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Members of the Pittsburgh community give their perspectives on the PSO. |
Doug Bauman,
Cynthia Closkey, David DeAngelo, Bethany Hensel, Louis Luangkesorn, Jennifer McGuiggan, Elizabeth Perry
, Jennifer Pizzuto Subscribe |
Heinz Hall resounded with Handel's Messiah, and rather than draw the orchestra, soloists, conductor, or chorus, I let my eyes drift upwards. The wreath center stage was a still point, for all of its baroque ribbons and roping. I followed the folds and edges in the music and just moved my pen on the paper.
As the concert began, I enjoyed watching the usher as she listened to Aaron Copland. Later on, she sat in one of the chairs, but for the first piece she stood, and looked out over the audience.
During the first part of tonight's concert, I began drawing the continuo against the wall on stage, thinking about all the formal lines of the architecture, and then the playful feel of the Poulenc Sinfonietta crept into my pen. Perhaps this is a continuo as seen in the wild, once nature reclaims Heinz Hall for the season.
During intermission on Saturday night, I looked up at the ceiling above our Family Circle seats and noticed a dozen faces looking down on us.
Manfred Honeck conducting - so much to follow in his gestures. Watching him, I can see the shape of the music differently, as the baton shows me how to listen, what to notice.
I painted during the first half of the concert, delighting in Vocalise and Symphonic Dances. The Piano Concerto in the second half was... breathtaking. Another piece of music I'd never heard in person before. Until I hear a live performance I forget that the dynamic range in a real concert hall, the nuance and the power, are utterly compelling.
I've often wondered what it's like to sit in the fanciest boxes for a concert. Is the sound better? worse? How is the view from that angle? From other parts of the hall I can tell that the seats are separate chairs. Beyond that, I know little.
As a counter balance with the organic structure of the oceanic music today, I looked at the semi-abstract geometries of the Heinz Hall ceiling.
I began this as a sketch in fine-point fountain pen during the Braunfels Te Deum, then decided I wanted bolder lines. I changed to brush with ink and found the mood of shapes and contrasts better suited to Carmina burana...
Was struck tonight by how still this violinist kept her feet - the light gleamed off her shoes - no matter how wild, how thrilling, how dynamic the music. Beethoven, Lalo, Ravel - all her physical expression went into playing, while her feet were motionless, as if drawing energy from their contact with the stage floor.
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