Showing posts with label Pierre Jean van der Ouderaa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pierre Jean van der Ouderaa. Show all posts
August 16, 2026
August 8, 2026
Der König in Thule, Tom White & Barcelona
Der König in Thule (The King in Thule) is a German poem about love and loss by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, written in 1774. Hector Berlioz used it in his opera, The Damnation of Faust which was presented on December 6, 1846, at the Opéra-Comique, in Paris with a French translation.
One night, a year or so after I met Tom, I played the opera, with Joan Sutherland singing the role of Marguerite, for him; when he heard the aria, The King in Thule, he was riveted and moved to tears. He was mystified that, as had happened so many times to him before, although he didn't understand the language he could be so emotionally moved. I told him about the concept of ethos: the power of music to influence emotions, behaviors, and even morals with no verbal cues. Although he had a great knowledge of music history, this began my introducing him to the intangible power of music to influence a person even with no musical background references. How certain chords, modulations and progressions inherently have a resonance that triggers an emotion or reaction of some kind.
He in turn began to teach me ways of viewing art that had no basis in having knowledge about it which lead him to introduce me to The Ways of Seeing by John Berger, a book that criticizes traditional Western aesthetics by raising questions about hidden ideologies in visual images; he also introduced me to Jacques Lacan and many other personages which gave me new perspectives on viewing art. I taught him how to hear music and he taught me how to see art. We enjoyed a marvelous symbiosis.
Well, back to Berlioz that night, all those years ago, when the opera was finished, he said that when he died, if there was a memorial for him, he wanted The King in Thule aria to be played. He only mentioned it that one evening but on many occasions when he came to my studio he would ask me to play that aria for him.
Last December when he died, some fifty years later, I remembered what he had said that night, so, I created a video for him (link below) with The King in Thule aria as the soundtrack and photos of our fifty year relationship accompanying it. The video fills me with a mixture of joy, nostalgia and an ache in my heart every time I watch it.
His second wish was that his ashes would be taken to Menorca, an island off the coast of Barcelona in Spain. That is the second promise to him I will keep in a couple of weeks.
Hector Berlioz ~
Tom White Celebration of Life - July 11, 2026 The Conversation ~ How John Berger changed our way of seeing art
The Guardian ~
Independent ~ Through the looking-glass: Berger's groundbreaking book
Internet Archive ~ All the rage : the story of gay visibility in America
Learn Lacan ~ Logic of Fantasy
Frederica von Stade ~ The King of Thule
July 13, 2026
Hector Berlioz ~ The King of Thule lyrics
The King of Thule 1896
painting:
Es war ein König in Thule,
Gar treu bis an das Grab,
Dem sterbend seine Buhle
einen goldnen Becher gab.
Es ging ihm nichts darüber,
Er leert' ihn jeden Schmaus;
Die Augen gingen ihm über,
So oft er trank daraus.
Und als er kam zu sterben,
Zählt' er seine Städt' im Reich,
Gönnt' alles seinen Erben,
Den Becher nicht zugleich.
Er saß beim Königsmahle,
Die Ritter um ihn her,
Auf hohem Vätersaale,
Dort auf dem Schloß am Meer.
Dort stand der alte Zecher,
Trank letzte Lebensglut,
Und warf den heiligen Becher
Hinunter in die Flut.
Er sah ihn stürzen, trinken
Und sinken tief ins Meer,
die Augen täten ihm sinken,
Trank nie einen Tropfen mehr.
There was a king in Thule,
Was faithful till the grave,
To whom his mistress, dying,
A golden goblet gave.
Nought was to him more precious;
He drained it at every bout;
His eyes with tears ran over,
As oft as he drank thereout.
When came his time of dying,
The towns in his land he told,
Nought else to his heir denying
Except the goblet of gold.
He sat at the royal banquet
With his knights of high degree,
In the lofty hall of his fathers
In the castle by the sea.
There stood the old carouser,
And drank the last life-glow;
And hurled the hallowed goblet
Into the tide below.
He saw it plunging and filling,
And sinking deep in the sea:
Then fell his eyelids for ever,
And never more drank he!
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