Now that we are approaching the 10th anniversary of the premiere of LA PÁGINA EN BLANCO [THE BLANK PAGE] at the Royal Theatre, it seems most appropriate to reflect on what that opera meant to me professionally, and above all, on how the stars aligned so that each cog found its ideal place in the immense machinery of a premiere of that nature, so that everything worked in an ideal manner.

To recall that moment from the perspective afforded by the current pandemic is terrifying, primarily because it would be difficult to deploy the same resources as in 2011 (which had been in preparation since 2008, when the project was commissioned). Even more so given that at that time it could have been seen as a dystopia, whereas now it seems like a  remonition of what we are now going through.

LA PÁGINA EN BLANCO is about a composer who lived in a cubicle surrounded by his music and connected to reality through his computer. A set of emotional situations based on a virtual “secondlife”, threats he received through e-mails and human relationships distorted by a mistaken reality. A society in decline whose highest values become devalued because their incoherence and their inanity have deprived reality of sense, leaving us in a vacuum, as Nietzsche suggested over a century ago.

I therefore reprise a text here that could be regarded as “historical”, given that it contains fragments of writing that I assembled for publication months before the premiere of the opera at the Royal Theatre:

To speak of your own work is something that, a priori, would seem straightforward, but which in fact is not. When one has so much information, both objective and subjective, regarding a matter, it is truly complicated to structure all that flow of information in order to transmit it to others with sufficient coherence and simplicity, and in order to make the person receiving it feel involved.

When in mid-2008 I received the news that the Royal Theatre had tasked me to write an opera, my first concern (because this is the first step in beginning to write about that “blank page” that every creator finds before him or her when beginning to compose) was the story on which to build a libretto. From the beginning, I was determined that my opera should be flexible, contain surprises and revolve around the crucial matters of the 21st century, in which it has fallen to me to live, with all its pros and cons.

Making my opera accessible to the public was also a top priority, as I believe that the audience must be moved: the ability of art to amplify and bring emotions to the surface must still be decisive even in this period of apparent frivolity and passive acceptance. Fundamentally, because the creator (within my strictly personal appreciation) is morally responsible for casting his or her gaze upon things that concern him or her and to communicate. Above all else: communicate.

There were many subjects floating in my thoughts and many different gazes upon which my own mind focussed. Human passions (love, selfishness, spite, anguish, fear). The solitude and paranoia of the individual today, subject to dangers and hazards of unknown origin. New technologies and how they modify our conduct towards a post-humanism whose consequences are still unknown and that “second life” already being lived by some through their computers, swapping this reality for a virtual one. And death, which we try to mock but which is inherent to life, as well as the crossroads at which the human being must face the decision to end things when dignity is lost. To place all this in a cocktail shaker and build a story where everything flows naturally was my first task.

I relied on the help of a great friend experienced in such matters, Ángel J. Gordo López, who holds a doctorate from the University of Manchester, was a lecturer in Sociology and Social Psychology at the University of Bradford and is currently a lecturer in the Department of Sociology at the Complutense University of Madrid. He is also a contributor to the Discourse Unit and co-ordinator of a UCM Research Group focussing on the study of Digital Culture and Social Movements. He advised me to read some books and a multitude of pages on the internet in which a very different future is being forged through the minds of new thinkers researching evolution and transgression.

The agility of the cinematographic world seemed closer to the individual’s sensibility in our society, because the audio-visual world has caught the dizzying pace of young people’s relentless activity. Youth and perpetuity are increasingly soaring values, very much above others that formerly governed the fundamental principles of human beings and which pervade all aspects of our existence.

And once the story, characters, development, plot and outcome were decided, the task I most regarded as my own began: how to create the world of sound in which it would transpire.

As a composer, I tend to be quite practical, perhaps because my being a performer means that I am closely attached to reality and the everyday problems of music. Because of this, I chose an orchestral ensemble that was not too large and rejected the idea of using unusual instruments. The fusion of tradition and avant-garde through musical creation was a challenge I assumed on my own initiative.

It is very difficult for me to define my compositional style. I can only discuss composers who have moved me in a special way and those from whom I have learnt techniques which I have later added to my musical discourse. Amongst them, there is a long list that ranges from Renaissance Franco-Flemish composers to the great creators of the Twentieth Century, such as Bartók, Stravinsky, Messiaen, Ligeti, Lutoslawski, Varèse, Nono, Donatoni, Penderecki, Boulez, Ferneyhough and Corigliano, amongst many others to whom I listen and admire, without this meaning that my music is identified absolutely with theirs.

I have combined continual musical discourse with the appearance of clearly defined arias which are inserted in it. The arias of this opera are moments in which the singers, in the same way as in other periods, display vocal quality and skills, with an orchestra adapted to the personality of each of the characters, and with more avant-garde features in their composition. An interesting observation concerning the choir is that I will use 24 voices, which will not always be employed in the usual way and from which I shall require different types of performance.

The choice of performers is also of capital importance when it concerns a world premiere. The audience’s perception of the work, an opera which, in not having precedents, generated different expectations that are only resolved depending on the quality and rigour with which it is performed, depends on those artists. Knowing the singers for whom I composed (a large part of the cast includes well-known European performers) has helped me a great deal to enable the score to overcome the limits of what is regarded as conventional in terms of vocal registers and demands. It has been adapted to specific performers, as so many others composers have done through history.

Gérard Mortier, who since she accepted this production has poured into it all her wisdom and sage advice, put me in touch with the team who would undertake the staging and musical direction:
David Hermann (stage direction), Alexander Polzin (scenography) and Titus Engel (musical direction). Our first meetings took place in Berlin, where we began to collaborate in the framework within which we would work. The pleasant memory I retain from these first meetings is of a group of young people especially excited about the project and enjoying an intense brainstorming session. The first visual outlines of La página en blanco emerged from that brainstorm, which fed into the libretto that I had already written (and which had been translated conveniently into French and German).

This work as a whole has been of crucial importance in enabling my music to be measured down to the millimetre with action, to the point of writing fragments that rather than  supporting the text or the action of the libretto, underpin movements of complex mechanisms on stage.

From the beginning, I have been highly involved in the entire process at many levels (even as a singer, as I will bring the character of Aisha to life), and I am enjoying every minute because I am aware that it is a unique and unrepeatable moment, as are all first experiences in our lives. I feel privileged at the kindness and commitment shown to me by all those involved in this project. To conclude, a curious fact: the opera is full of clues that within a few years, perhaps, will be more complex to decipher but which are now within all your reach. I hope you enjoy finding them.