Modest Mussorgsky
- Born: March 21, 1839, Karevo, Pskov District, Russia
- Died: March 28, 1881, St. Petersburg, Russia
Pictures at an Exhibition
- Composed: 1874, orchestrated by Ravel in 1923
- Premiere: Orchestral version premiered May 3, 1923 in Paris, conducted by Sergei Koussevitzky
- Instrumentation: 2 flutes (incl. piccolo), piccolo, 3 oboes (incl. English horn), 2 clarinets, bass clarinet, 2 bassoons, contrabassoon, alto saxophone, 4 horns, 3 trumpets, 3 trombones, tuba, timpani, bass drum, bell in E-flat, crash cymbals, glockenspiel, ratchet, snare drum, suspended cymbals, tam-tam, triangle, whip, xylophone, 2 harps,
- CSO notable performances: First CSO Performance: December 1929, Fritz Reiner conducting. Most Recent: December 2017, Andrey Boreyko conducting. Recording: Pictures at an Exhibition (1970, Decca), Erich Kunzel conducting the CSO; and Mussorgsky: Pictures at an Exhibition (2008, Telarc), Paavo Järvi conducting the CSO—Grammy winner for Best Surround Sound Album, 51st Annual Grammy Awards.
- Duration: approx. 33 minutes
Though the history of the Russian nation extends far back into the mists of time, the country’s cultural life is of relatively recent origin. Russian interest in art, music and theater dates only from the time of Peter the Great (1672–1725), the powerful monarch who coaxed his country into the modern world by importing ideas, technology and skilled practitioners from western Europe. To fuel the nation’s musical life, Peter, Catherine and their successors depended on a steady stream of well-compensated German, French and Italian artists who brought their latest tonal wares to the magnificent capital city of St. Petersburg. This tradition of imported music continued well into the 19th century: Berlioz, for example, enjoyed greater success in Russia than he did in his native France; Verdi composed La Forza del Destino on a commission from St. Petersburg, where it was first performed.
In the years around 1850, with the spirit of nationalism sweeping across Europe, several young Russian artists banded together to rid their art of foreign influences in order to establish a distinctive nationalist character for their works. Leading this movement was a group of composers known as “The Five,” whose members included Modest Mussorgsky, Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, Alexander Borodin, César Cui and Mily Balakirev. Among the allies that The Five found in other fields was the artist and architect Victor Hartmann, with whom Mussorgsky became close personal friends. Hartmann’s premature death at 39 stunned the composer and the entire Russian artistic community. Vladimir Stasov, a noted critic and the journalistic champion of the Russian arts movement, organized a memorial exhibit of Hartmann’s work in February 1874, and it was under the inspiration of that showing that Mussorgsky conceived his Pictures at an Exhibition for piano.
At the time of the exhibit, Mussorgsky was engaged in preparations for the first public performance of his opera Boris Godunov, and he was unable to devote any time to his Pictures until early summer. When he took up the piece in June, he worked with unaccustomed speed. “‘Hartmann’ is bubbling over, just as Boris did,” he wrote to a friend. “Ideas, melodies come to me of their own accord, like a banquet of music—I gorge and gorge and overeat myself. I can hardly manage to put them down on paper fast enough.” The movements mostly depict sketches, watercolors and architectural designs shown publicly at the Hartmann exhibit, though Mussorgsky based two or three sections on canvases that he had been shown privately by the artist before his death. The composer linked his sketches together with a musical “Promenade” in which he depicted his own rotund self-shuffling—in an uneven meter—from one picture to the next. Though Mussorgsky was not given to much excitement over his own creations, he took special delight in this one. Especially in the masterful transcription for orchestra that Maurice Ravel did in 1922 for the Parisian concerts of conductor Sergei Koussevitzky, it is a work of vivid impact to which listeners and performers alike can return with undiminished pleasure.
Promenade. According to Stassov, this recurring section depicts Mussorgsky “roving through the exhibition, now leisurely, now briskly in order to come close to a picture that had attracted his attention, and, at times sadly, thinking of his friend.”
