Mag­gione.  Open­ing night, in June.

Photo credit: Jill Hackett

Built 9 cen­turies ago, between 1150 and 1170, the Cas­tle of the Knights of Malta is impec­ca­bly restored, and is the first cas­tle I have seen that I have ever wanted to live in.   The cypress trees are ancient and much taller than most you’ll see in Umbria.  They have been pro­tected by knights, bene­fac­tors and skilled gar­den­ers.  You walk into the main courtyard– its a bit older, only 15th century– and imme­di­ately smell the jas­mine that climbs up three sto­ries in each cor­ner of the court­yard.     Tune your ears and you’ll hear Ger­man, French, Eng­lish from New Jer­sey, and Ital­ian.   It is unusual that here, Ital­ians are not nec­es­sar­ily in the major­ity atten­dance.  This music fes­ti­val has a strong fol­low­ing from abroad.

Though the cas­tle has been here for 9 cen­turies, the Trasi­meno Music Fes­ti­val is only four years old–started by an incred­i­bly tal­ented Cana­dian pianist, Angela Hewitt who hand picks musi­cians from around the world to par­tic­i­pate in this week long cel­e­bra­tion of music.   The main con­certs are here in Magione, with a per­for­mance at Gub­bio and another in Perugia.

Tak­ing the stage in full-body sequins, on open­ing night Hewitt shares the piano with Gar­rick Ohls­son –  four pieces for piano for four hands.   The first half of the pro­gram starts with Mozart’s Sonata in F Major,  fol­lowed by Schubert’s Fan­tasy in F minor.   The two pianists take their seats by the same ebony grand, known as a pianoforte in Italy (piano in Ital­ian being the word for floor or level, as in third floor).

As Hewitt and Ohls­son raise their hands, I see not four, but eight hands, their own being per­fectly reflected in the pol­ished ebony back­drop to the key­board.   Watch­ing the hands bal­let, the musi­cians allow­ing the music to play them.   Spot­lights hold the stage in light, as the sun sets.   Dur­ing the Schu­bert, a few bats begin to dive in and out of the spotlights.

The high­light of the pro­gram, though, was Gershwin’s Rhap­sody in Blue.  I was aston­ished how home sick I felt when I heard this music, excel­lently excuted by four hands.   I am not a stu­dent of music, so my vis­ceral reac­tion to the music urprised me even more.  I expe­ri­enced New York in the late 20’s and 30’s, the sense of an era.  I did not real­ize that I knew each pas­sage — as it arrived I knew the next theme and could hum it in my head.  The sheer com­fort of this mag­ni­fi­cient music, played with so much joy and verve.

I was very proud to be an Amer­i­can.  And I felt a bit less homesick.