There was a bite in the air Thursday as the UO horn ensemble set up for their open air concert in Pioneer Cemetery. It was quiet and sunless in the cemetery that morning, the type of weather and landscape that makes you feel as if you are a character in a late 19th-century Gothic novel. It was the perfect setting for a spooky celebration in the midst of a plague.
Lydia Van Dreel, director of the School of Music and Dance’s horn studio, said that “Howl Ye!” was the first live performance for the horn ensemble since the beginning of the pandemic. To prepare for the performance, the group has been rehearsing in the cemetery since the beginning of fall term. Van Dreel’s goal was to play while the weather was still decent.
The pandemic has posed obvious issues for artists whose work is typically collaborative and hinges on physical closeness, like ensemble musicians and dancers. Concerts in unexpected venues like these allow artists to showcase their work in a safe, but often nontraditional way. In this case, non traditionalism allowed for a unique experience that wouldn’t have taken place without the pandemic.
Part of this was due to collaboration. Upon hearing about the event during a SOMD meeting, dance professor Shannon Mockli spontaneously jumped at the opportunity to choreograph a piece to live music in a nontraditional space. Mockli recruited her colleague in the dance department Sarah Ebert to dance with her at the concert.
Mockli said that she was inspired by the dean of the SOMD, Sabrina Madison-Cannon, who has encouraged SOMD faculty to consider producing work in nontraditional performance spaces.
“I tell my students that you can be creative anywhere, so this is me taking my own words to the task,” Mockli said.
Around noon, musicians adorned in casual Halloween costumes performed four pieces under the willowy branches of the great Douglas firs in the southeastern part of the cemetery. The music ranged from religious choral music rearranged for horns to a piece written by an alumnus honoring a deceased SOMD professor. Mockli and Ebert, dressed in all black, danced to one piece as silhouettes against the overcast sky, then retreated to the audience for the rest of the performance. The mood was a bit somber, but it was not without joy. The audience, though small, seemed very present and appreciative of the work.
An ironic result of forced physical distancing is the relative intimacy of these performances. Unlike the crowd of individuals that would have made up the audience in a concert hall sometime before the pandemic, there is a sense of community among those who take the time to create and attend a performance like this.
For those who find these moments of community, the experience can be invaluable. You might have a moment of clarity when you find yourself in the bitter cold, watching two women dressed in black turtlenecks dance to the somber score of brass instruments. You might wonder what century you’re in for a moment. Then you may realize that it doesn’t matter, and you are just grateful to be in the presence of living art. Like centuries past, you may find momentary respite in the healing power of communal music and dance.
