About this Piece

Dzonot (cenote in Spanish) is a term used solely in Mexico, derived from the Mayan word “dzonot,” meaning “abyss.” In Mayan culture, cenotes were considered to be sources of life itself. They also represented entrances into the underworld, or Xibalbá—a sacred place where darkness reigned, inhabited by shadows, gods, and spirits.

Dzonot is a concerto for cello and orchestra inspired by the cenotes of the Yucatán Peninsula, which comprise an intricate, delicate system of subterranean rivers and caves that require careful conservation to protect their biodiversity and natural beauty. Moreover, the cenotes of southeastern Mexico supply drinking water to the entire region, and anthropological and paleontological remains have been found in them as well.

Cenotes frequently contain openings of various sizes that admit rays of sunlight, effecting the water within these dark caves in a way that creates an aura of mystery—their beams of iridescent illumination doubtlessly reinforcing the profound spiritual connection experienced by the Mayans. In the cenote called Holltún, near the archeological ruins of Chichén Itzá, the the sun’s passage overhead during the summer solstice causes the light to penetrate vertically; hence, its reflection falls into the very center of the cenote and not on the walls, unlike on other days of the year.

Cenotes also possess unique biodiversity. They provide shelter to endemic species of flora and fauna that cannot be found anywhere else in the world; therefore habitat preservation is indispensable for their conservancy. The jaguar, for example, is one of the most symbolic animals in our pre-Hispanic cultures. Unfortunately, in Mexico it is endangered due to the destruction of its habitat, caused mainly by the construction of residential units, tourist venues, and transportation infrastructure in the forested regions of the Mayan Riviera.

Another threatened species is the toh bird, or turquoise-browed motmot, which lives in these caverns today. The legend of the toh bird tells us that its beautiful plumage gave it a sense of superiority over all other birds, making it vain and ignorant. It was convinced that no harm would ever befall it, until one day the Mayan rain god, Chaac, decided to brew up a storm. Since he loved birds, Chaac warned them to build a refuge to quickly take shelter. All of the birds made sanctuaries except for the toh, which arrogantly ignored the warning and did nothing. Once the storm began, the toh realized how exposed it was and desperately sought out shelter until, finally, it found a small, abandoned burrow. It was able to enter the burrow, but its enormous tail was exposed to the inclement weather and inevitably destroyed. When the storm ended, the toh emerged, proud to have remained safe despite making no effort whatsoever, not realizing that it no longer possessed its beautiful tail. Once the other birds began to mock it, however, the toh had no choice but to live in hiding from that day forward, flying through the darkness and shadows of the underground caves.

In the first movement, “Luz vertical” (Vertical light), the sound of the orchestra and song of the cello evoke the subaquatic environment and hypnotic effects produced by rays of sunlight among the shadows prevalent inside cenotes. In the second movement, “El ojo del Jaguar” (The eye of the Jaguar), the cello transforms subtly and metaphorically into the voice and body of this elegant feline, through diverse percussive sounds and passages of great virtuosity that dialogue with the orchestra with agility and skill. The third movement, “Jade,” is a sonorous, intimate reflection on the meaning and history of these subterranean rivers, where everything comes to life: the limestone eroded by the sands of time, the jade-green color and sound of the water, the cascades of reflected light, and even the humid aroma of the damp earth lining their banks. It has also been my wish that toward the end of this movement, the music metaphorically represent the natural disaster caused by major human industries and their relentlessly predatory machinery through constant, yet diverse rhythmic motifs that are repeated insistently with a mechanical pulse that brings us to a final climax, dissolved by the hopeful song of the cello. Finally, in the fourth movement, “El vuelo de Toh” (Toh’s flight), the music nimbly unfolds with absolute freedom, manifested as a sonorous presage of sorts, in hopes that the toh bird will not lose its place in the rainforest, despite the deforestation and ecological destruction that threaten its existence.

As a form of protest, Dzonot constitutes my way of calling for an end to our neglect of the urgent need to preserve these ecosystems within the context of the ongoing climate crisis. This composition is dedicated to the cellist Alisa Weilerstein and was commissioned by the Los Angeles Philharmonic under the direction of Gustavo Dudamel. ―Gabriela Ortiz