Thursday, May 3, 2012

When Life Gives You Lemons... Reinvent Your Blog!

Okay, so not to harp on the obvious, but I am no longer in Denmark. Which, sadly, means no more touring around Danish museums, events, or poking fun of the culture with quite so much regularity. Lacking the source of my subject, I have decided to branch out to being an "expat" in my own area and doing the tourist thing in the name of blogging. Still trying to figure out what to do about the blog name issue...

So here was my first documented Stateside outing. The Corning Museum of Glass!

While moving to Denmark might have been a head-scratcher for some of my more geographically-challenged American friends, I think Corning might actually be worse and warrant the posting of a map. For reference and orientation, that's NYC/Long Island, "the center of the known universe," in the lower right portion of the map.

I am amazingly fortunate and lucky to have a friend who works at the museum as an instructor and glass artist and who gave me a wonderful tour around the studio so I could get a firsthand look at how glass is actually created.

I then headed into the museum itself, which is divided into different sections covering glass as art as well as the history and evolution of glass and its many uses.

Below on the right is Antonie van Leeuwenhoek, who hand-crafted his own microscopes and is credited as being the "Father of Microbiology." On the left is some dude who made telescopes and who made me realize that I should have brought a notepad to jot things down. Like his name. Which was not Galileo... that I might have remembered.

After chiding myself for how little of my high school/college chemistry and history I still remembered, it was on to the art. The iconic Mr. Chihuly was everywhere, as expected.

In the entrance...

...and overhead.

Some surreal, some ethereal...

And finally, my quick whirlwind tour concluded with a rush through the historic glass gallery. Some classic examples...

...and finally some German forest glass.

Forest glass

Which was about as close to Danish as I was going to get this trip. Except for maybe the Design House Stockholm glassware for sale in the gift shop...

Stay tuned for more (American) adventures, like spring at the farmer's market and  waxing philosophical about the heavenly big box store that is Target.

Friday, April 13, 2012

Random Nature Shot of the Week

Random Old Nature Edible Shot Shots of the Week From Last Year

I came across some old photos taken by a friend of the delicious array of food we sampled at the Nordic Food Festival last year and thought I'd share, now that everyone's had a chance to recover from the oversexed-food-orgy of a promotional image for the event.

Some fish hiding beneath sea-buckthorn mousse.

Smoked salmon, a smoked mussel - like biting into an ocean.
On ocean that happens to have some dill floating in it...

Say 'hello' to my little (tasty) friend.

Pig, as art.

FYI: This year's event takes place August 24 - September 2. If any company would like to sponsor a roundtrip ticket to Copenhagen for this author, I will gladly let you plaster yourself all over this blog and make shameless plugs of your product or service.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Democratic Party

I've been told by expat friends and that Spring has arrived in Copenhagen. I kicked around a few ideas for posts based on this knowledge - sidewalk cafe culture, organic and bio-dynamic farming, and finally settled on a celebration of Danes at their social best. Nothing brings people out of the word work like warmer weather. We're happier, saner, friendlier people when the sun is pumping us full of vitamin D. Last year, I warmly welcomed the false-summer that was April in Denmark. (Summer came and went a little later in June. By August, still wondering when it was going to come for real, I finally realized I'd missed it.)

Islands Brygge, April, 2011
Warm weather brings everyone out. Which led me to the thought that social life in general in Denmark brings everyone out. One of the great mystifying elements of life in Copenhagen was the blurring of age demarcations. The idea that things must be age-appropriate, that family-friendly means a watered-down event realistically targeted at safety-conscious couples with kids age 4-12, that grandparents' and grandchildrens' interests are two circles who shall never join in any Venn diagram known to man.

Here are some of the more  interesting festivals and events that I had the great sociological fortune to be a part of during my stay in Denmark and some of the observations I took away.

1) Distortion: The Open Source Party
Imagine a city that likes to drink. Really likes to drink. But instead of getting all Spring-Break-Girls-Gone-Wild-trashy, it gets all warm and fuzzy and fun. Imagine for four (it's up to five this year) days, that city sponsors a big street party that moves from neighborhood to neighborhood, spanning indoor and outdoor venues, closing down whole blocks and sections of a major metropolitan area. And then cleans up the mess!

