Pictures at an Exhibition

If imitation is indeed the sincerest form of flattery, then few composers have been more posthumously flattered than Modest Mussorgsky. Unfortunately, the career civil servant and part-time composer died at age 41, never anticipating that the solo piano piece he wrote in 1874, in memory of a dear friend, would eventually go on to be among the most beloved and frequently arranged works in the entire classical repertoire. Even prior to Maurice Ravel orchestrating Pictures at an Exhibition in 1922, three other composers had made arrangements, and the list of great conductors who have since taken their own stab at orchestrating the colorful work is impressive. Ormandy, Stokowski, Toscanini, Ashkenazy, and Slatkin each created their own versions of the piece for full orchestra, and it has also been arranged for a huge variety of other ensembles, including brass ensemble, percussion ensemble, saxophone choir, tuba quartet, and heavy metal bands. Obviously, Mussorgsky’s evocative writing has struck a chord with countless musicians over the decades, and his vivid depictions of chickens, gardens, catacombs and castles continue to charm audiences in the 21st century.

Born into a noble Russian family, Mussorgsky’s early training was as a pianist. Although he studied music throughout his childhood, he followed the family tradition and enlisted in the military at a young age. Unlike Tchaikovsky and other conservatory-trained composers of the era, Mussorgsky was never a “full-time” musician. He was however, part of a circle of extraordinary “amateur” musicians dedicated to composing what they felt was more “authentically Russian” music. Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, César Cui, Mily Balakirev, Alexander Borodin, and Mussorgsky, often referred to as “the Russian Five,” spent over a decade as friends, colleagues, and drinking buddies. Of the five men, Mussorgsky was generally derided as the least sophisticated, with even his friends criticizing his music as lacking cohesion. Rimsky-Korsakov wrote that Mussorgsky's scores included “absurd, disconnected harmony, ugly part-writing, sometimes strikingly illogical modulation, sometimes a depressing lack of it, and unsuccessful scoring of orchestral things ...” Despite the rough edges, however, no one doubted Mussorgsky’s talent, and his contemporaries acknowledged that what he lacked in technical mastery was more than made up for by his extraordinary ability to evoke enchanting scenes and magical atmospheres through his music.

Pictures at an Exhibition, in its original solo piano version, consisted of ten movements, each depicting a work of art created by Mussorgsky’s friend, the architect and painter Viktor Hartmann. The two men had been friends for several years, and when Hartmann died suddenly at age 39, Mussorgsky was profoundly affected. The following year, a memorial exhibition of Hartmann’s works was mounted at the Imperial Academy of Arts in St. Petersburg. Mussorgsky attended the exhibition and, a few weeks later, was inspired to compose Pictures at an Exhibition commemorating the experience. He composed rapidly, completing the entire work in under three weeks. Mussorgsky wrote to his friend that the work was “boiling” and that “sounds and ideas hang in the air. I am gulping and overeating, and can barely manage to scribble them on paper.” Although the work was never published during Mussorgsky’s lifetime, Rimsky-Korsakov eventually took the manuscript and “cleaned it up” for publication in 1886. Naturally, Rimsky-Korsakov attempted to “fix” some of his friend’s musical “mistakes” in the publication. It was not until 1931 that Mussorgsky’s original manuscript was published. Nine years prior to that, however, Maurice Ravel had taken pen to hand and transcribed the work for full orchestra. Of all the different orchestrations that have been made over the succeeding decades, Ravel’s is still the most often performed, primarily because of his unrivaled ear for orchestral color. With his uncanny ability to combine instruments in unexpected ways, creating perfectly balanced, exquisitely crafted colors, Ravel brings Mussorgsky’s music into 3-D brilliance. Although Ravel’s nature as a detail-oriented perfectionist is sometimes seen as being at odds with Mussorgsky’s more primitive compositional style, there can be no doubt that Ravel’s version of the work has brought an increased appreciation for the piece and for the power and intensity of Mussorgsky’s music.

The work opens with the Promenade theme, which will be heard repeatedly throughout the piece and is meant to be a depiction of Mussorgsky walking into the exhibit, then strolling from picture to picture. A solo trumpet, accompanied by brass choir, plays the melody in a commanding, self-confident version as the piece begins. The irregular meter of the melody is meant to imitate walking. This Promenade theme will change in character throughout the work as Mussorgsky’s frame of mind is altered by each picture he views.

