Two things occur to me, writing this blog. One is the need to explain why I am writing it, and the other is to put on record how much I love British arts and culture too. I am truly fortunate to live in the arty English town of Lewes, an hour away from London by train. I want to give you an idea of why I go to London and why I think it is still one of the great cities of the world. For me, it’s the place where I go most often to satisfy my life-long passion for music and art. In the one year I document here, I have been truly inspired by what I’ve seen and heard in good ol’ London Town.

Of course, also for the record, and for all this stuff about the wonders of Europe and, the UK’s foolishly severed relationship with it. I love London – scroll on to see some of my reasons for so doing.

One last thing – if I give the impression of being a bit of a globe-trotter, the truth is that mostly, as all writers, I spend most of my time in a small room here in the lovely town of Lewes in Sussex. In fact, friends tell me that I don’t. go out enough.

27th March 2025

Marie Lys, soprano, Elina Garanča, mezzo-soprano, Piotr Beczala, tenor, William Thomas, bass, Philharmonia Chorus, Philharmonia Orchestra, conducted by Riccardo Muti.

“Neil Fisher, chief music critic of The Times recently interviewed Riccardo Muti and aptly described him as the last of the ‘Big Beasts’. Tickets for this concert were like gold-dust, the hall was packed to the gunwales; there were people standing (with paid tickets) at the rear of the stalls. This was not simply another concert – it was a major musical event…It was not only a huge pleasure to attend this concert, but it was also a privilege and certainly one for the record books.” John Rhodes, Seen and Heard International.

27th March 2025

Petrarch’s rave review has it right. Conquering the heart is what Martini and other 14th-century painters from Siena do in the National Gallery’s devastatingly exact, epochal exhibition about the moment western art came alive. Simone’s painting of Laura is lost but you see why he was the artist for the job. He is so expressive, so tender, exploding any idea of medieval art as remote. Jonathan Jones, The Guardian.

29th April 2025

29TH APRIL 2025

Legions of keyboard fans know that Víkingur Ólafsson  does reflective like few others. Calmness, softness of touch and introspection are among the Icelandic pianist’s widely admired trademarks. It helps make him a perfect performer for the AirPod age……but how does Ólafsson respond to a full orchestra in a large-scale work such as Beethoven’s third piano concerto? The answer, in this opening concert of the Philharmonic Orchestra’s celebrationary 80th season, is that he does it with enviable ease. 

Before the concerto, Santtu-Matias Rouvali conducted the UK premiere of Gabriela Ortiz’s Si el Oxígeno Fuera Verde, which the orchestra had premiered in Amsterdam the previous day. Described by the composer as a fragile green murmur of life, the environmentally inspired work is delicately scored as a bubbling forest of gentle arpeggios and trills, which eventually coheres into an insistent dance with echoes of John Adams and the Stravinsky of The Rite of Spring.

Alongside Ólafsson, who stayed to listen to the second half of the concert, the evening’s star attraction was the Royal Festival Hall organ being played at full throttle. With Notre Dame cathedral’s Olivier Latry at the organ controls, and Rouvali neatly alive to the work’s overall architecture and colours, Saint-Saëns’s third symphony is a guaranteed crowd pleaser for a special occasion – and so it proved.  Martin Kettle, The Guardian

The result is a show that feels adventurous and fresh. Reconsidered by Tsang and Fuenteblanca, his art springs to life. And to top it all, in the show’s climax, we get The Three Dancers displayed on a pretend stage, lifted up in lights for us to examine properly and dramatically. The “dancers” are two women and a man, their figures twisted spikily into an edgy tango. The woman on the left is grimacing grotesquely. The man on the right is silhouetted mysteriously. The dancing nude at their centre seems to be the focus of their tension.

We’re watching a tug of love. I was reminded immediately of Princess Diana’s lament about three in a marriage being a bit crowded. Picasso has cast the central figure in the Camilla Parker Bowles role.The man is clearly Picasso, reduced, typically, to a silhouette. The screaming woman on the left is, surely, his Russian wife Olga, whom he had begun to caricature nastily in his art. The dancing nude is a lover who has come between them.The Tate has other theories and we’ll never know for sure. But what’s excellent here is how excitingly the show has framed the possibilities. It’s been a long time — several years — since an event as stimulating as this opened at Tate Modern. If it were up to me I would leave these rooms exactly as they are for ever, as a thrilling tribute to Picasso. Waldemar Januszczak, Waldemar.tv

2nd November 2025

Is home a place, a feeling, or an idea? Suh asks timely questions about the enigma of home, identity and how we move through and inhabit the world around us. Tate Modern.

2nd November 2025

Kngwarray’s paintings might well remind you of a kind of gestural abstraction they have nothing to do with, and which the artist would never in any case have seen. The things we look at in Kngwarray’s art are about an entirely different order of experience to the similar kinds of brushstrokes driven this way and that around other, more familiar canvases we might also find in Tate Modern, where her retrospective has arrived from the National Gallery of Australia. But this similarity is also one of the reasons Kngwarray became famous in the first place. Adrian Searle, The Guardian.

2nd November 2025

Installation by Carlos Cruz-Diez, 2019.

‘When light comes into contact with an artwork, it changes it completely. My challenge is to reveal to the viewer a reality without a past or a future: my works exist in a perpetual present.’

2nd November 2025

‘Rather unusual for ‘contemporary’ composers, Christian Lindberg actually has his ‘own identity’ – a voice of his own – and not at all derivative of other composers, as tediously customary in ‘contemporary’ music. Lindberg’s Trombone Concert No.4, is a mesmerising masterpiece and was warmly received by an enthused audience.

The elegantly elfistical Santtu-Matias Rouvali conducted a completely flawless performance of Shostakovich’s Fifth Symphony (subtitled ‘A Soviet artist’s practical, creative reply to just criticism’) with all tempos correctly judged from beginning to end: accents, clarity, phrasing, and dynamic range were exceptionally well-judged eliciting a highly charged emotional intensity from his immaculately tuned world-class orchestra.’ Alexander Verney-Elliott, Seen and Heard International.

