Thank you for the music: Fiorenze

Showing posts with label Fiorenze. Show all posts

Friday, December 26, 2008

Something for everyone, a comedy tonight!

Personally, I don't think I make a very convincing diplomatic figure. My clothing is the oddest mixture of fur and satin that I personally have ever seen, and the feather on my blasted hat seems to want to droop the wrong way all the time. In fact, I don't think we would have been welcomed quite as warmly as we were, had it not been for the rather nice, and very exotic gilded dinner service that we brought to present to the new Grand Duchess, princess Christine. If there's one thing you can always be sure of with the aristocracy, they never turn down gold.
The other thing, or rather, person that has been niggling me since I got here, is the Duke's insufferable vintner; I would guess his age to be in the early thirties, with a pasty complexion, thinning hair, and a fat face, although if you actually look at him, his body is quite spare, and his legs... well, I've seen more meat on kindling twigs! Whenever he looks at me he seems to have an expression as though he bit into a bun and found half a cockroach. And at the formal dinner last night, when he filled my wineglass, I had to keep urging him on. He seemed reluctant to pour enough for a mouse to get tiddly.
But making up for all my minor grouches today, there is to be an entertainment celebrating the Duke's marriage. This isn't a masque in name, but in most other respects, it will be pretty much the same kind of affair; a first-rate chance for the Ducal family to show off their wealth, power, and erudition, with food, drink and music at convenient intervals.
It's important to remember that this is a political marriage first and foremost (and quite possibly, exclusively). Duke Ferdinando de Medici wants to strengthen the Florentine ties with France once more, and marriage to Christine of Lorraine is a suitable opportunity. Or to put it another way, she can ensure the continuity of the Medici line, while he ensures the continuity of power (through her relatives!).
The prologue informs us that we are to see the story of the challenge of the Emathian princesses to the muses. Thank goodness for my east-european diplomat persona, while I know who the muses are in Greek mythology, it would be unthinkably ignorant for someone of my standing not to know the story of the Pierides if I was the representative of a (presumably) more educated western court.
I have to say that this is my first experience of the theatrical style that will become known across europe as the Commedia dell'arte, and while at this stage it doesn't have the fully-developed character of slapstick and mayhem for which it will become known (and which would be inappropriate to a courtly entertainment), it is quite clearly heading that way.
I'm rather disappointed that I wasn't able to get my hands on any of the sheet music for this afternoon's presentation, however, on my return I did manage to find Luca Marenzio's Diuersi Linguaggi: sung by the various characters of the commedia;

the Scholar
the Professor
Fate
Grace
Francescina
Girometta
Zanni (a clown)
Captain Magnifico
the German

For anyone who might be interested, here is the song "Various Languages", beautifully engraved by Christian Mondrup for the Werner Icking Music Library.

References

The Programme for the entertainment

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Wednesday, November 26, 2008

A bastard genius

In a feudal political system, how does a duke try to avoid unnecessary bloodshed and expense when he forese

es the probability of a power struggle? Well, one way is by sending a peace offering (bribe!)
On the left, is Lodovico Sforza, Il Moro (the Moor, a nickname supposedly given to him because he tanned easily) duke of Milan, and on the right, Lorenzo di Medici, Il Magnifico ('nuff said).
And the reason we're here, the young man with the rather splendid legs and the two young pageboys carrying the package in the damask behind him, is none other than Signor Leonardo da Vinci. The content of the package, which will be revealed in a few moments is a magnificent silver lyre in the shape of a horse's head crafted by Leonardo himself.
The lyre is an excellent idea for a gift, suggesting that Lodovico will appreciate the classical associations of the instrument of Apollo and Orpheus, as well as being capable of playing the instrument himself. The fact that it is made from silver should give it a characteristically sweet tone, as well as representing more lucre in the ducal vaults!
Since I couldn't find a picture of Leonardo's presentation this detail from the mural of the court of the duke of Mantua should give a fair idea not only of the fashions, but the kind of characters that hang out with the duke.
As a matter of course, it is expected of any young man who moves in aristocratic circles that he should be a skilled horseman, poet, philosopher, soldier, and musician, and once the lyre has been unwrapped and offered to Lodovico, etiquette demands that Lodovico invite Leonardo to demonstrate the gift.
After the first few bars the murmur of chatter fades away. I think the thirty-year-old craftsman painter has made an impression, and no wonder! The piece he has chosen to demonstrate the lyre is quite a challenging song by the Flemish composer Johannes Ockeghem.
The musical riddles which Ockeghem poses in some of his compositions will keep scholars hard at work for many centuries to come, and no doubt the gentlemen of the court who pride themselves on their mathematical and scientific knowledge will find matter for debate in this piece for months to come.

the abc notation for the music below is available online.

