19.7.93
Urbino: a name that has hovered strangely in my consciousness for more than 20 years (at King’s, an article referred to “The Urbino”). The reality – as opposed to the vague image of a hilltop town – is perhaps more striking than I thought. Seen from afar (as we drove up in the car after someone had to pick us up when we had failed to catch the original train, after misreading the orario) – it was muted, but as soon as we had taken the lift up from the car park (300 L.) and were greeted by the amazing facade of the palace, it was clear that the place was a bit different.
Walking along the fine arcade opposite, we came to the main Piazza della Repubblica, an irregularly-shaped space, and then we turned left along Via Raffaello, up the hill towards Raphael’s birthplace, then moving off to the right towards a classical facade, a primary school that stood in for the music summer school registration office. That smell of paint, that sound of high, hard rooms.
Then back to the car and we sneak into the city – closed to non-residents’ cars – to leave our luggage. The place we are staying at in Via Saffi, on the edge of the city (not that this is far). From here (and where I now sit in the living space of the mansard) there is a stunning view over the Marche hills (or maybe Umbrian?), now blue with haze, and not so much rolling as tumbling. Not much sun – great fleecy clouds. Everything in the attic rather low in height for us grandi.
Yesterday evening, a lovely stroll to the antipodes and restaurant (Ragno d’Oro, Viale Don Giovanni Minzoni, 2) that serves a characteristic dish: crescie, made in the open kitchen with pig’s lard and panache, twirling the pastry round into coils, and then spirals – cooked, they are cut in two and have various savouries put in them – verdure, rucola and cheese etc. Yummy. Then to the piazza for an unsatisfactory (bottled) juice. But the situation made up for it, the night falling, the lights coming on, the people gradually filling the tables.
Strange to be here, if only because now I feel in an odd, rather frightening prepartum stage, with Doing The Business about to come. I have with me printouts (Word, XL, Project) of the various plans; I hope to work a little on it, since I am only down for one course – clavicembalo with Rinaldo Alessandrini – had to practise for the last week, 2/3 hours a day: Byrd’s "The Carman's Whistle", Couperin "La Couperin" (Ordre 21ème de clavecin in E minor), Scarlatti F major sonata and Bach C major 48 prelude and fugue (the lush, not pretty, prelude).
I have woken reasonably early at 6.30am, showered, and smell heavenly coffee from somewhere… Walking around the city (the sun now strong) after breakfast in the Piazza della Repubblica. The particular quality of the bricks: they look like carefully treated masterpieces themselves. The Piazza del Rinascimento: stunning set piece.
20.7.93
A strange day. To the cembalo class with Rinaldo Alessandrini – where I sit for four hours on my bum and listen to others. But this afternoon in the main church (cathedral) by the palazzo (great facade) working on Doing The Business which is coming along. Before, a walk, rather hot and sweaty in the city. The narrow streets, with their brick pavements, a little oppressive. In some ways, Urbino is Siena upside down, everything falling where Siena rises. Last night very civilised meal at Ristorante Oxford.
My position here is rather ambiguous: playing the harpsichord briefly yesterday and today is the first time for two years (since 1991 Dartington) – most of this music for the first time ever on the harpsichord. Strange too this school with its hard seats and semi-desperate musicians. Rinaldo impressive technically, but rather down – shyness apparently. Musicians give so much and yet generally receive (from this world, at least) so little. Like actors, but the latter are more extrovert – when they’re not playing, musicians are almost invisible. A world full of musicians would have to live in harmony - they couldn’t risk damaging their hands/throats/mouths….
21.7.93
On the hill opposite Urbino, looking across to the palace. What a view...the whole city at a glance, almost. Strange, but rather like Mowley in Doing The Business, I find myself increasingly worried by the state of international affairs: things are really going to get worse, I fear.
A bell rings – that clangorous after-sound, hollow, other-wordly…
23.7.93
A day off. (Interesting night before last – trapped by torrential rain, very impressive lightning.) At the Palazzo Ducale. In the library – rather bare. Always interesting to see third-rate pix – reminds you how good the others are…
Finally Piero – The Flagellation: much smaller than I expected – also very grey, not brown with age. And the Madonna too – very grey. With the strange stillness in the figures – very modern. The Flagellation – the extreme perspective of the marble floor. The isolation of the spaces. The blue of the sky. The very low viewpoint. That stillness again – as if caught in a moment of pensiveness. Strange to see the naked wood around the outside. The Madonna – the angel with folded arms like a heavy. The imperious gesture of the child. The moulding on the wall behind. The mother’s downward glance.
To the study – the smell of wood. Like painting by numbers – but in wood. The music in the wood, the lute strings. The Tempietto delle Muse with 88 putti, all different, in the ceiling.
La Città Ideale – possibly Piero, or by Luciano Laurana – reminds me of Canary Wharf – all the grey marble and classical forms. Strange that in the ideal city there are no people. Just the hint of them: a door half open, a few plants, paths in the hills. No animals either. At once serene and disquieting.
Odd: pic of Giusto di Gand (Ghent) - apostles and Federico with his nose… The Raphael tapestries. Unusual colouring of Giovanni Santi saints. Weirdest – Signorelli – two pictures – what drugs was he on? The space very odd – god outside. Raphael – La Muta – very unusual – big-jawed woman, like a horse-faced Gioconda. Two dull Titians.
24.7.93
Work today – more on "The Carman’s Whistle" – and nothing on "La Couperin". Also played the Prelude and Fugue in C, Book II. Very incorrectly, it has to be said. Trouble is, I am not built for practising, and tire quickly.
To the concert: Roy Goodman and the Euro Baroque Players. Roy looks like a pint-sized Dennis Hopper, and jigs around in a very unbecoming way. Good play of the Rameau and interesting Dutch bloke – Hellendaal. Vivaldi awful – very muddy. Left before Handel. Pity about the acoustics of the church (San Domenico).
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