16th January 2025

Indeed, anyone not au fait with the story of Gesualdo’s colourful life would be perplexed by much they saw here, especially as his two wives appear to be played by the same actress. No help is given in terms of texts (they’re printed in the programme but there are no surtitles) or other factual information.

The show is better seen… as a theatrical representation of Gesualdo’s tortured psyche as reflected in his shockingly chromatic harmonies, rather than a representational biopic. On that level it’s powerful and engrossing, the music extending far beyond contemporary Mannerism to something more like 20th-century Expressionism, expressing deep psychological trauma. Barry Millingon, The Standard.

19th February 2025

The distinctions are so often invoked that some find it hard to believe these artists could have anything in common. Which is precisely the twist of this show. It wants us to look far more closely at these minds and hands at work, and to discover fundamental similarities when the two are brought together. In its originality and insight, its brilliant selection and compelling texts, this is one of the most exhilarating shows I’ve ever seen. Laura Cumming, the Observer.

19th February 2025

Bruckner Symphony No. 8, Philharmonia Orchestra conducted by Lawrence Renes 

A rare appearance in the UK by Sir Donald Runnicles, a longtime fixture of the German classical music scene, had prompted excitement among audiences in London. The proposition of hearing him conduct the Philharmonia in Bruckner’s Symphony no. 8 in C minor stirred the musical loins of Bruckner-lovers, and there was a palpable buzz at the Royal Festival Hall on the evening. Alas, Sir Donald was indisposed, but Lawrence Renes gamely stepped in at short notice to lead the orchestra in the Haas edition of the score.

‘The performance of the symphony (Bruckner’s 8th Symphony) was nothing short of glorious and much of that must be due to Renes’s muscular conducting. His grasp of the structure of the work was palpable, and he revelled in the frequent volcanic eruptions in the work. The Scherzo oozed rhythmic energy, the three harps glistened. The long Adagio started very slowly and I feared the conductor was going to ignore the composer’s express direction Feierlich langsam, aber nicht schleppend (Ceremonially slow but don’t drag); thankfully, Renes soon imposed a slightly faster tempo. He built up the many climaxes with great skill, and the Wagner tubas shone. Indeed, the orchestra played magnificently across all sections, blended woodwind, firm strident brass, thundering timpani (Simon Carrington), mellow horns (led by Lasse Mauritzen) and the percussionist enjoying his two cymbal clashes: and all held together by the lithe and energetic Leader, Zsolt-Tihamér Visontay.

I am now thinking of starting a new blog entitled ‘Bring back Renes’ – or even, ‘Where’s Renes? Perhaps the Philharmonia will invite him back in a coming season with, say, Bruckner’s Fourth? I live in hope; but also hope Sir Donald, restored to full health, will return to a London podium very soon.’ John Rhodes, Seen and Heard International

19th March 2026

What stands out from the outset is the shift in perspective. Rather than presenting modernism as a story that begins in Europe and spreads outward, the exhibition recognises Lagos, Zaria, Ibadan and Enugu as major centres of artistic innovation in their own right. This reframing will resonate strongly with Black British visitors familiar with how cultural histories can be sidelined in mainstream institutions. Here, Nigeria is not the supporting act — it is the focus.

Written by Black History Month UK. 18/11/2025

19th March 2026

There was a time when London’s walls were papered with Mahler 2s; certainly, in the 1980s, performances were regular occurrences with nary a month going by without one or other of the capital’s concert halls having its roof blown off by massed choirs belting out Klopstock.

The Mahler craze has quieted, but there is always space for the mighty sonic edifice of the Second. Fittingly, given the prominence of the brass in Mahler, this performance was dedicated to the memory of trumpeter John Wallace, former Principal Trumpet of the Philharmonia Orchestra….

…Kent Nagano’s Mahler is a known entity, and shares with his Wagner (his ongoing historically-informed Ring cycle in particular, closing with Götterdämmerung in Dresden in May) an x-ray awareness of detail. This was an individual interpretation of the highest rank, as Nagano manages to pair that sense of detail with an awareness of the big picture, allowing climaxes to really register (another commonality with his Wagner).

Nagano also has the ability to create just the right momentum, a trait important everywhere but maybe especially so in the symphony’s opening paragraphs. His conducting technique is near-infallible, too: of all the many Mahler 2’s I have heard, none contained such perfectly controlled Luftpausen as this. Nagano gave space for the contrasting themes; again, just the right amount. It is worth mentioning some individual contributions from the orchestra that stood out: first horn Laurence Davies, and cor anglais player Maxwell Spiers…

…A simply superb trombone solo from Matthew Lewis was another highlight of the evening, as was the velvety sound of trombones and tuba at the ‘Dies irae’ theme. The finale is a movement of extremes, and Mahler piles on the scoring in true late-Romantic fashion. Somehow, Nagano made sense of the thorniest passages like few before him, while honouring the Modernism of the score, more notably in those proto-Ivesian moments of thematic juxtaposition…

…The placing of the off-stage contributions was carefully and effectively thought-through. Jane Archibald was just as special a soloist as Bock, her soprano the perfect complement to Bock’s mezzo. But it was Nagano that choreographed the great choral climax so perfectly, the Philharmonia Chorus beautifully soft on entry, the male voices later creating an imposing wall of sound, Nagano extending the silent pause after ‘Bereite dich’ daringly, as if himself asking, ‘Prepare yourself for what?’. ‘To live,’ came the answer, and how beautifully Archibald crowned the chorus. The Philharmonia Chorus could only be described as fearsomely present in the work’s final stretch; and yet the brass crowned it all, perfectly. Good to hear the RFH organ at full tilt, too. Colin Clarke, Opera Today.

The post Me Going to London and Having a Great Time 2025 – 2026 appeared first on Wolfie Wolfgang.

