Monday 25 July 2011

Endings

Bregenz Lakefront in late evening

My time in Bregenz is swiftly drawing to a close, and I haven't blogged since the very beginning of it.

I've been working on the world premiere of Achterbahn (roller-coaster in German) by British composer Judith Weir, and a roller-coaster it has been indeed.

Judith chose a Sicilian folk tale for her subject, a tale of Tina and her journey to understand and accept the role of Fate in her life.

As with all new pieces, when there is no bank of knowledge or performance tradition behind it there is a difficult journey of discovery to make. When it is the very first time the public will see this piece, the choices one makes take on increased weight. So not an easy process, but one which has resulted in a charming piece and beautiful production. I will revive it in London next year at Covent Garden and it will be interesting to see how a little time changes both the process and the final result.

The Summer in Bregenz has been a bit of a wash-out, like much of Europe so I haven't made my usual cherished trips into the mountains. The countryside here is stunning and the Bregenzerwald and the Walsertaal are both well worth the effort to visit. Waking up to the distant sound of the bells on goats clanging down the mountain, the bubble of a mountain stream, and someone chopping wood miles away is a rare reminder of the true pace of life now sadly sped up in most of our existences. I'm sad to leave here without a fix of mountain life.

Also taking my time and mind has been another ending.

I began this blog 18 months ago for the reasons I outlined in my first post, but primarily as a way of keeping in contact with my Father, who was undergoing chemotherapy at the time.

Dad enjoyed travel immensely, though didn't get to see as much of the world as he would have liked. He was amazed and delighted at the places we, his children, were able to visit and the way in which we became citizens of the world. He often said that he was part of a transition generation. He came from a smallholding on the Isle of Wight and the expectation was that he would work on the land and lead a life with a small circumference.

Education, increased communications, and National Service gave him a thirst for more and he educated himself over many years to become a fully qualified architect and member of the professional classes - quite a journey from his basic beginnings. When he was small the few miles to next town was a journey and the trip to the mainland and adventure. He lived to visit much of Europe, Israel, and planned to travel to Canada - things his parents and grandparents could barely conceive.

This blog was a great way of sharing with him things that I had seen, done, or was experiencing, and I was able to talk about things which we would never have discussed. He enjoyed it immensely and always commented on each new post.

Sadly my Father lost his battle with cancer - a cancer ironically brought on by exposure to asbestos, part of the process of progress from which he benefitted so much - two weeks ago. In sorting through his effects we have found many items of family archive - photos, birth certificates, documents and letters - which help build the bigger picture of our family life. These are wonderful and tangible things which we will continue to cherish.

However, how much of our records today will reside on a hard-drive and who will bother to go through them? A folder of e-mails is hardly tangible or wonderful.

It seems to me that things like blogs become more important as, although they are electronic, they are documents which gather experience, emotions, and human life in a way that few other things do today.

So my resolution to myself, to the memory of Dad, and to the archive of the future (should anyone be interested) is to try to be more disciplined and regular with my blog entries. Some may, like Dad, enjoy an insight into my experiences which they cannot share physically, and someone in the future may find it a quaint window into a time gone by. And I will keep benefitting from the often cathartic and always positive process of documenting my weird and wonderful passage through this life.


David Kearley 1930 - 2011

No comments:

Post a Comment