The Gnome: This movement depicts a sketch Hartmann made of a ghoulish gnome, clumsily running about on crooked legs. It is thought that Hartmann intended the sketch as the design for a nutcracker with large, grotesque teeth. A fast, scampering idiom alternates with slower, more grandiose music, as if the gnome were strutting about grandly, then running quickly away so as not to be caught.

Promenade: A more subdued Promenade in the horns and woodwinds suggests Mussorgsky is already feeling more nostalgic.

The Old Castle: Two sketches of medieval castles were the inspiration for this movement, which is a troubadour song. In a stroke of brilliance, Ravel gives the haunting melody to the saxophone, an instrument not normally seen within the orchestra, but whose sound Ravel admired.

Promenade: Renewed energy characterizes this brief stroll to the next two pictures.

The Tuileries: Hartmann’s depiction of a group of children and their nannies in the gardens of the Tuileries is the inspiration for this movement. The woodwinds dash around with a theme clearly intended to mimic children taunting each other, then racing away.

Bydlo (Oxen): Ponderous low strings and solo tuba begin this movement, designed to depict a Polish cart on huge wheels, drawn by oxen. The slow-moving cart appears in the distance, lumbers past the viewer, and quickly recedes from view.

Promenade: The woodwinds offer a wistful version of the Promenade theme before the viewer’s attention is caught by the next quirky picture.

Ballet of the Chicks in Their Shells: Hartmann had created the design for an eggshell costume to be worn by children in a new ballet production. Chirping woodwinds and high strings mimic the children scampering around the stage, pecking at their shells.

Samuel Goldenberg and Schmuÿle: The two drawings upon which this movement is based were actually gifted to Mussorgsky by Hartmann. Mussorgsky supplied the names for each character, with Samuel Goldenberg, a wealthy Jewish man, represented here by a full, resplendent string section. Schmuÿle, the poor Jewish man in the second drawing, is brilliantly depicted by Ravel as a loud, whining, muted trumpet.

The Market at Limoges: Hartmann did over 150 watercolors of scenes around the French city of Limoges. In this movement, Mussorgsky depicts the women gossiping and arguing while they shop. In the margin of the score, Mussorgsky wrote: “Great news! M. de Puissangeout has just recovered his cow … Mme de Remboursac has just acquired a beautiful new set of teeth, while M. de Pantaleon’s nose, which is in his way, is as much as ever the color of a peony.” Frantic, brilliant string writing builds dramatically but is suddenly interrupted by a dark, foreboding chord in the low brass, signaling an abrupt change of mood.

The Catacombs: Hartmann had done a watercolor showing himself and a guide exploring the Paris catacombs by lamplight, a pile of skulls in one corner. Ravel evokes the vast emptiness of the space via huge brass chords, which are echoed by soft, low strings in a terrifying, lonely setting. This leads directly into the following movement:

Cum mortuis in lingua mortua (With the Dead in a Dead Language): Mussorgsky is himself drawn into the picture. He wrote: “The creative spirit of the departed Hartmann leads me to the skulls and invokes them: the skulls begin to glow faintly.” Here, trembling violins underscore a mournful version of the Promenade theme in the oboes, echoed by low strings. The entrance of the harp and flutes brings perhaps the most poignant moment in the entire piece, as Mussorgsky calmly and lovingly remembers his dear friend.

The Hut on Fowl’s Legs (Baba Yaga): This movement evokes the child-eating witch Baba Yaga of Russian folklore, who was said to live in the woods in a hut on hen’s legs. Hartmann had sketched a clock of bronze and enamel in the shape of the hut. Screaming brass dominate this muscular, terrifying music, as Baba Yaga chases her victims through the forest. A mystical slow section seems to indicate that perhaps she has fallen asleep, but she quickly reawakens, and the reign of terror continues. The final measures of the movement sweep brilliantly into the first measure of the next movement:

The Great Gate of Kiev: Perhaps the most recognizable movement of the work commemorates Hartmann’s design for a massive gate at the entrance to the city of Kiev. Hartmann believed it was his finest work, and although the gate was never constructed, Mussorgsky’s music stands as a monument to Hartmann’s vision. Ceremonial brass sing out the main melody, which will later be taken up by the strings. Interspersed with the tune are two delicate moments in which the clarinets and bassoons quietly invoke a Russian Orthodox baptismal chant. This leads to the final return of the Promenade music, this time in a triumphant version. Ravel’s brilliant orchestration of the ending includes pealing church bells and ample percussion, marking the joyous conclusion of Mussorgsky’s homage to the power of friendship.