Light from Outside (2012) by Paul Hembree, based on text by Rainer Maria Rilke
for piccolo, bass clarinet, soprano, piano, violin, cello and laptop
Performers:
Rachel Beetz, piccolo
Sam Dunscombe, bass clarinet
Tiffany DuMouchelle, soprano
Steven Lewis, piano
Travis Maril, violin
Jennifer Bewerse, cello
Jon Hepfter, conductor
Paul Hembree, laptop
Part of the UCSD 2012 Pierrot Project
Many thanks to Susan Narucki, Philippe Manoury (project advisors), Greg Surges (sound reinforcement), Jessica Flores (production manager), Nick Patin and his stage crew, and Petra Watzke (translation)
Program notes:
"Light from Outside" is a re-presentation of shattered pieces of Rainer Maria Rilke’s poem "Die Erblindende" (The Woman Going Blind). Rilke depicts his characters from the perspective of an outsider looking in upon them; the setting is a banal and gentle one: afternoon tea. Yet there is something wrong with one of the women at the table, and Rilke reveals slowly, through a series of sudden realizations (in collusion with the title of the poem), that she is going blind. I took this text, broke it, removed the narrator, and observed the way the internal components and characters could reveal different affects by changing perspectives, as if shining a light upon the stage from different angles, silhouetting one character while spotlighting another. The woman going blind and the others at the table each observe and relate upon the other, retaining Rilke’s words but shifting pronouns, or inverting certain adjectives. For instance, though the woman going blind moves slowly throughout the house from the perspective of the narrator, to her, the others move throughout the rooms of the house quickly and with an ease that she has lost. Rilke depicts this stricken woman as attaining a sort of grace despite her ailment, which I was extremely attracted to when I found this poem. Yet I was left wanting by that the way Rilke glosses over this truly horrible situation – impending blindness – without addressing the potential for danger, panic, and despair. The shattered remains of the poem allowed me to more thoroughly juxtapose the tragedy and transcendence of the situation.
- Paul Hembree
Original text:
Die Erblindende (1906) by Rainer Maria Rilke (public domain)
Sie saß so wie die anderen beim Tee.
Mir war zuerst, als ob sie ihre Tasse
ein wenig anders als die andern fasse.
Sie lächelte einmal. Es tat fast weh.
Und als man schließlich sich erhob und sprach
und langsam und wie es der Zufall brachte
durch viele Zimmer ging (man sprach und lachte),
da sah ich sie. Sie ging den andern nach,
verhalten, so wie eine, welche gleich
wird singen müssen und vor vielen Leuten;
auf ihren hellen Augen die sich freuten
war Licht von außen wie auf einem Teich.
Sie folgte langsam und sie brauchte lang,
also wäre etwas noch nicht überstiegen;
und doch: als ob, nach einem Übergang,
sie nicht mehr gehen würde, sondern fliegen.
Translation by Petra Watzke and Paul Hembree (used with permission)
She sat like the others drinking tea.
I felt at first as if she held her cup
a little different from the others.
She smiled once. It pained me.
And when they eventually got up and spoke
and slowly and how chance brought them
through many rooms (they spoke and laughed),
there I saw her. She went after the others,
restrained, like one who will
have to sing before many people;
on her pale eyes, they were happy,
was light from outside, as from a lake.
She followed slowly and she took long,
as if something had not been overcome;
and yet: as though, after a transition,
she would walk no more, but fly.
