Vancouver Cantata Singers Rehearse and Perform in Blusson Centre, "Cathedrals of Science"

On February 26, 2011, the Vancouver Cantata Singers gave an inaugural concert in Vancouver's beautiful Blusson Centre on West 10th Avenue and Willow Street.  Since the Blusson Centre houses various research groups concerned with spinal cord injuries and rehabilitation, the architects (Musson Cattell Mackey Partnership) designed a 300-meter wheelchair ramp which circles the large atrium three times.  When our choir's Manager, Dave Carlin was looking for new buildings for concert venues in Vancouver, he first investigated those which had recently received awards for innovative architectural designs.  The most intriguing was the newly opened Blusson Centre, and when he visited it, Dave immediately went to work meeting the Centre's staff and learning about the atrium's acoustical possibilities.  From the outset, the staff have warmly welcomed the choir and assisted it in so many ways, and the choir has joined in several fund-raising ventures in benefit of both medical research and the arts.  The whole event was made possible by a generous grant from the Vancouver Foundation, which is known for its support of innovative ventures.

First, a photo of Dave, our General Manager, pondering what needs to be done next:

We had a final two-hour rehearsal on the day of the concert (tight schedules).  The snow was starting to fall, roads were becoming icy, we wondered how much snow we would get, how this would affect attendance, for Vancouver's streets are very dangerous with the wet snow and general lack of salt.

Meanwhile, Grant and colleagues prepared to record the concert for CBC FM, national broadcast.  Earlier in the week, they had set up an elaborate system of mics, using wires, stands (but none on the main floor so that wheel chairs and audience could move freely).  It was an awesome setup.

It is now the evening of the concert.  The orchestra has ascended to its place on the ramp and is starting to warm up.  I have climbed the ramp past the second floor.

Members of the choir are starting to ascend the 300-metre ramp, waving at friends, enjoying the unusual opportunity of seeing who is present.

We had about 23 volunteers for the event.  Those from ICORD (medical research community) ran the bar, raising money for getting guest speakers and possibly for training sessions for medical trainees, etc.  Our patrons enjoyed having this service.  Our choir also had many volunteers, young adults helping with welcoming, selling tickets, taking coats, ushering, information, collecting e-mail addresses, setting up and tearing down.  All of this was arranged through facebook.  It was the best-organized volunteer setup the choir has had in more than 50 years.

The concert began with a Processional which entered at the very top of the ramp.  Shane's beautiful solo opened the evening, and he was then joined by two of our tenors.  Shane could be heard but not seen until he slowly processed downward.  The whole choir then entered, in groups of three and four, well-spaced (c. 20 seconds apart), singing in turn, slowly surrounding the audience from various levels of the ramp while being accompanied by the instrumental ensemble.  We used four conductors to convey the beat to the singers as they processed to different levels.

This exposure best shows the true lighting, for parts of the ramp were rather dimly lit.  Dave purchased small clip-on LCD lights for each of us. Here, three altos prepare to enter from the top of the winding ramp.

Time to back up in time, show photos from earlier rehearsals at the Blusson Centre, and give you a sense of what the atrium is like as a concert venue.

The following photos were taken on the fly with my pocket camera during two Wednesday evening rehearsals and on a bright Saturday morning.  The walls surrounding the atrium are made of clear glass, with coloured panels of glass forming the ramp's protective railing.  These hard surfaces are ideal for choral music.  Here, Eric is leading the women in vocal warmups Saturday morning, 10:00 a.m.--way too early for the vocal cords; way, way too early for Eric.

As the wheelchair ramp wends its way to the second and third floors, it forms the shape of the number '8'.  We will be singing while walking in 2s and 3s down the ramp (a processional) and then in stationary positions from various locations on the ramp.  Much of the performance will be at the 'neck of the 8'.  The choir will be divided, singing from both sides of the neck.  We are able to hear superbly across this open space.  The ceiling (sometimes formed by the underside of the ramp) projects the sound outward.  The building can get cold if temperatures plummet, but the floor is heated (theoretically).

One friend commented that the curves of the ramp recall the curves of the spine.

In every single composition, Eric has to conduct across the gap.  The orchestra is always on Eric's part of the ramp, along with the grand piano.

Eric conducting the men seen here as well as those standing higher on the opposite ramp behind him (visibilium et invisibilium).

This photo was purposefully underexposed photo in order to silhouette the musicians.  The photo was then picked up by the paper, Georgia Straight for their article on the concert.

When individual singers make mistakes during rehearsal, they raise a hand to let the conductor know that they know--and will fix it without taking additional rehearsal time.  Some arms get more tired than others.  We are singing the premier for Medusa, composed by one of our long-standing tenors, Kristopher Fulton (third from the right, below).  The work was very popular with the audience; the music is energetic, with lots of striking rhythms--and the intense piece was over in about 2.5 minutes, with people wanting to hear more, which is always a good sign.

