Category Archives: Arts

Fest

Arts, Uncategorized

I’ve talked before about the National Arts Festival in Grahamstown and how happy it makes me. Today I am off (withfamily) to the place we’ll be staying for Fest. From tomorrow, I will be entirely immersed in 15 days of AMAZ!ING (but only for the last 10 days).

Every year I plan to write quick updates as I go but so far it hasn’t happened. Not that I mind. One of the best things about fest is that there is so much going on – shows, art exhibitions, village green, lectures, amazing people – that it is easy to forget that there is a world outside this magical bubble. I can feel the excitement starting to bubble in my stomach and ripple through me just writing about it.

I am planning, once again to write about the shows and the magic but it might not happen – sometimes the experience itself overwhelmed all desire to record it, like a beautiful jungle butterfly that cannot be pinned down or the DMZ you can’t take pictures of, or other similar examples.

Gumboot dancing into Korean hearts

Arts, Daegu,

Drankensberg boys’ choir, Suseong Artpia, 15 May 2010

After almost a year in a foreign country, the homesickness becomes a dull background ache. You stop noticing the little gaps in your experience of the world. Other things become normal. You get on with it. And there are good times and life goes on. It takes a show like this one to remind you that your heart doesn’t beat with the regular clackity-clack of the high-speed, high-tech world of Korea – it pounds and whispers with the complex sounds of Africa.

The show started with a mini-intro performance (2 songs) by a Korean choir. Possibly the Daegu City Children’s choir but no English info. They did two songs. They were good, their conductor was enthusiastic and their pianist wore a sparkly ball-gown. They even moved a little from side-to-side and clapped their hands in the second song. A little unfortunately, their rather stilted movements provided a glaring counter-point to the natural flow and energy of the Drankensberg boys.

Once the little girls and boys in aqua-marine (with ruffles) and simply awful white double-breasted blazers had been applauded off, the main act took to the stage. The first half of their programme was a fairly traditional choir performance. They stood still (-ish) in rows (mostly) and sang like with angel-voices. It took a while for the audience to get into it. Their performance was good, but not spectacular and traditional choirs singing traditional music very accurately aren’t all that unusual here. In a country where almost all of the kids play at least one musical instrument and a large percentage (I’d say at least ¾) study singing in the same way they study maths and English, accurate,and often excellent, performances are not uncommon. Which is not to say the audience didn’t enjoy it. They did. The choir even performed Pie Jesu, which was pretty good but not perfect. It was during this performance that I glimpsed, from my seat in the second row (no, I don’t know how I swung that), a sight one doesn’t often see: a Korean nun stealing forward from her seat to get a better view from up front.

By the time the choir performed the Prayer of St Francis with hand movements to illustrate the words, everyone was starting to warm up to them. The conductor also eased their way by saying a few words in Korean. And then they performed Arirang. Arirang is a Korean folk song that seems to be considered a part of the essence of what it is to be Korean. A little like Kimchi. I’m not entirely sure they don’t think it is part of their genetic make-up. Every Korean child knows it and they have a tendency to start singing it spontaneously every time there is a discussion about Korean culture in class. I was a little nervous. I think I held my breath throughout the whole song, eyes on the audience to see how they would respond. Attempting Arirang would either be a huge hit or a disaster. I was hugely relieved when the end of the song was greeted with thunderous applause. The audience was on our side and I relaxed into enjoying the rest of the show. Yes, I know I have nothing to do with it, but when a choir from your country is performing for an audience in the country where you now live, it feels a little personal.

There was also a very good chance that some of my students would be in the audience. There were certainly plenty of teens and kiddies there, some in groups of friends, some with their families. The teenage girls only but made their presence felt a few songs later, when two young black boys led the choir in ‘A crazy little thing called love‘ and got a pop-star (which in Korea equates to superstar) response. Man in the mirror, which got the whole audience clapping, and Circle of Life, and it was time for intermission. The mood in the room was jovial and children and adults buzzed up and down the aisles chatting and laughing.

For the first half of the show, the choir had been wearing the traditional (awful) blue and white outfits of the Drankensberg Boys’ Choir. During the interval they went off to change and the stage was rearranged for a different kind of experience to come. After a slight delay post-lights-down at the end of the interval, they returned and opened with a song I am particularly fond of, and which will now be stuck in my head for the rest of the week, Kwangena Thina Bo.

The second half was completely different fare. In brightly coloured shirts, interspersed with zulu warrior costumes and gumboot dancing gear, the choir wowed the audience with a series of South African favourites, often not even leaving time for applause in between songs. After a few songs, everything went black and they performed a piece called ‘Night Sounds from the African Veld‘. Every South African knows those sounds. I found myself taking deep breathes and shedding a few tears for home.