Before it is time for him to leave Milan and return to Florence once more, Leonardo has received an invitation to enter the service of the duke of Milan, and I suspect he has been taken into the confidence of the duke. While it is not supposed to be generally known, the duke has plans to encourage France to invade Italy, presumably confident of overpowering the French invaders with the help of the cunning of Leonardo, and simultaneously taking advantage of his weakened neighbouring duchies.
For his part, Leonardo left a sodomy charge behind in Florence, and although he was acquitted, I wouldn't mind betting he has more admirers in the ducal court here in Milan than just Lodovico! But it ill-behooves me to speculate on Leonardo's private life. Let me present for you Jan Ockeghem's music:

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Saturday, February 9, 2008

Little Barrels

An artist's studio is a strange and wonderful place, and I have always been fascinated by every opportunity to visit a studio. They are sometimes tidy, more often not, but always full of the semi-magical paraphernalia of creation.

It was during the time that we were loitering in the marketplace in Fiorenza that I noticed a young man buying a large quantity of eggs. Since most of the purchasers in the marketplace were women, and most of the men that weren't sellers seemed to be eyeing up the quality of the female flesh around them, he seemed like a good candidate to follow back to one of the studios. (If he had been buying merchandise in quantity in addition to the eggs I would have assumed that he was buying for one of the bigger households in the city).

Catching up with him on the way back to his place of work, it is easy to strike up a conversation. This young man has a lot to say (the corollary of course, is that he hardly seems to draw breath to allow a word in edgeways!) and we soon learn that he is one of the assistants of an important painter. The workshop itself is a long, low building, with its own yard space alongside where a couple of carpenters are working on wooden panels, using tools that will barely change in the next five hundred years: pinch dogs to hold planks together while glue sets, and planes

to smooth the surfaces. This is a little unusual. Normally, a studio would buy wooden panels for painting from a carpentry shop, and I wonder whether the Master of the workshop has hired these men for something he wants to oversee closely.

One of the workmen is whistling a tune which I managed to identify later as Quando ritrovo la mia pastorella, a pastoral madrigal. Presumably, he heard the song being sung somewhere, and some kind of mental composite of the four parts lodged in his memory! (I wonder whether the last line, something which approximates to "If you are penniless, get lost!" made it more memorable?)

Inside, the studio is quietly, but very efficiently bustling with activity, and the first thing that strikes me is the height of the ceiling. From outside, the building looked fairly low, like a tall shed. But now that we are inside, it seems more like an aircraft hangar from the twentieth century. And the high roof has several gantries, from one of which hangs a large altarpiece which is being worked on by a couple of men perched on a trestle. Most of the painting already has at least one layer of color applied, in some cases, surprising choices have been made! I would not have expected green flesh tones, but it is not for me to criticise the work of the craftsmen.

The supervisor of the workshop, a lean, energetic fellow who seems as if he cannot stand still, takes us in tow. It seems the Master is busy with other clients at the moment, but he would be happy to give us a tour of the workshop.

While there are several easels in use, there are also apprentices straddling low benches with drawings propped up. The supervisor tells us they are called "donkeys". Charcoal and red chalk seem to be the preferred media of most of the apprentices, but a couple of the boys are painting with diluted ink, copying from drawings by a more experienced hand.

Several times I have overheard conversations involving "pencils" but there are no wooden sticks with graphite cores to be seen. The supervisor explains that a pencil is the small brush, made with fine, tapering hairs, commonly squirrel. He seems amused that I should be curious about such insignificant details.

Toward the furthest end of the workshop, past the enormous altarpiece, is the colour store. Several rows of shelving hold large jars, and on the counter before them, apprentices are measuring and patiently grinding coloured minerals.

Where the painters are working, they have their own assistants mixing oil and apparently, melting beeswax into the powdered colours to make a thick, sticky paste. And now I get to see why the boy we followed was buying up all the eggs he could; over here, a team of painters are working on a painting using the much older, tried and tested medium of egg tempera, rather than the very new oil medium.

