Of Memory - Two Kinds?
Tuesday, January 16, 2024
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Hilary - Mexico City - 1973
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Había
aprendido sin esfuerzo el inglés, el francés, el portugués, el latín. Sospecho,
sin embargo, que no era muy capaz de pensar. Pensar es olvidar diferencias es
generalizar, abstraer. En el abarrotado mundo de Funes no había sino detalles, casi
inmediatos.
Irineo
Funes murió en 1889, de una congestión pulmunar.
Funes el
memorioso – Jorge Luís Borges
He had learned without effort English, French, Portuguese and
Latin. I nevertheless suspect that he was not very capable of thought. To think
is to forget differences. It is to generalize to abstract. In Funes’s crowded
world there were only details that were almost inmmediate.
Irineo Funes died in 1889 of a pulmonary congestion. Jorge Luís Borges
The Borges short story, Funes el memorioso from his lovely volume called
Ficciones has been in my mind and I think at night and remember.
In Spanish to remember is to acordar. But there is another
word, a much nicer word rememorar (not at all equivalent to the prosaic
remember). And there is another Spanish
word whose definition in English would be “one who remembers”. It is a word that Borges adored – memorioso.
And that word is the title of the short story of a young Uruguayan who has such
a perfect memory that he is unable to process all the he can instantly remember
when he looks at something.
My thoughts these days have been about the difference of
remembering a person without remembering the portrait I may have taken or the
circumstance behind the taking of the portrait. These portraits of my family
are all over the house. When I look at them, the process of remembering may be a
bit more complex than remembering without facing the portrait.
And yet, when I remember these family members as well as
other people I have photographed in my past, I instantly connect the memory of
the person with the memory of the portrait and the taking of it.
Here is an example. When my daughter Hilary was 3, she, her
older daughter Ale, Rosemary and I drove our VW to San Francisco from Mexico City. Because
Rosemary and I taught English in Mexico City hotels that were part of the Weston
chain we were able to get a reduced rate at the St. Francis Hotel on Union
Square. The morning after we arrived we went for breakfast. The place was posh.
Our waiter wore tails. Hilary began to cry and would not stop. Our waiter came
and asked us, “Is there anything I can do to please your young lady?” My answer was immediate as I knew the
futility of the problem, “Yes, if you can bring her some tortillas and beans.
That’s what she is crying about.”
I did not take a picture so my memory depends on my memory
and nothing more. When Hilary was 2, I placed her on a high bookshelf knowing
that she would cry. I had my Asahi Pentax S-3 loaded with TRi-X waiting for her to do
that. I waited for the tears to drop and I snapped my shutter. There is a 16x20
inch framed print on one side of my bed that I can see all the time reflected
on the mirror closet doors at the foot of the bed. I have a T-shirt with that image
and I like to go to Hilary’s job and ask her manager or fellow workers to guess who the crying
baby is. They can never guess. In Mexico City, in mid October when I chatted
about my author photographs to 1000 people at the Zócalo at the Book Fair, I
was wearing the T-shirt and mentioned it in my chat.
So my question here is what is the difference between my
memory of Hilary crying at the St. Francis and that of my taking the
photograph? Unfortunately Borges, the
expert on the subject is not around for me to ask him. And Irineo Funes would not be able to process my question.
A 2023 Palate Cleansing in 2024 With The Turning Point Ensemble
Sunday, January 14, 2024
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Fabián Panisello - Orpeheum Annex - 13 January 2024
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Corey Hamm |
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People in this century still marvel at the Renaissance
cathedrals and like me are unable to figure out how they could have possibly
been constructed.
Involved were Freemasons. Of them we remember their secret
handshakes. While as a teenager I was taught to read music, my knowledge of the
practice has faded with time. I now believe that musicians and their skill in
reading and writing music makes them this century’s Masons.
While for many years I wrote blogs that were my amateur versions
of concert reviews, I have now avoided writing them, perhaps because once my Rosemary died
in Dec 2020, I had no concert companion.
Last night at Turning Point Ensemble's concert featuring the
Argentine/Spanish conductor/ composer Fabián Panisello, I had the company of my graphic designer friend
Graham Walker who is able to read music very well and for many years played the
flute.
