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TRIBUTES |
From Manuel Gayol Mecías, Cuban writer, journalist and director and editor of Palabra Abierta.
Aurelio de la Vega: Centennial of a Universal Legacy
The work of Aurelio de la Vega stands as one of the most significant pillars of contemporary classical music on the international stage. His creative genius, deeply rooted in the Hispanic cultural tradition, projected Cuba’s voice onto the most prestigious venues worldwide, raising his homeland’s concert music to a level of excellence and universal recognition. At the same time, Aurelio ensured that his compositions became organically integrated into the cultural life of the United States, serving as a resonant bridge between two worlds. His works not only enriched the academic and artistic repertoire of North America but also offered an extraordinary musical reservoir that reflects the diversity and strength of the human experience. To celebrate his centennial is to honor a creator who, with rigor and passion, united roots and horizons. Aurelio de la Vega remains a symbol of cultural union and a testimony that music, in its highest expression, has the power to transcend borders and time.
Personal note
On this centennial of Aurelio de la Vega, I want you to express my gratitude and admiration for his legacy. His music not only reminds us of Cuba’s greatness, but also of the strength of a spirit that transcended borders and time. For me, Aurelio was always a symbol of dignity and tireless creation. His work invites us to listen with our hearts and to recognize that culture is a bridge that unites peoples. With affection and respect, I join this celebration, convinced that his musical voice will continue to inspire future generations.
Por Manuel Gayol Mecías, el director y editor de Palabra Abierta. Escritor y periodista cubano.
La obra de Aurelio de la Vega constituye uno de los pilares más significativos de la música clásica contemporánea en el ámbito internacional. Su genio creativo, profundamente arraigado en la tradición cultural hispana, supo proyectar la voz de Cuba hacia los escenarios más prestigiosos del mundo, elevando la música de concierto de su patria a un nivel de excelencia y reconocimiento universal. Al mismo tiempo, Aurelio logró que sus composiciones se integraran de manera orgánica en la vida cultural de los Estados Unidos, convirtiéndose en un puente sonoro entre dos mundos. Sus obras no solo enriquecieron el repertorio académico y artístico norteamericano, sino que también ofrecieron un extraordinario reservorio musical que refleja la diversidad y la fuerza de la experiencia humana. Celebrar su centenario es rendir homenaje a un creador que, con rigor y pasión, supo conjugar raíces y horizontes. Aurelio de la Vega permanece como símbolo de la unión entre culturas y como testimonio de que la música, en su más alta expresión, es capaz de trascender fronteras y tiempos.
Nota personal
En este centenario de Aurelio de la Vega, quiero expresarte mi gratitud y admiración por su legado. Su música no solo nos recuerda la grandeza de Cuba, sino también la fuerza de un espíritu que supo trascender fronteras y tiempos. Para mí, Aurelio fue siempre un símbolo de dignidad y de creación incansable. Su obra nos invita a escuchar con el corazón y a reconocer que la cultura es un puente que une a los pueblos. Con afecto y respeto, me uno a esta celebración, convencido de que su voz musical seguirá iluminando generaciones futuras.
From Yalil Guerra, Ph.D., composer, conductor, classical guitarist, founder/director of the GSO-Guerra String Orchestra.
Dear teacher and friend: Having known you and having had the privilege of being your student for fourteen years irrevocably shaped the path toward a childhood dream: becoming a composer. You contributed in a unique and decisive way to making that dream a reality, and that gift is beyond measure. I carry you with me always; you accompany me in every note and every cadence I write. Your teaching lives on in my music and in the way I understand art. With deep gratitude and admiration.
Por Yalil Guerra, Ph.D., compositor, director de orquesta, guitarrista clásico y fundador/director de la Orquesta de Cuerdas GSO-Guerra.
Querido maestro y amigo: Haberlo conocido y haber tenido el privilegio de ser su alumno durante catorce años marcó de manera irremediable el camino hacia un sueño de infancia: ser compositor. Usted contribuyó de una forma única y decisiva a que ese sueño se hiciera realidad, y ese legado no tiene precio. Lo llevo siempre muy presente; me acompaña en cada nota, en cada cadencia que escribo. Su enseñanza vive en mi música y en mi manera de entender el arte. Con profunda gratitud y admiración.
From Enrico Mario Santí, Ph.D., writer, educator, poet, sculptor.
