[I just stumbled across this draft from more than a decade ago, and what the hell, I am going to publish it.]
Over the weekend, I attended an extraordinary event, a two-day extravaganza celebrating the 100th birthday of Elliott Carter, who at that amazing age is still composing great music. Ruth Felt's San Francisco Performances staged this marvel, and thank goodness for that, because the local orchestras and most performing organizations are doing nothing.
The first day was dedicated primarily to his five string quartets, a body of work the equal of those of Haydn, Beethoven, and Bartok. In the morning, there was a showing of the documentary film, Elliott Carter: The Labyrinth of Time, followed by a panel/Q&A with the weekend's performers and lecturer Robert Greenberg; in the afternoon, a three-hour lecture; in the evening, a performance of all five of the quartets.
I can't say enough good things about the film, a most touching and informative document. Filmed in and around Carter's apartment, Greenwich Village, other New York City locations, and Paris, it shows the composer in his element. You see him at his desk, writing music, erasing, writing music, erasing, writing music. You see him working with musicians, including Ursula Oppens, Fred Sherry, and Pierre Boulez. You hear from a few of those musicans as well. He wanders the halls of the building where he studied with Boulanger, and walks across the Brooklyn Bridge. "Aha!" I thought. "That's how he lived to 100: he's a New Yorker who walks five miles a day." He chats with his wife, Helen Jones-Carter, who died in 2003.
Looming over the film, sometimes visible through the windows of the Carter apartment, is the World Trade Center. Carter feels his music is deeply connected with the world and humanity, and talks about his hope that humanity will learn how to solve problems so all humans can live together peacefully. Sometimes you can see the WTC in the distance; sometimes you can't. Sometimes there are shots of the Trade Center in ruins after that day.
You learn a bit about his working methods, and the world he grew up in: "When I was a boy, I could ride my bicycle from 114th street, where we lived, all the way down Manhattan, and see only a few automobiles."
The half-hour panel discussion/Q&A with the performers was, unfortunately, almost the only interactive portion of the weekend. The members of the Pacifica Quartet and pianist Ursula Oppens talked about their experience of learning Carter's music and working with him, and about what it means to them.
The second day, less taxing, at least for the audience, consisted of a lecture on the piano music, a recital of the complete piano music - well, almost all - and a reception.
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