My first Sibelius festival was definitely a thrilling experience, much more thrilling than I’d expected. It was the perfect marriage of music, location and venue – the acoustically perfect and architecturally exciting Sibelius Hall (Sibeliustalo) situated on the banks of Lake Vesijärvi, and the performances of the Lahti Symphony Orchestra, under their then conductor, the dynamic firebrand, Dalia Stasevska. I was genuinely hooked after that first year. Over the following two Festivals, we had the chance to hear all of Sibelius’ symphonies in fine performances along with most of his major works. With Sibelius, the more you hear his music, the more you hear in his music.

Kullervo was one of the boyish heroes of Kalevala, a joyful extrovert , like Wagner’s Siegfried, who was immensely strong and brave but who was also fated to endure a sorrowful life and to die in despair, after discovering that he had had incestuous love with a woman who turned out to be his long-lost sister.

She wrote about Grieg and Sibelius in a memoir: ‘One particular person for whom I was also able to sing Sibelius was Edvard Grieg. This came about as I presented his Lieder with him on a concert tour to Warsaw. We were together ten days and each day I was supposed to sing Sibelius for him. “He will be one of the greatest men of the North,” Grieg once said to me. Grieg was so enthusiastic that he
promised to visit Finland soon, but several months after our trip he died.’

There was mutual respect between the two most famous Nordic composers even though they never actually met. Their songs are in the repertoire of the international opera star, the Finnish soprano Karita Mattila and she came to Lahti for the closing concert when she sang orchestral songs by both composers, Grieg’s songs from Peer Gynt and his well-known En Svane (A swan) and Vǎren (Spring). She closed with a selection of Sibelius’ songs, including the magnificent Svarta rosor (Black Roses). There were no apologies or excuses before she sang, but it became noticeable by the pauses between songs, and then a longer gap as she left the stage, that she was nursing her voice through some kind of infection. She made sure that she could deliver of her best by pacing herself through would could have been an ordeal. It was a masterclass of a great singer’s vocal technique. In Sibelius’ Svarta rosor, she had saved the most difficult and demanding song to the end and she delivered it real passion and drama.

The post Going back to Finland – 2025 Part Two – The Sibelius Festival appeared first on Wolfie Wolfgang.

Lahti

I went back to Finland in late August, 2025, my fourth annual visit, call it a pilgrimage, to the Sibelius Festival that is held every year in the small city of Lahti on Lake Vesijärvi, in South Eastern Finland. My first trip was because of the great composer, Jean Sibelius (1865 – 1957), and his music has certainly brought me back to Finland as I get more and more involved in the great man’s work and his influence on contemporary classical music. Maybe I was always going to love Finland because I loved Sibelius, or was it the other way round, the two are now too intertwined to be unravelled. Both the composer and the country have many layers, but maybe at their heart is a still core that moves me and tells me to focus on the things in our lives that are often unspoken, but undemonstratively who we are. In Finland, I find myself questioning who I am, often silently celebrating the good things but also, searching for what I would like to become. As I am learning too who or what I’m not. Finland, increasingly, feels like my safe place.

When international politics is becoming more and more unstable, and when politics in so may countries has become bad-tempered and divisive, on news bulletins, I see Finland’s president, Alexander Stubb as the voice of reason, and when I visit the country, an apparently efficient working social democracy, Finland feels like a template for how the rest of us should be organising our lives.

Fairhair’s starter shield for two: Lingonberry-cured salmon, tarred Baltic herring, smoked duck, reindeer heart and beaver salami. Potato flatbread from Penttilä farm, sourdough bread, tarred lingonberries, game mousse and smoked perch mousse. Ash cheese from Jumo cheesery, salad with gooseberry vinaigrette, pickled cucumber, carrot chips and oat, tomato-basil salsa, herb- ­marinated beans and toasted pumpkin seeds.

You can have wine, but also, and probably better, either Harald’s strong beer, or mead.

I go once every year.

It was an inspiring time to be young, like Jean Sibelius in the fast developing world of Finnish classical music, and as it must have been for the young artists and architects like , Lars Sonck, who could run free in the brave new arts at the birth of a new nation.

The other windows were designed by the fourth of the young revolutionary artists who worked extensively on the cathedral, the Symbolist painter, Hugo Simberg (1873 – 1917), who based his designs on episodes from the Bible, such as the Holy Spirit descending as a dove at the baptism of Christ, and the Moses’ Burning Bush.

According to the Finnish artist, Jani Ruscica, his sculptural video installation Polynotknot (and they bloom) keeps changing its form, with its clips continuously and randomly shuffled into a new order. Within the imaginative fleshy shapes and masses one can discern a varying number of mouths, eyes and drawings on the skin. Subjectivities dissolve into a polyphonic rejection of linguistic expression and normative conceptions of the body, with the organically folding and piling figures remaining corporeally uncoded.’

The post Going back to Finland 2025 – Part One – From Lahti to Tampere appeared first on Wolfie Wolfgang.

1. Rigoletto

Verdi and Hugo had much in common, they were both considered artistic and political revolutionaries who used their work to challenge authority. I love them both, they still have a lot to teach us about our attitude to the arts. I wish that opera and drama could be seen once again, as they saw it, as the people’s art-forms.

I had a great time at the opera that night. The Claus Guth’s production and design was enjoyably stripped down, ( I had a few niggles, of course) but the cast was perfect, and you can’t say that often, from the three principals (George Gagnidze, a magnificent Rigoletto; Slávka Zámečnikova, superlative with all the right notes for this lovely role; and Dmitry Korchak, an excitingly lyrical Duke of Mantua) and the conductor, Andrea Battistoni, well, he is Italian, had the exactly right mix of Italianate legato, lilting rhythms and a true sense of drama. This was first class, in an impressive building with its spirit of democratic equality. A true reflection of the French and Giuseppe Verdi and Victor Hugo’s republican ideals.

