Showing posts with label The Master Builder. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Master Builder. Show all posts

Sunday, 6 February 2011

Maybe still the Master Builder lurking a little bit

Definitely an issue coming up now - and being discussed in Ibsen's Master Builder - is the question of the origin of art, what is art, why is there art at all, what use?! Here there are excerpts from an interview with Barnett Newman conducted by Thomas B. Hess







And adding to that the words of the immortal Hugo Claus, first as translated into English by Absynthe Minded

My verses stand gawping a bit
I never get used to this
They lived here long enough
Enough!
I send them out of the house
I don’t wanna wait
Until their toes are cold
Enough!
I wanna hear the humming of the sun
Or that of my heart,
Hardening
Enough!
They don’t screw classically
They babble commonly
And bluster nobly
Enough! Enough!
In winter their lips leap
In spring they lie flat at the first warmth
They ruin my summer
And in autumn it’s girls and a broken heart

For another twelve lines on this sheet
I’ll hold my hand over their head
And then I’ll kick them out
Enough!
Go and pester elsewhere, one-cent rhymes
Find somebody who cares
Enough!
Go now on your high feet
This is where the graves laugh
When they see their guests
Enough!
One corpse on top of the other
Go now and stagger to her
Whom I do not know
Enough! Enough!
In winter their lips leap
In spring they lie flat at the first warmth
They ruin my summer
And in autumn it’s girls and a broken heart




And here the original:

Envoi

Mijn verzen staan nog wat te gapen.
Ik word dit nooit gewoon. Zij hebben hier lang
genoeg gewoond.
Genoeg. Ik stuur ze 't huis uit, ik wil niet wachten
tot hun tenen koud zijn.
Ongehinderd door hun onhelder misbaar
wil ik het gegons van de zon horen
of dat van mijn hart, die verraderlijke spons die verhardt.

Mijn verzen neuken niet klassiek,
zij brabbelen ordinair of brallen al te nobel.
In de winter springen hun lippen,
in de lente liggen zij plat bij de eerste warmte,
zij verzieken mijn zomer
en in de herfst ruiken zij naar vrouwen.

Genoeg. Nog twaalf regels lang op dit blad
hou ik ze de hand boven het hoofd
en dan krijgen zij een schop in hun gat.
Ga elders drammen, rijmen van een cent,
elders beven voor twaalf lezers
en een snurkende recensent.

Ga nu, verzen, op jullie lichte voeten,
jullie hebben niet hard getrapt op de oude aarde
waar de graven lachen als zij hun gasten zien,
het ene lijk gestapeld op het andere.
Ga nu en wankel naar haar
die ik niet ken.

Thursday, 11 November 2010

Acts of defiance

Still thinking about The Master Builder and how Solness defies his surpressing, righteous god in the end, acts of defiance keep creeping up in my mind and how wonderful and miraculous those were.

I very fondly do remember the vernissage of photographs by Allen Ginsberg at the Kunstverein für die Rheinlande und Westfalen in Düsseldorf in 1998 - shortly before my exam exhibition. His last private secretary was present , whose name I've regretfully forgotten, but there is one story he told that has been sticking in my mind ever since. Following  the fatwa against Salman Rushdie both Ginsberg and his secretary were riding in a taxi in New York and realising that the driver was a Muslim Ginsberg tried to discuss this fatwa with the driver. The conclusion Ginsberg drew was that: "If there was a god like this ( ie one that would sustain this verdict) I would shit on his head". The secretary remembered feeling very awkward at this moment but obviously the driver did not speak enough English to understand Ginsberg.

Another great act of defiance - and this time also one drawn from a play - is Posthumus challeging the gods in the prison scene (Act V, Scene IV) from Cymbeline, definitely one of my favourites. Yet Shakespeare does not leave it at this but makes Posthumus realise the very, very hard way that it was not the gods who were wrong or wronging him but Posthumus' concept of them and the - all too human - revenge he commissioned driven by his mistrust - in fact to go even a step further it was already the wager he put on Imogen's fidelity.

