I realised that all the snow was actually covering a lot of grime and gunk around the city: I learnt this the hard way when I decided that it was time for the first outing on my scooter and arrived to meet my friend for coffee with the back of my legs covered in dirt. But this is a sign that the worst of the winter if over and is accompanied by rapidly increasing daylight hours, not only allow for more time to appreciate my surrounding environment but also mean I have started to come out of hibernation and really take advantage of everything going on in the city; mainly more trips to concerts at the St. Petersburg Philarmonia, which is in the centre of town and has something going on in both halls every day of the week. The Russians are known for playing classical music to a very high standard and the musicians I have met here and concerts I have been to are no exception, and having to get up at 6:30am in order to a secure a practise room - not out of pleasure I can assure you - as arriving later 7:15am means you are out of luck assures me that the next generation will be no different. On Sundays, I normally take the day off, however, last week I thought I would go in to conservatory for a couple hours in the afternoon just to play around. It's a Sunday, I thought. No one will be around on a Sunday, I thought. People will be at home relaxing, going for walks in the sunshine or drinking coffee with friends, I thought. How wrong I was. Just as busy as any other day - if not busier. Then I realised... everything is always open on a Sunday: shops are opens and transport runs with the regularity of any other day. Sundays simply don't exist in Russia.
In terms of composers' music being performed, the 'Greats' are played to an extremely level of precision and discipline, which is of course something to be commended. However, I have been more disappointed by the contemporary music, whether it be classical or popular, coming out of the city. There is a small community of people trying to create original, new music yet there seems to be a huge lack of an audience for it and any interest I have shown, during my lessons, in playing contemporary or modern music has generally been met with confusion and disinterest. A friend was playing in a concert of conservatory students' compositions at the Philarmonia and, still frustrated by the feeling of being too stuck in the past and full of curiosity and hope, I decided to go along. Most people will know and agree that student compositions can be a bit hit-and-miss, pushing some boundaries that aren't necessarily meant to be pushed. However, I was pleasantly surprised and filled with relief by how much I genuinely enjoyed the concert - even if the hall was half full and a number of people left far before the end.
I was particularly struck by the reactions to an electronic, sound design piece involving a string quartet hooked up to microphones and playing very minimal, soft sounds on their open strings, which were then projected into the hall. I was filled with anger as I watched people start to laugh, chat to each other, look at the time and consider having a toilet break. Such close-minded people who laugh at an artist who has the courage and audacity to do something original, interest and different in an otherwise quite stifled, restrained musical environment. Well the composer got people's attention, that's for sure. It reminded me of the reaction people originally had to Stravinsky's Rite of Spring the first time it was performed in Paris. Just don't be so rude!
Unfortunately, this conforms with a close-mindedness - particularly among the older generation but not completely absent among the younger generation - that I am increasingly coming across and can be hard to handle at times. The lack of multi-culturality that is so decisively present in European countries such as England and Germany and, so, the lack of exposure to other ways of doing things and other ways of thinking means that I find people generally more close-minded and more argumentative. Especially among the Soviet generation: all people had a similar quality of life and a steady daily routine in the place where they had always lived. How could they possibly know any different. This came up in conversation today with my flatmates; my flatmate having gone to visit his grandmother outside of the city centre and having been congratulated for having shaved his beard (not that it was particularly long prior to his visit). My other flatmate explained that, to his grandmother, it was a sign of laziness - in Soviet Russia, everybody would work from 8am - 6pm and then would have time in the evening...to shave, of course!
Surprise surprise, I am off to a concert at the Philarmonia...
Lots of love xxx
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| View from a practise room at 7am |
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| Escape to the dacha round 1 |
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| The big hall of the Philarmonia |
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| Escape to the dacha round 2 |
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| My new love - Soviet Russia interior design |
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| Moscow welcomed me with open arms |