A MEMORY IN MUSIC
(Read at Wende Museum, Los Angeles, February 1, 2026) Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to today’s concert. My name is Enrico Santí and, in case you’re wondering, I am not the Museum Director. I’m not a musician, a singer, or even a musicologist. I´m just a friend, a fan of Maestro Aurelio de la Vega´s music, and as a friend who once wrote a book with him, I´ve been asked to say a few words before the performance. But since I lack the professional credentials that could guarantee a musically correct introduction, I have opted instead to stick to my personal link to the Maestro and do something different. I have him written a letter. Not an email, not a text. A letter, Old School. It goes like this. Dear Aurelio, It’s going to be four years at the end of next month since we’ve spoken, and I don’t have to say to you that all this time I’ve missed you. I’ve missed sharing with you all the news coming out of Cuba, and all the gossip out of the L.A. music world. But above all I´ve missed those cherished moments of brotherly love by way of your seemingly endless array of delicious dirty jokes… Today I´m writing to you from the Wende Museum, one of the coolest institutions in the West side. And surprise! In honor of your centennial celebration, the folks here have put together an amazing concert of select chamber music written by you over half a century, six pieces ranging from your early Cuban works from the 40’s and 50’s, through those radical, experimental pieces you wrote during the 70’s in Northridge, and ending with that stunning 1995 song cycle Canciones transparentes, based on poems by José Martí, Cuba’s national hero. In fact, you’ll be pleased to hear that the concert program begins and ends with song cycles based on poems, and not just with the strong mark of Cuba. La Fuente infinita was your first of many of those song cycles, written in Havana when you were only nineteen and based on three poems by José Francisco Zamora. But here’s something I never got to ask you: what is it with you and poetry? In your canon I see at least ten vocal works that use poems by other hands, and a couple, like the 1976 Inflorescencia, in today’s program, that even use poems written by you. You weren’t just a composer, right? You wrote music AND poetry. Guess that makes you a little bit like Frank Sinatra, who used to go: “You’d never know it/but buddy, am a kind of poet”? And I guess that, like “old blue eyes”, you too had “a lot of things you’d like to say”. Just like it’s not widely known that you were a writer, I don’t rightly know that folks are aware of many important details about your biography, or your music’s connection with your life, the kind that that might help situate today’s concert, for example. I’m pretty certain they do know about the basic stuff: that you left-- more likely, escaped—Cuba in 1959 fleeing the communists, that your settled at CSUN and rose through the ranks to become Distinguished Professor, that over the course of a fifty-year career you garnered many awards for your music and your teaching. All of that is well known. But I don’t think they know the more secret, more internal story that you once told me and that may cast a light on today´s program. I am aware of course of the official bio in your website, put together by you, where you cite Gilbert Chase when he points out the three stylistic periods in your work: 1944-1957, apprentice years in Havana; 1957-1970, beginning with your 12-tone String Quartet, through the serialist and aleatory works of the 1970’s; and the third, mature period, 1970 onwards, of major orchestral works that ends with your last years. But today I’m not referring to that official biography, or autobiography, that is available for public consumption. I mean the other bio you shared with me, and most people don’t know about, and that I think is important enough to remind you and your friends about. So, correct me if I’m wrong. You were 34 when you left Cuba, leaving behind family, wealth, and a score of achievements, including a job as dean of a music school. You arrived in L.A. with nothing, mourning the loss of both past life and motherland. You also knew you couldn’t, and wouldn’t, go back. The effect that double loss had-- you told me-- was profound—in order to settle down and face the future, you had to start from scratch. Put Cuba behind you, done-for, laid to rest. Your new American life, in turn, took your music in new directions: minor pieces and chromaticism gave way to 12-tone and serialization, e-music, open, aleatory forms. The change lasted a good 15-20 years. But then a gradual shift began to take place. Like an old love, Cuba came back, or rather you went back to her, not in body but in spirit. A spiritual return. Your music changed again and major works succeeded one after the other. Out of principle, you had always rejected folklore and nationalism as the basis for composition, a quarrel that had first set you apart from mainstream Cuban classical music and earned you then, an early 12-tone champion , the dubious label of “crypto German”. But then, swept by this latest turn, you began asking yourself, among other technical issues, what if less obvious, and yet more basic, features of Cuban music, like rhythmic cells, could be used in subliminal, structurally subtle ways? In your first works you had used those same cells, rather obviously. But now you returned to them in more conscious, creative ways. That’s why vocal works like Magias e invenciones, Testimonial, Madrigales de entonces, or Recordatio, all based, by the way, on works by Cuban poets, emerge steadily during the 80´s and 90´s, culminating perhaps with Canciones transparentes. And that’s also why major orchestral works of this last stage, like Variación del Recuerdo or Adiós, take up fully the themes of nostalgia and national culture. So I gotta ask you: applying what you once shared with me, did you, Aurelio, channel today´s program by choosing two works from your first Cuban period, two from that middle experimental (but also mourning) stage, and two more from your mature latter-day shift? If you did channel the