MUSICALLY & METAPHORICALLY

In that space between this girl

and Glenn Gould playing Bach's Concerto No. 5 (2nd and 3rd movements)

is a whole lotta poetry.  A metaphor: that girl was me as a 10-year-old at my one and only piano recital which took place at Saint Louis University (Baguio, Philippines);  as for Glenn Gould's artistry -- it's the impossible for me.

A few months after my piano recital, I left my birthland to come to the United States ... where I never successfully took up piano again.  The ALL of THIS is another pitch to my RUSSIAN NOVEL ... for which I am currently weaving strands so fragile they threaten to break at any moment ...

SLO...O...W WRITING

I finished an outline for MY UKRAINIAN RUSSIAN NOVEL over the weekend.  This morning I finished a draft of its first part, the "Prologue."  It's a different feel, this attempt at writing of a (HUGE) novel.  I feel the urge to speed up, but am deliberately slowing down the pace.  I suspect speeding up might cause me to run out of steam.  

Anyway, to fuel the novel, I'd been listening to Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto.  Obsessively.  Played it constantly, 24-7, over five days.  Until I felt I had to break myself of it.  Well, what can break someone off Tchaikovsky (tho I'll keep returning to it of course)?  But of course, Bach's Brandenburg Concerto No. 5 in D Major.  Here are two three renditions I like (I want to blog it, too, so I can more easily access them).  The first is more traditional and the second is really FUN!  There many renditions out there, but I love the COMMAND(!) of the first rendition.  As for the second, I bought Jacques Loussier for my Itunes after hearing him....






 



P.S.  Of course there's ALSO the Glenn Gould!




Humm away, Mr. Gould!

MUSIC AS FUEL

"I thought the story was about me." 

--perhaps The First Sentence

I began writing MY RUSSIAN NOVEL (working title) today, in part because Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto so put me in the mood for what I believe will be the novel's sensibility.  By which I mean I kept playing different renditions that I love -- here are three:

I mentioned that certain COMMAND.  :: Arabella Steinbacher has it -- she commands technique, not the other way around.  She also sees/hears the composition rather than what she (or others) want to hear…

…. like the poet getting out of the way of the poem, which is paradoxical (attesting to its difficulty) when the matter is, as I describe it, also one of command:

*****

And here's a ravishing and commanding rendition by Frank Peter Zimmerman:

*****

So many ways to define command (it's like reading a poem!)....here's Kyung Wha Chung (so inspiring; heck, if she can go Russian so can I!)

ON THE DEMANDS OF SCALE

One reason I'm relieved to find a publisher for 147 MILLION ORPHANS is that it's the last completed poetry manuscript in my files.  After this book, as well as my Fall 2014 release, SUN STIGMATA, I feel I can go back to something I've always wanted to do but never was capable of doing before:  a HUGE NOVEL.  And I think I was incapable of writing that particular novel because I hadn't experienced/matured sufficiently for its type of effort.

It's like Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto -- maturity may matter.  (I say "may" because I don't really know, but am hazarding forth this speculation though no doubt there are exceptions.)  Compare the young violinist Sayaka Shoji's rendition with the seasoned David Oistrakh's (longer link below)… I want to write a novel the way Oistrakh plays his violin.  What Oistrakh reveals is a particular COMMAND (Shoji has it, too, but in a different way) … that translates to a poignant luminosity for which effect there is no shortcut.  One must bring a certain history to its manifestation. And history requires/ed time.

When I was in about 6th or 7th grade, I used to walk around middle school with huge Russian novels.  WAR AND PEACE and such.  I didn't read them then (I began but couldn't finish them); I just walked around with them because I loved their heft.  I admired the ambition of the HUGE TOME.  I was weighed down and loved the physical feel of being weighed down by their heft.

And now I want to be the one creating rather than only receiving that effect.  Forty years later, I can begin.

But I couldn't get here, I felt, if I shortchanged my efforts for Poetry.  Clear space and all that.   Some of you have asked about my prolificness -- this explains it.  I will have released over twenty (I've actually lost count) poetry collections by the end of this year.  I would have done so in less than 15 years (with the generosity of numerous publishers willing to facilitate my journey--thank you!).  

Until this post, I've never particularly tried to articulate my rush to release my poetry out there. Well, it's because I was eager through the years to get to this particular phase -- that writing of this HUGE NOVEL.  What I also appreciate about this phase?  I don't know if I'll succeed … and I welcome that uncertainty.  Because Poetry trained me not to fear instability, flux, and the unknown.  Poetry taught me faith.

So these 2014 poetry books, 147 MILLION ORPHANS and SUN STIGMATA, may be the last poetry for a while as I … go old-style Russian[+plus] in the 21st century.

In the best 49 minutes, six seconds you may devote to your screen (none of this twittery stuff), here is the MAGNIFICENT David Oistrakh with Tchaikovsky and Bach:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ds4XPlhgq_k