ANIMA MUNDI

The Venice Biennial of Sacred Art has dedicated two exhibitions to the extraordinary humanity of the figure of Christ and the crucifixion: "L'Arte in Croce" in 1995 an "Il Volto, la Carne" in 1997.
On both occasions these exhibitions were accompanied by a concert series on contemporary sacred music, directed by Claudio Ambrosini and significantly entitled Anima Mundi.
The artists' images appeared sonorous, densely packed with screams and cries.
The music came out figurative, allowing unimaginable images.
It was nothing new, something that had already happened in the history of art and music. Yet even in these truthless times, the "spiritual" can still coincide with the visual and musical representation of the sacred.

Enzo Di Martino
Curator of the Biennial of Sacred Art

This CD brings together some of the works presented during the second Anima Mundi concert series, which in 1997 included three concerts entitled "Portraits", "Lux lntelligentiae" and "Crystal and flame". With the exception of a homage to Edison Denisov, who has recently passed away, and a brief piece of mine inspired by a poem written by the painter Virgilio Guidi, the compositions presented here were commissioned for the occasion and performed in absolute premičre.
Heartfelt thanks to me composers and performers, and especially to Don Gino Bortolan, director of the Diocesan Museum of Sacred Art in Venice, for his generous and indefatigable presence.

Claudio Ambrosini

Ludovico Einaudi
The apple tree {1995)

Like much of his music Einaudi's The apple tree is characterised by the flowing of rhythmically obstinate and homogeneous bands out of which are cut musical figures recognisable in memory. On a barely changing background small events are defined and immediately consumed, minimal situations come one after the other without adhering to a discursive or development logic, but juxtaposing themselves one on the other. The "minimalism" attributed to the composer's music may , be evidenced in this relentless flow, in this stream that carries melodic fragments, gestures, colours, traces, elements of a marginal existentiality, the fruit of a hypothetical apple tree. The apple tree emerged in 1985 while the composer was working with the Juilliard School Orchestra in New York. As he himself states it strove "to put together elements from different past and present codes and languages of our memory, giving particular attention to the great reservoir of popular music."

Claudio Ambrosini
Tutti parlano (1993)

A poetic text by the painter Virgilio Guidi rapidly synthesizes images contrasting the earth, or the convulsive noise of the world, with the heights of the sky connected to the idea of silence and of a voice that can speak of mystery and eternity. On this, Ambrosini composed a sort of modern madrigal in which the words, entrusted to the voice of the soprano, are extended by a flute and a cello, and find in them an expressive intensification and reflection (intended both in the sense of meditation and the physical restitution-refraction of light). The initial ascending outburst of flute and cello becomes a recurring gesture that marks the first part up to the word "terra or earth"; it seems to anticipate the yearning toward above with which it the piece ends. Text and music intertwine like madrigals once did evoking images through acoustic means. The flutter-tongue of the flute, the fast ascending and descending glissandi, the tremolos, the persistent repetition on the "n" of "convulsa or convulsed" build the tension in the first part, while the second relaxes in an interrogative dilatation, in an evocative suspension of silence and its mystery.

Everyone, everyone speaks
the whole world speaks:
an immense voice,
convulsive, agitated
on the surface of the earth.
Up above, up above, high above
mere is silence.
Who knows why?
If by some capriccio of mystery,
a voice, a momentary voice
descended from on high,
silence would be full here,
me silence that speaks of eternity.
Virgilio Guidi (1970)


Gerard Brophy
Obsidian (1992)

The sonic texture of this piece - the title of which refers emblematically to obsidian, a stone of eruptive-volcanic origin - is marked by the definition of a material in constant fibrillation, where the initial figuration of trills (the wind instruments) and tremolos (the strings) become, with their quivers and vibrations, the code of the entire composition. The opening is homophonic but differentiated in two distinct bands (trills and tremolos, winds and strings). An isolated trill of the clarinet follows and in turn a moment of iridescent sonority at the bridge of the two highest strings and an ample articulated section that collects and prolongs the feverish vibration of the beginning. Long held notes alternate with brief melodic arcades, counter-pointed by more nervous figurations in a rich and ever changing polyphony of timbres, which recalls the sharp and many-sided surfaces of the title's obsidian.


