- curation (n.)
- late 14c., from Old French curacion "treatment of illness," from Latin curationem (nominative curatio), "a taking care, attention, management," especially "medical attention," noun of action from past participle stem of curare "to cure" (see cure (v.)).
When speaking of the art of curation, it is interesting to note the roots of the word.
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Yesterday, at Opera Club Session #1 for Richard Wagner's 1843 opera, The Flying Dutchman, we learned about the opera from Peter Susskind. After our presentation, we looked at photos of the set for the upcoming production at SF Opera, and suddenly that ghost of a feeling appeared. This work is a pretty interesting opera to consider, especially in terms of curation.
Susskind will also be giving the pre-opera lectures for the upcoming production of Jerome Kern and Oscar Hammerstein's Showboat, and he was in the process of thinking about his way into the work to prepare audiences to encounter the 1927 musical. There are echoes across the 84 years between the two works— the artistic desire to create Gesamtkunstwerk, “total artwork,” drove both Wagner and Hammerstein to experiment with the form of musical drama. A coupling offers an interesting way to illustrate the evolution of an art form, especially when viewed in context of the attitudes and culture of their respective times and creators.
Interesting too to compare the female characters in these two works - Senta in The Flying Dutchman and Julie in Showboat - to illustrate how women in love have been depicted through both the European opera and the American musical.
In Wagner's opera, Senta encounters only a story and a portrait, but she still falls hard for The Flying Dutchman.
Look at her!
Always before the picture!
Senta, art thou to dream away thy young life,
Contemplating this portrait?
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The Spinning Chorus from Act II, Scene I by Richard Wagner,
English translation from the Metropolitan Opera libretto
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A despondent Senta hurls herself off a cliff, in the opera's last scene.
Senta.
Be cheerful thy mind, be joyous thy heart!
Thine will I be until death shall us part!
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Director Francesca Zambello offered her insight on Showboat's Julie LaVerne, the secretly bi-racial supporting character who also comes to a doomed end.“Julie is the fulcrum of the show, because she brings the dramatic issue that changes everything.”
Oh listen, sister
I love my mister man and I can't tell you why
Dere ain't no reason why I should love dat man
It must be sumpin' dat de angels done plan
When the audience hears Jerome Kern's music & Oscar Hammerstein II's lyrics from Showboat, they know that this feeling of jubilation is short-lived. Still we can't help lovin' the display of optimism— there is both joy and pain in the blues. In the time of a segregated America, Julie loves a white man and their marriage is a crime. There is something interesting about this American twist on the age-old scenario of doomed romantic love.
By the time Julie sings the torch song, “Bill,” the audience knows that “Misery's comin' around.”
I used to dream that I would discover
The perfect lover someday.
I knew I'd recognize him if ever
He came 'round my way.
I always used to fancy then
He'd be one of the God-like kind of men
With a giant brain and a noble head
Like the heroes bold
In the books I've read.
But along came Bill...
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By the time Hammerstein's protege Stephen Sondheim writes his 1984 musical, Sunday in the Park with George, musical dramas were ready to experiment with alternative endings to doomed love affairs.
Dot, the unhappy lover of the painter George Seurat, steps out of the fixed, framed canvas to embrace a new future. She is the one who chooses to end their relationship by leaving.
At the end of the Second Act, the passage of time offers a whole new perspective that frames her choice in a whole new way.
Look at what you've done,
Then at what you want,
Not at where you are,
What you'll be
Look at all the things
You gave to me
Let me give to you
Something in return
I would be so pleased...
Dot, the unhappy lover of the painter George Seurat, steps out of the fixed, framed canvas to embrace a new future. She is the one who chooses to end their relationship by leaving.
At the end of the Second Act, the passage of time offers a whole new perspective that frames her choice in a whole new way.
Look at what you've done,
Then at what you want,
Not at where you are,
What you'll be
Look at all the things
You gave to me
Let me give to you
Something in return
I would be so pleased...
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