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Yvonne Chen, piano
MADNESS: Doctoral Solo Recital I
Duncan Recital Hall, Rice University (Houston)
March 24, 2015

Frederic Rzewski’s De Profundis (1992) infuses text from Oscar Wilde’s homonymous letter with stylistically varying piano interludes and accompaniment to create a theatrical work challenging the single performer as pianist and vocalist. Its vocal effects containing pitched and unpitched syllables, breathing sounds, groans, sighs, humming, and whistling, compounded with choreography and use of a bicycle horn all contribute to the madness.

Oscar Wilde’s De Profundis was published in 1905 and written during his imprisonment in Reading Gaol May 1895-1897 after he was convicted of homosexual activities. Written towards the end of his sentence, the letter to Lord Alfred Douglas reflects the physical toil of the prison labor and the emotional effect the prison’s isolation had on him.

Rzewski’s adaptation of Wilde’s text reflects the autobiographical nature of the letter, capturing his spiritual contemplation, frustration and disillusionment with society, and bitter recollections of his past history with Lord Alfred. Rzewski sets the lengthy selected texts (see below and next page) rhythmically notated mostly to reflect its natural inflections, and are only ever spoken or whispered, never sung. The music that surrounds the text is often complementing the mood of the spoken words. There are two large interludes of solo piano: the first, in the style of a four-voice fantastical fugue, the second, an improvisatory scurrying of sixteenths.

The only text that is not from De Profundis is the line, “There is such a thing as leaving mankind alone; there is no such thing as governing mankind. All forms of government are failures”, which is from Wilde’s 1891 essay, The Soul of Man under Socialism.


Adapted text:

People point to Reading Gaol, and say: “That is where the artistic life leads a man.” Well, it might lead to worse places. Mechanical people to whom life is a shrewd speculation depending on calculation always know where they are going and go there.

They start with the ideal desire of being the parish beadle, and they succeed in being the parish beadle and no more.

A man whose desire is to be something separate from himself succeeds in being what he wants to be. That is his punishment. Those who want a mask have to wear it. But with the dynamic forces of life, it is different. People who desire self-realization never know where they are going. They can’t know.

To recognize that the soul of a man is unknowable, is the ultimate
achievement of wisdom. The final mystery is one self. When one has weighed the sun in the balance, and measured the steps of the moon, and mapped out the seven heavens, there still remains oneself. Who can calculate the orbit of his own soul?

We are the zanies of sorrow. We are clowns whose hearts are broken. We are specially designed to appeal to the sense of humour.

On November thirteenth, eighteen ninety-five, I was brought down here from London. From two o’clock till half past two on that day I had to stand on the centre platform of Clapham Junction in convict dress, and handcuffed, for the world to look at. When people saw me they laughed. Each train swelled the audience. Nothing could exceed their amusement. That was before they knew who I was. As soon as they had been informed they laughed still more, haha.

For half an hour I stood there in the grey November rain surrounded by a jeering mob. For a year I wept every day at the same hour and for the same space of time. In prison tears are a part of every day’s experience. A day in prison on which one does not weep is a day on which one’s heart is hard, not a day on which one’s heart is happy.

Morality does not help me. I am a born antinomian. I am one of those who are made for exceptions, not for laws. Religion does not help me. The faith that others give to what is unseen, I give to what one can touch, and look at.

Reason does not help me. It tells me that the laws under which I am convicted and the system under which I have suffered are wrong and unjust.

(For the remainder of adapted text and program notes, please contact at www.pianistyvonnechen.com)