BY MIRANDA ILCHEF
Pictures at an Exhibition (Family event)
Sydney Symphony Orchestra
Sydney Opera House, 17 March
As I line up to enter the Sydney Opera House concert hall to see the Sydney Symphony Orchestra performance of Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition, I notice something about my fellow audience members. Many of them are half my height.
This is definitely not your typical symphony audience. Rather, this is part of the SSO Family Concert Series. And the excitement of first-time concertgoers is palpable. It is clearly a special occasion for many of the kids, who pose for photos in sequinned dresses and tiny bow ties. When we take our seats, the hall is a sea of small hands pointing excitedly at the instruments on stage. The boy to my left waves at the harp; says “Dad, look, it’s the angel instrument!”; and, when the lights dim, whispers: “Ooooh, it’s starting!”. I can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. As a music student, it encourages me to be grateful for the beautiful music we get to hear, play, and all-too-often take for granted.
This is also not a regular concert in that there is an accompanying performance by mime artist Andy Dexterity. He is skilled at keeping the kids engaged, taking suggestions from the audience, and having them mime along with him. The visual element he adds to the music is quite effective. In the seventh movement, Bydlo (‘The Cattle’), the heavy plodding of the celli and bassi is brought to life by Andy’s strained trudging across the stage.
But, amongst the frivolity, the afternoon is educational, too. The kids are having so much fun that they don’t even know they are learning, which is, in my opinion, exactly how music should be taught. We practice musical recognition. In The Old Castle, we listen for the heartbeat-like rhythm in the bass clarinet, and when it appears the kids clap along. In between the movements, the energetic SSO Fellows introduce their respective instrument families: strings, percussion, brass, and woodwind. This sparks the kids’ imagination, and I hear one girl compare the bass drum to thunder. I am quite sure this will be an event some of them will look back on to credit as the moment they were first inspired to learn their instrument. We find out about the interval of a tritone and hear it on the trombone. It prevails in the Baba Yaga movement. When asked what the tritone reminds them of, one boy says ‘trouble’, and another says ‘giant zombies’. The girl behind me tells her father it makes her scared. Everyone, Andy points out, is correct. There are no wrong answers, and it is an encouraging environment; perfectly designed for curious young minds.
It is rather refreshing to have a concert hall devoid of the deathly silence to which we have become accustomed. When the music starts, a particularly vocal pair of sisters behind me hums along to the (admittedly very catchy) opening theme. While their mother shushes them, I realise their humming doesn’t bother me at all. In fact, I am elated to hear this tangible example of music I know and love, spreading to the next generation.
Events like this are a wonderful supplement to a music education program. Just in small sample of audience members within my earshot, I could hear kids learning the names of instruments, finding out what the conductor’s job is, and using their imagination to shape a narrative to the music. The best way to expose children to classical music is surely in this environment, where they are not forced to sit silently but instead encouraged to move and have fun. And perhaps, those of us who are more seasoned concertgoers can learn something from the way children experience music. Maybe they can encourage us to reconnect with an unbridled pre-concert excitement, to not be afraid to ask questions, and to let ourselves be astounded by the music.
Images supplied. Credit: Daniela Testa.
