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 | All in
Harmony at
the Philharmonia |
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| By Jill Sperandio |
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No Phantom of the Opera - instead a shapely nymph, modestly draped atop her garlanded marble column, smiles approvingly at her newly renovated surroundings in the foyer of the Philharmonia. She has good reason to smile. The sole survivor of a group of four statuettes that once graced the original edifice, she has been witness to the lavish restoration of a beautiful building that had literally sunk into decay. Undermined by underground water flowing down the hillside to the Caspian, the building began to sink and spent much of the last five years surrounded by ugly scaffolding and sheet metal fencing. Newcomers to the city could only guess at the splendor that had once been, and which now shines forth again on the corner of Istyglaliyyat Street.
And shine it does. By day, the newly painted facade reflects back the sunlight, white and gold trim sparkling, the decorative timber panels a glowing sunshine yellow. The lush green of the newly planted grass and the early summer foliage of the trees in City Park enhance its brilliance. At night, carefully placed spotlights illuminate the silver cupola and the fine proportions of the flanking Italianate towers.
Inside, the rich buttercup yellow of brocade curtains and swags, and the upholstery of the white and gold Italian chairs mirror the exterior color. The smiling face of the nymph and her missing three companions gaze down from above the stage in the circular auditorium. A glittering chandelier and crystal drop lights, copies of the originals, light the scene and reflect off newly varnished floors. Beyond the slender columns that support the balcony, tall glass windows give out onto a view of the outdoor summer concert stage, the treetops of City Park and the blue of the Caspian in summer.
The Philharmonia has a checkered history, like so many of the fine buildings in Baku. And like these other buildings, legends and myths have grown around it. Some say the Philharmonia was originally intended to be a gambling house, its design based on that of the famous casino at Monte Carlo. Others claim the architect - Ter-Mikalov - sketched out the design for his Italian Renaissance creation with a cigar stub. Plans for the building were not welcomed by all when they were unveiled in 1910. A public outcry ensued when it was realized that a large number of the trees on the site that had been laboriously imported and lovingly tended, would have to be destroyed or moved. It was also said that the owners of the fine oil-boom mansion, now the National Art Gallery, took advantage of their wealth to ensure that the open-air stage of the Philharmonia was built with the stage facing their balcony, ensuring them the best seats in the house.
Early photographs and postcards refer to the building as the Summer Club. During Soviet times it was designated as a music recital hall, and bureaucratically ruled through the Council of the Workers', Peasants' and Sailors' Deputies, the Azeri Concert Department, the Bureau of Orchestra Musicians and numerous others.
Muslim Magomayev, the famous composer of operas such a Shah Ismayil and Nargiz, whose work earned him the tile of Honored Figure in Arts of the Republic of Azerbaijan, became associated with the building. When he died in 1937, the Philharmonia was named after him, and his bust was placed at the entrance. In the 1940s the foyer was extended, and the new restoration has extended it further still and added new practice and recording rooms, together with administrative offices.
The restoration has also brought to prominence another and much larger bust that stands in the park below the Philharmonia - that of Aliaga Vahid, the poet. Aliaga Vahid died in 1965 relatively unknown, but his work is now much respected. The little teahouse to one side of the Philharmonia is locally known as Aliaga Vahid's poetry house, where his work and his spontaneous poetry recitals are still regularly discussed. There is no nicer place to sit on a hot afternoon sipping tea under the shade of the leafy plane trees, to contemplate the glories of the restored building. Water tinkles soothingly in the blue glass fountain close by, also sadly missing the classical lady who once adorned it.
The team of 1,000 men who have labored on the Philharmonia - 500 in the day team, 500 at night - have now gone, but many of them are using their skills on the facelift being given to neighboring buildings. The newly cleaned stonework of the National Art Museum, the renovation of the Saffavid style buildings of the Sadykhov brothers directly facing the entrance to the Philharmonia, the repair of the fine murals at the metro station, and the current cleaning of City Hall (Baku Sovieti) are restoring Istyglaliyyat Street to its former glory.
Our Philharmonia nymph may have lost her three companions but she is no longer alone. Now bevvies of attractive young women flow past her, chattering gaily. They are musicians with the various orchestras already using auditorium and practice rooms. Under the watchful eye of Elkhan Akhverdiyev and his team of custodians who now care for the building, they prepare for the time when music will once more flow through the windows of the Philharmonia to the ears of the strollers enjoying the cool of a summer evening in City Park.
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