From its own website:
"Distortion is a carnival-type event with an anything-goes attitude. Most events are free and open-sourced to over a hundred 'street hosts' - that's over one hundred distinct street parties in 5 days."

If you want to skip the video, or have impressionable American children or coworkers looking over your shoulder, here are some of the highlights:

0:38 The 'old' people
0:57 The 'really old' guy
1:15 The retro roller skates, most likely worn by someone not 'old'
1:19 The tango couple
2:09 Bananas in Pajamas (not kidding)

You'll have to go the website and watch some of the other videos to catch the kids on bikes, riding parents' shoulders, and break-dancing in backpacks. I'm pretty sure there's not a demographic that isn't covered which lends a kind of what-would-happen-if-your-parents-showed-up-at-Spring-Break feel. Apparently the answer in Copenhagen might be hang out and party with you...

2) Kulturhavn (Culture Harbor): The Pirate Party
Spanning three days and three of the city's biggest public harbor areas, Islands Brygge, Sydhavnen, and Refshaleøen, this festival brings together the 'diversity of Copenhagen's clubs and civic organizations' to showcase music, theater, dance, sports and arts. Or, said another way, it allows a participant to walk along the harbor front and through a mash-up of anything you could imagine anyone being into. Ever.

Amazingly, these photographs were all taken on the same day, at the same festival.

A member of the Scottish bagpipe band.

A demonstration of parkour - French street acrobatics.

A flash mob of dancers.

Drowned bicycles recycled as art.

And finally, because, what's a harbor festival without pirates?

3) Copenhagen Cooking: Let Them Eat Cake
A ten-day festival celebrating the cuisine being fawned over by the international foodie scene, the promotional ad could not have been more blunt in trying to get across the idea: New Nordic is sexy.

That's New Nordic food we're talking about here, people. Food. I can assure you, any fixation on that image in the weeks leading up to the event were strictly trying to determine, 'Is that lovage or chervil she is draped in?"

All joking aside, events were held across the city, for all ages, and at varying price points, to allow the general public to peek inside the movement that in some ways has been limited to those with extremely large expense accounts or who just happen to have 'verjus' kicking around in their pantry.

At the signature Nordic Taste event, restaurants from all over Scandinavia set up in the Meatpacking district and small samples of cooking as high art were doled out to the masses.

4) Stella Polaris: Chill to the People
This kicking back while listening to electronic music festival spent two days traveling to other cities before culminating in a giant lawn party outside the Statens Museet for Kunst (National Art Museum) with Moby as the headline act. Did I neglect to mention that all these events were also free? This one is supported through a foundation that solicits donations (as well as corporate sponsorship) but there was no entry fee to get in, just some good-natured jostling for a prime spot on the grass.

The early crowd
The 'target audience,' as described by the festival's own website:

"The crowd is a great mix of discerning electronic feinschmeckers, happy families with playing children, intoxicated after-parties, smooching couples sharing kisses and cool white wine, and the odd surprised group who just happened to walk by and decided to stay."

Balancing out all the excess wth some fruit,
organic of course
A children's art area and un-supervised kids running around with their parents' cell phone numbers written in marker on their arms completed the un-American family-friendly vibe.

So here's to Spring, with its promise of warmer things to come. May we all come out of hibernation and live a little.

Friday, March 30, 2012

Random Nature Shot(s) of the Week (That Were Not Taken in Denmark)

Well-makers lead the water;
fletchers bend the arrow;
carpenters bend a log of wood;
wise people fashion themselves.


Still in Love

Nearly April, 2012, and we're still in love. We = Travel & Leisure Magazine, which named Copenhagen "Europe's Best Town for Foodies."

I think I have figured out the formula for writing about Copenhagen dining. It goes something like this: gush, drool, gush, gush, lovey smoochy face, drool, mega-drool, name drop, gush some more, finish with a *sigh*. It's fun to read for sure, and, I admit, you gotta love the balls of a chef who can talk about "trash cooking" when referring to his $268, 20-course extravaganza.

