More than a century after his death, the work of Lithuanian artist Mikalojus Konstantinas Čiurlionis – who sought to unite sound and image – remains largely unknown outside his homeland.
“He was lonely and abandoned because he went too far with his explorations. He wanted to create a gesamtkunstwerk – a perfectly developed artwork or synthesis of the arts,” says Polish art critic and curator Anda Rottenberg, speaking on the LRT PLIUS programme Creating Čiurlionis.
In Lithuania, Čiurlionis is revered as a national icon. Born in 1875, he was one of the first European artists to attempt a fusion of music and painting. However, while his works are widely celebrated in Vilnius and Kaunas, recognition elsewhere in Europe has been slower to materialise.
European education
Čiurlionis’ limited recognition abroad cannot be explained by a lack of international presence. He trained as a composer in Warsaw and later in Leipzig, studying piano, composition and orchestration under prominent musicians of the time.
While abroad, he composed one of his most significant orchestral works, In the Forest (Miške). In 1902, the piece received a special commendation in a Polish composers’ competition and was scheduled for performance at the Warsaw Philharmonic – on the condition that Čiurlionis conduct it himself.
“It was a unique opportunity for him to hear his own music. At the same time, he was deeply anxious – the rules required the composer to conduct the performance himself,” said Musicologist Dr Paweł Siechowicz, Associate Professor at the Institute of Musicology, University of Warsaw.
While abroad, he composed one of his most significant orchestral works, In the Forest (Miške). In 1902, the piece received a special commendation at a Polish composers’ competition and was scheduled for performance at the Warsaw Philharmonic—on the condition that Čiurlionis conduct the piece himself.
Čiurlionis’ close friend Eugeniusz Morawski, to whom the piece was dedicated, had prepared the score and insisted that he be presented as a Lithuanian composer. But Warsaw Philharmonic artistic director Emil Młynarski disagreed, preferring to frame Čiurlionis as Polish.
The performance was ultimately cancelled. In the Forest would not be performed in Warsaw until 1972, seventy years later, when it was finally conducted by Lithuanian maestro Juozas Domarkas.
“Čiurlionis poured all his longing for his homeland into In the Forest. It was where he felt truly safe – the imagery of the forest was deeply comforting for him, and you can hear it in the music,” Siechowicz said.
Painting the music
In his book The Musical Imagination of Mikalojus Konstantinas Čiurlionis, Siechowicz traced how the Lithuanian artist embedded musical forms – such as the fugue – into his paintings. “A fugue is a musical form where several motifs unfold simultaneously. Čiurlionis’ idea was to transform music into colour. This freed music from time, from its linear nature. That paradoxically makes the fugue an ideal musical form to translate into visual art,” he explained.
The connection between his music and painting was deeply personal. “I believe this began in Leipzig. I’ve read his letters, in which he describes sleepless nights filled with frightening sounds and visions,” says Siechowicz. “That’s when the connection emerged. He began drawing on postcards and sending them to friends. When he returned to Warsaw [in 1902], he began studying art.”
One painting was inspired by a suggestion from Morawski to incorporate bells into music. Čiurlionis tried it on the piano, then transferred the sound into imagery – a sea of people and resonant chimes – beginning a new visual cycle.
Čiurlionis’ creative ambitions extended even further. He hoped to write an opera about Jūratė, the Baltic Sea goddess, fusing music, myth, visual art, and stagecraft in a single work.
“I believe Čiurlionis was made of music,” says Siechowicz. “After Wagner, opera was seen as the ultimate gesamtkunstwerk—the total work of art. Čiurlionis and his fiancée, Sofija Kymantaitė, were moving in that direction. And I feel deeply sorry, as many do, that his life was too short, and he never fulfilled that dream.”
Čiurlionis died in 1911 at the age of just 35, most likely of pneumonia compounded by mental and physical exhaustion. Much of his visionary work remained unpublished or unperformed for decades.
Still undiscovered abroad
Art critic Anda Rottenberg says she regrets that Lithuania has never been viewed as a cultural centre. She states Čiurlionis’ music, which came through Moscow and St Petersburg, could just as easily have been heard in Paris.
She believes that Čiurlionis had circumstances been different, could have found his place among Europe’s avant-garde.
Several years ago, she published a book on Monte Verità – a Swiss haven for artists and intellectuals. Speaking of it, Rottenberg reflects “It’s a pity no one invited Čiurlionis there. He would have fit right in – with his art and his music. He was one of the rare artists who tried to transform music into images, and vice versa. There was no one else like him in Europe.”
While early 20th-century Europe saw growing interest in blending music and painting, Professor Rasa Žukienė argues that Čiurlionis’ path was unique – he mastered both disciplines nearly equally.
Rottenberg adds that Čiurlionis was more than a composer and painter – he was also a poet.
“He was a person of immense range – and he remains undiscovered in both Poland and the rest of Europe,” she concluded, adding “Perhaps it’s time we started talking about that”.
The full interview is available in Lithuanian in the LRT PLIUS programme Creating Čiurlionis.
