Sofie Vanden Eynde: Artistic direction and lute for Imago Mundi’s Tears Into Light concert at York Early Music Festival
DESCRIBED in the festival programme as “a contemporary reimagining of John Dowland’s Lachrimae”, Imago Mundi’s Tears Into Light uses Seven Tears as the point of departure for a contemporary meditation in which Renaissance song, Armenian tradition, newly composed music by Vladimir Gorlinsky and spoken reflections become successive stages of a journey from melancholy towards hope.
The spoken narrative, by Fleur Pierets, functions as a series of meditations drawn from conversations with residents of a Belgian care home and palliative day centre.
They become a sequence of poetic monologues – intimate reflections on ageing, memory, regret, companionship and death:
I walk through cities made of memories,
where echoes whisper, soft and low.
Each breath is heavy with remembering,
each step moves tides I cannot slow.
There is a sound the dark remembers
a hum that aches beneath my bones.
– The Distant Light (dark to horizon)
Although there are echoes of Sufi imagery – I walk (journey); a hum that aches beneath my bones (listening from within); memory as spiritual experience – I was more affected, however, by the personalisation of these texts: We; Eli; Carlos; Eric; Danielle; Frédéric and Rose-Marie – they are almost certainly the individuals at the care home and palliative centre.
It was obvious that these spoken texts were repeated in close imitation. This subtly reinforced the theme of echo and memory; the individual transforming into collective – repeated entries blurring the identity of the individual speaker and creating a bridge between speech and music. Canon, based on exact imitation, is one of the simplest and most recognisable musical devices that can be applied to speech.
So, rather than interrupting the music, these meditations broadened its emotional landscape, perhaps suggesting that Dowland’s melancholy remains as resonant today as four centuries ago.
Another fascinating aspect of Tears Into Light was the inclusion of the Armenian duduk. At first glance, Dowland and Armenian traditional music seemed an unlikely pairing. Yet the duduk, long associated in Armenian culture with remembrance, lamentation and funeral rites, proved a natural companion to Dowland’s world of melancholy.
Its warm, breath-infused tone carried an unmistakable sense of grief and longing, while Vardan Hovanissian’s subtle and deeply expressive playing was illuminating, revealing just how naturally the instrument could inhabit Dowland’s emotional landscape.
Although the programme credited visual artist Ria Verhaeghe as a collaborator, the performance itself was experienced principally as a dialogue between music and spoken word. I assumed the visual contribution was deliberately understated.
Rather than projected imagery unfolding alongside the performance, what seemed to be a single image remained behind the performers throughout. Maybe I simply missed it.
As far as I could tell, the Dowland pavan and songs remained recognisable and largely intact, whilst Vladimir Gorlinsky contributed new pieces, transitions and soundscapes around it, rather than rewriting the Renaissance music itself.
His music featured sustained sonorities, drones, sparse textures, slow-moving harmonic fields and, tellingly, moments where electronic sound blends almost imperceptibly with acoustic instruments.
Without his music the programme would probably have felt episodic – song, speech, song, speech. His contributions helped to make it feel like a single, continuous journey. This leads nicely to his Rumi’s meditation – Rumi being one of the most significant Sufi poets; the mystical tradition within Islam.
To be honest, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it: a gentle, reflective minimalist pattern interrupted by an anguished cry of despair before gradually finding a measure of resolution.
The performance of Sorrow was quite simply a thing of beauty. Eugénie De Mey’s singing had a gorgeous, seductive tone and was gently amplified and supported by Sofie Vanden Eynde’s subtle lute accompaniment.
Like Vardan Hovanissian, Eugénie De Mey (mezzo-soprano) and Sofie Vanden Eynde (lute) were a joy throughout. Ms De Mey’s singing was so immersed in the performance, her tone had a velvety-rich quality. She focused on intimacy and textual clarity – particularly noticeable in the lower register – which suited the reflective atmosphere of the work and allowed the spoken texts and songs to coexist naturally.
Ms Vanden Eynde’s lute playing struck me as invariably understated and yet quietly authoritative. I admired the refinement of her lute playing and beautifully shaped phrasing. She was the performance’s anchor, allowing Dowland’s music to breathe without becoming an exercise in historical reconstruction.
Finally, I was impressed by Sofie Vanden Eynde’s curatorial approach: this included imaginative programming and willingness to rethink what an early music concert can be.
Eugénie De Mey, voice; Vardan Hovanissian , duduk; Sofie Vanden Eynde, artistic direction & lute; Jo Thielemans, sound engineer. Texts, Fleur Pierets; music, John Dowland & Vladimir Gorlinsky (composition & arrangements); visuals, Ria Verhaeghe.
Review by Steve Crowther
