Saturday, November 13, 2010

I hear sighs from her grave.

Vitezslava Kaprálová -- 1915 - 1940

We move on through structure and chaos. Through conception and feeling. We slide and tumble through implacable time.

And then there is ennui.

Sometimes, I am drawn up short. The whirlwind moves off just enough. Sometimes, I am gathered up into melancholy.

We are time creatures, but every now and then, time seems to move mysteriously without us. Every now and then, space is opened for ennui, and for thoughts emerging from silence and equivocal being. A space in which I contemplate the absence of a Czech woman who died at age 25.

Vitezslava Kaprálová

I have listened to some of her music. It affects me deeply. I think it is wonderfully and expressively composed. It's the kind of music the secret world is made of. That world of infinite light and shadow dappling human consciousness. It comes to us here through forms intelligently wrought. Soulfully presented. This composer, had she lived longer, would have become famous and would have given the world many remarkable works, would have conducted great orchestras.

I am displeased that Kaprálová has been mostly forgotten. I am sad to think of works that would not be composed, of performances not conducted. I am not reconciled to her death.

Her String Quartet, opus 9 -- Lento movement (incorrectly listed as Con Brio)-- Lento

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