letters
TRANSCRIPT
Fortnight Publications Ltd.
LettersAuthor(s): Dennis KennedySource: Fortnight, No. 80 (Mar. 22, 1974), p. 18Published by: Fortnight Publications Ltd.Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/25544964 .
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_ 18/FORTNIGHT found in these earlier pictures and
drawings. The seaside scenes are
among the most memorable?No.
13, for example, details the essence
of a commonplace holiday scene,
the groups gazing over the sea wall,
the women comfortably seated gos
siping, the child, or the family
group of No. 26. There are fine
architectural paintings?no. 41 of
Ormond Quay is outstanding and
the painting of the Annesley Dower
House (no. 3) is a little gem. Trees are always beautifully
drawn by Carr and the grace with
which he shows their interleavings in a brown field is consumate.
What one might not expect is to
find a Conot-like humour as one
does in No. 38 or such keenly observed portraits as that of the
child doing her homework. The
mother and young child picture (No. 57) has a tenderness of line
and feeling that are deeply moving.
MOIRAMUIR (Centre Art Gallery)
At the Centre Art Gallery, Stran
millis, Moira Muir, an occupational
therapist at Greenisland Hospital, is showing varied oils, /ater colours
and acrylic paintings of many
styles. It is her water colours that
have the greatest appeal; "Farm
buildings in Snow" is a well con
sidered presentation, every detail of
the composition having its right
degree of emphasis. There is a nice
balance between the sturdy archi
tecture of the buildings and the
fluidity of the branches. There is an
interesting move towards geometric abstraction in "The Eel Boat" (No.
7) and "Red Boat" (No. 15). Her
subjects range from the landscape of Donegal to South Africa, from
Down to Scotland, from still life to
portraits.
Ray Rosenfield
music HUHHIHHHHHIHH There were at least three interesting concerts last week in Belfast, but two of these clashed. However, the
pianist Peter Hill was playing again at Queen's the next day, so those
who wanted to hear him weren't
totally frustrated, even though they's have liked to have heard him
in a more conventional programme in the Ulster Museum. This first
recital happened at the same time as
the annual Queen's University Hamilton Hardy Concert in the Elmwood Hall. David Greer, Pro
fessor of Music, was conducting the
Ulster Orchestra, who must be
wondering more than ever about
their future. It turned out to be a
well-planned programme of English music. Harty is not often heard as a
composer in his own right, but for
many people his arrangement of a
Suite from Handel's Water Music is one of the first standard classics
they hear or play (truer twenty years
ago than now, I'm sure): the curious
hybrid Handel-Harty has impinged on the consciousness of innumer
able innocents, and only purists could complain. Harty's arrange
ments are effective and professional and enjoyable?certainly enough to
evoke happy memories on Wednes
day night of some no more authen
tic, but rougher, performances in
sunny May weather on barges on the
Thames, and by no means as long ago as the reign of King whatever it was back in 1717. The profession alism of the youthful Harty was
evident too in his Comedy Overture. I must say it didn't strike me as in
any way connected with comedy, and it was overlong to a degree. But
it had some tunes that were pleasing while they lasted, even though fairly
forgettable. Early Elgar is a much
better bet, and it was good to get a
chance to hear the Serenade for
Strings, with its own cooly profes sional mining of the vein of poignant nostalgia that somehow avoids the
mawkish. A bold move to devote the
whole of the second half to Vaughn Williams's Fifth Symphony; all the more welcome since it's not a work
you hear every day, in Belfast or
elsewhere. This is an impressive,
carefully built work, stamped with
the integrity you associate with
Vaughn Williams, but without the
coy pastoralism that occasionally weakens his vision. Here he seems to
be in control of his ample material, from the opening horncall to the
concluding quietism of the strings. And it is very much a quietist symphony, not easily so, but strenu
ously eorked for within a character
istically individual framework. It
would be pleasant if we could look to a repeat performance before long.
Peter Hill's lunchtime recital was
absorbing, in spite of those who
regard modern (plink-plonk) music as ribticklingly funny. He began with an eye-opener, Scriabin's Black
Mass Sonata, dating from 1913. The
intensity and concentration of the
writing was remarkable, and Peter Hill captured all the satanic flavour of the piece. Equally impressive was
the sense of a musical argument
being wrung out of the anguish. More please. Ditto with the Stock
hausen and Messiaen. We were
given three of Stockhausen's Kla
vierstucke, and each of these in its own way was rivetting. Whilst full of
surprises, each piece had its own
logic and inner tension. Peter Hill
made you realise also what terrific
fun they must be to play if you have
the technique. I found it hard to
comprehend the remark of one
member of the audience, who
emerged saying how depressing he'd "
found the whole recital. On the
contrary, it was invigorating, espe
cially with Messiaen's rhythmically
exciting Canteyodyaja to finish with.
