Italia

Impressions of Venice, the amiable theme proposed to me by the members of the Venice String Quartet, is made up of ten clearly delineated yet interdependent segments. Its structure mirrors the city whose numerous little islands and labyrinthine sectors bridge together into a single integrated urban unit.

Section 1 opens with an aerial view of St. Mark’s Square — brilliant morning sunlight reflects from the Byzantine domes of the cathedral. I think of the spectacular view we enjoyed from the solarium of our hotel during my visit in 1999. Standing between the columns at the end of the piazza — one with the lion of Venice on top, the other with the statue of St. Theodore subduing the dragon — we listen to the Serenissima herself sing of a long, glorious and enduring history (section 2).

In section 3, our gaze turns again to St. Mark’s and the quadriga adorning the facade. This majestic quartet of bronze horses, which dates back to Alexander the Great, seems to come alive, galloping to the trumpet calls of the golden angels who flank them. Dark clouds start to form during this parade and, in section 4, the rain comes. This scene recalls a very specific vision from our trip in 2001. This was a Biennale year, and in the 15 windows above the Ala Napoleonica (where two years before Claes Oldenburg had suspended a giant lion’s tail) opposite the entrance of St. Mark’s, a digital exhibition had been set up to display a very realistic, continuously moving image of flames burning. The rain had covered the pavement of the square with a sheet of water, and in it these flames reflected and danced. The visual experience was probably the most singular memory as I think back on that trip. I don’t know whether the artist or technicians who created the display had anticipated that a rain-glazed piazza would become a screen upon which their images could project and transform themselves, but this was a great moment of art coming alive through its interaction with nature and the architectural environment.

As the rain lets up, we continue our giornata (section 5), passing a mysterious building whose facade bears the symbol of a triangle looped with a circle framing an open eye. Above this an inscription: SAPIENTIA AEDIFICAVIT SIBI DOMUM. Shaking off the last drops of rain, the sunshine returning, we come upon a wedding party issuing from the Chiesa dei Miracoli. The bride and groom step into an ornate gondola appointed in gold and begin a canal tour with their retinues following suit. In the background we hear a canzone popolare, “Venezia mia!” (section 6).

After a simple but strangely melancholy transition, we move on to section 7. This piece, set over a laconic, sauntering ostinato, recalls a midday visit to the lagoon island of Torcello, where Venice’s oldest building stands. There is musical history here — the church contains relics of St. Cecilia, patron saint of the art, and we hear resonances of a style of music that reaches back to Venice’s days as a medieval and renaissance republic. In a courtyard near the church is another relic, the throne of Attila the Hun (a nice seat these days for taking a nap).

Section 8 is a livelier ostinato movement based on Moorish rhythms and modalities, particularly those associated with the nawba. Percussion effects signal its beginning. It consists of a theme and three variations, the first in dotted rhythms, the second in triplets, and the third in running sixteenths. The reference is of course to the famous turbaned statues at Campo dei Mori, and to the relief on the facade of Villa Mastelli depicting a camel bearing the goods of a textile merchant. The music works itself into a fury as the ostinato accelerates, and we cut directly into a new scene.

Section 9 starts with an assassination and continues with strains of lamentation over the atrocity and loss. Venice’s Jewish quarter — or ghetto — is one of Europe’s oldest. There is a holocaust memorial in the ghetto square, and among the bronze plaques on display is one that records the brutal execution of innocent victims by a Nazi firing squad. Another plaque reads:

The city of Venice remembers the Venetian Jews who were deported to the Nazi concentration camps on December 5, 1943 and August 17, 1944. — Mario Rigo, Mayor

These images were overwhelming. (The listener may appreciate that the lament phrases here pay homage to Mendelssohn by transforming his g-minor Venetian Boat Song, Op. 19, No. 6 into a dirge.)

The final section is softly announced by a melody reminiscent of Gregorian chant, which is then harmonized in progressively more chromatic chords. It is the hour of vespers, and we are in Lido, walking along the Viale San Nicolò where lovers sit, twilight glimmering over San Giorgio across the water in the distance. The chorale style writing surrenders to a cantilena in which the first violin and cello engage in a romantic dialogue. The conversation then recapitulates the music of the preceding sections — a reprise in which paired thematic ideas are punctuated by the chorale refrain — ultimately finishing with a fading reference to the sparkling colors of the very beginning.

— Curt Cacioppo