Going through old work I recently came upon some designs for Rimsky-Korsakov’s epic opera The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh and of the Maiden Fevroniya.
I remember the first time I heard extracts from this work on the radio as a teenager. Immediately I fell in love with the music, the composer and the legends and indeed Russia. Considered by many to be Rimsky-Korsakov’s finest opera, it was premiered in St Petersburg in 1907. Soon came the revolution though, and it’s spiritual and profound subject was unpopular in a newly atheist country and the opera fell into neglect.
In 1986 I went to Russia for two weeks, on a cultural tour. It was an eventful trip: firstly Chernobyl exploded (I had to be checked with a Geiger counter before being allowed back into the UK); secondly I was introduced to a dynamic young student conductor, Valery Gergiev (This was during the Gorbachev years, long before the monstrous Putin, with whom Gergiev has, sadly, aligned himself). I gave Gergiev a sketch as a gesture of East-West friendship… and we kept in touch; a few years later – when communism collapsed – he became the director of the Kirov (now Mariinsky) opera. I heard that he planned a new production of Kitezh. I offered to design sets for free.
We often met when he came to London for concerts (see old photo of me with more hair, above!), and he seemed to be wrestling with a conundrum. He liked my designs, but he couldn’t afford to fly me to St. Petersburg to work at the theatre, and this was a very important production. Beyond that, this is a very patriotic work and the Russians felt a Russian should design the opera. And so eventually Maestro Gergiev said “no”. A new production opened in 1993 with designs by a Russian. It all had seemed too good to be true anyway and I was just glad this beautiful jewel of a work was being revived. In the event, the sets – which relied on elaborate projections – were not much liked (although the opera was recognised as a neglected masterpiece), and to avoid catastrophe, I believe that my own designs were projected onto the basic set. I have no idea how much or little was used or to what effect. I wasn’t there and I didn’t see any performances.
After this, my designs were returned and were wistfully put away. Meanwhile a new production using designs “inspired by” Ivan Bilibin was mounted, but this too was problematic. In 1994 the Kirov performed it in Paris, and it was so heavily criticised that when they came to present the opera in London, it was given in concert, without sets or costumes. And astonishingly, Valery asked if my designs could be used to illustrate the programme!
I suppose that was a small feather in my rather crumpled cap.
Several other commissions for Kirov/Mariinsky programmes and leaflets (and even T shirts for Heaven’s sake) followed. Throughout this period, I got the impression Gergiev was juggling so many (temperamental) balls that the plight of a forlorn English artist was not high priority and I certainly didn’t push things. There was talk of me designing Stravinsky’s The Nightingale opera. But in the end… silence. And now of course I’m rather glad I’m not associated with Gergiev through any further collaboration.
I eventually saw Kitezh performed in Edinburgh in 1994. The Bilibin sets had been reduced to crude Disney-esque caricatures of his designs, and the potential of the piece to be magnificent was missed I felt, however glorious the singing.
A year later another new production was commissioned, this time with modern, abstract, expressionistic designs: the city is never seen and the clothes are largely contemporary. Critics liked this and felt it made the opera “political” and “relevant”. I think this living breathing musical icon deserves something more glorious. And so once again, my unfulfilled dream is … to bring this work to life on stage as I see it. As with Traviata, these old designs posted here are not what I’d do now by any means. But it is an interesting story to retell and remember.
For those interested, Kitezh combines two “old believer” legends from Russia, summed up in the lengthy title. And the story is one of the most ambiguous and beautiful in the operatic world. It takes place in mediaeval Russia, at the time of the Tartar tyrants…
Fevroniya is a child of nature who understands the language of the birds and talks to the animals. She knows all the flowers and how they heal, and lives alone in the vast Volga forests. A nobleman from the Sacred city of Kitezh finds her when out hunting. He thinks she is a sorceress, for she admits she never goes to church. But she explains that “God is everywhere. This forest is my cathedral, where, day and night the flowers and birds and animals sing their praises to their creator.”
The hunter is overwhelmed and gives Fevroniya his ring promising to return with a wedding carriage: she will be his bride and the forest will become a sanctuary. It is only afterwards that she learns that her betrothed is the Prince Vsevolod of Kitezh.
The villagers don’t approve of their future Queen, however, and interrupt her wedding cortege as it passes through the marriage festival. Fevroniya answers their comments with humility and convinces all but one: a drunkard called Grishka. When Tatars invade the area he is captured and tortured, and he betrays everyone and offers to show the Tartars the secret path to the Sacred City of Kitezh.
The Tartars murder the villagers and also capture Fevroniya. She prays for a miracle – may Kitezh become invisible.
Within the Holy Citadel, people pray for salvation. Vsevolod summons an army, but as the enemy approach the city, the Royal Page, in a tall tower, sees a fantastic sight: a golden cloud is descending, hiding the city. The bells ring by themselves “As if touched by the wings of angels”. The city vanishes from the face of the earth – of all the people who prayed it is the simple Fevroniya whose prayers have been answered.
On the battlefield Vsevolod is slaughtered, and Grishka is driven mad with guilt. He sees a vision in the lake – when the mist clears, the city is completely invisible, yet it is still reflected in the water. The Tartars also see this vision and flee.
It is now winter. Freezing and alone, Fevroniya imagines it is Springtime again and sings to the birds. Suddenly, miraculous Birds of Paradise appear and lead her to the ghost of Vsevolod, who breaks bread from Kitezh with her. Fevroniya gives the bread crumbs to her friends, the birds and animals, before taking leave of this world. Together with Vsevolod she ascends to Kitezh which, in the final scene, reappears as paradise: nature and civilisation joined in heaven. Everyone welcomes the new queen, and she sends a message of hope to earth: put your ear to the ground and listen – you will hear the bells of Kitezh calling the good to prayer. In Kitezh there is no suffering – only eternal joy. Search and you too can find the path to the invisible city…
The pantheistic themes combining nature and faith are extremely potent and this is without doubt my desert island disc. I have been obsessed with both composer and legend for over 30 years. But…whether I will ever reach MY invisible, unattainable goal, who knows?
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