Ukraine – Thirty Seven East

THE SILENT ODESSA SYMPHONY

Consider a donation to help Ukraine and Ukrainian by making a donation to Razom for Ukraine, a non-for-profit organization led by by Dora Chomiak. Razom provides critical medical supplies as well as tech-enabled emergency response supplies to facilitate the delivery of aid. Meaning “together” in Ukrainian, Razom believes deeply in the enormous potential of dedicated volunteers around the world united by a single goal. To make a donation, click here and hashtag #OdessaPhilharmonicOrchestra (find also this information at the end of the post).

Special thanks to Delphine Schrank for editing this story

Odessa, Ukraine, March 22^nd, 2014. A rhythmic beat pulsed from inside the fish market, a strange percussionist melody composed instinctively, on site, and performed by fishmongers scrapping the scales of black sea bass set against the background chatter of myriad overlapping conversations, and the rustle of shopping bags against the coats of men and women shopping for a meal or two.

It was a typical Saturday morning in a vibrant city, a strategic port and a symbol of European culture and unity. Well, not exactly a typical Saturday. A day earlier, Russia had officially ratified the annexation of the nearby Ukrainian province of Crimea, triggering a shock-wave across the rest of the country and Europe that eventually died out in the torpor of an apathetic world response.

Suddenly, a man armed with a double bass and a band of others carrying violins appeared from different corners of the fish market. Without prelude, one after the next planted themselves in a strategic spot, beside a bronze statue, behind counters stacked with cans and olive oils, and among the fish stalls. They started softly with notes from Beethoven 9^th Symphony. Amid shoppers still more concerned with choosing between fresh tuna, mackerel or herring, all the marine life of the Black Sea, others were instantly mesmerized, pressing in on the musicians. The group of performers swelled, some with no instruments at all. Like the perceptive tentacles of a giant octopus, they fanned out throughout the market. From the back of the room, the American conductor of the Odessa Philharmonic Orchestra Hobart Earle took his cue. He pushed his way through the crowd to a place visible to the now-dozens of musicians, raised his hands and with matchless coordination folded in the choir for Beethoven’s Ode to Joy, the European anthem.

Continue reading “The Silent Odessa Symphony”

THE ODESSA TEAR
(The original French version was published via National Geographic France and La Règle du Jeu. Click here to read).

The man from Odessa had taken off neither his coat nor his cap, he was carrying his bag on his shoulder and inside was an umbrella, his hands were tucked in his pockets. He was standing next to a piano still covered with a thick purple cloth that protected it from the dust. We could hear a heavy, repetitive, dull sound, a constant background of hammers and flashlights coming from the scaffolding below. The long gallery we were in was plunged into an involuntary gloom. It didn’t matter to the old and mischievous pianist who was playing standing up. At that moment, nothing could disturb him. He too had kept his long black gabardine on. He was impatient and unquenchable. A thirst of flats and sharps, a musical emergency!

I was standing on the opposite side of the piano, carrying on my shoulder a camera, which I barely knew how to operate. The sound was hesitant, and the underexposed image, blurred and distant—on the screen as in time—has remained to this day a testimony of a brief and joyful moment, the crazy promise of a Ukrainian port on the Black Sea, a city of poets and musicians, Odessa, suddenly free of the Soviet bear hug.

Continue reading “The Odessa Tear”