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Chronicle of a consagration: The Premiere of "Bosques de Maiernigg" by Mauricio Charbonnier at Teatro Colón


There are days when life puts you to the test, forcing you to navigate between the most opposite extremes of human experience. Yesterday, Saturday, May 30, 2026, was one of those days marked by absolute contrast.


Just a short while after visiting my dad in the hospital, I found myself crossing the marble threshold of the Teatro Colón, with my camera by my side and a divided mind, because I had an unavoidable commitment: the premiere of Symphonic Poem No. 3, "Bosques de Maiernigg," by my great friend and colleague, Mauricio Charbonnier.


Mauricio and I have known each other for years. My path as his producer began back in 2018, with the first album New Music of the Americas, when we were just taking the first steps in projects that today seem distant and that were the foundations of everything that came after.


I remember our first talks about his neo-romantic aesthetics, that constant search for a dramatic charge and expressive force that today is his trademark. Seeing him today, premiering in the main hall of our greatest coliseum, fills me with a pride that doesn't fit in my chest.


Let me clarify, for those who don't know me, I am not a professional photographer; I am a record producer, recording engineer, and teache. I like taking photos and I do it on special occasions; I only work in photography with people with whom I feel comfortable sharing the experience and having enough artistic freedom to find my angle. Currently, I produce music internationally, manage artists, composers, studios, and tourism in Argentina. If you want to know more about my services, click here or contact me to produce your music.

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Poetics in Contrast: The Concert Experience


The concert experience, titled "Poetics in Contrast," was somewhat religious. Seeing the Philharmonic under the direction of Maestra Zoe Zeniodi was a personal revelation

Final del IV movimiento de Chaikovski
Final del IV movimiento de Chaikovski

Zeniodi, with her impeccable direction, managed the orchestra with a precision and sensitivity that left the hall in absolute silence. And what to say about Midori, the great guest violinist. Her interpretation of Tchaikovsky's concerto was of a moving introspection; far from the heroic tradition, she proposed a contained and reflective reading that made me forget all my problems for a moment. The Japanese violinist Midori is astonishingly precise and delicate


One of the things that moved me the most was seeing beloved faces on stage. Seeing Tatiana Glava as concertmaster and Julián Medina on double basses, giving life to Mauricio's notes, was the perfect reminder that music is, above all, a collective and human construction.


Midori's interpretation of Tchaikovsky's concerto was of a moving introspection. The first movement was precise, and once through the Moderato assai, I could no longer escape the amazement of such a capacity for detail. I would like to dwell especially on the end of the second movement, the Canzonetta. It was a moment of dazzling precision and almost unreal delicacy; the strings of her violin seemed to whisper secrets into the ear of every spectator in the hall, moving away from the heroic tradition to offer us a contained and reflective reading. The contrast with the Allegro vivacissimo was precisely that: virtuoso, elegant, risky, and perfect.


After the ovation, Midori gave us two encores. The first was a piece I couldn't identify, but which maintained that atmosphere of mysticism. The second, however, was one of Bach's partitas, executed with a technical purity that only the chosen possess. It was the perfect balm I needed to temporarily silence the worries that persist in my mind.


Ovación a Midori
Ovación a Midori

Mauricio's work, "Bosques de Maiernigg," is a refuge. He says it himself: music is a vehicle to embrace the listener, so that composer and listener feel less alone. While those chords played, inspired by nature and Mahler's spiritual resistance in the face of the world's convulsions, I felt that our talks about the meaning of current compositions materialized in a necessary work for the current context. I felt less alone. Mauricio has managed to capture that feeling of wanting to escape to the forest, of finding a place where the noise of the big city—and of everyday problems—cannot reach us.


