The famed composer Franz Schubert wrote hundreds of lieders, a particular type of German song from the romantic period, during his lifetime. A handful of them are especially precious to internationally renowned artist Lee Mingwei.
While he was growing up in Taiwan in the 1960s, Mingwei's mother had a habit of putting on Schubert's lieders for the whole family to listen to. Little, rambunctious Lee loved the songs, but he really wanted to hear them better than he ordinarily could. His mom always played them at such a low volume that you had to be very still and quiet to hear them properly, something he found difficult to do at that young age. The tropical climate made him want to run around constantly like a puppy, he says.
"She would play his music at a very low volume, and I would say 'Mom, I can't hear Schubert singing,'" Mingwei says, with a laugh. It wasn't Schubert himself singing, of course, but his mom would just patiently remind him, "'Honey, sit down and be very quiet and you can hear Schubert.'"
The lieders were just the trick to getting Lee to sit down for a bit. The sound of them are ingrained in his memories of those intimate times with his family, before he and his sister were sent to the Dominican Republic for their middle school and high school years and on to the United States for college.
Years later, Mingwei would play the exact same song for his mom while she was in the hospital recovering from heart surgery. It brought the two of them full circle in this shared love of Schubert's music.
That experience was the inspiration for Mingwei's performance installation "Sonic Blossom," in which a singer offers the gift of a Schubert lieder to a stranger. If he or she accepts, they are invited to sit in a chair as the singer -- dressed in a costume made by Mingwei -- performs the lieder as if they are singing it only to them, though others may gather around to enjoy it themselves.
"Sonic Blossom" has been exhibited all around the world, from Seoul to Tokyo, Beijing to Paris, then Sydney and elsewhere. In the U.S., it's made stops in New York, Boston, Washington, D.C., and Cleveland.
Visitors to Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art can experience the exhibit over a period of 21 days, from Sept. 6 to Oct. 2. A total of 18 local artists auditioned March 31 for the roughly eight to 10 singer spots available within this exhibition. The performers were chosen based on their musical prowess, as well as an ability to deliver the music with generosity and warmth, since the songs are delicate gifts, as the artist describes them.
"To share this ... is so beautiful between strangers," Mingwei says. "The immediate connection between the two (the singer and the chosen audience of one) is so magical; I've seen it so many times. The receiver will tear up, they will cry. Sometimes the singer couldn't continue."
The whole experience hinges on vulnerability, both for the singer and the receiver, Mingwei says. While the person listening to the song may not know which song they'll be receiving, how long it will be or likely what the words mean, since it's sung in German, the opera singer may be intimidated themselves.
Most are not trained to perform for just one, single person in such close proximity. Doing performances like this is a way to preserve the artform of chamber music, which loosely means music that you would play in your house for entertainment to a very small number of guests.
More likely, modern singers are more comfortable singing to a large audience with a buffer of that space between the stage and the many seats in a performance hall.
"They're usually creating a persona," Mingwei says. "When we sing the opera, we hide behind Tosca, but here we are asking them to be themselves, with no persona ...When giving the song to the stranger, they become a demi-god. They have an extraordinary power to transform themselves and the other person. It doesn't happen all the time."
Mingwei crafted the special clothing that the singers wear while performing. He describes it as looking like an upside down black tulip, and it was designed through conceptually magical ideas of mythical beings. Until recently, when genetic engineering made it more common, the black tulip was a rare find.
Singers who have worn this costume describe it as a transformational gown that helps them slip into that demi-god state of mind, and once they take it off, they become human again, Mingwei says.
During the 10 years that this exhibit has toured the world, Mingwei has seen beautiful scenes unfold as a result of the intimate performances.
In one instance, a lady had been taking in the music of "Sonic Blossom" at the Met all day long when finally the singer chose her to be the receiver. As she sat in the chair, she warned the singer that it may not be a pleasant experience for them, and they said that would be OK. Throughout the song, the woman wailed loudly. Afterward, she revealed that her daughter, who had been a singer and loved that very Schubert lieder they had just performed, had died. Experiencing the exhibit was the first time she had really allowed herself to listen to those beloved songs again, which were rich in memories.
When the exhibit was in Sydney, an older gentleman received a song as a part of "Sonic Blossom." It was special to him, he told Mingwei, because he had experienced a stroke a decade before and had lost the ability to talk and sing. After the performance, Mingwei watched him hug the singer and could hear the man singing the lieder as he went through the galleries.
"It triggered something so much bigger," he says. Mingwei hopes many people will come encounter this work while it's at Crystal Bridges because it's a little bit different in each place, but always a unique and special experience. "We all have challenging lives. There are moments we need to relax and appreciate."