Bon Appetit had to go even a step further, getting all Facebook-stalker-ish and taking it into the guy's home kitchen, and challenging the reader to decide which is cuter: his adorable Nordic-elf of a daughter or the perky, button-cute chanterelles on the counter next to her. This article has also provided me with my new favorite term: "Scandi lifestyle envy"

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Saturday, January 28, 2012

In Love

Since I've been back in the States, I can't help but notice how in love certain segments of America seem to be with Copenhagen, Denmark and Scandinavia in general. Here's a general survey. I still can't decide if it makes me more or less 'hjem'-sick...

A search of the New York Times website turns up no less than nine articles that reference the world-renowned Copenhagen restaurant Noma in the past few months alone. You can practically hear the sound of Mark Bittman's drool hitting the pages of the magazine section as he lauds head chef Rene Redzepi as the 'Prince of Denmark' and dishes out Noma-style recipes like Whitefish with Grilled Cabbage and Langoustines with Oysters and Seaweed.

Replace dude in the suit by the window with Me!

A mere month after my return, imagine my surprise to discover that I'd beaten Mr.  Bittman himself to the punch, having had one of my last, best meals in Copenhagen at Restaurant Paustian. To add to the entire feeling of deja vu, the photograph featured in the article shows the exact table I sat at. And my very same waitress!

And not to single out NYT or Mr. Bittman for their unabashed obsession, other food magazines have similarly jumped on the bandwagon. The January 2012 Food & Wine magazine features a love-fest between the aforementioned Mr. Redzepi and California chef Daniel Patterson in which they tinker around the kitchen creating new recipes. 

This is how exciting it is to be Danish!

I found the whole article a bit alienating. Despite my love of cooking and food, I couldn't quite muster up the same high-five slapping enthusiasm for dishes like Brown Butter Chicken Jus with Citrus and Greens, in which each diner is allotted exactly three walnut pieces and about six leaves of parsley as garnish. According to Redzepi, "A recipe is like when you buy an Ikea closet with maddening instructions. You need to bring some common sense to it." An interesting parallel, given that a meal at his restaurant including wine will cost you about as much as Ikea's most expensive closet... though it also explains why there are so many courses as it must take a lot to fill up if you replace all the meat with a suggestion or hint of meat.

Interesting for entirely different reasons was a September 2011 Bon Appetit article on an obscure restaurant in the wilds of Sweden and yet another chef obsessed with scraping things off the forest floor and eating them. The article didn't entirely convince me of the chef's overall sanity, however I did come away with an appreciation for his up-front honesty, a characteristic I've found universal among the many Scandinavians I've known and encountered:

'A rickety old ice cream maker was delivered to the center of the dining room and loudly cranked. Again, we all looked. "I deliberately don't take care of my ice cream maker so it will make a lot of eeer-awww, eeeeh-errrkk sounds," Magnus Nilsson says with a sly, faint smile.'

The entire Viking-worship phenomenon isn't just limited to food and restaurants. Here's a bunch of other stuff I've run into:

Town & Country's December 2011 issue featured a small article on blogger Mikael Colville-Andersen and his championing of the 'citizen cyclist'. Copenhagen Cycle Chic is a fun blog that gives a great sense of Danish bicycle culture, fashion and the amazing number of things that can be done with, by or on a bike. While it did bring back my nostalgia for riding on the back of a bicycle through the city, it did not convince me that drop crotch pants should be as universally adopted.
Elle Decor's November 2011 edition features a Stockholm apartment that could be similarly found in the tonier 'burbs of Copenhagen. Good move not featuring the bathroom in the photo shoot as there's nothing glamorous about showering standing over your own toilet.

An article on a Danish art collective's recent project in New York City caught my attention, not so much for its daring, as for the name of the artist interviewed - Bjørnstjerne. For a country with such strict naming rules, I'm surprised they let "Bear-Star" fly...