Then there was Soccer Ball Surprise – Bazeya, a delightful, energetic song using soccer balls to create the rhythms beneath the perfectly pitched vocal movements. And then came the gumboot dancing. It is hard to say whether the Zulu warriors or the gumboot dancing got more reaction from the audience but the cheering and teenage-girl shrieks and the thunderous applause were a significant indicator of how they felt. They were also enhanced with the two little boys in full Kaapse Klopse outfits (complete with umbrellas) who brought in Nuwe Jaar.

During a later song, four little zulu warriors in skins came out into the audience and greeted their adoring fans, ranging, I was amused to note, from toddlers and teenage girls to middle-aged mamas. They said ‘Anyeong’ to as many as they could manage before returning to the stage for the last few songs.

One of the pieces that affected me the most, although I found it interesting to see that the Koreans didn’t seem to react to it all that much, was an African drumming piece. Rhythms in Korean music tend to be, from what I have observed, fairly regular. I think the complex beats which filled my soul with ecstasy and made me feel alive were a bit too foreign for them. Actually, they missed a lot of the rhythms. The audience kept trying to clap along to everything but the clapping soon petered out as they lost track of what the drums and the shakers and the nimble hands were doing. I noticed people trying very hard to follow , though, in the same way they tried to imitate every time a ‘click’ sound showed up in a song.

Far too soon for me, and I think a lot of other people, the show was over. After two encores, the conductor resolutely shepherded his choir off the stage. They must have been exhausted from all the energetic dancing and singing. I hope everyone who was there had fun. I certainly did. And walking out of the theatre, through gaggles of girls who were clearly waiting around to try and get a chance to talk to their new heroes, I was so glad I went and so very, very proud to be South African.

Glorious music, exquisite voices, passionate dances and a set that almost stole the show

Arts, Daegu

The 33rd Periodical Performance of the Daegu City Opera was a triumph of art. As seems to be the norm with shows in Korea, or perhaps just those I have been lucky enough to attend, this production was big. As well as the Daegu City Opera, the production of G Verdi’s La Traviata showcased the significant talents of the DaeguCity Symphony Orchestra and included contributions from the Daegu City Choir and the Daegu City Modern Dance Troupe.

The story of La Traviata is one of love, loss, honour and tragedy. Violetta, a Parisian courtesan, meets, on her return to society after an illness, an admirer by the name of Alfredo Germont. Although she brushes off his declaration of love, saying that she prefers to a life of freedom, she is touched by his earnestness. Act II finds the two living in pleasant domesticity in a house in the country. When Alfredo discovers that she has sent her maid to sell off her possessions in order to continue financing their love-retreat, he feels ashamed and sets off to make things right at his own cost. While he is away, Violetta is visited by Alfredo’s father, Giorgio Germont who pleads his case, not only for his reckless son but also for Alfredo’s sister whose engagement is threatened by his scandalous affair. Although Violetta proclaims that she cannot relinquish his love, she is eventually convinced and sits down to write a farewell note to Alfredo. While she is writing, he surprises her, but instead of telling him why she is so distraught, she assures him again and again of her love and then leaves. Alfredo is calmly awaiting a visit from his father when a messenger arrives with a letter, the letter from Violetta ending their affair. In his despair, he sends his father, away and, finding an invitation to a ball that evening, decides to meet the woman who has broken his heart. Violetta arrives at the ball with her former companion, the Baron Bouphol, who, after warning her to stay away from Alfredo, challenges Alfredo to play at cards. Alfredo wins the game, claiming that unlucky in love is lucky in cards. As they go in to dinner Violetta asks to speak to Alfredo and warns him that he must leave. In a rage, he accuses her of loving another. She says lies and says that she does. In front of everyone, he throws his winnings at her feet and publicly insults the lady. The party guests rebuke him for his actions and the Baron challenges him to duel. Six months later, the final scene opens in Violetta’s bedroom, where she lies dying of consumption. Outside the crowds are celebrating Mardi Gras but she is broken-hearted. She receives a letter from Giorgio informing her that the Baron was only injured in the duel and Alfredo now knows the truth and is one his way to see her but she frets because he has not yet come. Her heart soars when Alfredo arrives and they declare that they will leave Paris and live together in their love, but it is too late for Violetta, who dies at her true lover’s feet.

The soaring tragedy of Verdi’s music (and the story-line) makes this an Opera packed with emotion, something that the excellent and well-trained voices of the two leads, Lee, Hwa Young (Violetta) and Lee, Hyeon (Alfredo) carried beautifully. At times, their movements were a little excessively dramatic, stumbling with rage or grief, but their operatic performance was passionate and accurate. Perhaps the best interaction, however, was between Lee, Hwa Young (Violetta) and Lee, In Cheol (Giorgio), whose portrayal of a powerful father pleading for this courtesan to release his son was heart-rending yet simultaneously compassionate. In addition to Lee, In Cheol’s great acting, his gorgeous voice was like liquid velvet.