Mark Storey wmmmm?m?mmmmm?mmmmmmammmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmd
SOUNDING BRASS If you live halfway between Belfast
and Portaferry, dependent for travel
to the urban awfulness of Ulsterbus
or the charity of friends, an orches
tral concert at Newtownards, only
14p away (single) seems to be a good
thing to go to. And a rare chance to
patronise the Ulster Orchestra.
Alas! the concert on March 9th was
not worth the 28p bus fare, the
hour's wait to get the late bus home,
and the 60p ticket. The orchestra is,
to put it unUlsterishly plain, not
very good: ragged with weak and
wobbly strings, and horns that keep
you on the edge of your seat. The
soloist in Beethoven's Third Piano
| Concerto was no more than compe
! tent, but better than the orchestra. | At home, for nothing, I could have
heard Kempe & the Munich Phil
harmonic playing the same Beet- !
hoven symphony (No. 4) on Radio 3, ]
plus Lupu playing Mozart's 23rd j
Piano Concerto. As it was, I got back just in time to hear Brendel
playing that most wonderful of all
pieces of European classical music:
Schubert's last sonata?without,
however, the authority of Schnabel's
profound and connected under
standing. (Brendel's somewhat epi sodic playing of Schubert's late
piano music in this Radio 3 series
lacked cohesion and fluidity in all
but the last sonata but one, and the
last two movements of this sonata.)
The question arises: is it worth
patronising (or reviewing) a poor orchestra simply because it is local
?particularly when Radio 3 offers
such a standard of comparison? The same question arises on con
sidering that self-congratulatory in
stitution with delusions of grandeur, the Ulster Museum. There were two
lectures at it recently which prompt ed me to impose upon a car-owning friend. At both I was regaled with
praise for the Museum by its func
tionaries. The first was on the
African Birds and European Mi
grants of Lake Chad, in which an
eminent figure in the ornithological world gave a lecture so full of urns
and ahs that it compared with
French lectures at Queens, and with
slides that were not only dirty but
often badly faded as well. It could
have been a most interesting lecture
had the problems of flight over the
Sahara been fully discussed. (In the
3-4 weeks before leaving Lake Chad
to fly over the desert, the migrant bird may as much as double its
weight to provide itself with fat for
the journey, thus making it an easy
prey for its enemies.) But this was
dealt with only briefly. A similar lack of depth was
evident in another lecture by Dr
Coles of Cambridge on Prehistoric
Musical Instruments?though it
was in this case due to lack of time.
The lecture was spoiled by the
shortness of the musical illustra
tions and by the quality of the
sound. (Surely a museum that can
spend hundreds of thousands on
trendy pictures and Spanish Trea
sure should be able to afford a
decent tape-recorder, not to men
tion a portable screen that is not
yellow and wrinkled?) It was given in celebration (I might say congratu lation) of the Museum's purchase of
the only complete (and playable) Irish Bronze Age horns in existence,
and the occasional admission fee of
75p was levied to cover the cost of
the terrible 'Champagne' and rub
[ bery Ulster cheese, the consumption
| of which reduced the time allowable ! for the lecture. Though many I women in the audience seemed to
have come?dressed to kill?only to
be seen, I could have done with more
lecture and no refreshments. It was
surprising that an expert in prehis toric musical instruments was not
himself a musician, and that his
treatment of ethnographic 'primi tive' instruments was so uninform
ed. The .highlight of the evening was
the sounding of the new acquisitions
by two Army bandsmen in bow ties
and red jackets, an occasion whose
rituality was probably not new to the
horns. The staff of the Ulster Mu
seum duly patted the Trustees on
the back, and the horns were taken
away again to await exhibition in the
cultural catacomb.
In some respects (but not in the
brass section) the Ulster Museum
and the Ulster Orchestra have much
in common. Like commuters from
Portaferry, they have a long way to
go
Anthony Weir
letters BBBBBI Irish Television
Dear Sir,
Intemperate letters like that from Mr O Glaisne in your last issue make one despair of North-South
understanding. Without descend
ing to his level of abuse might I ask him to read again my Dublin Letter on what RTE has to offer Northern
Protestant viewers?
The point being made was that
what distinguishes RTE from any
regional British commercial station
is God and Gaelic. Mr O Glaisne
may be all for a religious flavour,
plus Irish, on Irish television, but
my article was about the likely
impact of this on Northern "loyal ists". Will it help them to feel a
sense of identity with the Republic? If, in cooler temper, he reads the
piece again in this light, I am sure he will see that his other criticisms are
irrelevant and unfounded.
Yours, etc.
Dennis Kennedy
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