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Was born in Wiesbaden in 1936. After completing studies
in composition, conducting and piano in Frankfurt and Freiburg on Breisgau,
he worked as conductor of the Freiburg Theatre Orchestra. He continued his
compositional studies under the guidance of Bernd Alois Zimmermann in 1963
at the Villa Massimo in Rome. In later years, he worked as conductor at
the Bonn Opera, the music director of the Kiel Opera and Principal
Conductor of the Saar Radio Symphony Orchestra (197183). In 1984 he was
appointed Music Director of the Hamburg Opera and held the post till 1987.
He has appeared on the conductor1s podium at the festivals in Bayreuth,
Salzburg, Berlin and Vienna.
In 1997 he received the Goethe Prize of the City of Frankfurt. In 1999 he
became one of the directors of the swf Symphony Orchestra, being at the
same time its Principal Guest Conductor. Since 1988, he has taught
composition at the Music Academy in Frankfurt. His discography includes a
17- cd set entitled Zender Edition, which features a selection of
classical and contemporary works recorded under his baton. Hans Zender is
the author of two collections of essays Happy New Ears and Wir steigen
niemals in denselben Fluß.
Selected works: Drei Rondels nach Mallarmé for alto,
flute and viola (1961), Tre Pezzi for oboe (1963), Drei Nocturnes for
harpsichord (1963), Vexilla regis, concerto for soprano, flute, trumpet
and instruments (1964), Quartet for flute, cello, piano and percussion
(1964), Bremen Wodu, electronic music (1967), Schachspiel for two
orchestral groups (1969), Canto V (Kontinuum und Fragmente) for voices
with percussion instruments ad libitum, set to texts by Heraclitus (196972),
Modelle for any ensemble (minimum: five instruments ad libitum, maximum:
small orchestra) (197173), Elemente, electronic music (1976), Litanei
for three cellos (1976), Lo-Shu I for 13 flutes, 13 cellos and 13
percussionists (1977), Lo-Shu II (Mondshrift) for solo flute (1978), Hölderlin
lesen I for string quartet and reciting voice (1979), Stephen Climax,
opera in three acts (197984), Kantate nach Meister Eckhart for alto,
alto flute, cello and harpsichord (1980), Dialog mit Haydn for two pianos
and three orchestral groups (1982), Schubert-Chöre for choir (with solo
tenor) and orchestra (1986), Hölderlin lesen II for reciting voice, viola
and live electronics (1987), Jours de Silence for baritone and large
orchestra, with words by Henri Michaux (198788), Canto VI, a setting of
Psalms 22 and 23 for bass-baritone, a cappella mixed choir and tape ad
libitum (1988), F•rin No Kyô for soprano, clarinet and ensemble (198889),
Animula for female choir, solo flutes (piccolo, alto and bass), four
flutes, three percussions, eight strings, harp and tape, with words by T.S.
Eliot (198896), Lo-Shu VI, five haiku for flute and cello (1989),
Memorial, three studies for piano (1989), Don Quijote de la Mancha, opera
(198991/1994), Nanzen No Kyô. Canto VII for four choral groups and four
instrumental groups (1992), Shir Hashirim Lied der Lieder (Canto VIII)
for solo voices, choir, live electronics and large orchestra (199296),
Shubert1s OWinterreise1. Eine komponierte Interpretation for tenor and
small orchestra (1993), Römer VIII for soprano, alto, organ and live
electronics (1994), Nanzen und die Katze, radio play (1995), Koan (from
Shir Hashirim) for orchestra (1996), Johannes III, 115 for a cappella
mixed choir (1997), 4 Enso (Lo-Shu VII) for two instrumental groups
(1997), Schumann-Fantasie for large orchestra (1997), Kaligraphie for
orchestra (199798).
By an open door. The East-West change of viewpoint:
about Hans Zender1s cycle Lo-Shu
According to a man of the West, time is linear and
directional. Events occur one after another, each being a reaction to the
other. The whole of Western thinking is based on the teleological concept
of time. Naturally, this refers also to culture and the perception of
music. What is a cadential turn aiming at a solution? What is a sonata
form with its development? [...] Underneath all this is the perception of
time as something proceeding forward and wishing to cut off what had
passed and, by the same token, to achieve a Ohigher1 evolutionary stage.
OAt first we are overwhelmed by the sounds; when violently attacked by
them we react with spontaneity and without reflection. Then, we start to
transform and compare what we have heard retrospectively this is the
process of reflection which is possible only thanks to experiencing the
continuity of time relationships. And finally comes the third stage in
which this process of reflection itself becomes the subject of
reflection1: this is how Hans Zender describes the manner in which music
exerts its influence, as shaped by the European tradition. The
comprehension of musical time in the categories of development and
synthesis was placed by Zender in opposition to the structures which are
conceived in the categories of individual events, irrespective of what had
occurred earlier and what is going to take place later. A listener1s
attention was not to be directed to a specified aim but to perceiving
every moment with its specific features.
