Composer Spotlight: Victoria Polevá with Leah Batstone
American Composers Orchestra presents the New York premiere of Victoria Polevá's The Bell at Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall on October 30, 2024. Part of the program, The New Virtuoso: Borders, The Bell was co-commissioned by the Dallas Symphony Orchestra, London Philharmonic Orchestra, and American Composers Orchestra. Dr. Leah Batstone, Creative Director of Ukrainian Contemporary Music Festival, recently spoke with Polevá about the work and its New York Premiere.
What was the inspiration for the composition of “The Bell” Symphony No. 4?
The idea of “The Bell” derives for me from the association between bells and the Latin word “Bellum,” which refers to “war.” This piece, written during the war and by the war itself. It is a bell that announces war, a funeral bell, a victory bell. The image of the bell is also connected with the name of the cellist who premiered the work [and will be performing it with the ACO] (the name Inbal means “the tongue of the bell” [or a clapper, in English]). But the most important thing I wanted to do was to capture what happens in wake of the most powerful bells. This is the emergence of the subtlest echo, an angelic chorus that sounds either in the air or in the subconscious when the real sound ends. I once stood under a large bell at the Pechersk Lavra Monastery in Kyiv, and the bellringer rang it for 15 minutes. After that, I could hear the choir myself, very clearly. This is a new zone of sensations that I wanted to recreate – the Bat-Kol zone, which literally means “daughter of the voice” and is mentioned repeatedly in the Talmud. “Some people say that bat-kol is an echo, others say that it is a hum that rolls in the air from the movement of the universe. The bat-kol absorbs both human voices and other sounds of the world, even those that our ears are not able to hear. This means that even the weakest voice has weight...” This gentle sound carries meanings that everyone needs in the most difficult times. And the only thing a person can do is trust them.
What would you like people to know before they hear this composition?
For me, music changes over time and reflects its changes. Now, especially for Carnegie Hall, I have written a version with a new ending, an unexpected ending. Initially, the symphony ended with an extended moment of listening simply to the space, breathing and silence. Now it ends with a return to reality, to where there is hope and life. And life continues, no matter what.
Why did you choose the cello as an instrument to feature in this work?
First, I would identify myself with the cello. I have a lot of works with solo cello, which I consider to be my main works. Second, the work co-commissioned by the London Philharmonic Orchestra was to write a cello concerto and I interpreted it in my own way.
The cello plays an important role in communicating the message of the work. In the first movement, the solo cello depicts personal ascent from crying to singing, from shouting to listening to the voice. In the second movement, the cello’s descending lines, associated with the striking of the bell, are representative of lamentations. In the third movement, the cello’s ascent symbolizes the building of oneself; the gesture symbolizes the construction of my own personal harmony. The abyss opens upwards. A new space is being built. In the fourth movement, the Bat Kol - the Voice itself and its manifestation fill this new space. The Finale is a return to a hoped-for reality.
Would you characterize this as a departure from or a continuation of you career so far?
The idea of bellringing has been with me all my life. One of my first orchestral pieces, “Anthem I” was for solo bells and chamber orchestra. Similarly, the work “No man is an Island” sets the text of the same name by John Donne for mezzo-soprano, piano and strings (by the way, this work was performed in Carnegie Hall in the spring). There, bells there are the main formative factor, the heartbeat of the world. The text reads: “This bell tolling softly for another, says to me, thou must die… And therefore, never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.” But not only in this work. In the opera Ars moriendi everything is also built around the bell as a character. I don't think I have a single work that doesn't interpret the idea of the bell in my own way. And I'm unlikely to move away from it, because I find in it something extremely important to me as a human being.
Is there anything in the musical itself that you feel is connected to what you want to say and do as an artist?
My world turned upside down when the war started. The beauty of the world makes me suffer. I feel pain, because I will have to say goodbye to it someday. This beauty opens up to me but does not allow me to get closer. It speaks to me and immediately slips out of my embrace. And the beauty of human presence, too. After the start of the war, I was terribly disappointed in people in general. I believed that humanity was finally over. But no, everything has continued, and I am also still alive.
Writing music is my way of creating a new reality, arguing with reality, denying reality. Recently, I have been writing pieces directly related to the war in my home country. In addition to “The Bell”, this includes, for example, “Turn the River” for chamber orchestra. In this piece, I used the iconic Ukrainian song, “Plyve kacha” (“The Duckling Swims”). The content of this song is heavy and very deep; it tells of the grief of a mother who has lost her son, the grief of a son who has lost his native land, the flow of the river of the life that carries us all. But in this piece, I am attempting to change the course of this river and direct it backwards, from sorrow to joy, from death to life… This is possible in music, in the world of living musical ideas. I hope that this will happen. Let it be magic, I don’t care. I don’t have any other tools, but music. So, it is my job to turn everything into love.
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