The music of Un Ballo In Maschera still sounds like it was conceived with the plot in 18th century Europe, with its at times almost Mozartean lightness of touch contrasting with the dark, trombone-focused music of the tragic elements. It is the nearest Verdi got to writing comedy since his failed first opera Un giorno di Regno (A King for a Day) 1840, and before his final triumph, Falstaff in 1893. The singers are truly challenged by this style. the tenor, Riccardo has to combine lyrical grace with dramatic oomph. It was one of Luciano Pavarotti’s ideal parts. The lead soprano voice (Amelia) is one of Verdi’s earliest dramatic soprano roles, with phenomenal demands of range and power with strong low notes matched all the way up to the top of the voice and the need to also use pianissimo as well as fortissimo. It was one of Verdi’s most exciting inventions.

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Cathédrale Notre-Dame

His 1831 novel, Notre-Dame de Paris, known these days mostly as The Hunchback of Notre-Dame, was intended by the author as a manifesto and a plea for the preservation of Paris’ medieval architecture at a time when there were already plans to demolish whole parts of central Paris. After the book’s publication, he was annoyed that Quasimodo and his love for the beautiful Esmerelda, had stolen the limelight from 15th century Paris itself.

If you have the time, here’s a five minute clip of Lon Chaney’s iconic performance. https://youtu.be/KkB2DyoQakU?si=Qu3lYrDvg-IHeL3U

Victor Hugo deserves some credit for the preservation of Notre-Dame, but he lost most of the battles against Baron Haussmann’s virtual demolition of medieval Paris. I think he would have been thrilled by the new Notre-Dame, even though he grieved for many of Paris’ old buildings. If you are interested in his plea for medieval Paris, read the long first chapter of Notre-Dame de Paris. tHugo begins his novel without any of the characters from the story, instead it is a paean, an essay, to what we have lost. Bravo Victor!

Jean-Pierre Leguay is known as a master improviser, an art-form practised by many French organists and his style, as Messiaen’s pupil, isn’t immediately listener-friendly. The cathedral made the ideal listening studio for his pieces which deal in the less than obvious – gradual transformation, fractured sonorities, filigree textures and sudden almost violent sonic events. This is not typical “French organ grandeur” and some members of the audience obviously found it perplexing. His music could be described as sound architecture and, as such, it was definitely heard to its advantage in the very architecture that its composer has known so well for decades. I, for one, was happy to go on this architectural musical voyage in such an awe-inspiring piece if architecture.

Church organists here since then have included Camille Saint-Saëns (1835 – 1921) and Gabriel Fauré (1845 – 1924) and the church is often associated less with Napoleon’s glory but by the glory of its magnificent music. Here is an old recording of an 88 year-old Widor playing his famous Toccata on the organ of la Madeleine in 1932. https://youtu.be/gy0OZoAwkbc?si=nL9CTH62N6ZTLe60

The French tradition of organ music lives on today in, amongst other places, the great organ of Notre Dame Cathedral, where Cavaillé-Coll built the organ there in 1868. Here is a recording of the official blessing of the restored Notre Dame/Cavaillé-Coll organ, played by the cathedral’s current titular organist, Olivier Latry in a controversially avant-garde improvisation at the opening service for the new cathedral. https://youtu.be/F6DO7V6pQyA?si=A5L9huw88LG_ZV-N

French cathedral improvisation can be an acquired taste, as can a lot of avant-garde music, and of course, avant-garde anything. Here is Jean-Pierre Leguay in his improvisation on the same organ at Notre-Dame, but before the fire. https://youtu.be/nPagA6vNke0?si=Z53KZr8nCxXiKZhJ – it certainly shows the range of this magnificent and mercifully saved instrument.

The post Wolfie in Paris 2025/2026 Part Five – Three Great Churches and the Genius of French Organ Music. appeared first on Wolfie Wolfgang.

In May 2025, I spent two weeks in Paris – I’d been there many times before, mostly for work, but never for such an extended period. I wanted to allow it to get under my skin. I think it worked because, I returned in February this year and plan to make Paris trips regular events in my life. After-all, living in the South of England, France is my nearest neighbour and Paris is almost as accessible for me as London.

I’m doing a bit of a catch-up with my blogs which took a break through most of last year – maybe I was having too much fun. Anyway, the plan is to climb back into the bloggers saddle with some of the events and places that confirmed the special place Paris holds in the thumping organ hidden behind my ribcage.

Let’s start with a dance – not just any dance, but Disco dancing. I was surprised to fine this amazing show at the illustrious Philharmonie de Paris, a complex of concert and exhibition halls, opened in 2015 and designed by Jean Nouvel, one of the many great architects who have added great new buildings to Paris in recent years. It was great to be here in one of the world capitals for the arts and to begin my exploration with Disco – I’m coming out, a substantial exhibition about the history and cultural influence of the phenomenon that was Disco.

Disco quickly became a global phenomenon, bringing together diverse communities under a shared spirit of celebration and freedom inspired by Afro-American roots, the heir to soul, gospel, and funk. Disco was born in small underground clubs in the United States but it more than took off during the 1970s, it became the rock on which dance culture was built and to which survives as an inspiration behind much of popular culture today. And, more than anything, it was thrilling and fun.

https://youtu.be/ItMJ3Zonn3k?si=rZTs9uzKpkz4SCdQ

The post Wolfie in Paris 2025/26 Part One – Disco and Jazz appeared first on Wolfie Wolfgang.

In January 2025, I spent two weeks on holiday in an apartment in the centre of the Centro Storico (Historic Centre) of Rome and I felt I had lived there for ever.

It was like being at home, but with many world famous landmarks just a few minutes walk away .

With a speedy internet on my trusted laptop, I was, I felt, truly at the centre of the world.

There was even a small courtyard downstairs where I could do my daily martial arts practice – White Crane style Kungfu and tai-chi. This space became my dojo, my training ground, and after just a few days, I felt grounded here.

I was living round the corner to a street that had the two thousand year old remains of an Ancient Roman building – a local resident told me had once been a Roman Baths. It appeared to be growing out of, even bursting out of, the surrounding buildings. Birds liked it too and used it as their cliff-top perch.

I’m next door to a shop too, not your average shop, but an upmarket ecclesiastical outfitters. I feel blessed every time I come home.

There was also, not only some good restaurant here but also a small café, the ideal place for a morning espresso and croissant. Perfetto.

