Submitted by Patrick Reyes on the 2017 summer session program in Granada, Spain sponsored by the Department of Languages, Literatures and Cultures…
For the artist, the search for the sublime is a lifelong challenge. And here in Granada, this quest is characterized by the idea of duende. I’ve searched long and hard for a concrete definition for duende, a way to crystallize it in the right words, but as generations of artists and performers in the storybook kingdom have spent entire lifetimes chasing it, I can only take a stab at trying to do it justice. Yet, there is no denying the presence of duende in the city. Here, I offer some of the glimpses and instances of duende I’ve encountered. For although, I may not be able to define duende, perhaps I can at least show how the city has become defined by duende.
The first thing that strikes me about duende in Granada is how strange and out of place its etymology is with the rest of the Latin world. Growing up in the Philippines, I was taught that a duwende was a mischievous mythological creature more akin to a fairy or a goblin, characterized by its malicious intent. And indeed, that definition rings true in Spain and the rest of the Spanish-speaking world. Yet, in Andalucia, duende does not refer to any sort of mythological creature. Instead, it refers to something entirely different.
Imagine, if you will, a state of utter clarity and honesty. A moment in artistic expression when one touches at the core of one’s existence and experience. It tugs at the heart strings and is haunting in its depth of feeling.
This is duende in Granada.
And while it is often hard to define, and even harder to express in art, many agree that it is characterized by certain aspects in art. Duende is often marked by pain and anguish, sorrow and longing. It is believed that the artist’s own experience and suffering is necessary to produce great works. To some degree, music around here tends to evoke heartache and tragedy.
Perhaps, in this way, one can understand how the original definition of duende as a trickster fairy has transformed into the unique flair in Granada’s music. Just as artists have searched for a muse or a flicker of inspiration, I can imagine such a muse descending on the artist, granting them the source of their art, but doing so by drawing from the font of their pain.
And oddly enough, duende can be expressed in anything from a flamenco guitarist on the street, to the legendary procession marches that echo through the city’s streets during religious festivals. In this way, duende can express a great deal. The depth of feeling when one is in love, the pain of unrequited love, the agony of the Christ, the yearning for something new or the sense of longing for something long gone. Heartache. Desire. Passion. This is the magic of duende, that it allows the artist to bare themselves to the audience, and enables the listener to reach out and touch the soul of the artist. Such music is cathartic. Such music is characteristically Andalucian. Such music is duende.
And thus, I offer these three examples of music that have been emblematic of my experience of duende in Granada.
I’ve always had great respect for the music from this corner of the world. And while I’ve listened to this piece before, it took on new meaning in the days before I left for Granada. And now, one of Spain’s greatest composers speaks to me anew. Francisco Tárrega’s “Capricho árabe” has long been a favorite of mine. And in Granada, I’ve found myself listening to this piece whenever I can. First thing in the morning, when I’m doing homework or last thing at night, as his guitar cuts through the ages and lulls me to sleep.
Here is a recording I took of a street performer in the Plaza Bib-Rambla. There are many guitarists like him in Granada. But on that particular morning, after I had a light meal of some churros and chocolate, I couldn’t help but be drawn by the thunder of his song from across the other side of the Plaza.
This was a small procession, but I can’t help but remember how moved I was by the religious imagery, the ceremony, and the sorrowful roar of the horns that filled the streets.