The youngest of the team carefully separates yolk from white, then with a dexterity that I have to admire, slits, and drains the yolk sac into a small cup from which the next in line adds the fluid to the powder which is still a very stiff paste, but becoming more gooey as we watch.

Nearer to the front (more respectable) end of the workshop some of the finished paintings are already displayed; examples of the craftsmanship offered here. There is a portrait of a young man in a red hat with a similar slightly aloof air, and the long hair of the fellow we followed coming here. And the same style of cap.

There is also a stunningly beautiful portrait of a woman, in profile. Had I not seen some of the imaginative ways the noblewomen style their hair I might have disbelieved the portrait, but only the visual movement of the strands requires a little suspension of disbelief.

The most impressive of all the paintings on display here is a huge "Pallas and the Centaur", a subject bound to appeal to the new, and growing humanist community in the city.

And almost as our tour of the workshop is completed, the Master himself has concluded his business with the previous client and is ready to attend to us. It seems we are in a position to deal with no less than Alessandro Botticelli himself! I recognize the slightly portly figure from his self-portrait in a work which will become famous many centuries from now.

Thursday, January 31, 2008

A Bright and Shining Star

For a long while I have wanted to visit the city-state of Florence (or Fiorenza, as the locals pronounce it), but at the same time I have been anxious that I might be disappointed; well, time to swallow my doubts. We are going, and see what the city really is like under the hand of Lorenzo de Medici, the banker and de-facto ruler of the city whether the city elders approve or not. I have calculated the coordinates so that we will arrive in February of 1484. The city gates will be closed until early morning so, as representatives of a nearby town seeking financial support, we will join the handful of early travellers bringing produce from the fields. I think, in addition to our period clothes, it would be sensible to wear thick woolen cloaks against the pre-dawn chill.

While the city should be relatively stable and well-ordered by now, it is worth remembering that it is only six years since Lorenzo's brother, Giuliano, was murdered in the Pazzi conspiracy. Had it not been for quick reflexes, Lorenzo too might have been killed. What made it worse, was that the assassination took place in the Cathedral itself!

It seems that the first people on the city streets are mostly those who never leave them anyway, mostly beggars and the occasional cutpurse. Some of the beggars have the most hideous deformities and it is hard not to look away, particularly since I know that most of their diseases will be quite easily treatable in centuries to come.

I suggest the best plan of action is to make our way to the Cathedral and see what is happening there; since it is commonly used by everybody as a well-known meeting place we may be able to eavesdrop on some of the conversations and find out what news is making the rounds.

The Cathedral itself is a revolutionary building; proudly known locally as the Duomo or "dome", the Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore, to give its full name, was planned in the thirteenth century, but construction almost stalled when it came to building the dome itself. It would be the largest freestanding dome in all Western architecture, and a noble tribute to the glory of God, but after the death of the first architect, Arnolfo di Cambio, nobody was certain that a freestanding dome of such enormous size could practically be constructed. It wasn't until the Woolmerchants Guild, the Arte della Lana announced a competition to design the dome that a viable plan was developed.

Among the competitors, two men stood head and shoulders above the rest. The first, Lorenzo Ghiberti, was a skilled sculptor and metalworker who had rediscovered the method of lost wax casting originally used by the ancient Romans, but since forgotten.

The second was Filippo Brunelleschi, originally trained as a goldsmith, but also a sculptor and architect, the first artist to describe the laws of perspective.

By my reckoning the time must be getting on toward eight o'clock, in which case, hopefully most the people heading into the cathedral are on their way to attend the early mass.

It's not hard to sort out who is important and who isn't as we watch them enter. Puffed and slashed garments of velvet and silk are virtually the uniform of the wealthier merchants, and everybody is wearing a hat of some kind. I would almost bet money that the group of about eight men approaching includes Lorenzo de Medici himself. Why should I think that? well, the three armed guards, for one thing.

My thinking was that if we attended mass we should have a fair chance to see some of the most important people in the city today. I was interested to see how many of the new humanist thinkers were still concerned about the welfare of their eternal souls. My guess was that we would see that the christian tradition that is so deeply rooted in this culture would not be quickly swept aside. Once mass is over, I realize that it will not be quite so simple to identify the movers and shakers of the city. We obviously can't eavesdrop on every conversation going on as the congregants disperse, and I only know one or two faces from paintings, but I don't recognize anybody leaving the cathedral.

