inconsolable figures.
A week or so after my visit to Vatican City, a man sanding before this same masterwork of carved rock was unable to come to grips with his feelings of intimidation and insignificance and responded by repeatedly and angrily bludgeoning the sculpture with a metal hammer, as if to punish it, to render it insignificant, to humble it. Since then, the iconic marble figures have been repaired and shielded behind protective glass. You can no longer gaze directly into that mother's despondent face without being distracted by the reflection of background passersby and lights. Fortunately, these distractions may prevent others from becoming so destructively unhinged.
The other important impression that the Pieta left me with - and this was the first time I could personally acknowledge it and understand it more fully - was the awareness of how an artist's deep, spiritual beliefs can heighten and elevate their craft. In Ennio Morricone's case, I can finally appreciate how his developing and deepening spiritual perspective has influenced his already remarkable talent. I would urge anyone who can find it, to familiarize themselves with the 6 CD set that was available in Italy for a brief time called, LA MIA MUSICA. With the exception of a few chamber pieces, the set is made up of entirely live works from venues around the world recorded over the past few years. The arrangements are usually more massive than their original film score counterparts since the pieces are performed by the forces of an entire symphony orchestra and large supplementary choruses. The set is also in chronological order beginning with CD 1, "Anni '60" and continues over the rest of the set through his more recent work. By the time you reach the end of CD 5, "Anni 2000" you will understand what I mean by Morricone's deep spiritual growth. The arrangements and performances of MUSASHI and IL PAPA BUONO are absolutely stunning and recall for me that feeling I had in front of the Pieta, only now the feeling of intimidation has been replaced with one of sheer exhilaration. Hearing the music performed with such passion and perfection, hearing the sublime blending of symphony and voices - it's as if we are nearly transported, whether you are a believer or not - to the rapture itself. This is music inspired not only by Morricone's unfathomable gifts as a composer and arranger but also by the very voice of God speaking with purity within him. And like being in the presence of, and appreciating, any of the greatest works of our culture from around the world, it is an experience that being without diminishes life itself. Even from my secular point of view, I simply cannot dismiss the spirituality, even the explicit religiosity which inspires and motivates some of our greatest artists. We all profoundly benefit, nonetheless.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Nice post. Thanks for taking the time to write it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bumping this thread - because the first post deserves it.
Agreed, compared with all the crap about what's the next Intrada or Varese, this is such an intelligent and interesting post and deserves to be bumped
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
It is a very fine post.
Personally, when I see things connected to Michelangelo and/or God/Christ/Jesus and such like, my mind quickly references the following...
The Biblical music of Alfred Newman (Greatest Story Ever Told/The Robe)
)
This.
I've felt small mostly next to music, not paintings or sculptures. The Ben Hur ouverture, LVB's middle and late-era works, Tristan und Isolde, Bruckner's Symphony no. 9...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Not sure the oboe from the Mission will ever go away, great classical music musicians have recorded it. It's terrific. Same with the GB&U theme. Immortal.
We might add Days of Heaven.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
