In 1516, Leonardo da Vinci travelled by horseback from Italy to France with the Mona Lisa carefully rolled up in his saddlebag.
He had been invited by King Francis 1, who gave him a handsome country mansion (Château de Clos Lucé) directly opposite the vast royal castle at Ambroise. There, in the peaceful beauty of the Loire Valley, the great painter and inventor lived the remaining years of his life under royal patronage.
The king bought the Mona Lisa and that is how the most treasured portrait of the Italian Renaissance now resides in France.
Maestro Somtow Sucharitkul.
Around 100 years later in 1610, Claudio Monteverdi (the musical equivalent of Leonardo) set off from Mantua for the Vatican in Rome, hoping for an audience with Pope Paul V. Under his arm, he had his latest and perhaps greatest composition, the 1610 Vespers, inscribed with a papal dedication. Most likely, there was an important music position available at the Sistine Chapel and the composer was hoping to win it.
But, unlike Leonardo, Monteverdi wasn't successful. In fact, he probably didn't even meet the pope, who was embroiled in the controversy with Galileo about the Earth not being at the centre of the universe (Copernicus' theory). Instead, the composer returned back north, where he accepted a position as Head of Music at St Mark's Cathedral in Venice.
The Vespro Della Beata Virgine (also known as the 1610 Vespers), once rejected by the pope, is now recognised as a composition that changed the course of history. Monteverdi had pushed the tight boundaries of Renaissance music and sowed the seeds for the new, elaborate era of the Baroque.
Earlier this month, I sat in the glorious chapel at Assumption University, Bangkok, waiting to hear the first ever performance in Southeast Asia of this seminal work. The university was founded by the Montford Brothers of St Gabriel and the chapel is spiritually and architecturally a very suitable setting for Monteverdi's epic musical treasure.
Aritach Tantipanjwit.
The Romanesque interior is magnificent. Towering grey marble columns, embellished in gold, rise to a barrel-vaulted ceiling, the centrepiece of which is a miniature frescoed dome, bedecked with flying marble cherubs. Candelabras glisten in polished brass, the stained glass windows dazzle and there's not a speck of dust to be seen.
As the opening chords struck in the vibrant acoustic, the rising trumpets of Chanakan Lertsapanan and Kornkanok Matkhao pierced the air with such breathtaking authority that there was an audible intake of breath from the audience. Somtow Sucharitkul, the musical director and visionary, had unleashed a fire which burned brightly for the next 90 minutes, holding everyone transfixed.
The Vespers move seamlessly from delicate solos and duets to complex tapestries of vocal polyphony. Familiar singers from Opera Siam, such as the ringing soprano of Barbara Zion and the rich alto voice of Kridhima Siriwattanakamol, added greatly to the texture. Woraphanee Teerakul and Suchunya Tanvichien were elegant and stylish in Pulchra Es, a lilting duet for two sopranos.
The charismatic tenor Aritach Tantipanjwit sang with an impressive, virile tone and graceful confidence. This period of music suits his voice so well and his wonderful solo Nigra Sum was a real highlight. He also excelled in Duo Seraphin, joined by John Tneoh and Dan Hernandez, from Venezuela, whose voice has a slightly harder edge which travelled well in the opulent acoustic.
If anything, the chapel may have been too resonant for a choir of relatively young voices. My feeling is that the vocal style of that era was less refined than our modern-day singing. More rough and reedy, it was strongly influenced by the Arabic call to prayer, which was designed to travel far outdoors. The performers were situated directly below the dome and occasionally their voices drifted upwards and lost focus. It was, however, wonderful to hear such authentic, Italianate pronunciation of the Latin text which helped a lot with the clarity of sound.
The youthful players of the Siam Sinfonietta, under the guidance of their mentor, maestro Somtow, immersed themselves in the music. Phathinya Latthayaporn, concert master and first violinist, aged only 19, navigated his intricate string part like a true child of the Renaissance. I don't quite know how he achieved such virtuosity without the slightest look of concern on his face. He was well matched by second violinist Thaweepat Watsaeng, 15, who played with a similar, effortless insouciance. Together they made a beguiling violin duo.
Renowned Italian lutenist Jacopo Gianninoto led the continuo section with support from Alberto Firrincielli (organ) and Nuttanon Googietgarn (cello). The brass section of this orchestra is something of a legend and the trumpets, in particular, play with the fearless penetration of a Manchester United striker. Every ascending phrase was thrilling, as good as you'd hear in any orchestra of the world.
As the final notes faded away, such was the impact of the music that no one dared break the silence. Maestro Somtow turned to the audience and, reading our shell-shocked response, suggested they might repeat the opening Toccata.
The impact was even more powerful the second time round and the audience responded with unrestrained enthusiasm. Let's hope we can hear this great masterpiece again in its entirety sometime very soon.