The entire Design Within Reach catalog is like taking a stroll through a Danish design museum, though I'm not exactly sure whose reach they're referring to by carrying a $15,000 sofa.

Why all this love? My favorite explanation comes from journalist and author Joel Stein's column for Food & Wine magazine's Nordic trendspotting piece:

Nordic Food: Ikea is Forever

Humorist Joel Stein ponders our Scandi-centric moment, as we eat skyr, watch Nordic chefs and worship prefab furniture.

When money is flowing and times are like a Jimmy Buffett song, we tend to think of heading south. To less stressful places with charmingly lax laws, fruity cocktails and warm azure water lapping upon us. These are cocky thoughts. They are 2006 thoughts. In 2011, we find ourselves thinking of all things Nordic. Of mittens and mutton. Of stylish sturdiness.

So we are hunkering down, longing to eat at places like Copenhagen’s Noma—easily the most influential restaurant in the world, converting chefs into micro-localists, foraging lichen in their basement and curing musk ox. Platters of toro sashimi might not be around in 10 years, but you can be sure there will be lichen and musk ox after the apes take over.

Scandinavia is about resilience, hardiness, a cool edginess. It all makes sense right now; we want to simplify. To drink clear, hard liquors (aquavit) and listen to spare pop songs (Lykke Li). We trust these things in times of trouble. Because no matter how low the NASDAQ falls, you can always buy things at Ikea. And when they break, you can buy more.

Thursday, January 26, 2012


Since I cannot seem to solve my conundrum with any success, I thought I'd give going off on a tangent a try. The definition of this phrase seems to suit my mood a bit better: To pursue a somewhat related or irrelevant course while neglecting the main subject.

While digging through some old stuff today, I came across a paper I wrote in college. It was for a freshman writing seminar that I was required to take, though I tried to make it more interesting for myself by signing up for the one offered by the music department. The topic of the course was the value of virtuosity: The technical skill, fluency, or style exhibited by a virtuoso or a composition; An appreciation for or interest in fine objects of art. Under this loose topic, we discussed everything from Bach to Van Halen, blues to Brit pop. It would turn out to be one of the more interesting courses of my college career, even in light of the pride I took in throwing obscure topics into the mix like Biblical History & Archaelogy or a 400-level English class entirely devoted to William Faulkner.

So, for a highly tangential read, here's a little dose of music education and appreciation. And in case you're wondering about the topic, I was a violist for too many years to count. And if you're one of those people who just can't handle when things don't make sense, here's how I bring it all back to Danes: My all-time favorite viola strings are handmade by a family-owned company in Copenhagen called Jargar Strings.

Under-appreciated Virtuosity in the Viola: 'The Cinderella of the String Family' 1

"What's the difference between a viola and a trampoline? You take your shoes off to jump on a trampoline."

If the violin is the veritable diva of the orchestra, then the viola occupies the position of ugly duckling. In the world of classical music, the viola is probably one of the most maligned and least-appreciated instruments around. Entire books and websites are devoted to making fun of the viola and those who play it - a quick internet search confirms violists can be likened to the 'blondes' of the orchestra. The viola did not always suffer such mistreatment, as is evidenced by the importance of the early viol family. How, then, does an instrucment come to be overlooked, under-appreciated, and disqualified from virtuosic status?

The history of the viola illustrates how changes in musical styles, tasts, and forms in the early development of classical music greatly influenced attitudes towards the viola. These opinions and prejudices have prevailed unquestioned for centuries. In allowing these early forms and styles of classical music to shape models of 'perfection' and sound production for solo instruments, composers, musicians, audiences, and critics alike have greatly hindered the development of the viola as a virtuosic solo instrument. It is only when we look beyond established notions of what types of sound are 'perfect' for classical music, that we see that the viola does indeed possess potential for greatness.

"Why do so many people take an instant dislike to the viola? It saves time."

