Day 248 - Decorative instruments

 

May 24, 2021

I was a bit reluctant to go to the museum today, because I slept poorly last night and was quite tired. But I'm glad I did go, especially because when I arrived at the musical instruments galleries, an organist was trying out the impressive organ at the far end. The instrument's sound resonated through the empty space, a reminder of the pleasures of live music. I couldn't resist going to watch  the performer at work, playing what sounded to me like Poulenc or Duruffle, but when I caught a glimpse of the music, I saw that the composer was one Herbert Howells. Okay, I thought - he studied in France. But no  - according to Wikipedia,  he was a Brit through and through. Maybe all 20th century organ music sounds alike to me.

Gallery 681 is enormous, and I am planning a return visit. Its arrangement is a bit odd: the main organizing principle seems to be culture area (Africa, Japan, the Americas, e.g.), and within culture area, type of instrument (stringed, percussion, etc.), but there are also displays that don't fit these categories  (e.g., a cabinet of instruments that assume anthropomorphic forms). Still, I came away with no doubt that the makers of many instruments had visual aesthetics in mind. This was abundantly evident in such instruments as an oud and a guitar beautifully inlaid with mother-of-pearl and various woods.  But it was also clear in much simpler instruments.

One example is a jaguar trumpet, perhaps 15 inches long and made of terracotta.  an artifact of the Moche culture of Peru, which lasted between about 200 B.C.E. and 600 C.E. The jaguar, I learn from the signage, was revered as a symbol of might and associated with gods, rulers, and shamans. The Maya and others considered the jaguar's growls to be the sound of thunder, and the caption notes that the jaguar trumpet evokes its roar. I wish there were a recording of its sound.  In any event, the jaguar looks fierce, with its fiery eyes and sharp-looking teeth. I wonder whether the musician who played the instrument was thought to possess supernatural powers, at least while he was playing.

Even more striking, in its way, is a simple drum of wood and skin, perhaps 11 or 12 inches in diameter, made by Native Americans of the Great Plains, quite likely Sioux, toward the end of the 19th century. The instrument would have served its sound-making function equally well without any decoration at all, but instead, its creator painted it with the outline of a bird. At first, I thought that the bird was set against a background of jagged mountains, but I learn that the jagged line (I now see that it's an arrow with two points) represents a thunderbolt. How much more significant it is to think that playing the drum conjured up the rumble of thunder. 

later

On my second visit, I learn that, had I started at the other end of the gallery, I would have better understood the guiding logic. The theme is that geography, trade, migration, and travel have all had a role in shaping music. In particular, interactions along the Silk Road influenced the development of various instruments; I'll have to come back to this gallery before my Silk Road trip, now planned for September 2022. I also learned, to my surprise, that Portuguese immigrants introduced the ukulele into Hawaii!

One thing that's rather frustrating is that there are recordings attached to some of the instruments on display that seem to be accessible only through the general Met audioguide rather than through the gallery-specific one. I'll have to figure this out.