As I prepare a recital program for my concert at San Francisco Performances next month, I return to a work that has accompanied me for most of my life. Modest Mussorgsky's masterpiece, Pictures at an Exhibition, is a unique bridge between the 19th and 20th centuries. Debussy and Stravinsky, two giants of the 20th century, were influenced by this work. Pictures have inspired an epidemic of orchestrations – from Maurice Ravel's famous symphonic transcription to the imaginative electronic adaptation by Isao Tomita, more than seventy versions exist to date. What is the unique magnetism which attracts musicians and composers to this piece? Is it a secret fascination evoked by the childlike, fairytale images hidden in the work?I think that Mussorgsky was inspired not directly by Hartman's artworks, but by the idea of creating a musical exhibition in itself. The connection between Mussorgsky’s music and Hartman's images is tenuous at best. Mussorgsky's music cannot be regarded as representational of Hartman's subjects any more than Hartman's images can be interpreted as illustrative of Mussorgsky's music.
Mussorgsky chose the form of a suite as the most natural for his musical exhibition. The suite starts with the Promenade. It is a musical self-portrait of the composer walking through the halls of the museum. The Promenade recurs seven times in the work, (only five times under its own title), each time sounding different, thus creating a subset of variations. I believe that these promenading variations reflect the alterations in the mood of a person passing a series of paintings in a museum gallery. Thus, Mussorgsky gives us both: a series of brilliant musical sketches, and their reflections in his own soul; he is an author who creates his work and finds himself changed by it.
Unexpectedly, I found yet another hidden form of variation in this work. It is a partita-like structure, which occurs within the musical architecture of the piece. Bach designed his partitas to include several common elements, which unify the widely contrasting dance movements. These elements are usually a recurring interval relationship or a melodic and/or harmonic device. This is true of Pictures at an Exhibition. The entire work is based upon two primary intervals: a descending second and an ascending fourth. These two intervals appear within the opening three notes: G, F, B-flat. These three notes become the foundation upon which the entire work rests. Each movement is based on these intervals or their inversions.
In Gnomus, the weeping of the dwarf is built entirely on the descending second (mm. 19, et seq.). The ascending fourth in the opening of The Old Castle resembles calling of a distant horn, or, perhaps, the nostalgic song of a Minnesinger recalling the days of old. By looking at the final six measures of this movement we realize that the entire movement is built on the 'calling' fourth and the 'sighing' second.
In Tuilleries: The Children's Quarrel, the concealed descending second which is heard throughout the piece sounds like capricious children. It reminds one of Mussorgsky's vocal cycle In the Nursery, which so wonderfully portrays children's psyches. Could it be that this charming childishness is the central attraction of Pictures? We all come from the land of childhood and 'blessed be they' who shall remain children forever.
In the theme of Bydlo, the order of the two intervals is the same as in the Promenade: the descending second precedes the ascending fourth. They are rhythmically displaced so that the lamenting second is emphasized and the 'calling' fourth is subdued. What does 'Bydlo' mean? The traditional definition is an oxcart. The ostinato in the left hand resembles the slow rotation of heavy wheels. Yet there is another meaning for this word. My Polish nanny, when upset or angry would say Oh! Bydlo!,- an exclamation meaning "this is unfair!" This word can be understood in different ways, but it always stands for something heavy and unpleasant. When I hear Mussorgsky's Bydlo, I am reminded of a painting by Ilya Repin titled Barge Haulers on the Volga. In this painting, a heavy barge is pulled by tired, emaciated peasants. It is a depiction brutal, exhausting, yet meaningless labor. Perhaps, Mussorgsky's Bydlo is a tragic symbol of Russia itself
The Ballet of the Unhatched Chicks is a charming and humorous confection. A childlike, bright and touching fantasy, this piece is a joy to perform. The cackling of the chicks is represented by both: 'crushed' and melodic seconds.
In Two Polish Jews, One Rich and the Other Poor the inverted fourth and the second are incorporated to represent a severe image of the rich man and the pitiful begging of the poor. The repeated notes, combined with weeping seconds remind us of synagogue chants. The duet of the two men toward the end of this movement is a counterpoint of misunderstanding in which neither hears the other. I recall the words of Marina Tsvetaeva, "… Nothing is sadder than the hunger of the hungry or the indolence of the satisfied."
Limoges; the Market (‘Great News') - a noisy, sunny marketplace with its quarreling, bargaining, and gossiping. The repeated musical figures imitate the hubbub of too many people talking at the same time. From the outset, it is clear that this piece is built on the combination of the descending second and the ascending fourth. Mussorgsky wrote a text for the market gossips but later rejected it as too programmatic for inclusion in the published work.
Catacombs. A mystery. Somber chords lead the listener to 'Con mortuis in lingua mortua,' - 'with the dead in a dead language'. The theme of the Promenade is heard as chorale and as an ethereal voice from the underground, accompanied by a ghostly tremolo from another world. In the cemetery, where dead Latin words are written on the gravestones, dead men speak their eternal language.
Baba Yaga. The Hut on Hens Legs. This movement opens with seconds and fourths heard in threatening unison. I love the folkloric image of Baba Yaga flying on her broom in a windstorm, with the trees bending their crowns to the ground. Baba Yaga's hut stands on large hen's legs, which can move on their own will. In mm. 25-30 there are cackling seconds, similar to The Ballet of the Unhatched Chicks, but now they sound threatening. There is an amusing relationship between the hen's legs of Baba Yaga's hut and tiny chicks. Once a chicken, always a chicken!
In the middle section, while Baba Yaga is away from her enchanted kingdom, two of her helpers, Kikimora (the hobgoblin who lives in the marshes) and Leschy (the wood goblin who lives in the forest) look at the twinkling marsh lights and listen to the owls hooting, waiting for the return of their mistress. She returns and storms right through the Great Gates of Kiev.
One last thought. In spite of the Russian, French, Polish, Jewish and Latin themes or, perhaps, because of them, Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition create a quintessentially Russian atmosphere. The work projects Russia from all sides: fairy, pagan, religious, multinational, impossible and incredible!
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