In any case, we can still spend a while wandering around the market in the piazza nearby.

We've been in the piazza for what I guess must be about ninety minutes, and a rather gaunt-looking friar in the white dominican robe with black cloak has shown up. He seems to have plenty of time to talk to the beggars, and goes from stall to stall, soliciting odds and ends of produce which he distributes to the beggars. Once he has made his rounds of the beggars, he climbs the pedestal of the cross in the center of the piazza and raises his hands, lowering his head.

When he raises his head once more, he declares in a loud, clear voice, but without shouting;

"vidi alium angelum descendentem de caelo habentem potestatem magnam et terra inluminata est a gloria eius et exclamavit in forti voce dicens cecidit cecidit Babylon magna et facta est habitatio daemoniorum et custodia omnis spiritus inmundi et custodia omnis volucris inmundae quia de ira fornicationis eius biberunt omnes gentes et reges terrae cum illa fornicati sunt et mercatores terrae de virtute deliciarum eius divites facti sunt"

I saw another angel coming down from heaven. He had great authority, and the earth was illuminated by his splendor.
With a mighty voice he shouted:
"Fallen! Fallen is Babylon the Great!
She has become a home for demons
and a haunt for every evil[a] spirit,
a haunt for every unclean and detestable bird.
For all the nations have drunk
the maddening wine of her adulteries.
The kings of the earth committed adultery with her,
and the merchants of the earth grew rich from her excessive luxuries."

As he continues to speak out against the corruption of a government ordained by God, the passion of his words seems to still the noisy bustle of the Italian marketplace: even stallholders lower their voices, and one or two turn to listen more carefully. This must be the famous (or infamous) friar Savonarola. By turns fiery and tender, he urges the common people around him to dedicate themselves anew to seeking the Kingdom of Heaven, trusting in God rather than the "broken reed of pagan teachings, which so long ago were done away, but now are held up once more by faithless men, seeking to usurp the sovereignty of God!" Savonarola takes the bold step of blaming the humanist patronage of the Medicis for the spread of "French Pox" within the city, and I wonder whether somebody will summon the constable, but it seems the crowd agrees with the friar.

By the time is sermon is finished, some of the listeners are already kneeling in prayer, and the friar moves among them, blessing them before he leaves the piazza.

It doesn't take long for the Italian spirit to reassert itself, and one of the first voices to pierce the quiet is a young man, singing and accompanying himself on a rather old and battered gittern. Once his song is finished, and before he begins another, it is possible to ask what he was singing. It seems he has got hold of a song by the city's patron, Lorenzo de Medici.

X:17 % number T:Canto de Profumieri % title

N:a rough translation of the title would be "I sing of your perfume"

