Final Thoughts: the Masterclass Experience
Michelle performed Huw Watkins’s “Coruscation and Reflection” for Midori on Sunday, January 31, as part of the Day of Exploration at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music, co-presented by San Francisco Performances. The day-long workshop leads up to Midori & Charles Abramovic’s New Music Recital at the Herbst Theatre on Feb. 6.
For my final blog entry, I would like to present a summary of what I learned during the masterclass and how I will continue to apply Midori’s advice in my future study of Coruscation and Reflection. This blog has certainly helped in my exploration of the piece, but I realize that there is still much to discover. In the masterclass, Midori mentioned how as violinists, and as musicians in general, we approach modern music differently than older repertoire. I can say from experience that it is extremely tempting to just play what is written on the page. At first, the piece didn’t make sense to me, but as I played through it more and more, I began to notice things I had overlooked before. The contour of the music became clearer, and the notes, once strange and unfamiliar, started falling into patterns and melodies. My ear began picking up the subtleties of the music, and thus, my musical exploration of this piece truly took off.
As for Coruscation, Midori made several key points, which I found incredibly helpful. She began by focusing my attention on the very first notes of the movement. The idea was for me to try and listen between the intervals. This allowed me to shape the phrase, but also helped me fine-tune the nuances within. I became aware of the importance of that starting interval, from D to B, on which the entire movement rests.
Moving on, Midori then asked me to differentiate between the varying rhythms and time signatures in the next portion. With constant quarter note beats, it’s nearly impossible for the audience to tell when a measure is in 3/4 or 4/4, or even 5/4. I realized it was my job to help the audience with this by articulating the varied beat structures. The rhythm was also crucial in this movement, especially concerning my bringing out triplets and really feeling rhythms together with Solon.
Jumping forward to the latter half of Coruscation, Midori asked me to sectionalize a portion of the movement. I had divided the movement previously, but into three rather broad sections. This time, I had to break a section down into smaller parts which helped me distinguish the purpose of each. This particular section began with steady, rhythmic triplets which transitioned into a part that pushed forward incessantly. An emotional climax was followed by more forward movement which culminated in the highest note of the entire movement. Midori pointed out that the emotional and technical climaxes were at different places, which was interesting to me because I had always thought they coincided.
Learning this piece has helped me understand the complexities of performing such contrasting movements. When I first performed Reflection, I let part of my character from Coruscation carry over into the next movement. When Midori asked me to play the solo line in the beginning, I had to change my mood and take on a more distant personality. This opening statement had to sound different from the in-your-face Coruscation, which a slower vibrato helped accomplish. Too often, we make the mistake of losing momentum because we want to project a sense of stillness. Midori reminded me that there is still continuous forward motion to an ultimate ending point, and so I cannot let my sound die.
When I was learning the work, I had difficulty interpreting the end portion of Reflection. Midori worked with me to make sense of what she called fragmented and non-fragmented sections. The end is comprised of fragments of the main material as well as non-fragments which can stand alone as distinct ideas. I found this interpretation of the end innovative and beneficial for my presentation of this movement.
In conclusion, this entire experience has been incredible for me. Everything from choosing the piece last year, to writing this blog about my study of the work, to delving into the material and figuring out what it all means have all made this a truly enlightening endeavor. Playing for and working with Midori on this piece was the highlight of it all and I came away with much more than what I expected. I would like to say thank you to Midori, Solon, my teachers, San Francisco Performances, the San Francisco Symphony Youth Orchestra, and everyone who made this amazing experience possible!
Examining “Reflection”
In the past few weeks, I have had the chance to work with Solon on Reflection in greater detail. Together, we were able to discover the character of this second movement and how dramatically it contrasts with the first movement.
Reflection as a whole is much more improvisatory for the violin, while the piano provides a sense of structure with sextuplets that constantly fall on the beat. These sextuplets are insistent and non-sympathetic to the push-and-pull nature of the violin line. While I may feel the urge to barrel through a phrase or linger on a note, Solon must remain unrelenting with his part. My part is vocal, while Solon’s tends to be more mechanical.
The movement begins with a haunting, flowing violin solo that rises and falls before the piano interrupts with its first sextuplet. The introduction feels as if we are looking at it through a sheet of glass. The notes are distant, compared to the more in-your-face style of Coruscation.
Everything that follows this introduction has an overall direction towards the climax of the piece, but each time we anticipate it, there is a sudden return to tranquility. The climax occurs in the middle of the movement, and is entirely different from the introduction with a wild, almost psychotic nature. I remember imagining a toddler having a temper tantrum when I played through this section. This is the loudest part of the entire movement, and seems out of place when the movement is taken as a whole. After this dramatic middle portion, Reflection ends just like it began, with that same sorrowful melody appearing in the conclusion. It was interesting to find that the movement began and ended with this quiet, reflective section.
Solon and I took time during our rehearsal to think about what sort of story Reflection is telling. We ended up agreeing on what we can picture during this movement. The violinist can be pictured as an actor on a stage, alone, delivering a monologue that encompasses every thought and emotion that is presented. When we addressed how the pianist is related to this violinist-actor, we took into account the less prominent role of the piano in this movement in comparison to the first. The piano is an embellisher, which can be thought of as lights or scenery in the actor scenario. The accompaniment adds to and highlights the violin part, rather than competing with the violin as in Coruscation.
