I awoke Friday, a bit surprised to find the skies grey and stormy. Had it not been for the outdoor concert the weather would have been almost a welcome reprieve to the recent heat wave. But as my ticket for the evening was for grass seats, away from the protective reaches of the amphitheater, I was not so keen on the weather. The tempestuous skies had been carrying on all afternoon. The wind was buffeting the trees and the rain, although not constant, was intermittent enough to almost be considered as much. I was anxious. My friends who were also attending the concert that evening were anxious. Would the performance be relocated indoors? All trust was put in the hands of the meteorologists, who promised clear skies in the early evening. By four o’clock the organizers announced that the performance would continue as planned, the park it would be.

I arrived at Hawrelak shortly after six, with my camera and lenses neatly tucked away in my bag. The gates had only just been opened and patrons were slowly filing into their seats or finding a dryish spot on the grass.

I tend to pick the grass over the main seating area in the amphitheater, prefering the informality of spreading out a blanket under a tree and being able to stretch out my legs. I also prefer the vantage point of sitting outside of the confines of the seats, at the top of the slope, which gives me the freedom to roam about with my camera, creeping up close to the stage or standing near the back to take in the whole scene.

The program was a short one, only three pieces, Mussorgsky’s A Night on Bare Mountain, Mendelssohn’s “Italian” Symphony, and Gershwin’s Concerto in F featuring Bill Eddins, the ESO’s Music Director, as a guest soloist on piano. I am by no means knowledgeable enough to provide a nuanced review of the music. I always love attending the symphony, but I generally get swept up in the experience of going to the symphony. Perhaps my photographic inclinations are to blame, but for me an evening with the symphony is as much about the music as it is the experience of physically being there. It’s not just what you hear, but also what you see. I wonder if that makes sense. Let me attempt to explain.

The evening’s program seemed suited to the weather. As the symphony began to play A Night on Bare Mountain the air was still damp from the day’s rain. The audience was a bit stiff with cold and it was fitting that Mussorgsky’s piece was played first, with its violent and ominous opening. As the piece progressed the music became gentler, matching the change in the weather, the dampness dissipating as the promises of the meteorologists started to come true. How different the mood in the crowd was when the symphony began to play the first movement of Mendelssohn’s Italian Symphony as the clouds parted and the sun appeared. It was low in the sky and bathed the orchestra in this marvelous golden light. It was one of those delightful moments that you look for at Symphony Under the Sky. It was like a gradual dimming of the house lights, Mother Nature’s house lights that is.

Following intermission the sky had darkened enough for the enormous amphitheatre tent to be lit up. The blue lights were a little less impressive this year than some of the past year’s displays, but I can understand the desire to try to change the look from previous years. But, I wasn’t impressed. The attempt to recreate the “sky” under the big tent was not successful (however, the lights did look better by Sunday night, as evidenced here in this photograph by my friend Tom).

The final selection of the evening was Gershwin’s Concerto in F. Conductor Bob Bernhardt and the orchestra were joined onstage by the ESO’s Music Director Bill Eddins. I’ve never had the opportunity to see Eddins play piano with the orchestra (although I had heard that when he conducted and played Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue that the performance was phenomenal). My friends and I had selected a spot by the picnic tables near the “tube steak” vendor (Edmonton’s favourite, Fat Franks), so we were too high up on the hill for me to get a good view of Eddins’ hands on the keys (I mean come on, it’s a Gershwin piano concerto, that’s where the show is). But, even when you don’t have a good view of the details on stage, there are still plenty of other things to observe while on the hill.

My experience at the symphony has always been a bit unique, because I am good friends with a few people who work for the ESO. I’ve had some opportunity to see some of the behind-the-scenes goings on. Musicians without their instruments, the company manager rushing about before the show, the new media specialist taking in the show with the rest of the audience. If Symphony Under the Sky had a VIP lounge, I had been granted access, just by nature of association. The little circle of symphonic insiders got a little bit bigger when at some point during the show we were joined by Lucas Waldin, the ESO’s new Resident Conductor. I felt a little bit like Guy Talese, practicing the fine art of hanging out, drinking in the conversation about the symphony from people who were much more knowledgeable than I.

But the beauty of this group (part of the reason why we all hang out) was that the conversation was still accessible. Clearly there was a love for the symphony and the desire to get others to love it too. And when it’s a night at the symphony on a crisp September evening, what is there not to love (other than Eddins’ hockey jersey)?

©Raffaella Loro, 2009. All rights reserved.

The Winspear Centre is an amazing venue, but then so is Mother Nature.

© Raffaella Loro, 2009. All rights reserved.

Looking down from the second balcony the audience had become a sea of heads. In the dim light of the hall I could make out a suggestion of coloured shirts – certain bright tones stood out from the rest. When the musicians stopped the scene would change to a flutter of hands – and the hall would fill with the sound of applause.