The café was down my road but also across the street from the Pantheon, one of Rome’s most famous monuments, The Pantheon, a 2nd century Roman temple and, since AD 609, the Roman Catholic Basilica Santa Maria ad Martyres. Apart from its Corinthian pillared portico, the building is circular, in Rotunda style, one that was much copied through the Roman world and ever after.

The espresso was good too.

As with many famous Italian landmarks, people all seem to congregate in crowds outside the famous bits, and leave the adjoining streets empty. Going to Rome in January was definitely a good way to avoid the crowds.

I was not quite alone. This crow, a Pantheon resident, also takes an interest in croissants. He finds my morning routine much more interesting than the nearly two thousand year old building where he perches.

It is genuinely impressive to study the ancient brickwork and amazing to observe the concrete dome that has crowned the Rotunda through the millennia. And, as it is warm for January, to sit outside a café, people-watching.

Inside the Pantheon, in spite of the glories of the Renaissance decorations, the main attraction is the beauty of the circular space itself with its domed ceiling. The proportions are just right and I was not the only one who wanted to ignore the tombs and paintings and just to feel the space.

There are of course, a lot of tombs, most famously, the grand memorials to two kings of Italy, especially and, maybe, self-consciously impressive is this one for Vittorio Emanuele II ( reigned 1861 – 1878), the first King of a united Italy since the 6th century. He has a guard of honour and a monument fit for a king, even if it is still up-staged by the building itself.

The Guard of Honour, finely costumed, of course, are drawn from the impressively-named National Institute of the Guard of Honour to the Royal Tombs of the Pantheon. Nice work if you can get it.

Apart from the tomb of the influential Italian composer Arcangelo Corelli (1653 – 1713), the only other resting place that drew my attention was that of one of that great artistic triumvirate of Renaissance geniuses, Raphael.

The honourable gentleman of the Institute of Guards of Honour, paraded under my window the next day. And a fine, if slightly sinister, sight they made.

Very near to the Pantheon, and still just down the road from my apartment, is the Basilica of Santa Maria sopra Minerva, magnificent and the only Gothic church in Rome. It was built over the foundations of a Greco-Roman temple to the goddess Minerva, consecrated in 1370. I felt the rumblings of the pagan gods under my feet. The elephant statue with its obelisk, felt pagan too. It was designed by Bernini and unveiled in 1667,

Before entering the Basilica, I visited the adjoining building, the Convent of San Domenico, a lovely tranquil place with a garden, robed Dominican monks, and decorated cloisters. When I was there they were holding an exhibition of paintings, Saint Francis of Assisi from Cimabue to Perugino. My favourite picture was the honest and down-to-earth image of St Francis, complete with his big ears, soon after his death, painted by Cimabue (1240 – 1302) on the simile wooden coffin lid used for the dead saint until his grand memorial was built at Assisi. It helped me believe that saints are human too. I was moved too to see a specimen of St Francis’ handwriting.

The gothic splendour of the basilica was a special treat for eyes in danger of getting a bit too worn down by the Baroque. I loved to see the all the colours on the arches and vaulted ceilings that we have lost on our English gothic churches. Here was another moment, as in the Pantheon, to just stand and stare.

As a frequent visitor to Finland these days, I was amazed to find this side chapel dedicated to Finland’s patron saint, St Henrik, with a modern Gothic-looking wooden statue of the saint by the Finnish sculptor, Sakari Pykälä (1992). I discovered that I in Rome for St Henrik’s feast day and couldnt’ resist going to the celebration of the mass in his honour where the hymns were all sung in Finnish

Sitting in the congregation I could see a statue of Christ holding a cross to the left of the altar. I wasn’t expecting to come across The Risen Christ by Michelangelo, no less.

There is rain in Rome in January, but that was ok, an umbrella bought in a shop next to the apartment did the trick and there was still so much to see.

and to eat. Rome, as I am sure you know is a foodie’s delight – I loved it too, as the two kilos I put on while I was there proves.

After dinner, what better, well, you have many choices here in Rome, but, just down the street from here is that most famous of fountains, the Trevi Fountain as remembered by most cineastes for the moment Anita Ekberg uses it as her private paddling pool in Federico Fellini’s film La Dolce Vita (1960). I am also nostalgic for this most voluptuous of monuments when I listen to the underestimated composer, Ottorino Respighi’s symphonic poem, Fountains of Rome (1916).

The 18th century statues were designed by Nicola Salvi but completed by Giuseppe Pannini, it is the largest fountain in Rome and the crowds, especially the young couples, can’t resist its resist its romantic appeal. It Fellini every day here in this part of Rome.

Out of my apartment, turn left for the Pantheon and the Trevi Fountain, turn right for the baroque Basilica di Sant’Andrea della Valle, St Andrew’s Basilica. It is a majestic baroque church consecrated in 1650.

The altar is surrounded by the epic painting by Mattia Preti (1613 – 1699) of Saint Andrew crucified on his x-shaped cross, under one of the most spectacular domed ceilings in the city.

I was lucky to catch a concert here celebrating the 600th anniversary of the birth of one of church music’s greatest composers, Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina (1525 – 1594), or Palestrina for short. The music was supplied by one of the choirs from St Peter’s Basilica who were joined by a visiting student choir from the University of Minnesota. the match of youthful American clarity and mellow Italian experience worked wonderfully. Palestrina’s music was, after all, composed to be heard in just such an acoustic as here.

The other Italian composer associated with this church is, of course, Giacomo Puccini 18587 – 1924), for it is here that his opera Tosca begins when the tenor, Mario Cavaradossi, is painting a portrait of Mary Magdalene in the Capella Barberini, but the features are of his mistress, Floria Tosca, a beautiful opera singer and, because he’s an Italian tenor, he falls in love with the image on his canvas and sings ‘Recondite Armonia di bellezze diverse!’ (Concealed harmony of contrasting beauties). I couldn’t but remember this and just had to play the aria again when I got back to the apartment. Look out for part two of my Roman story, https://wolfiewolfgang.com/two-weeks-in-rome-part-two/but until then, here’s a link to Jonas Kaufmann singing the aria at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden..https://youtu.be/xw-pOOdm7bs?si=HgufGktRIxZlsLg

L’arte nel suo mistero

le diverse bellezze insiem confonde:

Ma nel ritrar costei

Il mio solo pensiero,

il mio sol pensier sei tu,

Tosca, sei tu!

