Vikram Seth - The rivered earth

Some time ago, when I was between books, I took part in a project that resulted in several remarkable works of music involving, from my pen, four very different libretti. Apart from the texts themselves, published here, each with its own brief introduction, I thought it might be of interest to write a more general account of this project, which was unusual in several senses: it was a collaboration between a writer, a composer and a violinist; it developed over four years, with a work produced each year; it took place with the encouragement and within the constraints of three festivals and, indeed, communities; the libretti touched upon three civilizations, Chinese, European and Indian; and much of the work both literary and musical was created in a house with rich literary and musical associations, a house on the River Nadder in Wiltshire.

The project was called Confluences, but because that name sounds a bit technical, I sought a more vivid title for this book and for the four libretti as a whole. The composer suggested the rivered earth, a phrase from the last of the libretti, suggestive perhaps of the beauty of our common planet. In fact, the two halves of the phrase encompass the four texts, since the first begins with the image of the moon reflected in a great river, and the last ends with the image of the blue earth spinning through time and space.

The composer Alec Roth, the violinist Philippe Honor and I were standing in a red room with a large black piano, anticipating the arrival of the directors of the Salisbury and Chelsea festivals.

What we needed was a project for the coming year that would enthuse all three of us and would kindle the interest of the directors. But our various suggestions were all over the place from unaccompanied choirs to the solo violin, from community choruses to chamber orchestras, from violin and piano sonatas to song-cycles, from pieces for instrumental ensembles to grand oratorios. What we were agreed upon was that crucial to the works would be Philippes violin and Alecs composition and my words and therefore the human voice, which has always been at the heart of Alecs music, even his instrumental music. But we could settle on none of the various alternatives.

About five minutes before our guests were due to arrive, I said, Lets ask for it all.

What do you mean? said Philippe.

I mean, lets suggest some sort of grand plan where each year we would undertake to create a new work and they would undertake to support its creation and performance. Its now summer 2005. So what about something for each of the four years from 2006 to 2009?

Four years? said Alec. Its hard enough getting funding for one. Festival finances have always been in a precarious state. They stagger along from one year to the next: almost all their funding and fund-raising is on an annual basis.

Well, dont festivals ever commission composers or projects for more than a single year?

Its very rare. I cant think of an example of it, offhand.

So how come theres any continuity in what a festival offers from one year to another?

There isnt much. Its all a bit ad hoc. The moment the actual festival is over, they start thinking of what to do for the next. I suppose the overall vision of the director gives it some sort of continuity.

Havent you ever had a commission for more than a single year?

No.

Well, lets ask for it. In fact, lets insist on it. And lets try to get a guarantee right from the beginning that theyll follow it through. I cant imagine anything more killing to any kind of long-term vision than the business of applying for a commission a year at a time and the uncertainty of whether itll come through.

Thats how it is in the real world.

I didnt know that. And some good ideas come out of ignorance. So lets give it a try.

Theres nothing to be lost, said Philippe. It would be fantastic to have a new piece to work on each year for the next four years.

Theyll never agree, said Alec.

An hour or so later we were looking at each other in amazement. Not only had Jo Metcalf Shore and Stewart Collins not blanched at the idea, theyd been intrigued. They had asked us to write up a proposal: ideas, forms, forces, venues, costs. But it was clear to them from the start that theyd have to get a third festival to join them to make it possible. Some time later they met Richard Hawley, who had recently been appointed director of the Lichfield Festival. Now that they had a troika, they set about trying to get funding. Eventually both the Arts Council and the PRS Foundation expressed their enthusiasm and guaranteed funding for three years, and the various festival boards signalled their approval presumably assuming that funding for the fourth year would somehow work out.

But all this took quite some time many months, in fact. By now Alec, Philippe and I were champing at the bit and had half given up hope. Indeed, by the time the confirmation of the project did come through, it was so late that I couldnt create a new work for the first year. I was in Delhi, Alec was in Durham and there was hardly any time to consult, let alone write. In the event, we had to think of a different solution.