I saw Meredith Monk's Indra's Net at the Park Avenue Armory on September 30, 2024.
Here's how the Armory website described the piece:
"One of the most unique and influential artists of our time, Meredith Monk is a composer, singer, director, choreographer, filmmaker, and creator who has devoted her life to exploring the potential of the human voice. A pioneer of extended vocal technique and interdisciplinary art, she weaves together new modes of perception to expand the boundaries of music, performance, and installation. This living legend returns to the Armory with her latest creation, an immersive work that is part performance, part installation, inspired by Indra’s Net, a parable that illustrates life’s interconnectedness.
"In the ancient Buddhist/Hindu legend, an enlightened king, Indra, stretches a large net across the universe with an infinitely faceted jewel placed at each intersection. Each jewel is unique yet reflects all the others, illuminating the interdependence of all living things. Following an initial concert performance of the work at Mills College in 2021 and a world premiere at the Holland Festival in 2023, this monumental creation receives a full production in its highly anticipated North American premiere. Monk, together with members of her extraordinary Vocal Ensemble, a sixteen-piece chamber orchestra, and an additional eight-member chorus, offers an interplay of music, movement, and architecture to embody celestial, earthly, and human realms through sound, video, and performance. The resulting production serves as a beacon to affirm life and a sense of connection to each other and all living things."
I read that and thought, This could go either way. It could either be fascinating, inspiring, transcendent - - or "What a load of hooey."
I was pleased to see that the performance was an hour and twenty minutes long. Years ago I heard Monk in a performance at Symphony Space. One of the pieces went on too long and I thought to myself, "When you're a composer and you're writing a piece that's abstract and repetitive, how do you know when it's over?" My answer: "You might not know, but the AUDIENCE will know."
The Drill Hall in the Park Avenue Armory is maybe my favorite performance space in New York City. It's incredibly big - - it's 200 feet by 300 feet, or 52,000 square feet. For those of you with a farming background (and I know you're out there), an acre is 43,560 square feet. So you could grow a lot of corn in the Drill Hall. But I think New York City is better served having it used for oddball productions like this one.
I arrived early and sat in the hallway outside the Drill Hall doing sudoku on my phone. I heard a noble, new agey pre-recorded oboe solo coming from the hall, the oboe surrounded by gentle wafting strings. It sounded to me like the travel agent's oboe solo from the HBO adaptation of Angels in America. Not a bad choice but definitely a choice.
The biggest treat of seeing a show in the Drill Hall is seeing how the artists have set up the space. Everything needs to be constructed from scratch so the sky's the limit. The stage was a short, round platform in the center of the hall. It was surrounded by audience seating along two thirds of the circle, the instrumental ensemble in the remaining one third, with a gap in the middle of them for a large round screen hanging from the flies.
As you can see the space was filled with a cool blue light. Which looked good on me. My seat was on the aisle, which looked even better on me.
The first music we heard was not so inspiring. It was for flute and electric piano, other instruments creeping in eventually, and it sounded like music from an Afterschool Special about a twelve-year old girl learning about menstruation. The music got more interesting when the singers starting doing their thing. There were eight solo singers and a chorus of another eight singers. There were 15 players in the instrumental ensemble:
String quartet plus bass
Flute and piccolo
Clarinet
Oboe and English horn
Bassoon
Trumpet and flugelhorn
French horn
Trombone
Two percussionists (each of them standing at what might have been a marimba)
Harp
Electric piano
The music was by Monk and the orchestration by Monk and Allison Sniffin.
One early scene started with two of the solo women walking arm in arm, singing to each other, sometimes together. Let me say quickly that the text was abstract, what used to be called "nonsense syllables," a term which now has a bit of a nasty flavor. "Nah nah gway whee" - - that sort of thing. This scene ended with one of the women singing a seven-note phrase to the other. The second sang it herself but with different phrasing and emphasis. The first sang it her original way, rather insistently. This went on three or four rounds and was quite amusing.
Monk generally serves as her own director and choreographer. I've never been a fan of her choreography, I call it "movement" since it's never very challenging or even interesting. Much of the movement in this piece was unneeded. I felt like the music would have been better served without the distraction of the movement. I mention movement because one scene featured seven of the eight solo singers on the floor. The only singer not on the floor was Monk herself. She's 81, I understand and give her a free pass.
One scene featured duets between a singer and an instrument - - a male singer and a trumpet, a female singer and a violin, that sort of thing. That was a nice change of texture. The piece in general had a sure sense of pacing and variety, each scene had a different texture and tempo from the scene before. This is a smart way to engage the audience and give a break to the musicians.
The second to last scene had all of the singers leaving the platform, standing with the instrumentalists so the platform was empty. The music was hypnotic and we watched the lights making patterns on the floor. I was transfixed by the lighting instruments themselves, watching them swerve around high above our heads.
The finale had four solo singers step onto the platform and walk along the edge, counterclockwise, to the beat of the music. Soon the other four solo singers stepped up and did the same thing, directly across from the other set of four. Then four members of the chorus, then the other four members of the chorus. We watched this and also watched an overhead video of it, projected onto the screen along the back of the playing space. Eventually the circle broke down and the singers moved around the platform freely. They were joined one by one by the instrumentalists, bringing their instruments with them and continuing to play. Sadly the cello, bass, keyboard player, harpist, and percussionists had to stay where they were but somehow they felt included.
I really hope this piece will be recorded. I think it will be more effective as a sound-only experience.
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