Art in its mystery

two beauties together confuse

but in painting this

my only thought is of you

Tosca, of you!

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Welcome to Glinka Gallery, it’s open 24/7. it has six individual galleries for fine art, photography, poetry, dance and music and it is just a few finger clicks away from you wherever you are. I want to show you around.

I have always been involved with the arts world, from my student days, through many years making arts programmes for television, as a writer and, these days also as the artistic director of a virtual art gallery, Glinka Gallery, in the ‘multi-player virtual world’ called Second Life, where I have the virtual name, Wolfgang Glinka.

Wolfgang Glinka and Colin Bell are interchangeable versions of the person known as Me, and my gallery, is an extension of many of the things I have done and others that I have dreamed of doing before anyone even imagined the enormous potential of virtual reality. Virtual reality, is as its name implies just another form of reality. Here, as you can see in my welcome notice to virtual visitors to the gallery, I have been able to curate an extraordinary group of artists from most branches of the arts – fine art, photography, poetry, dance and music. Actually all of my artistic passions.

Over the eight years of Glinka Gallery’s existence, and now in in fourth rebuild, we are getting bigger and bigger, the gallery has shown regular exhibitions by a family of regular artists, including our resident artist, Lash vv, creatives in both virtual and real worlds, who find freedom and support at what has now become more than a gallery, more of a creative arts centre.

We now have an ever-growing permanent collection of some of the work by our exhibitors over the years. I think of them as my friends.

I am a writer, a novelist and poet, and I have been experimenting here at the gallery with ways of putting poetry, in particular, on the walls, along with fine art. Therefore I have built specific spaces for poetry and created a role for a resident poet (Shyla the Super Gecko) who holds regular poetry reading events here.

I also put on exhibitions of my own work, especially my Fibs, short-form Fibonacci poems which lend themselves to life on the wall as well as on the page. They have their own home in the Fibonacci Gallery.

Here is my, well, Wolfgang Glinka’s short film of his, well my Fib, Reflections, published by The Fib Review and now also viewable on Youtube.

We also have a resident dance troupe, 21 Parakeets, directed by Joseph Nussbaum, a composer and choreographer, who has sought to make contemporary dance an equal partner here with fine art and poetry. His work is inspired by the wish to show challenging but also entertaining dance shows in our own custom built dance theatre, the Aviary Theatre, built by our buildings director, Tony Marino.

Since I’ve been running the Glinka Gallery, I have been able to develop my interest in photography, often too far down the list of my priorities, in a busy writing schedule. In the last eight years I have been pushing myself to make my photography an equal form of expression with my poetry. At first, I made photography exhibitions of my work mostly shot on foreign trips, buy recently I have developed my interest in photo-art, mostly known as digital photo-editing or image manipulation. This is a completely new world for me and I was excited to find I could attract a large audience for the first of my recent shows, Ecce Homo, (Behold the Man), an examination of masculinity at a time of crisis in male identity.

My most recent show is Dead Poets in Love, Queer Writers from Shakespeare to Burroughs. Here I am trying another experiment in bringing writing and photography together. This has been, maybe my longterm ambition for most of my life. In the gallery the texts float as an ethereal presence in front of my manipulated images of the writers themselves. In the movie of the show, I decided that it was better to leave out the texts. Maybe I will take this idea further in my next projects.

If the potential of the arts in the virtual world is new to you, and if you are interested to come to Glinka Gallery and to the other arts venues in the often under-estimated virtual platform, Second Life, https://secondlife.comhere is a brief look. We hope to see you there, maybe.

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The beautiful city of Ravenna, on the East Coast of Italy, in Emilia-Romagna, sits between Venice and Rimini, but is less crowded than its more famous neighbours. Once, however, it was the capital of Italy and one of the grandest cities of Europe.

That was a long time ago, in the 4th and 5th centuries AD, after the most glorious days of Ancient Rome, when the Roman Emperors had moved to Constantinople and the Goths, those people we still think of as barbarians and vandals, had invaded Italy, and Rome itself had been sacked, or as we say, after it had Fallen. The invading Goths forced the Roman emperors to leave Rome and set up a new capital at Milan, but that too became unsafe from attack, so, in the year 402, the Emperor Honorius (384 – 423) moved his court to Ravenna to the south. He transformed what had been a small swampy town built on piles on a series of small islands in a marshy lagoon, like Venice centuries later, and inland from the Adriatic Sea into one of the greatest cities and ports of Europe. It is now linked to the sea by the 18th century Candiano Canal

As a schoolboy, I thought people knew that Rome had fallen because they heard the bang, but history is never that simple. Ravenna is an example of that. I came here in a very hot June 2024, not sure what I would find, but generally, as they say, wowed by what was here. If it is nowadays a very civilised and gentle place, its position on the Adriatic Sea, facing the more civilised East, meant that between 35 and 12 BC, the town became Emperor Augustus Caesar’s principal Roman port at Classis, where he stationed the Roman Fleet.

The ancient port is now a series of ruins displayed in an open air museum, a vivid reminder of the glory and the fall of Rome.

The place is now a pleasant suburb of Ravenna, called Classe, a short train or bus journey from the city. It has one of Ravenna’s most magnificent basilicas, a few shops and a trattoria. It also has a glittering and spacious new museum which recounts the history of Ravenna with excellently designed installations.