Early members of the fam
The modern viola first appeared around mid-1500 in Northern Italy at approximately the same time as the development of the new violin family. Its simultaneous development alongside the violin reflected the desire of instrument makers of the time, such as Gaudenzio Ferrari, Andrea Amati, and Gasparo da Sala, to "...create an instrument that incorporated three qualities: 1) a greater acoustical potential than other existing bowed instruments; 2) a model that was aesthetically attractive; and 3) an instrument that could be held and played with maximum ease."2

The family of stringed instruments that preceded the modern viola was often played on the knee and produced a less cohesive body and range of sounds. They came in many different sizes, shapes and ranges - treble, alto, small tenor, tenor, bass and contrabass. Shape was extremely variable and, depending on the number of strings, they could be tuned in numerous ways. Instruments of the new violin family shared greater similarities in design, such as four strings, f-holes, and longer fingerboards, were all tuned in perfect fifths, and were generally more comfortable to play. Though often mistaken for the violin, the viola is slightly larger in length and body, and most notably, strung a full fifth lower than the violin. As a result of its larger size and stringing, the sound of the viola is often characterized as, "darker, warmer, richer in tone quality, though less assertive, more mellow and even subdued at times."3

The viola did not always occupy such a lowly position in the orchestral hierarchy. "Musical demands of the early 16th century made the alto-tenor the most important member of the various stringed instrument families."4 In opera and classical music, the viola provided essential harmony in the middle register, the same position occupied in choruses by the alto and tenor voice parts. Opera scores often demanded high degress of technical skill and the popular five-part harmony style of chamber music of the time called for strength in the middle ranges. So, if the viola clearly had its uses, what led to the decline of the instrument's popularity and status?

"A group of terrorists hijacked a plane full of violists. They called down to ground control with their list of demands and added that if their demands were'nt met, they'd release one violist every hour."

Significant developments in chamber music after 1600 led to a decrease in demand for the viola. These included, "...gradual change... from five-part to four-part harmony, thus eliminating one of the inner parts played by the viola and... the emergence of the trio sonata as the most popular form of chamber music... which usually featuered two violins, to the virtual exclusion of the viola."5 Changes in other areas of music also led to the exclusion or replacement of the viola. Many instruments used in early forms of opera, including viols, lutes, and recorders, found themselves replaced by louder, more resonant derivative instruments, when opera made the move from private salons to large public theaters.6 Instruments of the modern violin family replaced others of the viol and lute families, and recorders gave way to flutes, clarinets, and other wind instruments that can be found in today's orchestras.

The ability to produce greater sound and resonance appeared to reign supreme in music composed at the time. This may have been a function of the growing importance of public concerts, often given in large halls or theaters, as opposed to intimate court settings or private residences. It was during the Baroque era that composers such as Corelli, Handel, and Vivaldi began developing the trio sonata and the concerto. These pieces, which highlighted solo performance, tended either to relegate the viola to a supporting role, or to remove it completely. "Not only was the viola usually excluded from the most popular and prevalent form of instrumental chamber music of the Baroque era, but also composers were failing to recognize it as a solo instrument."7

"What's the difference between a viola and an onion? No one cries when you cut up a viola."

Why was the viola overlooked for solo recognition? The most obvious answer lies in the viola's physical design, which limits it from achieving the resonance and sheer volume of the violin or cello. Whereas the concerto and sonata count on the solo instrument to differentiate itself from the accompaniment, the viola's dampened sound and middle register made it difficult to distinguish itself. In earlier times, around the 16th and 17th centuries, there were two types of viola - the alto and the tenor. The alto was the smaller of the two and "with the gradual change to four-part writing, performers chose the smaller alto viola because it was easier to play."8 The demand for an instrument that could be comfortably played on the shoulder while representing the alto to tenor range presented a challenge to early luthiers and continues to elude many modern makers. It is often times difficult, if not impossible, to achieve full acoustical resonance and strength of tone for all four strings while being limited to the viola's dimensions. Therefore, despite a player's best efforts, a viola will never match the violin's brilliance of tone, nor achieve the strength and depth of tone of the cello.9 This leads many to criticize the viola's sound, while glorifying that of the violin with its ability to achieve "perfect acoustical results."10 With the Baroque's emphasis on strength of tone and the need for soloists to set themselves apart from accompaniment, the viola suffered as a solo instrument.