Of the concert my initial reaction is, that after a terrible 2023, my presence at the Orpheum Annex, around the corner from the Orpheum,
was like a palate cleansing experience that just might make me turnaround from
being a recluse, living alone with two cats.
For those
who may not know about the Turning Point Ensemble they are a musical group
celebrating its 20th anniversary. Except when playing with last night's smaller orchestra, their main venue is the large basement musical centre of the downtown
Simon Fraser University campus at what used to be Woodward’s. For antsy folks in
fear of a possible nuclear holocaust I can assert, here, that this basement
location, where cell phones do not work, may be the place to be if such an occurrence
could happen.
Last night’s
concert, in its smaller space brought several, wonderful advantages. Graham
Walker and I were sitting dead centre in the front row. I have observed that
many Canadians prefer to sit in the middle of the middle. Walker is Scottish and I am Argentine! In this small
orchestra place, when you look at any of the musicians, you can hear their
instrument. If you move your gaze the sound is then that of the complete
orchestra.
I was able
to also see the changes involved with these musicians. Trombonist Ellen Marple
used five different mutes (in one of photos below). Flutist Brenda
Fedoruk played a piccolo, a normal flute and Walker noticed and was
delighted when she played on a larger alto flute. Harpist Janelle Nadeau who was close to us had
several strings on her instrument that were bright red.
If you have
gone to a few Vancouver concerts you might know that the hardest instrument to
tune is that harp.
Brian
Nesselroad, on percussion, except when assisted by Yueyi Liu, had to navigate a
very wide wall of instruments. In one occasion he had to run from one side to
the other in order to get to what to me looked like upright gongs on time for Panisello's nod.
Some orchestra
musicians that play Beethoven and other composers of the 19th century may feel restless and even bored. Such is the
case of the Turning Point Ensemble members.
Quite a few
musicians of the Turning Point Ensemble who are also in the Vancouver Symphony wanted
to explore the 20th and now 21st century music. A Turning
Point Ensemble headed by the approachable (and sweet) Owen Underhill play music
that challenges us with innovation, and the use of the digital possibilities of
this century. David Brown, double bass player of the Vancouver Symphony, I have
seen play with all kinds of amplifiers in concerts for Turning Point Ensemble in the
past.
Where
anywhere would I have heard Duke Ellington’s symphonic compositions if not for
this orchestra? This Argie had never heard Stravinski’s Tango played by Jane
Hays on the piano some concerts back.
With all
the above out of the way, I will now go to my uncharted territory of the amateur
music appreciation guy I am. My friend Graham Walker answered in the
affirmative when I asked him if he heard any of the four works of the night on
another night if he would recognize them. With the possible exception of György
Liget’s Piano Concerto I could not. Since the solo playing of Corey Hamm was on
a piano that was placed up and down so that he could face Fabián Panisello, I
was not able to see all the fireworks his hands must have been doing. All I could see was his face.
After many
years of listening to lyrical music, with some dissonant detours to Thelonius
Monk and Astor Piazzolla, I was not quite ready for a complete concert featuring
music that was not so. I believe that I would have a hard time sitting down in
my living room to listen to Fabian Panisello’s Concierto de Cámara (2005).
Watching him conduct and going from one musician to another, as they were
featured, was part of the fun in my absorbing the dissonance and getting to appreciate it.
St Augustine, Bishop of Hippo may have had my problem, too. He stated that when you listened to music you heart a note in the past, then one in the present and then you could predict the future with the next one.
Another
plus was being able to see Fabián Panisello's sheet music that had multicoloured notations and
scribbles. They were a work of art.
Since I am
an Argentine and Fabián Panisello is, too, on our way to an after concert party
at Brenda Fedoruk’s home (when I asked her if she had cleaned the place which
was spotless she told me she had done it that morning) I asked him why I could
not discern anything Argentine in his composition. He may have perhaps wanted
to tell me be, “Because I made sure that was the case,” but he told me about going
back to ancient Phoenician times, etc. My photograph does not look like anything I did a few
years ago. Panisello is working on his ideas that seem to avoid (thankfully?)
the influence of Piazzolla, the tango and Ginastera.
As for
the photographs illustrating this blog I can state that no magazine hired me
and therefore my photographs don’t have to be sharp so the musicians can be
recognized. I think that Panisello and I, and, of course the Turning Point
Ensemble, we are all on the same ground of escaping that middlemarch.