René Clemencic
Lux intelligentiae, Meditatio cabalistica (1995)

The piece opens with the sinister roll of the bass drum surmounted by a strident squeal of the flute and soprano recorder that defines both the tone colour and limits of the highs and lows, such that everything that follows seems to gush forth from or be contained within these two extremes. It is first defined by a still texture, with minimal pitch oscillations, a gait that is characterised, thanks to the roll of the bass drum and to the slow pace, by a mournful tone, sharpened by the emergence of submersed fragments of Gregorian "Dies irae" sequences. This initial tissue shifts progressively both in its dynamic and intensity reaching a fortissimo sonority on the high registers, played prevalently by the flutes, a kind of liberating dance of sound in which the vibraphone leads. The gait takes on a majestic pace and the Gregorian fragments emerge with even greater vigour as everything comes to a circular close on the disquieting and solitary roll of the bass drum. The mention of Cabalistic tradition in the title refers to techniques of sonic meditation, described in the thirteenth century by Abraham Aboulafia, on the basis of which the composer has constructed this piece.


Francis Miroglio
Souffles de l'esprit brülant (1997)

The initial chord branches off in murmurs, hums and melodic fragments that gradually knit together in complex sonic weaves, designing a visionary and fantastic background to the recited words taken from Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy, in particular verses 76-84 of the I canto and 67-75 of the XXXIII. The verses are delivered as the music unfolds, first in Italian and then in other European languages (Spanish, German, French, Portuguese, English) as well as Japanese. Each utterance corresponds to an expressive character, which modifies and marks the style of the recitation, far example, Italy: free, France: with gaiety; England: rhythmic with rock; Japan: in broken phrases. The piece ends with the second section of text recited in Italian "with jubilation" counter-pointed by jubilant, freely melismatic phrases by the instruments.

When the great wheel mat spins eternally
in longing for Thee, captured my attention
by that harmony attuned and heard by Thee,
I saw ablaze with sun from side to side
A reach of Heaven: not all the rains and rivers
of all time could make a sea so wide.
That radiance and chat new-heard melody
Fired me with such a yearning far their Cause
As I never felt before...

O Light Supreme who doth Thyself withdraw
So far above man's mortal understanding,
lend me again some glimpse of what I saw;
make Thou my tongue so eloquent it may,
of all Thy glory speak a single clue
to those who follow me in me world's day;
for by returning to my memory
somewhat, and somewhat sounding in these verses,
Thou shalt show man more of Thy victory...

Dante Alighieri The Divine Commedy
The Paradiso I, vv. 76-84 and XXXIII, vv. 67-75
(Translation by John Ciardi for W.W. Norton & Company, New York, London, 1954)


Edison Denisov
Oda (1968)

The piece opens with the distilled sonority of clarinet, piano and percussion, a sort of dilated melody of timbres suggestive of Webern. It is followed by a central section of progressive density, a thick weave in which one can recognise the "constructivist" vein of this composer who, before dedicating himself wholly to composition, was a mathematician. In addition to sanctioning a sort of classical tri-partition with repeat, announced by a roaring tam-tam beat, the final section leads back to a piece of suggestive rarefaction in which cymbals and bells join the tam-tam to build a span of free vibration on which the clarinet lays out a very long and yearning melody. The distinctive traits of "Oda" include the complex rhythm of the percussion instruments, a use of the piano aimed at revealing new sound effects, like strings solicited by the fingers or plectrum (the piece dates back to 1968), and the retrieval of an eminently lyrical dimension assigned to the warm voice of the clarinet that attenuates the constructivist component, proposing itself in some way counter to the trends of the era in which the piece was composed.

DANIELA IOTTI
(Translation: Marlene Klein)