"What's the range of the viola? As far as you can kick it."

From its creation in the sixteenth century and for three centuries afterwards, little music was written specifically for the solo viola. This seemed to be of no consequence since the low demand for violas in orchestras and chamber groups made quality violists scarce. There was little incentive for a musician to become a career violist and it becames more of a hobby instrument or one that a talented violinist might try on the side. What littel music was available for the solo viola was more often 'borrowed' from music written for other instruments. This did nothing to aid the reputation of the viola in the music world for two reasons.

First, for lack of their own solo repertory, violist were often forced to look to pieces written for the violin or cello and transcribe them. While many transcriptions, such as Bach's Six Suites for Unaccompanied Cello, were ultimately successful, in other cases, the difficulty the viola has in imitating the original instrument are more apparent. If the original music was not written with the viola in mind, and if qualities were lost in the transcription between instruments, it was certainly no fault of the instrument itself or the soloist. However, audience perception is often that the viola is incapable of virtuosity rather than that the transcription itself is poor. The average listener, unable to discern the difference, is "apt to accept anything on the viola because they don't know any better."11

Furthermore, the classical music world tends to look down upon 'borrowing' music from other instruments, even if it was the express intention of the composer for the piece to potentially be performed by a variety of instruments as soloist. In certain cases, composers themselves recognized the potential for the viola to perform a piece equally as well as the originally designated instrument. Some composers even made special provisions for such conditions. So it was with Brahms' Sonatas No. 1 and No. 2, Opus 120. Though originally written for clarinet, "it was Brahms himself who felt that they were equally suited to the viola, as is evidenced by his alternative instrumental designation in the original edition."12 He made alterations in the solo part so as to accommodate and complement the range and sonority of the viola. Despite this, they are nearly always referred to as The Clarinet Sonatas in popular reference. "Violists need not apologize for 'borrowing' these Sonatas for their own use, since Brahms certainly abetted the intention."13 But alas, as most solo music was written for the more resonant violin, the viola was forced to borrow much of its repertory, giving it the status of a 'wannabe' violin.

"How do you know when a violist is out of tune? When the bow is moving."

With the violin family firmly in place as teh model of solo virtuosic perfection, it seemed as though the viola would always be caught in a cyle of low demand, talentless players, and non-existent repertory. However, this was not to be. To begin recognize the viola's potential for virtuosity, musicians and audiences alike began to look beyond this established notion of 'perfection' the violin historically aquired and recognize the viola's own brand of perfection beyond trying to be a violin and without compromising its unique sound. "Just as the English horn should not sound like an oboe, and the trombone should not sound like a trumpet, the viola should not sound like the violin... the different shades within the same families of instruments asre essential to the overall palette of colors of orchestral sound."14 Change has been slow but not impossible. It requires musicians and composers who are willing to take a chance and go against musical tradition in discovering what they know to be true, that the viola is a legitimate and potentially brilliant solo instrument.

W.A. Mozart was ahead of his time when he composed Sinfonia Concertante for violin, viola and orchestra in 1779. Despite being a proficient violinst, as Mozart grew older, "he more and more turned to the viola as his favorite string instrument."15 Though the Sinfonia Concertante was often overlooked and hardly ever performed until recent years, Mozart proved that it was possible to compose for solo viola without compromising the unique character of the instrument. In his concerto, he treats the violin and viola as equal partners - "he made technical demands of the viola quite unprecedented at the time."16 Mozart also utilized innovative scoring to balance the brighter, louder voice of the violin against the mellower, deeper voice of the viola.

