From air raids to arias
This week, my lovely friend Pearl invited me to go to the dress rehearsal of an opera at Glyndebourne with her.
For those not in the know, Glyndebourne is an opera venue in the heart of the English countryside. Part stately home, part state of the art auditorium, it is nestled in beautifully landscaped grounds, which are integral to the experience, as everyone brings picnics to feast on during the two hour interval. Sadly, as we’re currently experiencing a truly British summer, with howling winds and non-stop rain, we ended up having to picnic on a corridor floor instead, but that only added to the fun.
As soon as I took my seat in the upper circle of the auditorium it occurred to me that this was the first time I’d been to see a live performance of something since Before Covid. And as someone who used to love going to the theatre, it was yet another powerful reminder of how much our lives were changed by the pandemic.
The air filled with the chatter of the crowd and the tootling of flutes as the musicians warmed up down in the pit and my excitement grew. Then finally, the lights went down and the curtain went up and the air was filled with the most beautiful music and my eyes simultaneously filled with tears.
As the conductor waved his baton like a wand, weaving magic into his orchestra, and the singers performed miracles with their voices, I was blown away by the fact that human beings are capable of creating such exquisite sounds. It made me think back to just a few weeks previously, when I was in Ukraine and I heard the most chilling of sounds - that of the nightly air raid sirens.
The contrast seemed to sum up the deep polarity that exists within this business of being human, and how we’re capable of the very best and very worst of things.
I swallowed down my tears and enjoyed the rest of the show. But then, at the end, when the cast were taking their bows and the theatre erupted into a riotous standing ovation, I was completely overwhelmed with emotion.
To see a group of people shown such heartfelt gratitude for the magic and wonder they’d woven before us on the stage; to see all of their hard work and vision and talent rewarded, was so moving and life-affirming. But it also broke my heart to know that some people choose to use their talents and imaginations and hard work to create weapons with which to terrorise and destroy others and the planet. It made no sense to me, and felt like an utter tragedy.
The whole experience was a great reminder of the healing and moving power of art though, and I left Glyndebounre feeling re-inspired.
As Johann Wolfgang von Goethe wrote: “A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.“
So, if you’re feeling a bit overwhelmed by worldly cares right now I urge you to seek solace in the arts. It doesn’t have to be anything as fancy as going to the opera. Follow the accounts of artists and musicians on social media. I’ve been doing this on my new, streamlined Instagram account (@SiobhanCurhamAuthor if you’d like to connect with me) and it’s made my scrolling so much more life-affirming. Google some poetry. Search up some stirring music on Spotify. Thanks to the internet we have a world of artistic inspiration right at our fingertips - and for free!
Until next week, let’s keep on choosing wonder and beauty.
Siobhan