I was relieved this evening when, upon leaving the concert hall where Earlham's symphony orchestra gave its winter concert, that my companion was the first to say, "It makes you appreciate all those professional orchestras so much more, doesn't it?"
The orchestra had put together a technically and technologically ambitious program, complete with film screenings of silent films to which they played the scores. Technical and logistical glitches were several; the orchestra had not rehearsed without the house lights, and when the film went on and the stage lighting went down, they discovered they could not see the conductor and had to stop. At one point the film score was playing over the orchestra- the sound tech had forgotten to mute the movie. At another point the play button could not be played in such a way that the film was the only thing on the screen, besides other elements of an Apple desktop. The conductor discovered, at the beginning of another piece, that his score was still backstage. When he called for the baritone featured in one piece to come forward, it appeared the singer was not in the room.
You have to love a small town, and no less a liberal arts college community, for its ability to play the loving and forgiving audience. "It makes it so much more interesting! I love getting to see how they deal with challenges. The more real, the better!" exclaimed my companion. To borrow a line from my reading in Emma today, "Emma (Mimi) denied none of it aloud, and agreed to none of it in private." I was exceptionally uncomfortable for the conductor, whose embarrassment and frustration must have been extreme, even with the loving audience. He handled each development (or unraveling) well, as did the musicians, but indeed I would prefer a concert that goes according to plan.
They played Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 1, op 13, "Winter Dreams", which I was not familiar with and which I like very much. Here is a version of the whole thing.
This afternoon while holed up in my room reading Emma I was struck by how unlike Emma's society of English nobility is from our own. So little emphasis on gainful work, so much leisure time to fill, such necessity to draw every bit of news or diversion out into something substantial to fill the otherwise unoccupied hours... it sounds pretty dull. Days and days spent looking forward to a picnic, and the picnic spent in the company of tiresome people (Mrs. Elton, Miss Bates, Mr. Elton).
I remember when a high school friend told me, "I'm done hanging out with people I don't like." It is clear to me that evasion was an impossibility in Emma's circle - that people simply had to engage with people that they might not choose as friends, simply because of the size of the country circle. Mr. Darcy describes Hertfordshire society, as "confined and unvarying," and I think it would certainly seem so to those of us used to a wider social radius.
As I sat in the concert hall before the performance began, I was struck by just how similar our society still is to that which Jane Austen so magnificently dissects in her novels. We were all part of a fairly small community, and with each grand entrance into the room of a new person, we, the seated, took stock of that person's beauty, attire, and social status - were they meeting friends? Did they look confident? Were they accompanied? Did they quickly make eye contact with a friend who was reserving seats?
We haven't progressed too far beyond the pump rooms at bath after all.
The orchestra had put together a technically and technologically ambitious program, complete with film screenings of silent films to which they played the scores. Technical and logistical glitches were several; the orchestra had not rehearsed without the house lights, and when the film went on and the stage lighting went down, they discovered they could not see the conductor and had to stop. At one point the film score was playing over the orchestra- the sound tech had forgotten to mute the movie. At another point the play button could not be played in such a way that the film was the only thing on the screen, besides other elements of an Apple desktop. The conductor discovered, at the beginning of another piece, that his score was still backstage. When he called for the baritone featured in one piece to come forward, it appeared the singer was not in the room.
You have to love a small town, and no less a liberal arts college community, for its ability to play the loving and forgiving audience. "It makes it so much more interesting! I love getting to see how they deal with challenges. The more real, the better!" exclaimed my companion. To borrow a line from my reading in Emma today, "Emma (Mimi) denied none of it aloud, and agreed to none of it in private." I was exceptionally uncomfortable for the conductor, whose embarrassment and frustration must have been extreme, even with the loving audience. He handled each development (or unraveling) well, as did the musicians, but indeed I would prefer a concert that goes according to plan.
They played Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 1, op 13, "Winter Dreams", which I was not familiar with and which I like very much. Here is a version of the whole thing.
This afternoon while holed up in my room reading Emma I was struck by how unlike Emma's society of English nobility is from our own. So little emphasis on gainful work, so much leisure time to fill, such necessity to draw every bit of news or diversion out into something substantial to fill the otherwise unoccupied hours... it sounds pretty dull. Days and days spent looking forward to a picnic, and the picnic spent in the company of tiresome people (Mrs. Elton, Miss Bates, Mr. Elton).
I remember when a high school friend told me, "I'm done hanging out with people I don't like." It is clear to me that evasion was an impossibility in Emma's circle - that people simply had to engage with people that they might not choose as friends, simply because of the size of the country circle. Mr. Darcy describes Hertfordshire society, as "confined and unvarying," and I think it would certainly seem so to those of us used to a wider social radius.
As I sat in the concert hall before the performance began, I was struck by just how similar our society still is to that which Jane Austen so magnificently dissects in her novels. We were all part of a fairly small community, and with each grand entrance into the room of a new person, we, the seated, took stock of that person's beauty, attire, and social status - were they meeting friends? Did they look confident? Were they accompanied? Did they quickly make eye contact with a friend who was reserving seats?
We haven't progressed too far beyond the pump rooms at bath after all.
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