news – Don Carlo and the Seamstress

Many of us want to express our warm love and support for Jonas Kaufmann during this time of his recovery–a recent article has highlighted this–and there are many ways to do this, especially via his Facebook page.

One sweet friend, Basia (Barbara Gawel), a great admirer of our tenor, proposed sending postcards–in her words, “with good wishes and thanks for his unique art”–suggesting perhaps cards featuring “plenty of roses”. It would be a delight to hear about all of the love and support coming in for him from all over the world. Beautiful idea, Basia!

We're here for you, Jonas! — We’re here for you, Jonas!

Munich’s postal service might need to hire some extra help with the flood of letters coming in, but for those who love real, postal mail—and who doesn’t?–why not drop him a line via the address listed on the “contact” page of his site? (Also shown above.)

If you prefer email, there is also an address listed for his private secretariat: secretariat@jonaskaufmann.com

One from the whole family, and one from me

I tried to put my picture in the comments, but apparently it won’t do photos. So, here it is. Perhaps one of us can put a little photo collage together ~ it would be fun to hear of what parts of the world they’re coming from! But either way, the important thing is that they are sent. Write on, friends!

There are those moments in the life of every budding obsession when, by some miraculous means, our appreciation soars to new heights; so high, in fact, that we have no conception of ground level anymore, and couldn’t return there if we tried. At least, we couldn’t return there as though we had never experienced transcendence.

In my initial post, I wrote of the first time I had heard the voice of our tenor (yes, 7:30am on February 5, but who’s keeping track?) via a YouTube recording of the Pearl Fishers duet. It was ~ in the words of C.S. Lewis describing the writing of his friend J.R.R. Tolkien ~ “like lightning from a clear sky”. After this, I began to watch opera again, and as if for the first time; and of course, I listened innumerable times to that bromance beauty with Jonas and Dmitri.

Hey, can't they even spell his name right?? — Hey, can’t they even spell his name right??

The second great moment (for me personally) happened also at 7:30, but in the evening, two and a half weeks later. One of the cinemas in Medford, the larger town a little north of us, screens some wonderful theatrical and opera productions, including the Met Live in HD operas. On February 23^rd of this year they had a screening of Jonas Kaufmann’s An Evening With Puccini, from his concert at Milan’s La Scala. As any Kaufmanniac knows, this concert is a priceless treasure. For an opera newbie, who loved Turandot as a child but who knew little of Puccini’s repertoire in general, it was magic ~ and Jonas a magician casting a spell from which I have never recovered, and I know I’m not alone. With the brilliant Jochen Rieder conducting, it is a thing of beauty.

(Here, I must also tip my hat to my youngest brother, who had the misfortune of sitting next to an embarrassingly sobbing sister in the theater that night.)

Of course, besides the exquisite “Nessun Dorma” ~ and the likewise exquisitely endearing encore of it at the end, which I’ll not spoil for those who haven’t seen it ~ there were two pieces in particular, among the many that were new to me (and most of them were…newbie that I was/am!), which brought me metaphorically to my knees: a piece from an opera that I’d never seen (La Fanciulla del West) ~ more on this later ~ and one that was not a Puccini aria, but a piece by the Italian priest Licinio Refice, with lyrics by Emidio Mucci. It is called “Ombra di Nube” (1935). It would appear that our tenor is particularly fond of this piece, and works it into a number of his concerts.

Here is a YouTube recording of “Ombra di Nube,” sung at another concert (warning: the sound gets suddenly too loud at the applause at the end):

Ombra di Nube

The sky was an arc of dazzling blue;

a brilliant light shone down on my heart.

Shadow of a cloud, do not bring me darkness;

do not obscure the beauty of life for me.

Fly, cloud, fly far away from me;

let this strange torment of mine be swept away.

Bring back the light, bring back the blue!

Let me see the clear sky for all eternity!

Not only to listen to, but to watch Jonas sing this is to witness something transcendent; he is on another plane altogether. Every word is delicately, poignantly sung, as from one who has experienced the tormented plea, and fragile hope, firsthand. By some mysterious means, he brings us with him.

(It is no wonder that a number of us ~ myself included ~ have since asked that this piece be played at our funerals.)

With Jonas’ recent announcement of another cancellation, this time of his Paris performances in Les Contes d’Hoffmann, he reveals that he has sensed for some time that something has been wrong with his voice. Sure enough, the side effect of a medication has indeed done some damage, which will require rest and time off to heal.

The news, of course, must be disappointing for so many who had tickets to see our tenor in the near future. (I can only imagine, as one who prays to see and hear him in person at least once before I die.) That being said, how much must our tenor himself be wishing that this “strange torment of mine be swept away”!

My hope and prayer is that this is only the “shadow of a cloud”; once the cloud has passed by and our light returns ~ for Jonas’ extraordinary gift has indeed been a light in many lives ~ it will be all the brighter for our having experienced the shadow with him. Now, every time I hear him in a recording, it is with the greatest gratitude to have heard such beauty, though not yet in person, in my lifetime.

Thank you, Jonas, for sharing the gift of your great artistry, and your great heart. Rest, and be well. Take all the time that you need; for what you’ve already given us is beyond price.

Meanwhile, I silently pray:

“Bring back the light!”

“Do not obscure the beauty of life for me.”