To provide subtle support for the viola, Mozart scored the concerto "so that the natural brilliance of the violin is somewhat muted, while the natural reticence of the viola is somewhat brightened and amplified."17 He also avoids amplifying the technical difficulty for the violist by scoring the piece in the key of E-flat and writing a scordatura part for the viola in the key of D major. Scordatura, from the Italian word 'to mistune,' in music, refers to tuning a string instrument to other intervals than its established tuning.18 Mozart utilizes this technique, calling for the viola to be tuned up a semitone for the Sinfonia; where the strings are normally A, D, G, and C, they become B-flat, E-flat, A-flat, and D-flat respectively. This also increases string tension, as they are wound tighter, thereby increasing sound production potential as well. Use of the E-flat key for the violin means that the soloist has no open strings available to be played, when the strings are most resonant. The key of D is alternately easier for the viola to be played in. In D major scordatura, three out of four open strings reinforce tonic, subdominant, and dominant notes in the E-flat key.19 Mozart proved that, with some creativity and thoughtfulness, a violin and viola may retain their unique qualities without sacrificing the successfulness of a piece.

"What's the difference between a viola and a chain saw? If you absolutely had to, you could use a chain saw in a string quartet."

Though early preferences and forms of classical music hindered the development of the viola as a solo, and by extension, virtuosic instrument, recent trends have begun to resurrect the viola from orchestral obscurity. Composers of the nineteenth century began to cultivate the tone-color of different registers and found the sonority of the viola worked well in this respect. In chamber music, increasing independence of the various parts demanded greater technical facility of violists.20 One has only to look at the orchestral and chamber music of composers such as Beethoven, Brahms, Hindemith, Schubert, Dvořák, Bartok, and Shostakovitch to see greater importance bestowed upon the viola. Dvořák's String Quartet No. 1 in F Major, 'American' features the viola in a prominent role, beginning the main musical theme to the first movement. He utilizes the instrument's broad, expressive character as it goes back and forth trading this theme with the violin. As a young violinist in the Bonn Court Orchestra, Beethoven himself wrote many chamber works that contain interesting viola parts.21

As appreciation for the instrument grew, so did the number of talented violist who, in turn, have inspired the composition of solo literature. Among some of the most notable pioneers of viola virtuosity are Lionel Tertis, perhaps the first widely recognized viola virtuoso, and the Scottish violist William Primrose. The pieces they inspired remain a legacy for all violists to come. Modern composers, such as William Walton, Ralph Vaughn Williams, and Gustav Holst, were encouraged by Tertis to consider the viola in their compositions, as well as to feature it in a solo role. Primrose also inspired the composition of works by composers such as Benjamin Britten and Darius Milhaud. The most notable of all though is Bela Bartok's Viola Concerto, which "exploits fully the virtuoso resources of the solo viola it typical concerto fashion."22 Another interesting figure in the composition of solo viola literature is Paul Hindemith, who was both a composer and violist himself. His legacy includes four viola concertos, four pieces for viola and piano, and two pieces for unaccompanied viola.23

Another example in the history of the viola of talent inspiring an orchestral work is the creation of Harold en Italie (Harold in Italy), an "intensely dramatic and lyrical work,"24 composed for solo viola and orchestra. The story goes that legendary violin virtuoso Nicolo Paganini approached Berlioz and commissioned him to compose a solo piece for the viola. Paganini had just acquired a Stradivari viola and was eager to show it off in a public concert. Berlioz responded by creating "a viola concerto disguised as a programme symphony,"25 utilizing the viola as the voice of the character, Harold, as he wanders through Italy.

Though Paganini rejected the piece after viewing the first movement - he complained that there was too little for him to do - Berlioz went on to complete the piece. No longer under the pressure of Paganini's ego, Berlioz strove to write, "for the orchestra, a series of scenes in which the solo viola should figure as a more or less active personage of constantly preserved individuality."26 Violist Chrétien Urhan premiered the final piece and it so delighted the audience that the second movement was repeated as an encore. Harold makes great use of the voice-like quality of the viola in its melancholy and reflective tone. Paganini had not heard the piece since returning it, but it is said that, upon hearing it performed, the elderly, ill virtuoso was so deeply affected taht he later "knelt and kissed Berlioz's hand in appreciation."27

"A violist came home and found his house had burned to the ground. When he asked what had happened, the police told him, "'Well, apparently the conductor came to your house and...' The violist's eyes lit up and he interrupted excitedly, 'The conductor? Came to my house?'"