program, that´s quite a spiritual return! I guess there is, after all, and despite all formalist claims, something to be said about the links between life and art, or else, as in your case, between your biography and your music. My teacher, the poet Octavio Paz, used to say, when broaching that very topic, that poets have no biography: their work is their biography. I suppose one could say the same about you. By which I mean: let’s forget everything I’ve said, or reminded you about, in this letter: deep down, your biography, everyone’s biography, is a fiction, an illusion, a fleeting memory. The real, and only, biography that counts is your works, your music. Your music, in turn, records a memory, a memory we can hear not in English, not in Spanish, not even in Cuban, but in a far subtler and more widely available language: the language of music. In closing, let me say this. Maestro, when you left us, four years ago almost to the day, we were bereft of your physical presence. Left instead with one overwhelming reality: the reality of silence. I doubt that I’ll be around for your next centennial celebration. I’ve no doubt, though, that your music will. Meantime, I want you to know that today, in celebration of your would-be 100th year, we remember you through that same music. And like always, we can’t wait to hear… you. Your friend, Enrico Mario Santí
Celebración del centenario del compositor Aurelio de la Vega
El programa reunió una cuidada selección de obras vocales e instrumentales que ilustran diversos períodos creativos del compositor
El pasado 1 de febrero de 2026, la ciudad de Los Ángeles se convirtió en punto de confluencia para la memoria, la música y la gratitud. Allí tuvo lugar un concierto de especial envergadura artística y simbólica, dedicado a celebrar el centenario del nacimiento del compositor cubano-americano Aurelio de la Vega, figura cardinal de la creación musical contemporánea y uno de los intelectuales más lúcidos que ha dado la diáspora cubana. Este homenaje formó parte de un ciclo internacional de conciertos concebido para recorrer distintas ciudades del mundo, subrayando la dimensión universal de una obra que, aun arraigada en una identidad profundamente cubana, dialoga con los lenguajes estéticos más rigurosos del siglo XX y comienzos del XXI. Lejos de una celebración meramente conmemorativa, la velada propuso una escucha activa y reflexiva de un catálogo vasto, exigente y coherente, cuya vigencia permanece intacta. El programa reunió una cuidada selección de obras vocales e instrumentales que ilustran diversos períodos creativos del compositor. Piezas como La fuente infinita, Inflorescencia, Canciones transparentes, Leyenda del Ariel Criollo, Biflorero y Andamar Ramadna permitieron apreciar la amplitud de su pensamiento musical: desde la densidad estructural heredera de las vanguardias europeas, hasta una poética sonora donde la memoria, el mito y la abstracción conviven sin concesiones. Cada obra confirmó el rigor intelectual que caracteriza a de la Vega, así como su capacidad para convertir la música en un espacio de reflexión ética y estética. Uno de los elementos más conmovedores de la noche fue la participación de la cantante y directora coral Anne Marie Ketchum de la Vega, viuda del compositor y colaboradora esencial en el desarrollo de su legado vocal. A lo largo de décadas, ella fue intérprete y defensora de gran parte de su repertorio, y en esta ocasión asumió el rol de mediadora entre la obra y el público. Sus presentaciones, cargadas de cercanía y emoción contenida, aportaron un contexto humano que enriqueció la experiencia auditiva sin restar protagonismo a la música. Antes de que sonara la primera nota, el concierto fue precedido por la lectura de una carta dedicada al maestro, a cargo del escritor, ensayista y pedagogo cubano Enrico Santi. El texto, de profunda resonancia poética, funcionó como un umbral simbólico: una invitación a ingresar en el universo intelectual y espiritual de un creador cuya vida estuvo marcada por la reflexión constante, el exilio y la fidelidad absoluta a sus principios artísticos. Al éxito artístico de la velada contribuyó de manera decisiva un elenco de intérpretes de altísimo nivel, cuya solvencia técnica y sensibilidad musical estuvieron siempre al servicio de la obra. Participaron las sopranos Shana Blake Hill, Tiffany Ho y Anne Marie Ketchum de la Vega, cuyas voces —diversas en timbre y carácter— supieron articular con claridad y profundidad la exigente escritura vocal de Aurelio de la Vega. En el plano instrumental, la pianista Wendy Prober ofreció una lectura de gran precisión y lirismo; el clarinetista Micah Wright aportó una sonoridad refinada y control expresivo; la violonchelista Masiel Medina destacó por la hondura de su fraseo, cálido sonido y su comprensión estructural de las obras; y el guitarrista Brady Davis completó el conjunto con una interpretación de notable rigor y musicalidad. En su conjunto, estos intérpretes confirmaron que la música de de la Vega encuentra hoy voces y manos plenamente capacitadas para sostener su complejidad y transmitir su intensa carga expresiva al público contemporáneo. Celebrar el centenario de Aurelio de la Vega no es únicamente rendir tributo a un compositor excepcional; es también reafirmar la importancia del pensamiento crítico, del rigor intelectual y del compromiso ético en el arte. En un tiempo de tantos conflictos, su música continúa exigiendo atención, silencio y profundidad. Y quizás por ello, más que un acto de recuerdo, el concierto del pasado 1 de febrero fue una confirmación: la obra de Aurelio de la Vega sigue hablando con fuerza al presente y reclamando su lugar indispensable en la historia musical de nuestro tiempo. La celebración no concluye aquí. Otros conciertos tendrán lugar en distintas ciudades de Estados Unidos y en diversos escenarios del mundo, prolongando este gesto colectivo de memoria, escucha y gratitud. Cada nueva interpretación será una manera distinta de volver a dialogar con la obra y el pensamiento de Aurelio de la Vega, cuya música continúa trazando puentes entre el rigor intelectual y la emoción más profunda. Yalil Guerra