Concert tours to Japan at the start of the 1970s were of key importance
and a source of new inspiration for Zender. In Far Eastern thought, the
composer discovered for himself a contradiction to European feverish
activity and constant, nervous forward drive, which exerted an influence
also on new music. He found a remedy in the Eastern Asiatic sense of time,
which according to the tradition of ancient meditative techniques
pulsates in long phases, keeping pace with quiet, regular breath rather
than the short intervals of the tireless pulse of the heart.
Zender made an attempt to capture this conceptual cosmos and to put to
good use, in his own work, what is alien and distant. The Oartificial1
scores, with their conscious references to the European tradition or
following avant-garde models which have until now dominated in his
music have now been replaced by a number of experimental OAsiatic1
pieces: Japanese compositions Muji No Kyô (1975), Furin No Kyô (1989)
and Nanzen No Kyô (1992), and, the most important of all, the cycle
Lo-Shu (19771997), which at present comprises seven scores.
Let it said for clarity1s sake that these compositions have nothing to do
with traditional Chinese or Japanese music. Every attempt to trace an
analogy is bound to end in a failure. Hans Zender is not interested in
exploring the exotic or in plundering other cultures. East-West relations
proceed here on a more abstract plane. The composer limits himself to the
field of reflection and the construction of form. In doing so, he employs
patterns, constellations and symbols, such as the Chinese magic square
Lo-Shu, which is known from documents dating back to the third millennium
b.c. Two vertical and two horizontal axes divide the square into nine
equal parts, each of which contains one of nine figures. They are arranged
in such a way that their sum in each direction, including the diagonal
line, equals fifteen:
4 9 2
3 5 7
8 1 6
In his first piece from the cycle Lo-Shu Hans Zender
has outlined the nine-part form of the magic square down to the smallest
detail. The composition falls into nine sections, each of which has nine
bars, each bar1s metre consisting of nine crotchets. It is no surprising
therefore that the work is scored for nine instruments: three flutes,
three cellos and three percussion (including nine wooden billets). The
instruments are assigned precisely defined locations which form the
outline of a square. The musicians are placed in three rows. Sitting next
to one another in each of them are a percussionist, cellist and flautist,
irrespective of whether we look at the ensemble from the vertical,
horizontal or diagonal position.
In Lo-Shu III, composed in 1978 and dedicated to Isang Yun, in sections
III and VI, we have verses from Pound1s late Canto CXII. [...]
The close link between Lo-Shu I and Lo-Shu III manifests itself not only
in the formal construction which in both cases exhibits the state of
self-resemblance (known from chaos theory): on the small scale, the same
happens as on the large scale. In Zender1s subsequent piece, nine parts
consisting of nine sections have each been replaced by eight parts
consisting of eight sections each, while the solo flute is accompanied by
a sizeable ensemble of 24 instruments (three times eight). Despite this,
here too the magic square serves as a matrix, albeit without the centre.
[...]
If we look at the cycle from the vantage point side of its youngest link,
Four enso, we are bound to notice that all the component pieces of
Lo-Shu give prominence to the flute: in the form of concerto (Lo-Shu IIIV),
in the constellation of a duet (Lo-Shu VI: Five haiku for flute and cello)
or a solo instrument (Lo-Shu II). There is no doubt that the flute belongs
to Zender1s favourite instruments. What is most important for him is its
aural character and atmosphere: soft, lustreless, nocturnal, veiled.
Zender subtitled his Lo-Shu II OMondschrift1 OLunar writing1. 28 phases
of the Moon find here their aural equivalent in time proportions: each of
the 28 sections lasts 20 seconds and this division is maintained
throughout the work, accompanying the listener as equal, quiet, broad
breaths during a meditative exercise.
The other aspect is the circular shaping: at the beginning the pauses last
almost as long as the sounding sequences; as the piece develops the events
become thicker, to return to the point of departure the accumulation
and thinning out of sound, from the new moon to full moon and back. In the
culminating stage, two sentences by Confucius are spoken to the instrument
3Only what is the purest under the sun can fully develop its nature2 and
3Only what is the purest under the sun can cause change2. In contrast to
other parts of Lo-Shu, the texts serve here also as a material eliciting
the Owhispers1 of the flute, stimulated by Chinese syllables.
The art of calligraphy is one of those aspects of culture of the Far East
which fascinate Hans Zender the most. The notion denotes here not only
Othe art of decorative handwriting1, as one usually understands
calligraphy, but the centuries-old tradition whereby the signs and texts
are constantly re-written and given a new shape according to
a calligrapher1s individuality. This can be compared to the principle of
performance. Meaning and form have become one; they will never be
separated. Even if the calligraphed manuscript undergoes transformations
from one generation to next, it remains faithful to its fundamental
pattern and its semantic substance.
Susanne Stähr
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