Gnomus. Hartmann’s drawing is for a fantastic wooden nutcracker representing a gnome who gives off savage shrieks while he waddles about on short, bandy legs.
Promenade — The Old Castle. A troubadour (represented by the saxophone) sings a doleful lament before a foreboding, ruined ancient fortress.
Promenade — Tuileries. Mussorgsky’s subtitle is “Dispute of the Children after Play.” Hartmann’s picture shows a corner of the famous Parisian garden filled with nursemaids and their youthful charges.
Bydło. Hartmann’s picture depicts a rugged wagon drawn by oxen. The peasant driver sings a plaintive melody (solo tuba) heard first from afar, then close-by, before the cart passes away into the distance.
Promenade — Ballet of Little Chicks in Their Shells. Hartmann’s costume design for the 1871 fantasy ballet Trilby shows dancers enclosed in enormous egg shells, with only their arms, legs and heads protruding.
Samuel Goldenberg and Schmuÿle. [Editorial by Tyler M. Secor - Richard Taruskin in his book, Musorgsky: Eight Essays and an Epilogue corrects the record on the title of the seventh movement of Pictures at an Exhibition. Mussorgsky’s original tile for this movement is correctly transcribed as “ ’Samuel’ Goldenburg und ‘Schmuÿle.’ ” “The use of quotation marks points up the fact that the two zhidy [an antisemitic slur for diaspora Jews used in several Slavic languages] have the same first name: on Germanized, the other in the original Yiddish. They are in fact one zhid, not two. The portrayal is a brazen insult: no matter how dignified or sophisticated or Europeanized a zhid’s exterior, on the inside he is a jabbering, pestering little “Schmuÿle.” This movement’s longstanding title of “Two Jews: Rich and Poor” is what Taruskin calls a “sanitized titled” that Stasov invented in his 1881 obituary of Mussorgsky. This title was “taken over by [Pavel] Lamm in his critical edition, where Musorgsky’s original title was suppressed.”
Antisemitism and the use of the word zhid was “too widespread and accepted among Russians at the time to count as a mark of anti-Semitism.” However, Mussorgsky’s antisemitism went beyond what might be considered “normal” for this time period in Russia. Many of his letters contain horrible and sinister writings about Russian Jews.
In his 1992 The New York Times column “Only Time Will Cover the Taint,” Dr. Taruskin reminds of the power of music and the importance of a work’s historical context. “It does no good to argue that the music itself is inherently nonpolitical and nonracist. The music does not now exist, nor has it ever existed, in a social vacuum.” As long as we remember this then “we have not forgotten that music is a powerful form of persuasion that does work in the world, a serious art that possesses ethical force and exacts ethical responsibilities.”]
Limoges. A lively sketch of a bustling market, with animated conversations flying among the female vendors.
Catacombs, Roman Tombs | Cum Mortuis in Lingua Mortua. Hartmann’s drawing shows him being led by a guide with a lantern through cavernous underground tombs. The movement’s second section, bearing the title “With the Dead in a Dead Language,” is a mysterious transformation of the Promenade theme.
The Hut on Fowl’s Legs. Hartmann’s sketch is a design for an elaborate clock suggested by Baba Yaga, the fearsome witch of Russian folklore who eats human bones she has ground into paste with her mortar and pestle. She also can fly through the air on her fantastic mortar, and Mussorgsky’s music suggests a wild, midnight ride.
The Great Gate of Kiev. Mussorgsky’s grand conclusion to his suite was inspired by Hartmann’s plan for a gateway for the city of Kiev in the massive old Russian style crowned with a cupola in the shape of a Slavic warrior’s helmet. The majestic music suggests both the imposing bulk of the edifice (never built, incidentally) and a brilliant procession passing through its arches. The work ends with a heroic statement of the Promenade theme and a jubilant pealing of the great bells of the city.
— Dr. Richard E. Rodda