C:Lorenzo de Medici (Il Magnifico) % composer O: % origin. M:C| % meter L:1/4 % length of shortest note Q: % tempo K:Bb % key V:1 name="Tenor" sname="T." % voice 1 V:2 name="First Bass" sname="B.1" clef=bass V:3 name="Second Bass" sname="B.2" clef=bass %==============2======3=======4=========5=========6=========7=========8============9======10 [V:1] c2 c2 | B3 c | d2 d2 | e2 e2 | e2 e2 | d3 e | f2 g a-| a g2 ^f | g2 z2 | w:Sian ga-lan-ti di Va-len-za qui per pas-so ca-pi-ta___ti, [V:2] c'2, c'2 | g3 a | b2 b2 | c'2 c'2 | c'2 c'2 | b3 c' | d'2 b c-| c'/a/ g A2 | g2 z2 | w:Sian ga-lan-ti di Va-len-za qui per pas-so ca-pi-ta___ti, [V:3] c2 c2 | g3 c | g2 g2 | c2 c2 | c2 c2 | g3 f/e/ | d2 g-f | e2 d2 | G2 z2 | w:Sian ga-lan-ti di Va-len-za qui per pas-so_ca-pi_ta__ % %==========11=======12========13======14======15======16========17=======18====19========20 [V:1] g2 g2 | d2 e2 | f>e d>c | B2 B2 | e3 e | d2 c2 | f2 e d-|d c2 B | c4 |: c2 c2 | w:d'a-mor gia pre-si et le--gha-ti del-le don-ne di Fio-ren----za. Son mol- w:*********************voi vin- [V:2] g2 g2 | b2 c'2 | f2 f2 | e2 e2 | c'3 c' | b2 a2 | b>a g-f | e c B2 | c4 |: c'2 c'2 | w:d'a-mor gia pre-si~et le-gha-ti del-le don-ne di Fio------za. Son mol- w:********************voi vin [V:3] c2 c2 | g2 c2 | d2 d2 | G2 G2 | _A3 A | B2 f2 | B2 c-d | B c G2 | c4 |: c2 c2 | w:d'a-mor gia pre-si~et le-gha-ti del-le don-ne di Fio-----za. Son mol- w:*******************voi vin % %==========21=====22========23========24======25======26======27==========28=========================29===========30 [V:1] d2 c2 | e3 f | g2 a g-|g f2 ^e | f2 z2 | f2 f2 | d3 e | f2 f2 |[M:4/2] g2 e f>e d/ c/ d2 |[M:C|] c4 :| w:to gen-ti-le~et bel------le don-ne nel-la ter-ra no-------stra; w:ce-ted'as-sai quel-------le co-me'l vi-so di fuor mo-------stra [V:2] b2 c2 | g3 a | g a2 g | b c'2 b | f2 z2 | a2 a2 | b3 c' | d'>c' b-a |[M:4/2] g b c' d'2 c'2 b |[M:C|] c'4 :| w:to gen-ti-le~et bel------le don-ne nel-la ter-ra no--------stra; w:ce-te d'as-sai quel-------le co-me'l vi-so di_ fuor_ mo-----stra [V:3] g2 c2 | c3 f | e c>d e | f d c2 | f2 z2 | d2 d2 | b2 b2 | b>c d2 |[M:4/2] e>d c B2 c g2 |[M:C|] c4 :| w:to gen-ti-le~et bel-------le don-ne nel-la ter-ra no-------stra; w:ce-te d'as-sai quel-------le co-me'l vi-so di_ fuor mo------stra % %===================31=======32========33======34========35=========36 [V:1][M:3/2] g4 g2 | f4 d2 | e4 e2 | d4 d2 | d4 e2 | f4 e2 | w:ques-ta gran bel-le-za vo-stra con a-mo-re~a [V:2][M:3/2] e'4 e'2 | d'4 b2 | c'4 c'2 | b4 b2 | b3-a g2 | f2-_a3 g | w:ques-ta gran bel-le-za vo-stra con a-mo-re~a [V:3][M:3/2] e4 e2 | B4 d2 | c4 _A2 | B4 B2 | B4 c2 | d4 c2 | w:ques-ta gran bel-le-za vo-stra con a-mo-re~a % %==========37======38==============39========40======41========42========43 [V:1] d2 d4 | B4 B2 |[M:C|] c2 c2 | e2 e2 | d2 d2 | c2 c2 | g2 g2 | w:com-pa-gna-te; se non sia-te~i-na-mo-ra-te e' sa- [V:2] g4 f2 | g4 g2 |[M:C|] c'2 c'2 | c'2 c'2 | b2 b2 | c'2 c'2 | e'2 e'2 | w:com-pa-gna-te; se non sia-te~i-na-mo-ra-te e' sa- [V:3] B2 B4 | G4 G2 |[M:C|] c2 c2 | c2 c2 | g2 g2 | c2 c2 | c2 e2 | w:com-pa-gna-te; se non sia-te~i-na-mo-ra-te e' sa- % %===========44========45======================46== [V:1] f3 f | d d c2 |[M:4/2] B2 c d2 c2 =B |[M:C|] c4 |] w:ria me-glio es-ser sen---za. [V:2] d'3 c' | b b a2 |[M:4/2] g2 e f>e c d2 |[M:C|] c4 |] w:ria me-glio es-ser sen---za. [V:3] B3 c | d B c>d |[M:4/2] e>d c B>c A G2 |[M:C|] c4 |] w:ria me-glio es-ser sen---za.

To convert the code above to sheet music, or listen to the tunes, copy the code for a single song, then paste it here and [submit].

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Thank you for the music

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Friday, December 26, 2008

Something for everyone, a comedy tonight!

References

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

A bastard genius

Saturday, February 9, 2008

Little Barrels

Thursday, January 31, 2008

A Bright and Shining Star

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