In 1975, the iconic American opera composer John Eaton broke from his teaching position at Indiana University in Bloomington, then the world's largest conservatory, to join his wife, a young mezzo-soprano who'd won a Fulbright grant to study under Giacomo Puccini's coach, Luigi Ricci, in Europe. In the midst of Eaton's "house-father" duties (his wife Nelda had taken to nursing their newborn daughter during intermissions), he received an anguished letter from his friend Tibor Kozma, the Hungarian-American conductor who'd inaugurated Bloomington's opera house with Eaton's opera "Heracles." The nature of Kozma's anguish remains a secret Eaton will not divulge. But he recently spoke with the Huffington Post about the song he wrote immediately after reading Kozma's letter, written to lift Kozma's spirits. No audio record seems to exist of it, the first and last Eaton work based on an Emily Dickinson poem. But Eaton says Kozma received and heard "She staked her Feathers -- Gained and Arc --" just before he died in 1976.
Most of her poems are complete insights in themselves and if you tamper with them you're apt to destroy that. It's a very static world, usually one insight per poem, and the insight tends to be something expressed in nouns and adjectives rather than verbs or adverbs.
But in this case, [the poem] does imply a procession, a struggle. It implies a motion and that's something that generally, you know, in an Emily Dickinson poem, you don't find. Especially the way it's set up, with the dashes in the middle -- it's very easy to take more liberties with it.
It begins with a phrase that sort of goes up: "She staked her Feathers -- Gained an Arc." So the song actually goes up and creates an arc, you know, and then that continues throughout until finally, "At home -- among the Billows." That gives the piano accompaniment a chance to kind of scatter around, rumble around, and "the Bough where she was born--" let it come to a kind of halt.
I wanted to cheer [Kozma] up, express my admiration for the fact that no matter what happened, he kept persevering. And I just found that a very moving poem about life.
In 1975, the iconic American opera composer John Eaton broke from his teaching position at Indiana University in Bloomington, then the world's largest conservatory, to join his wife, a young mezzo-soprano who'd won a Fulbright grant to study under Giacomo Puccini's coach, Luigi Ricci, in Europe. In the midst of Eaton's "house-father" duties (his wife Nelda had taken to nursing their newborn daughter during intermissions), he received an anguished letter from his friend Tibor Kozma, the Hungarian-American conductor who'd inaugurated Bloomington's opera house with Eaton's opera "Heracles." The nature of Kozma's anguish remains a secret Eaton will not divulge. But he recently spoke with the Huffington Post about the song he wrote immediately after reading Kozma's letter, written to lift Kozma's spirits. No audio record seems to exist of it, the first and last Eaton work based on an Emily Dickinson poem. But Eaton says Kozma received and heard "She staked her Feathers -- Gained and Arc --" just before he died in 1976.
Most of her poems are complete insights in themselves and if you tamper with them you're apt to destroy that. It's a very static world, usually one insight per poem, and the insight tends to be something expressed in nouns and adjectives rather than verbs or adverbs.
But in this case, [the poem] does imply a procession, a struggle. It implies a motion and that's something that generally, you know, in an Emily Dickinson poem, you don't find. Especially the way it's set up, with the dashes in the middle -- it's very easy to take more liberties with it.
It begins with a phrase that sort of goes up: "She staked her Feathers -- Gained an Arc." So the song actually goes up and creates an arc, you know, and then that continues throughout until finally, "At home -- among the Billows." That gives the piano accompaniment a chance to kind of scatter around, rumble around, and "the Bough where she was born--" let it come to a kind of halt.
I wanted to cheer [Kozma] up, express my admiration for the fact that no matter what happened, he kept persevering. And I just found that a very moving poem about life.
First Posted: 12/10/2011 1:09 pm Updated: 12/10/2011 3:17 pm