That's Why the Lady Is an Artist
SACD: Montserrat Figueras with various artists: Lux Feminae, 900-1600: Songs of the Universal Feminine
Sometimes I think I opened my Netflix account mainly to catch up with all the directors who are great storytellers but don't get any love from my local cineplex. First I ordered home some Rodrigo Garcia, followed that up with the continuation of my decades-long John Sayles screening, and then had Daniele Thompson's La Buche for Christmas. After that I went into a Nicole Holofcener phase. As I write this, I'm halfway through Rosanna Arquette's Searching for Debra Winger.
The common denominator of all the above is a devotion to storytelling in which women and life's uncomfortable truths play a leading role. Some of you may be grumbling that this is eat-your-vegetables cinema -- Where are the car chases? Where are the special effects? -- but I would argue that movies always were about the story, the people, the meaning of life.
In fact, I could make the case that this as good a time as any to contemplate the output of creative women. Our Olsson's CD bins contain ample evidence of the legacy of vocalists such as Arleen Auger and Lorraine Hunt Lieberson. Marin Alsop has taken up the baton at the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra. And if you pop into various arts cinemas in the DC area, you're likely to encounter several new films written and directed by women: Away from Her, by 28-year-old Canadian actress Sarah Polley; Waitress, by New York native Adrienne Shelly; and Avenue Montaigne, which director Daniele Thompson co-wrote with her son.
All of this was humming through my mind as I contemplated Montserrat Figueras's recent Lux Feminae, an astonishing project focused on the music of medieval and Renaissance Spain, and springing from the traditions of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.
But don't assume that the Catalan soprano has a dry little interfaith history lesson in store for you. Rather, Lux Feminae is an emotional pilgrimage of woman in all her varied roles -- in nurturing, in grief, in love, in worship. The texts, both from anonymous sources and such influential figures as Saint Teresa of Avila, possess remarkable breadth, extending from divine visions and transcendent love to the more earthbound aspects of a woman's life. The mother, the poet, the prophetess, and the mystic all are very much present.
Fortunately the SACD is accompanied by a generous book containing all texts (with multilingual translations!), as well as photographs, images from medieval manuscripts, and an essay on seven images of women conveyed within the music.
As for the music itself, it is another treasure for early music aficionados. If you do not number yourself in that group and are accustomed to hearing sopranos with full orchestration, the spare accompaniment will be something of a shock. But it has its own richness, evoking both the Spanish and Middle Eastern traditions.
I realize vocals are a highly personal matter for each listener. I can report, however, that Figueras's soprano retains a youthful freshness and betrays no vibrato that I can detect -- in short, a fine instrument for medieval music. And if it's possible for a vocalist to convey passion and serenity almost simultaneously, she has achieved it.
There are ethereal moments when Figueras is accompanied by four other female singers -- two sopranos, a mezzo, and a contralto -- voices blending and echoing to ravishing effect. Those of you who are familiar with Anonymous 4, Sequentia, or Emma Kirkby will certainly want to have some uninterrupted time with this album.
And this project blends the personal with the artistic in yet another way. The singer's daughter, Arianna, is part of that enchanting vocal ensemble mentioned above, and that's Figueras's husband, the renowned Jordi Savall, accompanying them on lira, rebab, and viola da gamba.
Sometimes I think I opened my Netflix account mainly to catch up with all the directors who are great storytellers but don't get any love from my local cineplex. First I ordered home some Rodrigo Garcia, followed that up with the continuation of my decades-long John Sayles screening, and then had Daniele Thompson's La Buche for Christmas. After that I went into a Nicole Holofcener phase. As I write this, I'm halfway through Rosanna Arquette's Searching for Debra Winger.
The common denominator of all the above is a devotion to storytelling in which women and life's uncomfortable truths play a leading role. Some of you may be grumbling that this is eat-your-vegetables cinema -- Where are the car chases? Where are the special effects? -- but I would argue that movies always were about the story, the people, the meaning of life.
In fact, I could make the case that this as good a time as any to contemplate the output of creative women. Our Olsson's CD bins contain ample evidence of the legacy of vocalists such as Arleen Auger and Lorraine Hunt Lieberson. Marin Alsop has taken up the baton at the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra. And if you pop into various arts cinemas in the DC area, you're likely to encounter several new films written and directed by women: Away from Her, by 28-year-old Canadian actress Sarah Polley; Waitress, by New York native Adrienne Shelly; and Avenue Montaigne, which director Daniele Thompson co-wrote with her son.
All of this was humming through my mind as I contemplated Montserrat Figueras's recent Lux Feminae, an astonishing project focused on the music of medieval and Renaissance Spain, and springing from the traditions of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.But don't assume that the Catalan soprano has a dry little interfaith history lesson in store for you. Rather, Lux Feminae is an emotional pilgrimage of woman in all her varied roles -- in nurturing, in grief, in love, in worship. The texts, both from anonymous sources and such influential figures as Saint Teresa of Avila, possess remarkable breadth, extending from divine visions and transcendent love to the more earthbound aspects of a woman's life. The mother, the poet, the prophetess, and the mystic all are very much present.
Fortunately the SACD is accompanied by a generous book containing all texts (with multilingual translations!), as well as photographs, images from medieval manuscripts, and an essay on seven images of women conveyed within the music.
As for the music itself, it is another treasure for early music aficionados. If you do not number yourself in that group and are accustomed to hearing sopranos with full orchestration, the spare accompaniment will be something of a shock. But it has its own richness, evoking both the Spanish and Middle Eastern traditions.
I realize vocals are a highly personal matter for each listener. I can report, however, that Figueras's soprano retains a youthful freshness and betrays no vibrato that I can detect -- in short, a fine instrument for medieval music. And if it's possible for a vocalist to convey passion and serenity almost simultaneously, she has achieved it.
There are ethereal moments when Figueras is accompanied by four other female singers -- two sopranos, a mezzo, and a contralto -- voices blending and echoing to ravishing effect. Those of you who are familiar with Anonymous 4, Sequentia, or Emma Kirkby will certainly want to have some uninterrupted time with this album.
And this project blends the personal with the artistic in yet another way. The singer's daughter, Arianna, is part of that enchanting vocal ensemble mentioned above, and that's Figueras's husband, the renowned Jordi Savall, accompanying them on lira, rebab, and viola da gamba.
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