The choir of Sardinian shepherds loved by Werner Herzog
In 2012, the pioneer of new German cinema Werner Herzog was approached to create an art installation for the Whitney Biennale. The director promptly turned down the offer because he didn’t feel comfortable with the contemporary art they showed. Known for his incisive documentaries and grand narratives, he bristled at the notion of modern art, noting that “garbage that is sometimes heaped into a corridor and declared art” at the Red Bull Music Academy’s Director Series.
As he explained to the curator on the phone, he felt uncomfortable with the whole idea. “It’s too much cerebral. It’s too, in my opinion, conceptual. I really do not feel very comfortable with it. I said, ‘No I’m not going to do it.'” On the other end of the line, the curator countered that he was an artist himself. Herzog’s reply? “No, I’m not an artist. I’m a soldier.”
After he ceremoniously hung up, his wife Lena didn’t take long to persuade him to do it. She reminded him that between his films and writing, there were certain areas where he could “express things that I could not express neither in literature nor in movies.” After it dawned on him it might be a good avenue to go down, he decided to dedicate his show, Hearsay of the Soul, to Hercules Segers, primarily because he found it appalling nobody at the Whitney had heard of him.
Segers was largely considered one of the most unusual artists to come out of the Dutch Golden Age, mainly because his primary subject was mountains, whereas the more typical focus of artists from the time was still life – fruit, flowers, and people. Herzog said he felt moved to make people aware of his work, to pave the way to creating a climate that was “very much in favour of accepting and embracing Hercules Segers”.
The installation’s music was extremely important for setting the tone, so naturally, Herzog settled on a choir of Sardinian shepherds. The sounds of the shepherds he already had on hand because he initially intended on using it for two films, The Wild Blue Yonder, and The White Diamond. “The cello that you hear together with the Sardinians is Ernst Reijseger, with whom I have worked now on five or so films, a wonderful, great musician,” he said. “I do believe he is one of the finest composers that we have at the moment.
On the choir, he said what appealed was that “they have this very strange, very ancient way of singing”. They were the perfect aid to create a climate of expectation for the exhibition. After a few minutes of darkness, the light will illuminate a few screens with elements of Segers’ prints as they listen to the unique thrum of the choir.
