Through an open window a saxophone pleads wistfully – a sultry sound so well suited to the quiet streets of a city slowly emerging from
its lockdown. This day in May feels like a lazy sweltering day in high summer. Restaurants
& cafés are still closed – there are few cars. Some people are strolling
about aimlessly, or sitting on benches, talking quietly (mostly keeping their distance
and often wearing masks), or patiently queuing for a shop, forming lines of people
standing still, at 1.5 metres apart.
This Spring has been strangely splendid – pouring out sun light
and bird song as never before, in a quieted down, limpid city. This Spring has been strangely insecure, with
a permanent sense of dread.
The ever optimist and resolute colleague at work casually
mentions at the end of a conference call on Friday “on attend les résultats du
test pour ma mère – mas je ne pense pas que ce soit covid , ça fait déjà 3 semaines
qu’elle traîne cette bronchite “. And on
Monday you hear her mother died in hospital.
The woman at the bakery shop is as friendly as ever, but she
looks tired and her tone is subdued. “it’s
difficult, it’s very difficult – many of our clients are simply gone - the students, the office workers buying sandwiches
– they’re all gone now, at home. On espère qu’ils vont revenir. On espère pouvoir
tenir encore quelques mois”.
While the city slowed down, the parks were lavishly full - of the
lushest greens and of so many people joyously skating, cycling, jogging. And now, people are already eagerly returning
to their lives after the easing of restrictions, enjoying whatever is again
permitted. (as to myself, in a single week
I happily managed to put in a visit, duly masked, to the bookshop, the classical
music shop and the old masters museum).
But in the longer run, frankly, I’ve no idea how fragile or how resilient
“we” (our world, our generation, our society) will prove to be.
I don’t know whether history can be a guide here. In art & music historical terms I‘ve
always been astonished by the prevalence of hardship & pestilence in the most
glorious art periods – perplexed by this enduring human capacity to paint,
write, sculpt and compose works of lasting beauty amidst plagues & wars & upheaval.
Was it because the elite (patrons and artists) in those
times were relatively shielded from hardship? Or was it rather because of their sheer helplessness
in the face of disaster – they could not but long for another world, they could not but believe
in transcendence, which made the pursuit
of beauty and harmony (ad maiorem gloriam dei) worthwhile even (or especially) in
the darkest circumstances.
Our age is so different.
Perhaps we seek less solace in escapist flights of the mind, in
creations of great beauty because we feel empowered to analyse and act rationally, because we trust in science and technology and entrepreneurship to improve our material lot. Maybe, perhaps.
Fragments from past months’ reading :
1. The juxtaposition of “Splendour & Insecurity” (as hallmark of a sophisticated yet anguished civilisation) was found in Runciman’s book on Byzantine Style and Civilisation
2. From a book on Titian (Filippo Pedrocco)
« An awareness of impending death weighs heavily on the paintings Titian was working on in the summer of 1576, when Venice was devastated by a terrible plague which was to kill his favorite son Orazio [and himself]»
3. From a book on Byzantium (Steven Runciman):
«There were ghastly visitations of the plague : the Black death in 1346 killed probably a third of the population of Constantinople.»
«Against this background of foreign invasion and civil war, of plague and poverty there flourished in Constantinople a civilisation more brilliant than any that Byzantium had known before.»
4. From a book on the Franco-Flemish Polyphonists (Paul Van Nevel)
« De pest richtte tussen 1438 en 1439 een ravage aan in de Kamerijkse gebieden, waar soms tot tachtig procent van de bevolking bezweek aan de epidemie. De beroemde polyfonist Jacob Obrecht stierf in 1505 onverwacht aan de pest, net als zijn collega Alexander Agricola. In Amiens, de hoofdstad van Picardië, moesten de kerkhoven uitgebreid worden, omdat ‘les gens se moeurent si soudainement comme du soir au matin et souvent plus tost ” »
« The plague wreaked havoc in the Cambrian areas between 1438 and 1439, where sometimes up to eighty percent of the population succumbed to the epidemic. The famous polyphonist Jacob Obrecht died unexpectedly of the plague in 1505, just like his colleague Alexander Agricola. In Amiens, the capital of Picardy, the cemeteries had to be extended because “‘les gens se moeurent si soudainement comme du soir au matin et souvent plus tost ”»
2. From a book on Titian (Filippo Pedrocco)
« An awareness of impending death weighs heavily on the paintings Titian was working on in the summer of 1576, when Venice was devastated by a terrible plague which was to kill his favorite son Orazio [and himself]»
3. From a book on Byzantium (Steven Runciman):
«There were ghastly visitations of the plague : the Black death in 1346 killed probably a third of the population of Constantinople.»
«Against this background of foreign invasion and civil war, of plague and poverty there flourished in Constantinople a civilisation more brilliant than any that Byzantium had known before.»
4. From a book on the Franco-Flemish Polyphonists (Paul Van Nevel)
« De pest richtte tussen 1438 en 1439 een ravage aan in de Kamerijkse gebieden, waar soms tot tachtig procent van de bevolking bezweek aan de epidemie. De beroemde polyfonist Jacob Obrecht stierf in 1505 onverwacht aan de pest, net als zijn collega Alexander Agricola. In Amiens, de hoofdstad van Picardië, moesten de kerkhoven uitgebreid worden, omdat ‘les gens se moeurent si soudainement comme du soir au matin et souvent plus tost ” »
« The plague wreaked havoc in the Cambrian areas between 1438 and 1439, where sometimes up to eighty percent of the population succumbed to the epidemic. The famous polyphonist Jacob Obrecht died unexpectedly of the plague in 1505, just like his colleague Alexander Agricola. In Amiens, the capital of Picardy, the cemeteries had to be extended because “‘les gens se moeurent si soudainement comme du soir au matin et souvent plus tost ”»
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