Rome did ‘fall’ but it didn’t disappear, it remained the official capital of the land we now call Italy, even after the capital of the Roman Empire became Constantinople. The problem had been those Goths, Visigoths and Ostrogoths, and, especially Theodoric the Great (454 – 526), the King of the Ostrogoths (Western Goths), the Goths’ supreme military general, who became the de facto King of Italy after a series of invasions and skilled diplomatic treaties. He managed to become not only the conquering ruler of Italy but also its acknowledged ruler under the Roman Emperor in Constantinople. Was he a Barbarian? Well, most political leaders are barbarians, and he did his set of ‘bad’ things, but as he was also one of the most important figures in guaranteeing the continuation of Italian, and maybe European, culture after the so called Fall of Rome and before the rise of Charlemagne (748 – 814). Theodoric is important for us because he made Ravenna his capital and insured its magnificence much of which is still visible today.

If any of you are still thinking that those invading Goths were just rampaging barbarians, then you only have to visit the eight early Christian churches in Ravenna that are all on the World Heritage List. (See my next blog). The Ostrogoths were Aryan Christians, but let’s not go into the differences between them and the Orthodox Christians of Constantinople, or the Roman Catholic Christians of Rome, but, here in Ravenna, the three theological branches combined to produce, in the 4th and 5th centuries AD, some of the most magnificent surviving early Christian mosaics in the world history of art. Even if you are not interested in church history, or even any history, the sheer beauty of the art makes this place a must-see.

I will revisit these churches in the next blog because there is so much to see. I was lucky enough not only to visit all the sites, but to go to a concert held in the 2024 Ravenna Festival in one of those churches, the Basilica of San Vitale (547 AD)

The French early music group, Irini Ensemble, director Lila Hajosi, performed music by the great Franco-Flemish composer Guillaume Du Fay (?1397 – 1474) and a number of his contemporary Greek Orthodox composers, to celebrate and mourn the glory and then the fall of Constantinople in 1453. It would be difficult to find a more beautiful setting for this music. Here’s a video of them singing this music, not in Ravenna, but at the Abbaye de Fontfroide, Narbonne, France.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P8uaW3AvSdQ

Guillaume Du Fay’s 15th Century music felt positively modern after being immersed the 4th and 5th Centuries. I had been immersed in the Ravenna of 1400 years ago and it was easy to forget that Ravenna didn’t actually go to sleep after its extraordinary era of world dominance. If there was any danger of me forgetting the many interesting and dramatic centuries of Italian history since the death of Theodoric the Great, then this poster for a wacky art show here in the city centre, soon reminded me of some other celebrated names in the story of Ravenna.

Ravenna is proud of the poets who lived here. Dante Alighieri (c.1265 – 1321), author of Divine Comedy (Comedia Divina) which was partly written and completed in Ravenna when he’d escaped Florence, his home town, after falling out with its rulers over his opposition to the Papacy’s plans to rule all the Italian city-states. He was to live and die an exile, a political refugee, in Ravenna, where he is buried. Another poetic resident was the Englishman, Lord Byron, George Gordon Byron, (1788 – 1824), the great Romantic poet who, in the spirit of romance, came to live here (1819 – 1821) for the love of a married woman, Teresa, Contessa Guiccioli, and where he continued to write his epic poem, Don Juan, but also his Ravenna Diary. Teresa had to return to her husband but Byron wrote to her of his, or of their, love:  

“I love you, and you love me,—at least, you say so, and act as if you did so, which is a great consolation in all events. But I more than love you, and cannot cease to love you. Think of me, sometimes, when the Alps and ocean divide us,—but they never will, unless you wish it.“

In 1822, he went to Greece where he died working in support of the Greek fight for independence and where he died of a fever in 1824.

Byron lived in a house that backed onto the Piazza San Francesco which is also the site of one of Ravenna’s great basilicas, the former Franciscan monastery, now the Basilica di San Francesco, where Dante’s funeral was held after his death from malaria in 1321.

The Basilica di San Francesco was built on the site of the original 5th Century church in 1261 when it was handed over to the Franciscans as a monastery. It suffered the fate of many Italian churches from that period by being given 18th century Baroque ornamentation. This was removed at the beginning of the 20th century in preparation for the 600th Anniversary of Dante’s death. It has restored the basilica to how it would have looked in the 13th century.

The Piazza San Francesco is also where I found the excellent Caffè Pasticceria Palumbo ://www.facebook.com/caffepalumbo/ a great place to stop and have a glass of beer and a cake, or even, of course, a coffee. The piazza is a good place to just sit in the sun or to find a spot in the shade to think about Byron and Teresa or Dante and Beatrice, or about anything you fancy. My walks round the city often led me here.

Classense Library, part of a Camaldolese monastery in central Ravenna, is an active civic and research library, one of the largest and oldest in Italy, and also the custodians of a uniquely complete collection of first editions of Dante’s works. The cloisters are also a lovely place to sit and read or to discuss university exams or just to sit and think.

Walking round the streets in Ravenna’s historic centre, there are, of course, restaurants and bars a plenty, but, one last Dante reference, I promise, you can also ‘Walk Ravenna with the Divine Comedy’, the Camminare Ravenna con la Divina Commedia – I loved this idea. At various stops along the way you can use the QR codes on your phone to stop and pause with extracts from Dante. Yes, Ravenna is a truly civilised place.

You can also stop and pause for a beer outside the Osteria Enoteca Ca’ de Vèn, or, better still, you could go inside for a fine meal based in Emiglia-Romagna culinary traditions. https://cadeven.it/

It was a very hot when I was in Ravenna, in June 2024, so it was not surprising that a drink al fresco was a popular pastime, not just for me. It was also possible to watch the football because Euro 2024 was in progress, and sadly, but philosophically, received here (well, this is Ravenna). On a humid night in the city’s main square, Piazza del Populo, Italy lost 1 – 0 to Spain.

In a street just off Piazza del Populo, is one of the best restaurants I found. Al Cairoli, in Via Cairoli, is friendly, stylish and the menu and wine list is gourmet class. It was a special experience – repeated.

https://www.yelp.com/biz_photos/osteria-dei–ravennahttps://ristorantealcairoli.it/

Like the nearby Basilica di San Francesco, the 5th century Basilica di Sant’Agata Maggiore was considerably altered by an earthquake in the 17th century, with the loss of most of its mosaics. In the 18th century, there were further changes with the addition of baroque ’embellishments’, mercifully, these were removed in the late 19th century and early 20th century and further restoration was needed in the 1960s and 1980s to remedy the near destruction of part of the church during the Second World War. The result in 2024, for all the losses, is a beautiful and uncluttered church with sensitive attention given to the many original details that were discovered from the original building. An excellent example of what can be gained by such skilful restoration of much altered monuments. It is an oasis of peace.

