As I sit here in my lounge by my customary candle, I am not concentrating on its flickering flame but I am remembering a sunset in a garden.
A couple of Sundays ago I went to a garden party in South London. It was quite a special occasion. At the centre of the party was the reading of a Shakespeare play, ‘The Winter’s Tale’, one of his late plays. We each played several parts as there were only 10 of us seated in a circle. There was an interval break for tea (or wine) and after the ‘final curtain’ a buffet and drinks. The proceedings included a toast to ‘Sweet Master Shakespeare’. The party continued until the sun began to go down behind the trees.
It was a special occasion because it was the revival of an annual summer event for the first time in four years. The party used to take place in my friend Peter’s extensive garden in his family’s old house, The Brambles, in Chingford on the outskirts of East London. But that lovely old house with its rambling garden is now sold and Peter is now living on the Isle of Wight. Soour party took place in his brother David’s garden instead which was smaller but no less delightful.
Ideally Shakespeare’s plays should be read aloud. There is something special about reading them in the open air. After all, many of the original performances were in the open air, in the playhouses and inn yards of his time. However the King’s Men, Shakespeare’s acting company, did perform indoors at court frequently and in the indoor Blackfriars Theatre eventually. Nevertheless, the lines read so well in the open air. There is quite a tradition of open air summer Shakespeare in parks and historical venues across the UK and beyond. I once visited the Villa Borghese gardens in Rome, which has its own Elizabethan playhouse, for example, and New York’s Central Park has an annual summer Shakespeare season. There is something truly magical about sitting in a garden or park among the trees, flowers and greenery and listening to Shakespeare’s lines piercing the summer stillness.
Being seated in a circle was also reminiscent of an Elizabethan playhouse – like the ‘wooden O’ of the Globe, mentioned at the beginning of ‘Henry V’ (which premiered there). So, there was something magical about our garden circle – an echo or two of four centuries ago. Hearing the words so closely and intimately gave new meaning to them. I found new things in the text, even though I have taught the play before and have seen it several times and, I must admit, it is not one of my favourite Shakespeare plays.
But that afternoon, it was as if the words were newly minted. Our great Shakespearean actress Dame Judi Dench used that phrase -‘newly minted’ in an interview. She was explaining how the text of a Shakespeare play ought to be played: in other words as if each line is fresh and new and of the moment. This is difficult to achieve in performance as many of Shakespeare’s plays are so famous and some of the lines almost hackneyed. I am not saying that our little group of readers were in the same class as Dame Judi, but the ambiance and the open air made us listen anew and so, in that way, the lines were indeed ‘newly minted.’
Since I began writing these meditations almost 5 years ago (!), I have sometimes mentioned the invisible circle that can be created between the performers on stage and the audience. It is a magical complicity, especially when there is only one performer on stage. The performers and the audience are linked in a special way, in complete communion. That invisible circle manifested itself as we sat together in the garden reading ‘The Winter’s Tale’. Perhaps it was more tangible because our little band were both performers and audience.
I had experienced being part of that invisible circle a few evenings earlier in a much larger venue. My friend Peter and I attended a Proms concert at the Royal Albert Hall. Instead of being part of a small intimate circle of 10 in his brother’s garden, we were seated in an auditorium of over 5,000 persons.
The large circle of the auditorium is completed by the concert stage. Above the stage and on either side of it are the choir seats which are occupied by singers when there is a choral or operatic work on the programme. When that isn’t the case, the seats are available to the audience. We sat in the choir that evening, looking down on the orchestra and out to the audience, which of course includes the ‘Promenaders’ standing on the floor of the arena in the centre. Despite the shape of the hall, it is difficult to imagine that an invisible circle between performers and audience can be created in so vast a space. But of course it can once the lights go down and conductor and soloist enter the stage and silence and intense concentration take over the Proms audience.
Our soloist that evening was the young Siberian pianist, Pavel Kolesnikov, who performed the 2nd Piano Concerto of Shostakovich. The second movement is a quiet and reflective piece evoking romantic longing. It is customary at Proms concerts for soloists to give an encore after their performance, which Kolesnikov duly did: an arrangement of a Bach prelude for solo piano. It was in these two pieces: the concerto movement and encore that the invisible circle seemed strongest and most potent, especially in the encore. As the young pianist quietly and gently made his way through the prelude, I could almost touch the intense concentration of the audience and the orchestra, who were still on stage listening to him.
A web, an invisible web of music was created as he played. The Proms concerts have been creating this web since their inception in 1895, and now with international audiences and performers alike it is a World Wide Web of music. In fact it was so long before the World Wide Web was dreamt of.
These cultural circles are so important, whether large or small. The Arts bring people together, whatever their nationality. That evening at the Proms we were an international circle, linked by our appreciation of the music and especially the young Siberian pianist Pavel Kolesnikov, who has left Russia and is now based here in the UK. National boundaries and different cultures didn’t matter. These are such precious moments to experience. We are so fortunate to have the Proms every year – and the BBC who promote them.
It is so important to uphold and commit ourselves to these circles in whatever way we can. As we know there are so many people in our world who have dedicated themselves to continually breaking the circle and creating barriers. So, like children in a playground, we must hold out our hands and join the circle and grasp the hands of those around us to keep it from breaking.
Ave atque Vale
Neilus Aurelius
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Meditations of Neilus Aurelius 