Note: In the headings below, the composer’s name appears before the artist’s; all of the music is performed by Dan Flanagan.
“Shadow Breaking”
Nathaniel Stookey/Rachel Dwan
Here is a veritable cornucopia of techniques (notably double stops, various pizzicati to add punch, harmonics) moving the landscape from brooding moodiness to excited busyness and back. What is the source of the light, that produces shadows on canvas and such variety to the ear? That’s your homework!
“Cadenza II”
Jose Gonzalez Granero/Robert Antoine Pinchon
After a thoughtful opening with just a few hints of dissonance, the music explodes, gaining a lot of heat belying (or fending off) the rain in Brussels. The effective use of silence (er, hello there Haydn) for some of the transitions produces an element of surprise/suspense. Somehow, remarkably the sun makes an appearance at the very last moment. Hope springs eternal.
“The Collection”
Shinji Eshima/Paul Gibson
Eshima has most inventively captured the essence of Gibson’s portrait of Flanagan: somewhat stoic, the violinist stares straight ahead, clearly lost in thought. In the manner of “If You Could Read my Mind” a cavalcade of thoughts and ideas come steadily, in various hues, textures and tones (there’s even a hint of Scheherazade worked into the mix). Hear for yourself and see what comes to mind.
“Raven’s Dance”
Linda Marcel/Nina Fabunmi
This scratchy raven is not to be messed with (just take a gander into the eye!). Even a moment of, relatively, calm Danse Macabre can’t let serious listeners (and performers!) ignore the threat. Somewhere, Edgar Allen Poe is smiling.
“Into the Light”
Cindy Cox/Victoria Veedell
Where will the light lead us, take us (perhaps illuminating “Shadow Breaking”, above). A singular, mostly melodic line (before a wee ritornello literally moves us to the conclusion). Much to say, in a brief span of time, for those who choose to hear.
“Blue Swan”
Evan Price/Sean O’Donnell
Definitely a bird of a different colour, most of the “blue” of this sculpture set to music is in its jazzy rhythms, daring one and all to take flight!
“The Only Way Through Is Slow”
Libby Larsen/Nikki Vismara
Anchored from stem to stern by a fairly unusual treble pedal (and its octave above counterpart—are they both blue as in the dominant hue of the painting?), the contrasting declamations/excursions may well be fuelled by white. Look, listen and come to your own mesmerizing conclusions.
“Guillaumin”
James Stephenson/Armand Guillaumin
This oral portrait of a rustic French farmhouse frequently slithers and slides into perception before morphing into a wee dance or two. The inherent drama builds--what will happen next?—until a singular note bids “adieu.”
“And Miles to Go”
Jessica Mays/Albert Malet
Somewhat reminiscent of Robert Frost’s famous line, And miles to go before I sleep, from “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”, this soundscape works on almost every level, save and except for the “bridge” scratching that seems at odds with calmer nature of the painting. Still, the unisons proved balance.
“Monterey Sentinels”
Dan Flanagan/Joaquin Turner
Like the painting itself, here is a study in contrasts: the sturdiness of the trees, ideally balanced with the subtlety of the sky. All the better to set the stage for some Moldau-like running lines, discreet vocal interventions, and a few timely pizzicati that deftly punctuate the overall result.
“Notre Dame au Milieu de “L’eau et du Ciel”
Trevor Watson/Albert-Marie Lebourg
At least to these ears (do discover for yourselves), this pairing is the least successful of the lot: the majesty of Notre Dame and the stasis of the moored boat seem decidedly at odds with the busyness of the lines. Still, the overarching sky is well worth a look.
“Splits (Le Grand Écart)”
Edmund Campion/Ludovic-Rodo Pissarro
Most certainly, this is way more than a bit of a stretch. Try it for ourselves and see how long you last. Both the ecstasy of “splitting” accomplishment and the pain of extended elongation are wonderfully captured (and executed) in the music.
“Same Old Sadness”
Peter Josheff/Peter Canty
Can you see the wind? Do we ever truly understand ourselves? Much personal food for thought as the music pushes and pulls from quietude to heroically rhapsodic to just being us.
“An Animated Street in Autumn”
Dan Flanagan/Jean François Raffaëlli
What fun to conclude this remarkable set with a work that demands much of the imagination to translate the relatively stagnant painting into an energetic tour de force. Everything is led by an impish theme that gives new meaning to the expression “catch me if you can”. Do enjoy and also savour the ode to Mendelsohn’s violin concerto that readily slips in and out of the delectable street work.
A few words for Dan Flanagan
What a most creative project and one of the few positive results from COVID at its worst. Largely confined to home (as most of us were) and surrounded by a covey of paintings, it soon became inevitable that Flanagan’s off-the-beaten-track artworks would become the basis for commissions and self-expression.
So happy to report that the intrepid violinist puts on a master class of exemplary technique, insightful interpretations and an immediately felt devotion to canvases of both sound and art.
Merci mille fois. JWR