Gdansk will surprise you. The historic center has been re-constituted to its Renaissance appearance (so that it is somewhat reminiscent off the great city of Amsterdam) even though it witnessed complete destruction in 1945. A 40-minute train ride south takes you to Pelplin – a rather insignificant village (from a tourist’s point of view) with a hugely significant Cistercian Abbey, now converted to a cathedral. This massive building, with Europe’s largest gilt altarpiece, has been lovingly restored to pristine condition: all the walls painted, all the windows with stained glass, all the side altars freshly gilt, and all the paintings restored. It also contains two large organs, a romantic instrument and a baroque instrument. Adjoining the cathedral is a seminary, an active Catholic seminary for training Catholic priests, where the visiting artists are housed and fed. The seminary has a monastic feel, ca. 1950, including no internet (eek! – an increasingly difficult proposition in the modern world, especially for travelers). Still, the room was fine and looked out over an attractive garden. The weather was perfect (the coolness being a welcome relief after the heatwave that just hit southern Europe) although the continuous smell of fire (the local smokestacks?) caused my eyes to burn by the end of each day.
My concert was part of their international organ recital series, held each summer and expertly hosted by Gedymin Grubba. Although the cathedral is a tourist hub, as was evident by the number of tours going through the cathedral each hour during the day, I had no idea if the organ concert would be much of a draw. Surprise! The cathedral was completely full for my concert; literally every seat was taken (375)! I was instructed to use both organs for the concert, so started on the large romantic instrument (1845 Bachholz, 72/III). The console seemed dated by today’s standards (mid-20th century), and although neither the Rollschwelle nor the Swell box worked, all of the stops did work. Starting my program with Reger (the Introduktion und Passacaglia) was ideal for that instrument and space, both acoustically and sonically. French music worked slightly less well (Alain’s Second Fantasy) but was nonetheless fun to play there.
Playing the baroque organ (1679 Wolff, 42/III, restored 2003 Mollina) immediately on the heels of the romantic instrument is tricky! The pedal keyboard is offset by one note on the baroque instrument, so there’s that adjustment to make with the legs and feet. It’s a mechanical action instrument, and sadly, the worst keyboard action I have ever felt (mushy, heavy, and uneven from one note to the next). The organ was horribly out of tune – both reeds and flue stops; each manual sounded like a different temperament and different pitch. The result was constant mental/aural gymnastics for me as the player, especially when changing manuals. (The first piece was Reincken’s massive An Wasserflüßen Babÿlon which always plays on two manuals at once, constantly alternating keyboards.) The keyboards had short octaves in the bass (typical of the 17th century, with no bottom C#, D#, F#, or G#) – a bit of a trick for playing the minimalist piece by Bert Matter which I played – but effective, nonetheless. I closed with Buxtehude’s Magnificat Primi Toni. With all my complaints about the baroque instrument, I had no idea how effective that half of the program was, but I was told that the tuning issues did nothing to mar the overall effect of the program, and in fact may have added to the charm of the instrument!
Just looking at the instrument is a feast for the eyes. It is incredibly ornate and stunning. As I walked up to the instrument for my first practice time, I noticed that it had recently been renovated. The woodwork at the back of the case was new, with intricately designed iron hinges. The bellows look beautifully made; and there’s even the possibility of hand-pumping (by foot) in lieu of using the motor. So I was very surprised to turn on the motor and hear all of the air noise, then discover the issues with the key action and tuning.
Poland seems to be a series of contrasts. It has only recently started to emerge from a major economic depression, and the effects of poverty are seen everywhere. But the country has also lovingly restored many of its ancient treasures, perhaps both out of pride and out of a desire to bring in more tourism. It was the Russian forces, near the end of WWII, that did the heaviest destruction to the country (in a successful attempt to push the Nazis out), yet the overall character of the country today still feels very Russian to me. There is a heaviness of character that I hadn’t anticipated. This country is strongly Catholic – with many pictures of Pope John Paul II (the Polish Pope), and I can’t help but wonder if there’s a relationship between social repression and the strength of the Catholic Church – at least here in Poland. Why are there no pictures of Pope Francis in all of the churches I’ve been in? Does he represent a forward-looking outlook on the Church in the world that is not appreciated here?