The atrium's floor-to-ceiling windows offer excellent views of the city and the snow-capped mountains.  Here a bass takes in the view while the women rehearse one of their choral duets in the Te Deum by Arvo Pärt.

Finally, several photos taken Friday evening during dress rehearsal.

This shows the seating, which does not extend under the encircling ramp.  The choir is divided, singing to each other.  The instrumentalists are on the left side, barely visible.

Taking positions, wondering how in the world we will maintain any sense of precise timing across the gap.  But it seems to work because we can hear well and sort of wee through the glass panels.

I stand at the back of the lower ensemble, which gives me a good view of the action.  Although the sopranos on my level, tucked behind the grand piano, seem quite distant, I can hear them.  Possibly their sound follows the curved ceiling, or underside of the ramp.  Notice all the mics for the CBC-FM recording (for national Canadian broadcast).  Mics are hanging from the ramp above, and others (invisible here) were on wires stretched from balcony to balcony.

Street Opera in Le Marais, Paris

On a balmy afternoon on the 28th of May, I found myself ambling rather ambiguously into the Marais district, known for its architecture, culture, ethnicity and trade.  I soon noticed hearing a deep alto voice soaring over the city's noises, singing opera of all things, so I let the music guide my steps to see what was happening.  Paris, indeed France, at times gets its priorities right. They may not spend much on the military (Germans say that French tanks have five gears, four of which are for reverse) but they do know how to make city life fascinating and cultural.

I had accidentally come across an unusual and fascinating cultural project—portable opera. The lead singer had a Baroque-style white wig and a dress that was so outlandish I first thought it was a guy in drag. The baby-C grand piano was mounted on car tires, along with the accompanist’s stool, so the piano/pianist could be pushed down the street while playing and suffer few bumps from the cobblestones. The pianist and pageturner seemed dressed for the caberet.  A large set of four speakers was mounted on a pole attached to the piano, broadcasting the miced piano and singer.

After a crowd gathered, the singer called out most invitingly, and perhaps 80 grade school children came marching out to the music in pairs, left-right left-right, big grins, their doting parents lined up with cameras.  The next thing I knew, police blocked off the very narrow streets in Le Marais and the opera procession was underway, singing triumphantly as the Pied Pipers wended their way down this street and that.

The procession stopped at an appropriate plaza, where we were treated to excerpts from Carmen, “Toreador” and a love aria or two, with children and people joining in at the right places because, after all, Carmen is one of France’s favourite operas.  This launched a week celebrating the arts in the 4th district.  This is Paris.

How could I resist shooting this one?

People in cafés only meters removed were either amused or just ignored it all.  There was so much happening that I felt free to take pictures almost at will. 

This being Paris and nearing the conclusion of the football season, what could be better than listening to operatic excerpts while watching an impromptu football match?

February Flowers in Vancouver

The winter of 2011 has not been nearly as warm as that for the Olympics in 2010, but by mid February, flowers are starting to appear on Canada's beautiful the west coast.  First, closeup shots of an Amaryllis grown from an enormous bulb indoors.  It produced a quadrant of four flowers, north-south-east-west, but I like peering inside.

Crocuses and snowdrops survived a light snow.  The first light of day melts some of the ice crystals on the buds.

We finally had a sunny February weekend, though temperatures barely reached 5 degrees C.  Nobody wants to mow until the precious flower bulbs have been replenished by the sun and warmer weather so that they can propagate and reappear next winter (I like the way friends put an old tub to use).

Moss flourishes in Vancouver in the winter.

 

Snow drops (Galanthus)

Tofino Waterscapes

My two favourite beaches are Chestermans Beach (particularly the southeastern beach, which is unspoiled by the present Wickaninnish Inn) and Long Beach.  The weather systems come and go off the Pacific Ocean, particularly in late October when we like to visit (right after Canadian Thanksgiving), and the amount and type of sunlight changes continually.  Both beaches are so gentle that one can walk great distances toward the receding Pacific Ocean during low tide.  However, this calm is beguiling, for storms arise which can be so strong that even the hardy local surfers leave their boards on top of their ancient vans.  During our four-day visit, we experienced beautiful calm during low tide, high winds during high tide (with logs washed up and blocking our entrance to Chestermans Beach), severe storm warnings to surfers, gentle west-coast rain, horizontal rain, thick fog, black bears on the golf course but well-fed on migrating salmon and fall berries, and a wonderful sense of isolation (tourists were gone).

Enlarge to see about 109 migrating Canadian geese heading to an inland bay at Ucluelet for the evening

A touch of light on the distant trees, wind-blown waves still safe for surfing.

Fog rolling in from the west (left), waves, high wind.  The spray reminds me of brother Mark's photos of blowing snow near the Atlantic Ocean.

Water churning from the storm, fog in distance, viewed from a high trail west of Ucluelet.

 

Idyllic calm, nobody in sight.

Looking southeast on Chestermans Beech during low tide.