Dreams of Innocence II. Woke me, Filled me - by Daniel Paulson

DanielPaulson on February 14, 2013 08:35

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    Dreams of Innocence - II. Woke me, Filled me
    by Daniel Paulson
    conducted by Daniel Paulson
    ensemble Vox Musica, Matthew Grasso (guitar)

    Dreams of Innocence is an original work commissioned by the Crocker Art Museum for their featured exhibition of Austrian Born artist, Gottfried Helnwein: “Gottfried Helnwein: Inferno of the Innocents.” Born in 1948 in Vienna, Austria, Helnwein’s childhood was shadowed by the events of World War II and the Vienna he grew up in was dark and dusty and a city without a memory. Helnweins artwork is his response to his deep and personal concern about the most troubling issues of his and our times: violence, inhumanity and oppression. For Dreams of Innocence, Paulson crafted three settings of text which were extracted from Helnwein’s memoirs. Paulson shares, “In an attempt to understand his art, often what is discussed is the distress of Helnwein’s upbringing rather than his moments of comfort or happiness. However, I wanted to know the Helnwein that is not so often described. It was my hope to capture through Dreams of Innocence the voice of Helnwein as he describes his innocent Dreams of Innocence and joyous childhood memories; to share these powerful and moving moments through the setting of his vivid imagery; and to hopefully cause a moment of repose so we too might bring to surface our memories, our own Dreams of Innocence.

    I. My Memory
    My Memory
    The Night was Illuminated
    Its glow in my nursery poured
    A giant red star
    From the Nazi Foundry.
    Everything is rusty and dusty
    The streets are deserted
    Nothing moves, no one speaks
    No noise, no color.

    II. Woke Me, Filled Me
    A white flood
    of chattering and quacking
    and wildly fluttering poultry
    the grunting, crowing, and crackling
    the mooing, meowing, and whining,
    all the roaring sounds barking
    these sounds woke me from sleep
    and filled me with joy
    indescribable joy.

    III. My Grandfather
    He lifted me
    with his callused brown hands, in his lap.
    with his boots and his vest
    with his heavy silver watch
    He never spoke.
    In my eyes he was transformed on Sundays.
    In winter he wrapped me in a warm blanket.
    In his sleigh, he drove over crunching snow.
    In the forest round twigs
    and wood we silently rode.
    He was the most kindest
    lovable person I had ever met.
    He never spoke, He lifted me,
    He was a saint.

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