VOICE CURING ILLS
Experts said he had a Тgolden bel canto,У tender, bewitching, impassioned... He did. There are a lot of beautiful operatic voices, yet his was singular, reaching for the Ukrainian heart, sounding like the true Ukrainian spirit. In this sense he was unique. An outstanding Ukrainian named Anatoly Solovianenko.
He is no longer among the living. His heart beat its last. Stunned by the news of his passing, we seem unable to realize the immensity of the loss. It is not only that his unique voice has become silent forever. Our national spirit has, too. Something unbelievably important, shining, and very true has come to an end. Will we notice the gap? Maybe we never will, habitually concerned about keeping our stomach full or engrossed in other daily worries. Worst of all, we will probably never understand what we did to lose such singular creative personalities.
This unique tenor embellishing the world's most reputed operatic stages was actually shown the door at the National Opera — and he had dedicated over 30 years of his life to the Taras Shevchenko Opera and Ballet Theater in Kyiv. And we all remained silent, looking on indifferently. And so did the powers that be, although they were supposed to care for and in every way help the development of national culture. Anatoly Solovianenko was not only a unique operatic phenomenon; his was a very special example of genuine affinity to the people. Well, it appears that we do need it, for things cultural, spiritual seem too ephemeral and thus burdensome. We just shrug them off.
In his creative prime, Anatoly Solovianenko was denied creativeness, singing for five endless years. He was denied things that made up the meaning of his life. On more than one occasion he was invited to Moscow, offered lucrative contracts. Most importantly, he knew he would continue to sing if he agreed. He did not. He was loath to part with Ukraine, his native land which had turned its back on him. He went on concert tours across the world, appearing in packed admiring audiences, yet he wanted to be recognized in Ukraine above all. He never spoke about this. He just would wake in the middle of the night, hearing himself sing (he told this to some of his friends).
Why did he not leave this country which left his talent unclaimed? He never discussed the subject. I think because this subject was simply nonexistent in his mind. I also believe that he, being a gifted created personality to the marrow, could not imagine himself existing anywhere outside Ukraine, this land, nature, even the smell of its air. For him, Ukraine was the nutrient medium nourishing and upholding his talent. He could not but share it. Just like on that significant (for us all!) day an ordinary fellow from Donetsk realized he could not live without singing.
Film director Mykola Mashchenko made a documentary about Solovianenko at the Contact Studio in 1998. The title read Your Turn, Maestro . It was run on a number of channels. The film producer, Larysa Rodniansky, would admit that she thought the whole story was a requiem. But she did hope that the singer would live and gladden our hearts. It seemed that he would. The singer was back in the limelight, first of all remembered and made welcome by audiences. There was a gala concert at the capital's Philharmonic Society. It turned out a memorable success, with almost every foreign diplomat in attendance. But no ranking bureaucrats. Then another concert at the Ukraine Palace of Culture. Tickets sold out, with standing room only. And again none of those warming their seats at high offices, supposed to care for and develop national culture present.
Maybe I shouldn't even mention them; they rate no notice, let alone acknowledgement. But I am haunted by the knowledge that Anatoly Solovianenko's singular talent remained unrealized in Ukraine. A tragic and, alas, very typical lot. The powers that be, previous and latter-day, have no need for genuine talent. They prefer court buffoons.
Anatoly Solovianenko always used his own voice. A magic one. He wanted all of us to hear it.
For The Day 's journalists, his passing turned into a personal tragedy, because we all loved him as a person and admired his talent. We would like to extend our heartfelt condolences to the family, relatives, and friends. We also feel sorry for the Ukrainian nation, because there are losses whose consequences are too grave to realize at first.
Experts said he had a Тgolden bel canto,У tender, bewitching, impassioned... He did. There are a lot of beautiful operatic voices, yet his was singular, reaching for the Ukrainian heart, sounding like the true Ukrainian spirit. In this sense he was unique. An outstanding Ukrainian named Anatoly Solovianenko.
He is no longer among the living. His heart beat its last. Stunned by the news of his passing, we seem unable to realize the immensity of the loss. It is not only that his unique voice has become silent forever. Our national spirit has, too. Something unbelievably important, shining, and very true has come to an end. Will we notice the gap? Maybe we never will, habitually concerned about keeping our stomach full or engrossed in other daily worries. Worst of all, we will probably never understand what we did to lose such singular creative personalities.
This unique tenor embellishing the world's most reputed operatic stages was actually shown the door at the National Opera — and he had dedicated over 30 years of his life to the Taras Shevchenko Opera and Ballet Theater in Kyiv. And we all remained silent, looking on indifferently. And so did the powers that be, although they were supposed to care for and in every way help the development of national culture. Anatoly Solovianenko was not only a unique operatic phenomenon; his was a very special example of genuine affinity to the people. Well, it appears that we do need it, for things cultural, spiritual seem too ephemeral and thus burdensome. We just shrug them off.
In his creative prime, Anatoly Solovianenko was denied creativeness, singing for five endless years. He was denied things that made up the meaning of his life. On more than one occasion he was invited to Moscow, offered lucrative contracts. Most importantly, he knew he would continue to sing if he agreed. He did not. He was loath to part with Ukraine, his native land which had turned its back on him. He went on concert tours across the world, appearing in packed admiring audiences, yet he wanted to be recognized in Ukraine above all. He never spoke about this. He just would wake in the middle of the night, hearing himself sing (he told this to some of his friends).
Why did he not leave this country which left his talent unclaimed? He never discussed the subject. I think because this subject was simply nonexistent in his mind. I also believe that he, being a gifted created personality to the marrow, could not imagine himself existing anywhere outside Ukraine, this land, nature, even the smell of its air. For him, Ukraine was the nutrient medium nourishing and upholding his talent. He could not but share it. Just like on that significant (for us all!) day an ordinary fellow from Donetsk realized he could not live without singing.
Film director Mykola Mashchenko made a documentary about Solovianenko at the Contact Studio in 1998. The title read Your Turn, Maestro . It was run on a number of channels. The film producer, Larysa Rodniansky, would admit that she thought the whole story was a requiem. But she did hope that the singer would live and gladden our hearts. It seemed that he would. The singer was back in the limelight, first of all remembered and made welcome by audiences. There was a gala concert at the capital's Philharmonic Society. It turned out a memorable success, with almost every foreign diplomat in attendance. But no ranking bureaucrats. Then another concert at the Ukraine Palace of Culture. Tickets sold out, with standing room only. And again none of those warming their seats at high offices, supposed to care for and develop national culture present.
Maybe I shouldn't even mention them; they rate no notice, let alone acknowledgement. But I am haunted by the knowledge that Anatoly Solovianenko's singular talent remained unrealized in Ukraine. A tragic and, alas, very typical lot. The powers that be, previous and latter-day, have no need for genuine talent. They prefer court buffoons.
Anatoly Solovianenko always used his own voice. A magic one. He wanted all of us to hear it.
For The Day 's journalists, his passing turned into a personal tragedy, because we all loved him as a person and admired his talent. We would like to extend our heartfelt condolences to the family, relatives, and friends. We also feel sorry for the Ukrainian nation, because there are losses whose consequences are too grave to realize at first.
Newspaper output №:
№29, (1999)Section
Culture