In closing, I want to say that writing these blogs has helped me immensely with my understanding of Coruscation and Reflection. With Solon’s help, I have been able to discover what each movement says on its own and how they relate to one another. The colors and moods of each say a lot about how each movement should be presented. I hope to deliver the piece the way Watkins intended!
P.S. I wish to thank Mr. Watkins for adding his comment to my second blog entry. It is a rare privilege for a student to hear directly from the composer.
Rehearsals and Impressions of “Coruscation”
In the time since my first blog entry, I had the opportunity to work on the Watkins piece in greater detail with Solon. Our initial rehearsals focused on Coruscation, which I found to be in complete contrast to the latter Reflection in both character and mood. However, there are certain elements of Reflection present in Coruscation which ties the two movements together.
The structure of Coruscation is simple enough—it consists of a clear ABA form. Figuring out how the violin and piano parts fit together was more complex and required several different approaches. We began by dividing the movement into several sections. Some sections were clear cut and easy to put together. Other sections though were very intricate and required us to slow down and take them measure by measure. For the rhythmically difficult parts, it was often helpful to play our parts separately and listen to each other. Then, when we put it together, the music made much more sense.
I discovered that putting together new music such as this Watkins piece is a very different process from what I am used to. With older music from the standard repertoire, I already have an idea of what the music is supposed to sound like, how the violinist interacts with the pianist, and the direction each must take. For me, the timing and rhythmic irregularities were the first challenges to overcome for the Watkins piece. Sometimes, we needed to be very meticulous about playing exactly what was written on the page. Other times, it was more beneficial to feel the music and its flow, making sure we ended up at major bar lines or down beats together. There was even a part where ignoring each other and focusing on our own parts actually worked out better because the beat structures of the violin and piano parts did not coincide.
Finding direction for this piece was the next hurdle. My initial impression of Coruscation was of never-ending forward motion. The movement is constantly pushing and rising in distinct patterns which culminate in a dramatic and fiery ending. The dynamics contribute to this motion, with explicit crescendos and fortissimos where the ratios of crescendos to decrescendos and of fortes to pianos are quite large, further emphasizing the wild and ascending nature of Coruscation. The piano serves to maintain the rhythmic strength of the piece and, in a way, struggles against the violin for prominence with a part that is equally dynamic.
I’d like to close this blog entry with some thoughts about the ending of Coruscation. It leaves the audience wondering what, if anything, is coming next. From research I learned that Reflection was composed some time after Coruscation premiered. In my mind, Coruscation can stand alone, so I wonder why Mr. Watkins composed Reflection afterwards as a companion. My next blog posting will focus on Reflection and how it relates to the movement that precedes it. Thank you and check back mid-January for more on my preparation of Watkins’ Coruscation and Reflection!
First look at “Coruscation and Reflection” by Huw Watkins
I am excited to be preparing for this masterclass with Midori, whom I have admired since I was a little girl. Back in late October, I was asked to choose a piece from Midori’s New Music Recital program — I picked Coruscation and Reflection, written by Huw Watkins. As I am still at an early stage in my violin career, I have not been exposed to a lot of recent works by composers still with us today. Learning a piece like this is a completely new experience for me and I am experimenting every step of the way.
I was immediately drawn to this piece because of the dramatic contrast between the two movements. My study of the piece began not with my violin, but with my dictionary. Although I had a faint idea of the meaning of the title, I was curious to discover the true definitions of “coruscation” and “reflection.” I found that coruscation meant “glitter or sparkle” while reflection meant “consideration of some idea or purpose.” They suggested what sort of character Watkins envisioned for each of the movements. My next step was to research some background information about both the composer and the piece. I even came across Midori’s own notes about the piece which I found immensely helpful. Finally, armed with this information, I braved an attempt to play it.
As with every new piece, I started off using the metronome set at a tempo considerably slower than written. After a run-through that was rough to say the least, I was left with mixed feelings of curiosity and confusion. All sorts of questions came to mind. What is this piece trying to say? Where is each phrase moving to? How can I make this piece come alive? Needless to say, I was missing a crucial part of the piece—the piano accompaniment. Playing by myself made me realize that unlike other violin/piano music, where the violin has a dominant role while the piano serves as accompaniment, Coruscation and Reflection balances the two instruments in a dynamic conversation. The piece seemed empty and nonsensical without the piano part, and so I asked Solon Gordon, a pianist whom I had played with in the past, to work with me. Just like me, he was unacquainted with the piece, but happily agreed to this intriguing task.
After a brief run-through with the piano, I began to notice the power and rhythmic complexities of the Coruscation as well as the sentiment and pensive qualities of the Reflection. I am definitely looking forward to breaking down this piece with Solon and working through the intricacy and challenges of the piece. As I become more familiar with Coruscation and Reflection, I hope to convey to you my journey as I prepare this piece. Until next time!
Introduction
On January 31, 2010, San Francisco Performances and the San Francisco Conservatory of Music will host a Day of Exploration in anticipation of Midori & Charles Abramovic’s all-contemporary recital at the Herbst Theatre on Saturday, February 6.
A member of the San Francisco Symphony’s Youth Orchestra, Michelle Lee is preparing Coruscation and Reflection by Huw Watkins for the Violin Masterclass on 1/31; Michelle will be writing this blog to document the process of learning and practicing the work.
Visit www.GoToMidori.com for more information. Coming soon: a special section dedicated to the Winter 2010 New Music Recitals!
