Drift

EARLY 20TH CENTURY

Alfred Wegener was the 20th-century meteorologist who pioneered the theory of Continental Drift, the hypothesis that formed the basis for the scientific discipline now known as Plate Tectonics. He noticed that similar fossils were found on opposing shorelines separated by vast oceans and that Earth’s land masses seemed to “fit” into a jigsaw as though they had once composed a single supercontinent. He named this supercontinent “Pangaea.”

An outsider in the field of geology, his process was equal parts science and art. This fluid approach unlocked massive creative energy but also drew the ire of establishment geologists, who coined the (accidentally beautiful) term “geo-poetry” to dismiss his work. Alfred’s other passion throughout his life was polar exploration to gather climate data in the area’s unique, extreme conditions. Though the major claims of his Continental Drift theory are now largely vindicated, he died before they were accepted by the scientific community, while on a rescue mission during his third expedition to Greenland.

Drift takes its narrative place next to a host of modern stage works extolling the virtues of science and progress, but also attempts to infuse the story with elements of geo-poetry. Several “knee plays” referencing ancient Greenlandic myths penetrate the scenes with ambiguity, and the opera choruses draw inspiration from German literature. Just as Carl Sagan’s Pale Blue Dot reflection re-contextualized our understanding of our place in the universe, Alfred Wegener’s theory of Continental Drift can remind us that, no matter its divisions and unrest, this world is more connected than we think.

Three Scenes married by one poem

The opera opens in darkness to disembodied words: the first stanza, the faceless voice of human awe. But the music becomes buoyant as the opening scene reveals a brilliant hot air balloon forestage. The first part of the opera focuses on young Alfred’s relationship with Else Köppen, the daughter of his mentor Wladimir. She works closely with Alfred and is his closest confidante. Alfred proposes to Else above Germany, in a balloon usually reserved for recording climate data, on the eve of his first polar expedition.

Goethe, from a poem in praise of luke howard, the english meteorologist who classified the clouds

When Camarupa, wavering on high,
Lightly and slowly travels o’er the sky,
Now closely draws her veil, now spreads it wide,
And joys to see the changing figures glide,
Now firmly stands, now like a vision flies,
We pause in wonder, and mistrust our eyes…

Back at the Köppen house, the expedition team’s farewell party turns into a raucous engagement celebration. Wladimir toasts Alfred publicly but privately admonishes him, warning him that if he does not return from this perilous journey he will have deepened Else’s grief with his proposal. That night, as Alfred is up late with his maps, we see his discovery of Continental Drift theory, presented as a knee play.

The second stanza of the same Goethe text is sung by the chorus upon Alfred’s return to Germany. He learns news of his theory’s broad rejection by the scientific community. Refused tenure and ridiculed for the presentation he thought would be widely praised, Else consoles him and shares a letter approving the funding for another voyage to Greenland. So, both melancholy and hopeful, this stanza invokes the power of imagination and unfinished work, through the reflection of the “cloud messenger”.

Then boldly stirs imagination’s power,
And shapes there formless masses of the hour;
Here lions threat, there elephants will range,
And camel-necks to vapory dragons change;
An army moves, but not in victory proud,
Its might is broken on a rock of cloud;
E’en the cloud messenger in air expires,
Not having reached the distance his dream yet desires.

The third and final stanza is sung in Greenland by the Eismitte Trio, three compatriots who winter at the Ice Castle (the central data station they built entirely from snow and ice). To pass the time in their frozen dwelling, Alfred often reads Goethe aloud around the fire. But today is Alfred’s 50th birthday and he has not returned from his mission to bring emergency supplies to a neighbor station. So the Trio gathers to toast him and read from one of his books of poetry, a nod to Alfred’s future legacy. Simultaneously, we see Else in Germany compiling the team’s notes into Greenland Journey, the book that brought the story of Alfred’s final expedition to the world.

Praise to the one who gives us with clearer mind
The gain of lessons new to all mankind;
That which no hand can reach, no hand can clasp,
You first have gained, first held with mental grasp.
Defined the doubtful, fixed its limit-shores,
And named them fitly. – Be the honor yours!
As clouds ascend, are folded, scatter, fall,
Let the world think of you who taught it all.

Other libretto resources include excerpts from members of Alfred’s Greenland expeditions, edited beautifully by Else, juxtaposed with texts of Wilhelm Müller well known to music audiences for their inclusion in Schubert’s Wintereisse.

Greenland, the knee plays and the End of the Opera

I have been in close dialogue with writer/performer Nukaka Coster-Waldau about Greenlandic mythology. One example of embedding mythology into the narrative we have discussed is a “transformation” of Else into the Inuit creation myth of Sedna, Mother of the Sea. Else brushes her hair upstairs while her father and new fiancé argue on the eve of Alfred’s first expedition. The lighting shifts on stage and the background (Else) comes to the fore. Her hair stretches to the bottom floor and narwhals, seals and other marine animals begin emerging from it. Shamans swim down slowly from above, combing the supernaturally elongated hair in a sort of balletic knee play as Alfred, now alone downstairs, incorporates the same apparitions into his visionary Continental Drift theory. The chorus sings a similarly stretched version of August Stramm’s expressionist poem, Fallen:

Heaven films the eye/earth claws the hand/air hums/weeping/and/twines/women’s lamentations/in/the stranded hair

Alfred’s European scientists rely heavily on a team of native Greenlanders to help them navigate the wintry landscape of the polar ice cap. They teach them how to stay warm with reindeer furs and cooperate with the sled dogs and ponies. When one of the ponies slips into a crevasse and breaks its leg, the team resolves to kill the injured pony and eat the meat. There is a constant juxtaposition of the severity and inhospitality of the landscape with its crystalline beauty.

Rasmus Villumsen, a twenty-two year-old Greenlandic guide, becomes a close friend to Alfred. Traveling together in their last hours of life, Rasmus buries Alfred’s body and marks the site with his skis, salvages his notebooks (Alfred’s most precious possessions, containing personal letters and much of the data he had collected) and turns back to the safety of Eismitte. But the blizzard conditions are particularly extreme and Rasmus’s body will never be found. After the drama of the final act, the opera closes with a solo aria from Rasmus: a hypothermic dream of home, beauty and transience as he drifts into the snow.