Tale of the Cottingley Fairies (2023 - World Premiere) by Ethan Gurwitz - Meadows Wind Ensemble

Описание: Tale of the Cottingley Fairies (2023) - Concert Operetta for Soprano, Flute and Wind Ensemble - World Premiere - by Ethan Gurwitz (b. 2000), text by Emma Bolton, Meadows Wind Ensemble featuring Bethany Jelinek (soprano), Katy Downs (flute), Jared Beu (conductor).

Tale of the Cottingley Fairies refers to five photographs taken in 1917 in Cottingley, England, by two cousins, Elsie Wright and Frances Griffiths. The photograph shows the girls playing with fairies in a garden, and is believed to be one of the earliest examples of supernatural photography. The photographs quickly gained widespread attention and became a sensation in both England and America. The Cottingley Fairies incident remains one of the earliest and most famous hoaxes in the history of photography.
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, creator of Sherlock Holmes, was among those who believed in the authenticity of the photos and even cited them as evidence for the existence of fairies in an article he wrote for The Strand Magazine. Despite criticism from photography experts, the girls maintained the photographs were authentic. In the early 1980s, Elsie and Frances, now in old age, admitted that the photographs were staged, using cardboard cutouts of fairies copied from a popular children's book of the time. However, Frances maintained that the fifth and final photograph was genuine. Despite their acknowledgements, both cousins insisted at one point they really did see fairies.
A recurring section of the music represents taking the photos – with snare drum recreating camera sounds, and delicate woodwind gestures representing fairies. The whimsical and playful Movement I in this piece represents the girls playing in a garden, potentially seeing something unexpected – what they believed to be fairies. The joyous and silly Movement II describes the girls coming up with the idea to take fake photos, recreating what they saw. Movement III describes them copying pictures of fairies, cutting out the papers, and taking pictures with them. Movement IV, the interlude subtitled “Ignorance is Bliss” is about the girls having no idea how much the photos would spread and impact the world. Then, Movement V, the “Chorale", illustrates them sharing the photographs and the images beginning to spread. Movement VI describes the manipulated images spreading like wildfire, with many people in multiple countries believing in fairies from the photographs. The final Movement VII begins with a lament, as the cousins, now in old age, finally admit the truth. Lastly, Sir Doyle and all others who believed in the photos are freed from their falsehoods.

This piece features two soloists: Soprano Voice and Flute– which represent the two girls telling their story. See the text below, written by Emma Bolton, and used with permission.

Come with us,
To the brook, to the creek;
The place we named an ocean.
Colors the eye has never seen,
Songs unsung, words unspoken,
Breath of the clouds.
All at once misty and clear,
The shutter draws in,
Tree branches
The trellis of ghosts.
Lights are but a color here,
Here in the kingdom of pictures.

I will pretend such is precision:
Bottling thunder, lassoing dew.
What fun to give to the tables new names, new colors:
Europium is red.
Himalia is Jupiter's niece, not his moon,
And muddies her feet on Sundays.
So says I, goddess and goddess of tulle and earthworms.
So shouts I, keeper of cicada wings and guard of the leaf (on holidays).

Such marvels ought to be seen, indeed,
In pasted houses with feet on the roof.
The door opens, the hinges burnt!
A waistcoat writes, and tells me I am smart.
How can I tell them,
And give up the ghost!
The ache of the joke singes my fingertips, in a tickle.
I can't help but watch as the warmth spreads, our elements have worked!
A pocket watch writes, and names her dimples genius.
The walls collapse, sunlight within and yet: all is warm, all is calm,
Father writes: he tells me I am Himalia.

My bones creak:
Stay.
The truth will come in time.
But sit, don't move,
tell your eyelids to sleep.
I promise, I promise,
I will never gild a lie.
Yet it is my rope, my only tether to you, to her –
No! Don't slice it away,
leave the knots firm and groaning.
More knots are needed, I say:
I run a needle through your arm, hush, it follows the skin.
What's paper to thread, paper to scissors, scissors to Jupiter?
It is all the same, here under the glow of the lamp.
The glow that draws you in, immovable, electric and plush.
Through the mist we follow this, one great lie, to the dirt.

Pray to the phantoms of good intent;
For they yield the thorns that warm the flowers when their petals rip, their leaves tear:
It caresses the corpse.
I was shorn of my reason and robbed of a steady hand.
What's left? But the velvet behind the rib cage.
There was a swaddling of papers, and papers they were!
I had not the power of elements.
Does it wound the sinner to leave his scratches bare?
Even more so the fool.

-Program Note by Ethan Gurwitz (2023)