Music was an important aspect of daily life for the Ancient Greeks.  But what does this music sound like?

On this vessel from 420 BCE we see a musical procession with an early type of harp called a Cithara and a double flute called the Aulos.  The depiction of musical instruments on vases—like this one here—provides important clues to how the Greeks used these instruments.

In 1893, a French archeologist found two musical excerpts inscribed in stone at the Athenian hoard at the archeological site of Delphi.  One of these was the Second Delphic Hymn of Apollo, a fragment of musical notation dated from 128 BC.  This excerpt is considered the most extensive specimen of ancient Greek music preserved to this day.  Amazingly, we even know the name of the composer from an inscription—an Athenian named Limenios, son of Thoinos.

By piecing together clues from archeologists and musicologists, scholars and musicians have created a reconstruction of this ancient work, written over 2000 years ago.  Listen for both the Cithara and the Aulos in this recording.

This panel painting of the Madonna and Child by Giovanni da Ponte is from Florence, Italy a city that—in this moment—was on the eve of the Renaissance.

The painting was made in style was known today as the International Gothic style, a style characterized by fine decorative elements.  If you look closely, you will see intricate details and raised textures on the surface of the panel that were made by stamping and tooling gold leaf.

Music from this period also celebrates detailed ornamentation, including flourishes of notes that dance around the melodic line.  One important musical
development from this period was polyphony, which refers to the layering of
multiple musical voices to create varying effects including complex rhythms, different tone qualities, and rich harmonies.

The composer Guillaume Dufay —one of the most important Renaissance composers—wrote the music you will hear, the motet Nuper Rosarum Flores,
to celebrate the consecration of the Florentine Cathedral’s Dome in 1436.  The music contains hidden references to the distinctive architecture of this structure that is still the symbol of Florence today.

As you look at this painting and listen to the music, think about the ways that layering colors and texture can create magical effects, both in music and painting.

As you look at this powerful painting by Genoese painter Luca Cambiaso, you can feel the strong emotions of the characters in this biblical story.  In this scene, Jesus is presented to the people.  Wearing a piercing crown of thorns he will be mocked and humiliated by a hostile crowd.

His delicately painted face exposes a sense of resignation and sorrow; the aching curve of his posture makes us feel his pain. In the late 1500s—because of the counter-reformation—artists began to make religious imagery that evoked an emotional response from the viewer so that they could relate and sympathize with the subjects’ emotions more easily.

UT musicology professor Andrew Dell’Antonio writes about the concept of “affetto” a technique used to expose the human side of biblical figures to help them connect on a deeper emotional level to the stories.  This sense of empathy created by affetto would help to aid viewers and listeners in religious worship.

Carlo Gesualdo, a Genoese composer from the same period as Cambiaso, used dramatic harmonies to create striking expressive effects.  He wrote music for the text O vos omnes, a responsory from the Roman Catholic liturgies for the Holy Week.  The text urges the congregation, “Pay attention, all people, and look at my sorrow.”

Gesualdo’s music from 1611 draws attention to Jesus’ sorrow through the use of strong dissonance and discordant moments, to evoke the sensation of pain in this moment of the narrative.

The longer we look, at this painting, the richer our sensory experience of the feel, the smell, the taste, and the sounds of this cheerful scene. We see four musicians: a keyboardist, a flutist, a violinist, and a tambourine player. The tambourine player at the center of the canvas looks out at the viewer, with one leg in the air, inviting us into the painting’s festive dance.

Secular music played an important role in the daily lives of Italian courts in the 1600s.  In this period, for the first time, music was open to a handful of elite women.  The female singer-songwriters of their day were known as the donne di palazzo (Women of the Palace), charmed their courts with intellectual conversation, dance and music, and their overall sophistication.

This song is by the Florentine composer Francesca Caccini, who in addition to being a virtuosa singer, played the guitar, lute, harp, and keyboard. She attained
“diva” status in her lifetime and performed in many European courts.  She then went on to be the first known woman to write an opera!

Like other female court musicians, Caccini would often sing about themes of romantic love—still a common theme in our music today.  This song’s title translates as , “I don’t understand that smile,” and it’s a flirty song about the fickle nature of  love. It starts with the invitation of the tambourine and features virtuosic singing and the harpsichord.

