11 February 2015

Clara's Valentine

Working on the second of Clara's Fugues.

At last. After many months of wrinkling my nose and quickly turning the page. Too many sixteenth notes.

Besides that, I hold the fugue form as a rare and mystical thing, a hallowed cosmic numerical magic code. I bow down intellectually whenever I see or think of the word.

But tonight I worked this fugue. And worked it. Got inside it. Swam. Pulled it apart.

Touched Clara's heart.

It is a strange music. Tender. The vulnerable aching heart of Clara wanders lost, singing confusion, sorrow.

The narrative arc of the piece is voluptuous; it swells and retreats and swells and retreats...

And at the end, such grace, like a seasoned sensuality -- but never immodest. 

I truly love this piece.

But I say that about everything Clara Schumann.