Each completed work has a life of its own. It leaves the sphere of influence of its creators, and everybody, authors and viewers alike, interprets it differently. They interpret according to what the work happens to tell him or her at that present moment in time.

The 1980 Olympic Regatta in Estonia also included a national programme of culture. A new work was commissioned for the Estonia Theatre for the occasion. Veljo Tormis was approached, as this time there was no need for ideologically 'correct' music, but for something typically national.

Veljo accepted the offer on the condition that he was not going to write a traditional opera but could remain true to his own interests, i.e. folk songs and old runosong - regilaul. The latter, however, is difficult to arrange on stage as it lacks the usual theatricality and direct conflict. The lyrical epic regilaul demands an outwardly neutral and composed manner, without emotional outbursts and without emphasising the storyteller's attitude. This was partly the reason why the composer chose ballads that represent the relatively newer, medieval layer of our ancient folk songs. They are also more eventful and contain directly voiced ethical views.

"Estonian Ballads" reflects a certain departure from the mythological way of thinking, when people's sense of unity with nature and the universe were on the decline, and when individual desires and subsequent conflicts emerged. On the whole, the folkloristic material that was used remains within the boundaries of the poetics and archaic melody of our ancient regilaul. What matters, though, is the drama contained in the songs that to some extent resembles antique tragedies.

The choice of narrative songs that form the basis of the whole work was made collectively. The final selection consisted of six ballad-style songs, of which, thanks to the help of folklore expert Ülo Tedre, the most suitable authentic versions are now used.

For the purposes of a theatre production, however, the different ballads could not simply be presented one after the other - there had to be a story to unite them all. I was entrusted with the task of creating the whole - of compiling a unified basic construction. Different ballads are in a way united by their common world perception and understanding, but I strove to find a sequence that would form an entirety on stage. The material itself helped my compilation. What emerged was a dualist structure, with stories coupled in pairs (i.e. a Chaste maiden - an Errant maiden, a Man-killer - a Wife-killer), which collectively demonstrate the various aspects of people's behaviour.

As most of the stories are rather grim and frightening, especially the last, "The Maiden of the Grave", then we needed other colours as a contrast to allow the listeners some breathing space. The structure of the production thus first tackles the stories of the maidens (sombre but not too dismal) followed by the conflicts of married people that end in a more brutal way. A much lighter and brighter tone is conveyed in between these two by the comic, "The Golden Woman". Finally comes the longest and most tragic - "The Maiden of the Grave".

This was the constructive principle, although we then needed something to connect and unify all these stories. That material, too, appeared as if by itself - all these songs are, after all, sung by women and seen from a woman's point of view. All ballads mostly tell about a woman's fate and therefore the uniting link was the figure of Mother, who is simultaneously the narrator and the only named character in "The Estonian Ballads". Everybody else is described by the soloists, and they do not figure as characters on stage like they would in an opera. All the ballads are essentially the stories about the fate of daughters. The leading motif and frame of the whole work was thus the ancient narrative song "Daughters into Birds".

With Ülo Tedre's help we sought the most suitable texts for the transitional epigraphs between the ballads. It was necessary to build up the work rhythmically and in gradation, with pauses for breath and escalations in tension. Mother, who in the finale manages to raise above her sorrow and inconsolable mourning, to start life anew, is associated with the principal idea of the continuation of the cycle of life through generations - the human duty to carry on. I asked Ülo Tedre to find a consoling motif for the ending - appealing, or turning to nature. Such a turning is repeated in many Estonian folk songs - when people are worried and unhappy, they tell about it to stones or junipers; and "the wind arrives, bringing mercy / the day comes, caresses your head".

The contents of the ballads, reflecting layers of experience and customs of centuries, seem at first sight rather frightening and brutal. But a quarter of a century ago, when the work was created, we were keen on their emotional and ethical evaluation of events. These ballads describe people's choices, mistakes and regrets. The songs do not manifest any specific political ideology, but tackle problems common to all. Times have always been different, and man cannot choose when and to what kind of society he is born. But he can decide, despite everything, how he behaves and what his attitudes are. And be responsible for that. All these old stories have a moral that reminds people of their responsibility and the timelessness of human values. For example, in the story "The Chaste Maiden" the girl killer slays her attacker in self-defence and is even praised for maintaining her honour. The girl nevertheless realises that taking a life is terrible, whatever the justification. The essential code of the main moral and life values, of which the ballads mediate, emerges from the tensions between man and man, man and society, and man and nature. This was especially vital for the authors during the making of the production.

In 1979, when Veljo was approached with the idea of a new work, Russification in Soviet Estonia had again emerged with a vengeance. The hopes for our language and culture that were relatively well founded in the 1960s, by the beginning of the stagnation period of the 1970s were once more looking rather vague and doubtful. However, precisely because of the political pressure coming from above, people started looking to their roots as a means to understand who we are and where we come from, and what is truly ours that we can rely on.

The old regilaul is about as old as ancient theatre. In fact, what can be termed folklore foundation of theatre is more or less the same in all European nations. The connections of song, word and movement in ancient syncretistic cultures are typical of many nations; Estonian narrative folk songs were performed like that as well. We chose dance, rather than operatic form for the "Estonian Ballads". Incidentally, ballet and ballad are derived from the same word stem, hence the initial genre, cantata-ballet.

In search of a suitable stage form it was clear that folk dance did not suit regivärss. The surviving Estonian folk dance, as with our national costume, originate from a much later period than regilaul. At the same time classical ballet would not have been suitable either, and therefore Mai Murdmaa was asked to join in for the 1980 production. Of all the choreographers at that time she was the most open-minded and organised the movement on stage in the manner of modern dance. The choreography of butoh-dance, arranged by Aki Suzuki in the current production, fits the bill perfectly in the sense that this is a contemporary style and it seems that, amazingly enough, the perception of nature of the Japanese and Estonians is quite similar.

It does not really mater that in the context of the time of its creation "Estonian Ballads" might have had a different meaning from what it has today. A work of art should in fact be ambivalent and contain many different layers at the same time. It is therefore always possible to see the work from a new perspective in its new context. Veljo and I are certainly very happy that a new generation of creative people has discovered "Estonian Ballads" again at a totally different time. And that thanks to the work "Ballads", by Tõnu Kaljuste and Peeter Jalakas, today's viewer, especially a young viewer, finds a new, contemporary meaning in it. I was completely captivated by the dedication and enthusiasm with which the ballads were this time tackled. The production is extremely difficult physically, so the young people involved in it must have perceived some deeper sense and significance in that ancient subject matter, otherwise they would not have managed to make the whole sound so overwhelmingly intense.

Lea Tormis (1932) specialises in theatre, has published papers on the history of theatre, essays and critical reviews. Worked over 40 years as lecturer at the Theatre School of the Estonian Academy of Music (Professor Emeritus since 2003), also at the Tallinn School of Choreography and as scholar at the Institute of History.