Various composers have demonstrated that it is possible to write justly for the viola without sacrificing its personality and individuality as an instrument. True, there may always be people for who, for any combination of reasons, are bound to dislike the viola. But to discriminate against the viola without giving it a chance to prove its worth seems harsh and unfair. The rise of the viola can only continue with the vision and support of those in the music world brave enough to defend and even promote the merits of the viola. According to perhaps the greatest violist of the century, William Primrose, himself a pioneer and advocate of the instrument, "we [violists] are bound by a performance tradition, that is, so far as we feel we are willing to be bound by it."28 It is up to the modern violist, one with technical talent, performance flair, and a dedication to promoting the instrument, to unbind him or herself from the chains of tradition and assert the worth and virtuosity of the viola.

1. Lionel Tertis, My Viola and I: A Complete Autobiography (London: Elek Books Limited, 1974), xiv.
2. Maurice W. Riley, The History of the Viola: Volume I (Ann Arbor, MI: Braun-Brumfield, 1980), 3.
3. Stanley Sadie, ed. The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians (Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 1983), 808.
4. Riley, 9.
5. Riley, 51.
6. Riley, 74.
7. Riley, 70.
8. Riley, 221.
9. David Dalton, Playing the Viola: Conversations with William Primrose (Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 1988), 10-11.
10. Sadie, 808.
11. Dalton, 11.
12. Harry Halbreich from Johannes Brahms' Sonata no. 1 in F minor for viola & piano, op. 120, ed. Magda Rusy (Musical Heritage Society MHS 691, 1967), 1.
13. Riley, 191.
14. Riley, 240.
15. Riley, 130.
16. Sadie, 811.
17. Sadie, 812.
18. [Missing citation, page ripped off...]
19. Sadie, 813.
20. Sadie, 813.
21. Riley, 188.
22. Dalton, 185.
23. Sadie, 813.
24. Hector Berlioz. Harold in Italy. Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. Dir. Sir Thomas Beecham. William Primrose (Columbia/Odyssey Records Y33286, 1975), 1.
25. Sadie, 813.
26. Berlioz, 1.
27. Riley, 192.
28. Dalton, 1-2.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Random Nature Shot of the Day

Doesn't matter which side of the Atlantic you are on.
Hazy winter harbors = beautiful.

Sunday, January 1, 2012


I have a conundrum.


I love that word. I'm not sure there's an equivalent in Danish. Google Translate defines it as gåde though anyone I've ever contacted with an email translated by Google might beg to differ... When I reverse translate the word, it comes back as mystery. A mysterious conundrum, the translation of conundrum

But I digress. Back to my actual "confusing or difficult problem or question."

I've really been itching to blog lately. Life has taken some spectacularly amazing, horribly gut-wrenching, completely unpredictable turns over past year and I find myself no longer in Copenhagen, or even in Denmark for that matter.

So here is my problem. When I began this blog, I obviously did not anticipate the major personal life changes that would take place, causing its name to become, in a mere matter of ten months, obsolete. How, then, can I continue my blog-as-life, while still being relevant? Must I change its name? Start an entirely new blog? This is worse than trying to secretly change a relationship status on Facebook... (you can't, in case you were wondering.) Aaargh...

If a name change is in store, what then? I've been bouncing around these ideas in my head but none seem to have quite the simple impact of my original name...

Stuff Americans Who Who Wish They Were Danes So They Could Still Live in Copenhagen Like

Stuff Danes Might Like If They Actually Lived in the United States Instead of Denmark

Should I switch tactics, from discovery to direction?

Stuff Danes Would Like If They Knew What Was Good for Them

Should I leave myself open to an unknown future?

Stuff Anyone Living Anywhere Likes

Should I jump on the "expert:" bandwagon?

Ask A (Wannabe) Dane

What Would A Dane Do?

It's a new year. I'm open to suggestions. Really, on anything. Jobs, life, love, the Universe, where to take this blog.