PROGRAM NOTES

Anna Thorvaldsdottir (b. 1977)
Illumine

In an interview, Anna Thorvaldsdottir reflected on the deep impression her music bears from the experience of her childhood, growing up in a small town in Iceland surrounded by mountains and the ocean: “You hear all these textures and sounds that kind just of become the soundtrack of your life, and I was paying attention to those sounds. When I am inspired by nature, it’s because of the musical qualities I find in it, not to try to take an element from nature…Sometimes it’s about the balances and kind of structural forces and opposites in nature. It’s not really about the romanticism or about the emotion.” Her conceptualization of sound also took inspiration from the natural world, as she describes orchestrating as, “an ecosystem of sounds that come together and breath together.”

With Illumine, whose subject matter is light, it is easy to imagine we are looking far beyond the earthly landscape, to the raw intensity of solar fire whose heat and radiance cuts through the vast cold darkness of space. In the composer’s own words, “The inspiration for Illumine is based on the notion of dawn and the relationship between light and darkness—in particular the ignition of the first beams of light and the subtle rhythms that appear through the pulsating dance of light emerging.”

Paul Wiancko (b. 1983)
Vox Petra

The artist Isamu Noguchi (1904-1988), when reflecting on choosing to work with natural materials explained: “If you live and work in an industrialized situation, you have to use industrial materials and tools, you see. However, I was not quite satisfied with that because I felt the limitations of such tools forced one to be a part of industry, rather than free. And I felt the old fashioned way of doing things, for instance with stone, with your own hands, left you greater freedom. So I went to back to stone, and I’m still working on stone. He continues, “If you’re caught in time, the immediate present time, then your choice is very limited, you can only do certain things really correctly belonging to that time. But if you want to escape from that time constraint, then the whole world, I mean not just most the industrialized world, but the whole world, is some place where you belong.” 

This viewpoint, where reaching outside of the techniques of the present moment harnesses a unique freedom through embracing the past, plays into Paul Wiancko’s powerful work written for four low strings—2 each of violas and cellos. Wiancko comments: “Vox Petra is inspired by the sculpture of Isamu Noguchi. I approached this composition as an extension of the way Noguchi approached stone—with a freedom of intention despite working within a medium of strict limitations. Much of Noguchi’s work feels as though it turns inwardly on itself while emotionally and aesthetically transforming the space around it—like nature itself. This piece aspires to that fundamental balance; adjoining textures compete for space as it attempts to look within itself in order to express something powerful. Essentially, this is music that Noguchi’s stone sculptures might sing if they had a voice.”

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827) 
Symphony No. 6 in F major, Op. 68

Almost from the moment he moved to Vienna in 1792, to study composition with Franz Joseph Haydn, Beethoven captivated the tastemakers of the town. With his wild looks, untamed personality, and unconventional, aggressive pianistic sound, paired with undeniable talent—was a top candidate to be the next big thing. Subsequently, he had no trouble finding a series of patrons—even several at once. The competition among the aristocracy for the bragging rights of facilitating the creation of exciting new works had become so fierce that many families went into tremendous (even ruinous) debt trying to outdo their neighbors. Thanks to this unabashed enthusiasm, Beethoven’s music was soon printed by at least five of the music publishers in town. Carl Czerny, who would become one of Beethoven’s most famous pupils, confirmed the composer “received all manner of support from our high aristocracy and enjoyed as much care and respect as ever fell to the lot of a young artist.”

In addition to patronage, artists in the 19th century sought opportunities for both greater visibility and income through benefit concerts, where they booked a hall, and collected the ticket sale revenue for the evening. These opportunities could be difficult to obtain, and in Beethoven’s case it took multiple tries, but he was finally given a date for use of the Theater an der Wien: December 22, 1808. The program that Beethoven put together for the evening was of epic proportions, giving ticket holders four hours of new music. It included the Symphony No. 6, a concert aria and a movement from his Mass in C major, and the Piano Concerto No. 4 (with the composer as soloist) for the first half. Starting the second half of the concert was the Symphony No. 5, another movement from the Mass, some improvisation, and finally the Choral Fantasy. Of the experience, Johann Friedrich Reichardt, guest of Prince von Lobkowitz, one of Beethoven’s patrons attended the concert with composer, famously said, “There we sat, in the most bitter cold, from half past six until half past ten, and confirmed for ourselves the maxim that one may easily have too much of a good thing, still more of a powerful one.”

The first sounds emitting through the chilled air of the hall were those of the Symphony No. 6, “Pastorale,” depicted warmer days and the “Awakening of cheerful feelings upon arriving in the country,” a sensation Beethoven knew well, as he frequently sought comfort and encouragement in nature. They also communicated a unique departure from the composer’s previous symphonic works as the Sixth was organized with clear programmatic content, meaning the music portrayed a specific set of scenes, as if painting with sound. After the frolicking and joyful opening movement, the second “Scene by the brook,” flows placidly with an insertion of birdcalls that act as a kind of warbling cadenza. Next, the listener stumbles along a dance among a “Merry gathering of peasants,” which is suddenly interrupted by a raging storm, complete with multiple strikes and claps of lightning and thunder. As the bad weather dissipates, we once again hear birds, and the “Shepherd’s song—cheerful and thankful feelings after the storm,” bringing the work to a happy ending.

Interestingly, a note from a surviving first violin part used at the premiere that night reads, “more the expression of emotion than tone-painting.” It is unclear if the musician was writing down something Beethoven said, or making his own mental note in the margins, but it provides a good reminder that the countryside was where Beethoven wrestled with and came to terms with his increasing hearing loss, giving a poignant twist to the bucolic scenes.

Kathryn J. Allwine Bacasmot is a pianist/harpsichordist, musicologist, music and cultural critic, and freelance writer. A graduate of New England Conservatory, she writes program annotations for ensembles nationwide.