Not far from Sant’Agata, there is another fine but traditional restaurant on a quiet side street in central Ravenna, Via Cerchio. Trattoria al Cerchio is charming and welcoming with a friendly and hard-working staff, great food and, a special and unexpected treat, framed quotes from Virginia Woolf, Henry James, Oscar Wilde and Lord Byron on the walls. Most of the clientele, with few exceptions, were Italian and many seemed to be regulars. It felt like the real Italian experience, even with English and Anglo-Irish writers on the wall. This place is well worth finding. I went there often and stayed longer than planned having an altogether excellent time. https://www.facebook.com/trattoriaalcerchio/?locale=it_IT

On the Via Roma, not far from where I was staying, is the Museo d’Arte della città di Ravenna, MAR, where I caught an impressive exhibition of 20th and 21st century mosaics that proved, if it still needed proving, that Ravenna is still the true international capital of this art form. It was a surprise to me to learn that Ravenna’s twin city is Chichester, in my own home county of Sussex, where some fine Romano-British mosaics have been discovered. This twinning makes me doubly fond of Ravenna.

The 2024 Ravenna Festival sponsored the reorchestration of the American Minimalist composer, Philip Glass’s music for the third of his Qatsi Trilogy, Naqqoyqatsi (2002) when he worked with the American director Godfrey Reggio. Glass rearranged his score to be a closer match to his scores for the two earlier non-narrative films, Koyaanisqatsi (1982) and Powaqqatsi (1988) (the names comes from the Hopi language – qatsi meaning life). The three films were screened on three consecutive nights, with Glass’ Philip Glass Ensemble playing along with the solo cellist, Erica Piccotti, the Orchestra della Toscana, the Choir of Siena Cathedral and the Children’s Choir from the Accademia del Maggio Musicale Fiorentino. The veteran conductor, a long-term Philip Glass collaborator, was Michael Riesman. It was a thrilling experience to see these still adventurous and modernist feature-length films with such a large group of musicians performing live in the beautiful Teatro Dante Alighieri (opened in 1852). The three films, now wearing the same musical clothes, made their full impact when screened as a live and truly epic three day event.

The Trattoria Il Buon Gusto, just outside the old city walls on Via Cesarea, is a small, owner-run and excellent restaurant, a kind of casa da casa, home from home, with informal and personal service that is also very reasonably priced. It was also only a very short walk from where I was staying. A great place. http://trattoriadelbuongusto.com/index.asp#chisiamo ↗

The city of Ravenna is near but not on the Adriatic Coast – it’s a twenty minute bus ride away – regular buses for the beach go from the Railway station. Look for Marina di Ravenna and the journey is easy.

This was June and very sunny and hot, so I was surprised to find the beaches so uncrowded during the week – and not over-crowded at the weekends. The sand is white and soft, the sea blue and warm, so there was every reason to make the journey here even if you don’t want to try the Ravenna fashion for Beach Tennis. I went to Big Mamma beach – well it was near the bus stop – and it was civilised, friendly, with loungers and umbrellas, a friendly bagnino, and perfectly good food and drinks. The swimming was truly wonderful.

Apart from trips to the sea and a bus ride to Classe, everything was easily accessible on foot in Ravenna and walking round this lovely city was an interesting pleasure in its own right.

I was staying by one of the ancient gates in the city walls, Porta Nuova, some of which still stand. I felt at home almost straight away and even my usual habits, such as morning martial arts practice, could carry on up there on my roof terrace dojo.

I will write about the sensational mosaics in Ravenna’s Unesco World Heritage sites in the next blog – here is the link. https://wolfiewolfgang.com/ravenna-the-mosaics-essential-sites-and-sights-to-see/

I came to Ravenna for the mosaics, of course, but after the Ancient Romans, the Goths, and the others, I was excited to find so much more and to discover that Ravenna is still a cultural capital for many of the things we still value, or should still value in Europe.

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I live just up the street from the Lewes Chamber Music Festival, now in its 12th year, and I’m just back from the final concert of this year’s truly inspiring festival. The theme was Schoenberg and friends, and the festival director kept to her brief with a series of concerts that explored and celebrated the music, not always popular with the concert-going public, but demonstrated that the great revolutionary composer, born 150 years ago this year, and those who came into his sphere, were writing thrilling, emotionally and philosophically profound music that is accessible to anyone prepared to put their prejudices behind them for three days of superb music-making. Highlights were Schoenberg’s early string sextet, Verklärte Nacht (Transfigured Night), given a luminous late-night performance; a newly-composed arrangement of two scenes from Richard Strauss’ opera, Der Rosenkavalier, and Erwin Stein’s 1921 arrangement of Mahler’s 4th Symphony for string quartet plus double bass, flute, oboe, clarinet, with piano and. harmonium, percussion, and soprano soloist. Thrilling too was Schoenberg’s late deeply emotional dramatic String Trio, given a hair-raising performance and there was also a lovely and mysterious performance of his Five Piano Pieces by French pianist Alphonse Cemin, and, in the final concert, Schoenberg’s dramatic World War Two, Ode to Napoleon Bonaparte, a setting Byron’s tyrant-attacking poem, for string quartet, piano and narrator (a stentorian and musically rhythmic Sam West).

There was also excitingly virtuosic performances of music by Charles Ives, his Piano Quartet, with, incredibly but excitingly, bass drum, known as Hallowe’en, Alban Berg, Four Pieces for clarinet and piano, Op 5, and, it has to be said, Mozart and Beethoven and the sublime Clarinet Trio by Brahms, another outstanding performance from brilliant clarinetist Matt Hunt. This year’s festival was, just possibly, the best so far. Plaudits all round.

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