Most probably Edmund Husserl, as far as I understand him, is right in warning us against all concepts that would not allow a doubt, for those surely are dogmatic and eventually wrong, dangerous and inhuman.

Monday, 1 November 2010

Zufall - Coincidence

Der Zufall ist das, was mir zufällt, fällt wie Solness vom Turm in meinen Schoß, wenn ich es zulasse... und doch vielleicht schwebt es doch da-zwischen, in der co-incidence.. Oder wie Maulbeerblätter im Garten...





Einige interessante Zu-fälle, wenn man nur offen ist, jedenfalls genug , um sie zu-zulassen:

Teil 1: Ex libris

Zuerst fiel mir das Exlibris von Dr P(ieter) Endt, alias Ed Coenraads, in der billigsten Ausgabe von Franz Molnárs "Der Leibgardist", der ich habhaft werden konnte, zu, denn Ausgaben von 1922 sind, da dieser Autor bei den Nazis sehr unbeliebt war, extremst selten. Diese Ausgabe stammte also aus den Niederlanden und gehörte einmal Pieter Endt, der Nietzsche ins Niederländische übersetzt hat, ein Kabarettist war und einen Roman veröffentlicht hat, der im München der Räterepublik von 1919 spielt. Sehr lesenswert.





Das nächste, noch ein wenig seltsamer, befand sich leider überklebt von einer Büchereikarteikarte - was man leider auch an dem Zustand des Artefakts sieht -, in einer deutschen Ausgabe von "2x2=5" von Gustav Wied. Allem Anschein nach gehörte dieses wunderbare Buch einmal Delia Austrian, nach der die Delia Austrian Medal für die "Most Distinguished Performance of an Actor or an Actress on the Broadway Stage" benannt wurde.



Fortsetzung folgt/ to be continued ...

Sunday, 24 October 2010

A Final Word about The Master Builder

I do not actually know if it is partially owed to David Edgar's new translation or rather only to the very accurate delivery of the lines at Chichester's Minerva Theatre, but there were certain antithetical concepts clearly expressed there. Words like "duty","pleasure","god", "human" were distictinctly ringing in the air, it's been quite a revelation and like somebody in the audience observed almost Shakespearian.

Saturday, 9 October 2010

Some further musings

The tragic moment in The Master Builder (or in most any artist's life) arrives , when Solness finally breaks down and let's Hilde have a glimpse behind his carefully erected facade. All the bitterness about having sacrificed his own happiness to defy a jealous (definitely Protestant) god, who would have him but built edifices for his (god's) glory, and people not realising this sacrifice, ie not becoming happy in the homes Solness erects for them ("all they wanted were four walls"), bursts free in this liberating breakdown. Here Michael Pennington is surely at his best and overwhelmingly magnificent, this was the moment that gave me shivers during both performances. :-)  Wahnsinn!!!

Saturday, 2 October 2010

Musings on Ibsen's The Master Builder as performed at the Minerva Theatre, Chichester on Monday 20th and Tuesday 21st of September

Metaphors are translucent veils, that permit the things they disguise to be seen, or fancy dresses, under which the person, who is masked, is perceivable.   Étienne Bonnot de Condillac (1715-1780)


Considering all the reviews I've read of this play and performance so far I desperately miss one interpretation of this complex, philosophical play, that stroke me from the moment I first read it in March. Naturally as it is a seldomly staged play most reviews do also contain reviews of the play rather than the actual performance. So this is where I will be beginning as well.