Most of the other voices and performances were equally good, with the possible exception for Gastone who was a little quiet during the first act. The choir that supported the leads, under Chorus Master, Park, Young Ho, was also excellently trained and added depth and richness to the vocal music as well as numbers on stage.

The dancing was a dramatic addition. I thought the decision to use modern dancers in what was otherwise a fairly classical operatic performance was interesting. It also complemented the set, which I will get to in the a moment. For the most part, the dancing was a subtle artistic highlight – a brush-stroke emphasizing the other activity on the stage and in the music. In the first act, the dancers added action and lightness to Violetta’s party, for example. In the third act, they were the main attraction at Flora’s ball. Their dramatic movements and intense portrayal gave visual life to the words of the opera. Overall, the dance added the same depth visually that the choir added musically.

All of this added together to create a wonderfully rich and engaging experience. All of it, however, was almost topped by the visual (stage, costume and lighting) design. I include costume and lighting design here because they was very definitely a part of the visual impact but the real star for me was the set by Lim, Chang Joo. Over the years of watching performances, I have seen a variety of approaches to set design. Opera is the theatre genre with which I have probably the least experience, but even within this genre, I have seen different approaches. Both the version of La Rondine I saw in Cape Town and the Madama Butterfly I saw here used large, static sets aimed at creating some sort of realism. The Brunch Opera version of La Rondine I saw here also went for something like realism but this time using just a few props and a very basic backdrop. This La Traviata set used emptiness and minimalism to create a box or, from the audiences perspective, a frame, that seemed to capture and contain the opera’s intense emotion and music and make it even more powerful.

The basic set was a huge, empty white box. In the prelude and first Act, colour was added by a huge red set of steps suspended at the back of the stage, a red wooden horse lowered from the ceiling on a single white pole, on which Violetta sat and was raised up at various points, and a floor-to ceiling pop-art-style portrait that reoccured as a theme throughout the staging. On the left of the stage were five chair-sized 3D letters – A, M, O, U, R. The scene opened with four dancers sitting perfectly still, draped on and around the letters and Violetta standing half way up the staircase in shadow. The dancers wore black dresses with blue scarves and as they came to life and moved silently towards Violetta, added living brush-strokes of colour to create the dramatic visual movement (complemented by excellent lighting design). Violetta’s outfit, however, was completely traditional. As the action proceeded, the letters were used to visually complement the music as Alfredo lifted them and lined them up to spell ‘amour’ as he talked of love and Violetta knocked them back down as she brushed off his declaration.

The letters remained a feature, arranged in various forms through-out the rest of the show. In the second act, the red staircase was gone but the letters remained. The rest of the set included chairs and tables – all white and shaped like steps. There was also a red tricycle with two red balloons tied to the handle-bars and two teddy-bears sitting on the table. During the scene at the ball, the visual drama peaked when the female dancers and choir members, this time with red scarves over their black clothes, rose – in a perfectly still silhouette-style tableaux – from below the stage. The theme of all the costumes in this scene was black and red, capturing the drama. Modern props added an extra edge to the visual presentation, such as a photograph of his daughter handed to Violetta by Giorgio and a modern IV stand in the final scenes.

The set (plus costumes and lighting) was imaginative and modern and as visually dramatic as the opera is musically. The stark backdrop and clear colours (black, white, red, blue) highlighted the words and music and the hard proscenium arch of the white frame separated the audience from the action in a way that somehow encouraged suspension of disbelief. I found myself (and find myself again) wishing I had the vocabulary to accurately describe and think about the effect. As a non-expert, I am struggling to explain it beyond being able to say that it was exceptionally effective and left me wishing I could go back and take pictures analyse it academically to figure out why it made the whole opera more real by not being realistic, how it both contained and magnified the intensity and emotion.

The opera was long. It started shortly after the advertised 4pm – anyone who is a stickler for show punctuality should be prepared to put that aside when attending an Opera in Korea. After many, very much justified curtain calls, we finally left shortly before 7pm. But it was 3 very worthwhile hours. If I had the chance, I would gladly see the show again. This production of La Traviata was both an excellent opera and an exceptional theatre experience. Many people shy away from opera because they don’t understand it or don’t think they will enjoy it but this show has convinced me, more than any other, that anyone who is in Daegu would be making a mistake not to take advantage the opportunity to experience Opera at the Daegu Opera House.

La Traviata was directed by Chung, Kab Gyun and conducted by Diego Crovetti, under the artistic direction of Kim, Sung Bin and executive producer Lee, Jae Jin. It was presented by the Daegu City Opera with the Daegu City Symphony Orchestra and performances by the Daegu City Choir and Daegu City Modern Dance Troupe at the Daegu Opera House 22 to 24 April 2010.