Behind the Scenes, Getty Center

Travertine Improv

Master musicians spontaneously transform wood and stone into avant-garde sound

Spontaneous drumming on travertine, a reunion and duet of two long-lost friends, a migratory cellist—this was my Friday evening. I became part of a sea of music-hungry humans wandering to guess an itinerant musician’s next move.

Avant-garde Dutch cellist Ernst Reijseger showed up at the Getty Center to give pop-up performances at various locations around the site last Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. Without an announced start time or even location, the visitors in the right place at the right time were certainly surprised—and delighted.

To say it was a musical recital isn’t quite right, as Reijseger “played” the cello by drumming it, scraping it across the floor, climbing into trees, screaming into walls, laughing with children in the crowd, pounding on travertine, and wandering around the site seemingly guided by playful intuition and friendly musical spirits.

I also witnessed a special reunion straight from the world of a fantastical musical. Midway through his Friday evening performance, Reijseger wandered up into a tree in the Museum Courtyard. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a man drumming on the travertine, slapping a different note out of each block. As if pulled by a magnet, Reijseger joined him in a lively demonstration of creative spontaneity, which drew resounding applause and cheers from the crowd. I was fortunate to capture a few moments of their duet on video.

The mystery man was Daniel Licht, musician and composer of, among other things, the haunting music for the show Dexter. He had worked with Reijseger in Holland over 20 years ago and hadn’t seen him since! Based in Los Angeles, Licht got a heads-up from Reijseger that he’d be at the Getty Center in the days leading up to his talk with filmmaker Werner Herzog, who features Reijseger’s music in his video installation Hearsay of the Soul.

“I’ve always tried to see what kinds of sounds I can make in any environment I’m in,” Dan told me. “I thought I would sneak up with him and join the performance.”

It was such a pleasure to witness compelling music, a surprising reunion, and, as a final treat, a cotton-candy sunset over Los Angeles as Reijseger played his last notes.

Colorful sunset over the Getty Center, Los Angeles / August 5, 2013

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      The Queen Who Wasn’t

      Louis XIV clandestinely wed his mistress, Madame de Maintenon, at Versailles on October 9 or 10, 1683. The marriage was much gossiped about but never openly acknowledged. She was never queen.

      Madame de Maintenon had been the {judgy} governess to Louis XIV’s children by his previous mistress, Madame de Montespan. Louis gave these children moneyed titles—such as the comte de Toulouse, who ordered the tapestries shown here for his residence outside Paris.

      Louis’s secret marriage ushered in a period of religious fervor, in sharp contrast to the light-hearted character of his early reign. Madame de Maintenon was known for her Catholic piety, and founded a school for the education of impoverished noble girls at Saint-Cyr in 1686 that stayed in operation until 1793. This engraving of the Virgin and Child was dedicated to her by the king.

      Virgin and Child, late 1600s, Jean-Louis Roullet after Pierre Mignard; Johann Ulrich Stapf, engraver. The Getty Research Institute. Tapestries from the Emperor of China series. The J. Paul Getty Museum


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