From my first encounter I started calling Hilde a wonderful, cunning, cleansing agent provocateur. How easily she unties the web that entangles all the characters in Solness' household. How cleverly she cuts through lies and false pretences until everything is revealed to her and us, the audience. After all she and the audience are the only ones who see the whole picture. I've come to realise that the play actually hinges on this one character, what or who is she actually? In  their final dialogue she urges Solness to do the impossible and this is exactly the phrase employed by Barnett Newman in a conversation with the art critic Thomas B Hess when describing the act of creating a work of art. During the same conversation there is the muse mentioned yelling in the artist's ear, and that is what determines my my view on Hilde. She is the yelling muse. The lead of reading the play as a comment on/ description of art, the artist and producing art grew very intriguing and urgent indeed. The parallels to Newman's writings are too numerous to mention, yet here is one because it came to me while actually watching the play performed. Newman rejects what he calls "fetish" art and prefers what he terms the living subject-matter, the fetish in his view is merely aesthetic but the subject-matter is sublime. When Alina tells Hilde of her dolls, they became the fetish in my mind. Interesting that Alina's grief for the fetish would be the cause for her children's death. - Of course this might be a projection because Alina might have been too over-whelmed by the loss of her off-spring but then the chronology of events given by Solness rather suggests that the loss of the dolls was the cause for Alina's illness that also infected her sons. At this moment I wonder if it would go too far to hint at Paul de Man, who very sharply warns in his writings from bitter experience against the aestheticising of  politics.
The veil of the metaphor was giving way and the ending began to shine in a non-tragic light because it shows the artist doing the impossible, i e climbing the steeple, communicating with god and building castles in the sky.

Back to the actual performance at Chichester. The two of them I had the pleasure to attend (especially the one on Tuesday!!) were outstanding. The text was delivered to the point, leaving me to wonder that this was just a recital, the acting, highlighting gestures and features very precisely, was superb. There was this little incident -though certainly not planned or rehearsed - where a button on the sleeve of Solness' jacket got tangled up in Kaja's bun, that turned out to be brilliant :-). It  added to the thrill and tension of being nearly caught in a less than favourable situation by Alina. On the other hand it was strange to perceive that though the audience was present and the impetus to help could clearly be felt, there was no way anyone else could assist to get Emily Wachter out of this awkward situation. We just could not simply reach through the fourth wall. At this point I'd like to thank you in order of appearance John McEnery, Emily Wachter and Philipp Cumbus, Michael Pennington, Maureen Beattie and Pip Donaghy and Naomi Frederick for their wonderful performance in this very intimate theatre, and of course Philip Franks, Stephen Brimson Lewis, Tim Mitchell, Matthew Scott and John Leonard etc.
There are certain scenes that especially shone:
At the beginning of the play Solness is by Michael Pennington portrayed as an arrogant and disagreeable self-absorbed man. He reigns supreme in his kingdom - maybe even down to the droit de seigneur (?!) - but halt!, alas there is apparently no actual sex for Solness, the relationship with Kaja though intense feels rather "platonical", Alina has been cold ever since her family home burnt to ashes and even the supposed intercourse with Hilde a decade ago rather has an air of mutual delusion . There is this scene between Old Brovik and Solness, when Michael displays this royal gesture of most graciously granting a privilege to Brovik, when he being (terminally) ill asks for the simple comfort of being allowed to sit down in front of Solness. This definitely made me gasp, how very wicked and unconsiderate - especially when accompanied by such a gesture :-)!!!
Maureen Beattie was stunning as Alina in her coldness and dutiful reservedness. Her piercing "knowing" eyes made me shiver, as did Michael Pennington for quite the contrary reasons when Solness, driven by the liberating spirit of Naomi Frederick's Hilde, finally breaks down or opens up,  and challenges his god just before his final stunt. The interaction between these two central characters of Hilde Wangel and Halvard Solness gets very intense in this final scene. I felt reminded of an incident that  happened to me years ago, when I was still studying art, there was a discussion I had with a professor during one of his seminars, when an interpretation of his of something I had said culminated in a glimpse of recognition between the two of us, which hit me very, very deeply in my very foundations.

I sincerely hope that I met with Newman's standards who claimed that a review or criticism always should be passionate. A warm embrace to the lovely crowd at Chichester. Enchantée!!!