»Interview with Lera Auerbach«
Tobias Niederschlag for Staatskapelle Dresden
What do you feel when you now look at Dresden with a spiritual eye while you are working on the new composition?
After its destruction at the end of WWII, Dresden has become a focal point of reconciliation and remembrance, a voice to express both incredible sorrow and renewal. The beautiful Dresden Frauenkirche is a physical manifestation of this. It was rebuilt stone by stone through donations from all over the world. This musical work for Dresden and the Frauenkirche is my personal contribution, as a composer, to the spirit and strength of rebirth and memory.
Of course, it is very personal when I ask about your own relationship to death, but I dare to ask it anyway. Because in the Dresden Requiem, you set the liturgical text of the Latin requiem to music, the crossing from earthly to eternal life.
Any creation, whether it is a Requiem, a symphony, a novel, or a human life, encompasses both a beginning and an end in time. But time is not a river and does not flow only in one direction. Our future and past are one in the present moment. So, while the consciousness of time makes us constantly aware of death, I believe that death makes us more aware of life. My requiem, as any musical composition, is an essay on time. And about what we choose to do in time and with time. It is more about living than about death.
In 2007, your Russian Requiem premiered. Is there something ‘typical’ about the way you intensively steer towards this theme?
Without being fully aware of death, one cannot be fully aware of life.
A close connection between Music and Text seems to be important to you…
I grew up in a closed city in the Urals of Russia, near Siberia. My family was passionate about music, art and literature. By the age of four, I could already read and write both words and music and was composing my first works.
A point of note: You (only) provide two solo singing parts, one of which is a part for countertenor. This is unusual and exciting. What function does he fulfil in your artistic concept for your new composition?
The voice and sound of a countertenor is transcendental. In this Requiem – there are no female voices, only men and boys. Historically, with very few exemptions, it is men who have led nations to war. But as long as there are boys singing – there is a hope that the mistakes of the past do not repeat endlessly in the never-ending spirals of sorrow. As long as there are little boys who are carrying violins instead of rifles – there is hope.
»No lavish idea justifies violence and cruelty. «
Lera Auerbach talking to Tobias Niederschlag
Ms. Auerbach, you are Capell-Compositrice (Composer in Residence) of the Sächsische Staatskapelle Dresden this season and have been to Dresden on a few occasions so far. How close has your connection with the city and its residents become in the meantime?
When I work on a very large piece such as this requiem, I like to immerse myself completely into the world connected to it and surround myself with its history and imagery so that I can become an instrument. The most satisfying experience for me as a composer is when I feel that the work writes itself and I am only transcribing, translating it from some original source where it already exists. In order to do so, I need to tune myself into its overtones.
So, even though I have not been physically present often, Dresden has been on my mind daily through the last year and I feel very close to this city.
You are a Russian-American composer of Jewish extraction. What did it personally mean to you to write a requiem for the commemoration of the destruction of Dresden in the Second World War?
My family originates from Austria. In the 19th century, they moved to Ukraine. During WWII, my grandparents barely survived, evacuating from the German army into Siberia, where they remained after the war. (I was born in the city of Chelyabinsk thirty years later.) My great-grandmother was lost in the panic of overcrowded trains during the evacuation. My grandparents never found her again.
During this time, my family also barely survived Stalin’s terror. My grandfather was arrested and sent to a GULAG, and my great-uncle was shot dead by the KGB. When I grew up I did not know a word of Hebrew nor anything of Judaism (in fact, I was brought up by a catholic nanny from Poland, who became part of our family). Yet, I knew only too well that I was Jewish – this was written as »nationality« in all official documents. One could feel anti-Semitism on a daily basis – from quasi-innocent jokes or kids’ teasing – all the way to open hostility. My grandfather, who survived the GULAG, refused to teach me Yiddish. When I asked him as a child, he said that I would get my dose of suffering even without it.
The only way humanity can move forward is through memory (preserving, understanding and learning history) and forgiveness; by respecting human life, by respecting each other’s differences, by making an effort to understand each culture on an emotional level, by feeling each other’s pain and each other’s joy. I believe one needs to be first a citizen of the world, of this planet Earth and only after that – a citizen of a country, a member of a religious or political group and so on.
There has been so much bloodshed »in the name of God« or for the »homeland’s sake« or for communism, nationalism or some other nicely packaged »ism«. No lavish idea, regardless of how noble it may seem, regardless in which book it may have been written or by whom; no being – human or deity – may justify such violence and cruelty as human beings have repeatedly inflicted on each other throughout the ages. And if there are leaders or deities or ideas that can justify such bloodshed – they are not worth following. We have reached the point where we can either destroy ourselves or learn forgiveness, compassion and kindness. Each one of us builds a monument to our time – how this time will be remembered. Each one of us will die. How we spend our energy while we are physically present in this world is up to each individual. And perhaps most importantly – would you think for yourself and be proactive about your decisions, or would you simply obey the orders from above and follow the masses without questioning where they lead you?
The Requiem »Dresden« is going to be premiered in the commemoration concerts of the Staatskapelle at the Frauenkirche and at the Semperoper – two highly symbolic venues that stand for the destruction and the subsequent reconstruction of the city. Has this been an inspiration for you?
Yes. This requiem, subtitled »Dresden – ode to Peace«, reflects this duality – death and resurrection, mourning and hope.
What was your main musical aim in this piece?
To create a unique vessel in which different religions and nations can harmoniously co-exist. To create a form where the past is remembered and the dead are honoured, but which ultimately is addressed to the living and to our present time and also speaks to us about the future and its vision of hope. There are more than 40 languages present in this work. And as far as I know, this is also the very first setting in Western music of the Islamic, Buddhist and Hindu prayers.
In the centre of your Requiem is the aspect of hope and confidence – do you still believe in the peaceful existence of mankind on this planet?
In this requiem, »Dresden – Ode to Peace«, there is a peaceful and harmonious co-existence of over 40 nations (represented by the languages used in the »Kyrie” movement). In the last two movements – there is the simultaneous setting of the prayers from five main religions – Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism and Hinduism. Music exists in a higher realm, and any idea needs to be formed on that level before it can manifest itself physically. If it is possible to create this peaceful co-existence of different nations and religions within the micro-universe of one composition, if it is possible to experience it for a few thousand people during the performances in Dresden, – then it is also possible to translate this into the physical existence which we call life. Or so I choose to believe.