The Magic Intermission and the Refuge in the "Woods"


After the second encore, there was a 15-minute intermission that I will always keep in my memory. With the security guard's authorization, I had the privilege of accompanying Mauricio to the presidential box. Being there, observing the immensity of the Colón from that privileged perspective, was a magical moment. The solemnity of the space and the imminence of his work's premiere created a shared silence that felt heavy with history. We were both nervous. I convinced him to take some photos, despite the darkness of the box's environment. With a flashlight, I illuminated what I could, opened the aperture to 1.2, raised the ISO, and increased the exposure time to the maximum reasonable limit, and we achieved a dream photo



The dream photo and the 32 steps to row 7


In the second half, the great moment arrived: "Bosques de Maiernigg," dedicated in memoriam to Gustav Mahler. To capture the photo we had planned, I had to break the mold. We agreed that the moment would be right after two quarter notes with a fermata in an orchestral tutti. Previously, I walked through the hall calculating the time from my seat to the ideal spot for the photograph: I counted exactly 32 steps, which would take me approximately nine seconds. With that rough information, I moved from my place, orchestra seat 17, seat 526, waited for the moment of maximum sonic tension, and moved at the exact right moment to the sixth row.


The concert concluded with Arthur Honegger's Symphony No. 2. It is a work of overwhelming force, written in times of war, which resonated on stage with immense dramatic power.



Music says nothing in a shelf


To speak of this premiere without mentioning what it cost to get there would be to tell only half the story. Mauricio doesn't usually talk about his sacrifices—it's not his style, he prefers the music to speak—but as his producer since 2018, I have seen firsthand the countless hours dedicated to teaching in order to finance his writing time, stealing space from rest and personal life. In a context where commissions for works by composers are practically nonexistent and where support is, in many cases, a mirage, Mauricio chose the hardest path: creating from Argentina, fighting for every note against the lack of subsidies and the precariousness of a sector that often pushes the artist into exile


I have witnessed his constant struggle against that ungrateful phrase that "no one is a prophet in their own land," transforming the loneliness of the desk and economic difficulties into an iron discipline. This debut in the main hall of the Colón is not a stroke of luck; it is the result of years of spiritual resistance that today, finally, blooms on the biggest stage of our country.



As a producer, I have had the privilege of accompanying him on complex recordings, such as "New Music of the Americas," "Estampas Americanas," and "Impresiones sobre Buenos Aires" with the NMA Ensemble, where we were already looking for that sound of great depth and elegance.





But nothing compares to the vibration of the air in the main hall of the Colón. There, the legitimacy granted by the space merges with the artistic quality of the composer. Mauricio is not just a "prophet in his land" who has decided to create from Argentina despite our country's difficulties; he is an artist who knows that in the drawer, music says nothing, and that is why he fights for every premiere, for every note.



The final picture


At the end, while taking a panoramic photo of the hall emptying out, I crossed paths with a couple visiting from Japan. We chatted for a while in English and ended up exchanging favors: I took a photo of them on that historic stage in exchange for them taking one of me with my equipment. Thank you, Kapoor, for that gesture; I hope you enjoy Buenos Aires. I recommended a couple of representative places in our city to make their visit complete.


Photo courtesy Kapoor.


Panoramica de la sala al final. PH: Christian Paladino.


Conclusion


My friend, congratulations. Seeing you greet the audience from that stage, surrounded by musicians of the caliber of the Philharmonic, was the best balm I could receive after such challenging times. Eight years ago, in our first conversation about each other's dreams, this goal was already on the agenda.


This photographic coverage was not just another job. It was an act of pure friendship. In the midst of the situation with my father's health, my ability to be present was nil, not only emotionally but also economically; I couldn't afford to spend a single extra cent outside of what the family emergency required. It was Mauricio who, with a generosity that defines him as a person, took care of absolutely everything: from the transfers to my entrance to the theater, as well as my service as a press agent. "Chris, you have to be there," he told me months ago. I promised him, and I was. Thanks to that gesture, I was able to witness the debut of his work with the Buenos Aires Philharmonic, as part of the celebrations for its 80th anniversary.


Thank you for letting me be part of your story since 2018, since I read the score for "Los pájaros negros," for trusting my suggestions, sometimes with absurd ideas and even when my strength faltered, and for reminding me that, whatever happens, we will always have music to come home to. We still have a toast pending at a more auspicious time


This premiere is not just a professional achievement; it is the triumph of perseverance, discipline, and that creative passion that unites us. I toast to many more "Woods" where we can take refuge. Congratulations, my friend, you did it.



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