The Raising of Lazarus is one of the most dramatic biblical stories. Four days after Lazarus died as mourner were gathering, Jesus asked for the stone of  the tomb to be rolled open, and he exclaimed “Lazarus, come out!” Still wrapped in his grave clothes, Lazarus emerged from the tomb.

Imagine the sense of shock of seeing someone you imagined as dead rising from the ground!  In this late 16th century painting, Joachim Wtewael  shows us the drama that the people would have felt to witness this resurrection.  As Lazarus comes up, the surrounding figures swing into contorted poses, their limbs sprawling in every direction.  One man in the back seems to have collapsed in surprise!  There is a real sense of motion and commotion in this scene, brought to life by the rich colors and sweeping diagonal lines.

Many other artists and composers have depicted the drama of the Lazarus story. The Russian composer Sergei Rachmaninoff wrote an art song called The Raising of Lazarus in 1912. Listen for the piano’s powerful chords that support the sweeping and rumbling intensity of the voice.  As he tells the story, the singer’s tone grows into a bold roar—echoing the excitement of the plot.  Even though the painting and music are from two completely different historical periods, both highlight this intense emotional response to the miraculous scene.

Peacefulness. How do artists and musicians use their tools to evoke such a sensitive and delicate mood?  This small painting by Mattia Preti lets us peek into a peaceful and intimate moment shared between the Holy Family.  We see Mary’s hands safely embracing the baby, Joseph’s hands pressed over his heart, and the sweet and soft face of the sleeping Jesus child.  The careful attention to this detail draws us into the tender scene.

Musicians can evoke a similar sense of tranquility, but they use different techniques in order to craft sounds. In 2001, John Luther Adams wrote The Farthest Place, which is the name of a small Inuit village. Inspired by the natural beauty of the Alaskan landscape, Adams takes the listener on an evocative eleven-minute journey that transports the listener to this calm setting and creates the sensation of stopping time.  This effect is created by the layering of two aspects: first, the meditative shimmering of the piano, vibraphone and marimba, and second, the sustained tones played by the violin and double bass.

The story of Orpheus has captured the imagination of artists and composers throughout history.  In this ancient Greek story, Orpheus was said to have been able to charm all living things and even stones with his incredible music.

In this painting by the Genoese artist Sinibaldo Scorza, we see many animals—including a peacock, a bear and a monkey—all flocking to hear Orpheus perform.  Many composers throughout time have been fascinated by the great challenge of envisioning what this spellbinding music would have sounded like.  The earliest opera, from the year 1600 by Jacopo Peri, is about Orpheus, and still, contemporary composers—including Phillip Glass—still continue to depict the Orpheus legend.

I have chosen an excerpt from a ballet about Orpheus, with music written by Igor Stravinsky in Los Angeles in 1947.   In this excerpt, you will hear the modern and angular way that Stravinsky interprets Orpheus’ captivating lyre here as a solo harp.

Finally, springtime is here! This painting by Sebastiano Ricci is called Flora, named for the goddess of spring and its flowers.  Flora kneels in the center of the painting, elegantly pointing to the rich bouquet of flowers that she brings.  She and her surrounding cherubs move with the grace and beauty of springtime flowers, celebrating the season of rich color and warmth.

In 2006, UT Faculty Composer Donald Grantham wrote a piece called Music for
the Blanton to celebrate this building’s opening.  One of its 18 movements was written as a direct response to this painting.

Written for the English horn and the harp.  As you will hear, the musical lines are lyrical and sensual. The sounds of these two instruments weave together to create an evocative mood, which to me echoes the vibrant blossoms in the painting.  How do you connect the music with this painting?

Take a minute to look up, and you will see a beautiful shadow of a tree that is projecting through the window.  Or is it?

If you look closely, you will realize this is just an illusion, carefully crafted with grey acrylic paint.  The artist, Mary Temple, imitates the physical properties of light when it reflects through a window.  The close observation of nature allows Temple to play with our sense of perception with this subtle wall painting.

The detailed observation and imitation of the natural world can be an important element in music, too.  Oliver Messiaen was a French composer who would precisely transcribe the distinctive birdcalls of various species into musical notation and even considered himself to be an ornithologist as much as a composer.  In his work The Stained Glass Window and the Birds, we can imagine the birds fluttering outside the window, creating sounds and vibrant color reflected through stained glass.