The Strad: Violinist Isaac Stern in China

The Strad
Excerpts from Violinist Isaac Stern in China

Captured in the 1979 Academy Award-winning documentary From Mao to Mozart, Isaac Stern had a transformative effect on China's classical music scene - more than he ever knew. Today his legacy lives on with the launching of the Shanghai Isaac Stern International Violin Competition. Nancy Pellegrini talks to son David Stern and some of the film's stars about the 'Stern effect.'

The year was 1979. Emerging from decades of isolation and political turmoil, China had just opened its door to the West, and legendary violinist Isaac Stern was hoping to peek inside. The result was the Academy Award-winning documentary From Mao to Mozart, which chronicles Stern's visit to music conservatoires in Beijing and Shanghai. This brilliant, touching film gave Westerners an insight into life behind the Bamboo Curtain, while igniting Chinese careers and changing music in China forever. The Stern family has continued its association with the country, but it is China that will never forget. August 2016 was the start of the inaugural Shanghai Isaac Stern International Violin Competition (SISIVC), which organisers hope will help to inspire and motivate a new generation of musicians.

Isaac Stern had long used his musicianship to build bridges and foster talent, touring the Soviet Union in 1951, helping save New York’s Carnegie Hall from destruction, and mentoring a host of promising young players including Itzhak Perlman, Yo-Yo Ma and Pinchas Zukerman. While some claimed his extra-musical efforts were hampering his own skills, music and humanity were, to him, simply extensions of each other. China opening up to the West was his next logical frontier.

However, when even US diplomat and close friend Henry Kissinger couldn't help him gain entrance, Stern had a strategically casual dinner with China's foreign minister, and an evening conversation became an official invitation. The film was also a product of family friends, but the Sterns insisted it be about China, not them. 'Even when I see it today, that's what impresses me; it was so unpretentious,' says David Stern, whose clear admiration for his father still resonates. 'It wasn't a grand master delivering the word. My father had lived a life that very few people can live, and all he wanted to do was share it.'

Wang is certain that Stern brought about a seismic change in China's music scene. 'He showed us, he told us, he demanded from us that music was all about expressing yourself,' he says. 'The content is more important than the presentation - and in those days in China, presentation was everything.' China had talented teachers, he recalls, but the general trend was to study the form and imitate the West. 'We did not have the confidence nor the tradition to say that music is only a tool to express yourself,' he recalls. 'Isaac Stern said "I don't care how you play, but you have to say something."'

Maybe even more than music, Stern was known for mentorship, which is why the family eventually allowed his name to be attached to Shanghai's newest competition. But they had concerns. 'This was not an easy birth because my father principally believed that music is not a competition,' says David Stern. In fact, Isaac had avoided the competition circuit and nurtured talent so that others could do the same. But times have changed. 'An Isaac Stern of today would not have the influence he did then; the music world was smaller, moved slower, had more patience,' he says. 'Today it is increasingly difficult for young musicians to get their chance.'

Launched by the Shanghai Symphony Orchestra (SSO) to discover talent and honour Stern's legacy in China, the SISIVC has been designed with Stern in mind. This means that, although virtuosity is rewarded, musicianship and development will come first. David Stern himself insisted on a chamber music round, and organisers will introduce the most promising candidates to top music agencies. The jurors' scores and comments will be released to the public, so that candidates can receive further feedback. And the SSO and principal sponsor China Pacific Insurance's musical outreach programme 'The Rhythm of Life' will allow competition laureates to give concerts with the orchestra at venues across the country. 'The programme is entrusting young musicians with enriching the life and culture of urban centres around the country,' says SO president and SISIVC executive president Fedina Zhou, 'fulfilling its core philosophy of bringing music to the ears of many, and turning "soloists" into "musicians".'

Tsu, who serves with Stern as jury co-chair, feels that Shanghai - and indeed China - is due for an international competition of this scope, and is already excited about the contestants' high level. Wang feels there is no better homage to Stern. 'He cultivated and propelled so many new careers; some of the greatest performers alive are performing because of him. There are only one or two in the history of music like that. We need to keep his legacy alive.' Li also sees overwhelming positives, and points out that when it comes to music in China, SSO music director Long Yu has the Midas touch. 'Everything he organises blossoms so much,' he says. 'With anyone else I would be sceptical, but with him I have confidence that this will be great.' He also says that while many competition winners disappear after a handful of concerts,' Yu's myriad orchestra connections will be a boon for the winners. 'This will build a concrete career for these young soloists.'

But the most important factor is to keep Isaac Stern's legacy, and the From Mao to Mozart spirits alive. 'My father was one of the few who managed to elevate everyone around him,' says David Stern, 'whether it was a conversation in a restaurant or playing a violin concerto.' And this will indeed be a family affair. The violinist's daughter Shira will be presenting the Isaac Stern Award, granted to the person in any field, from any country, who best uses music to improve society. His son, conductor Michael Stern, will conduct the orchestra for the final round, before working with Yo-Yo Ma on a 2017 youth festival in Guangzhou. David Stern has been conducting in China several times a year since 1999, when he led his father and other film alumni (including Wang and Tsu) in a 20th-anniversary From Mao to Mozart concert. Today he runs an annual Baroque festival in Shanghai and teaches vocal masterclasses. He repeatedly insists he is not following in his father's footsteps, saying, 'I just believe in it and I love doing it.'

But perhaps the best takeaway is Isaac Stern's address at the end of the film: 'If you do not think that music can say more than words, that there can be no life without music; if you do not believe these things, then don't be a musician.' Says David Stern of his father's advice. 'It's the strongest defence of arts I've ever heard.' Words to live by indeed.

Greensboro News and Record: Music review - Gerard Schwarz and Brahms highlight EMF Chamber concert

By Jackson Cooper

The communal feel of attending an EMF concert can be equated to the spirit of a Fourth of July barbecue. Enthusiastic grins and reconnecting with old friends is a common sight. The audience chatters like children in anticipation for the show they are about to witness.
This created an exciting buzz around the evening of chamber works presented by EMF faculty and guest artists as the final installment of the Monday chamber series, held Monday night at UNCG Recital Hall.

The evening opened with Mozart’s Oboe Quartet in F major, performed by soloist Katherine Young Steele on oboe and accompanied by violin, viola and cello. A welcoming start to the program, Mozart’s piece is a more traditional sounding chamber work. All four instrumentalists succeed in controlling Mozart’s sudden dynamic changes nicely. In multiple sections, they used slight tempo changes to heighten the expressiveness of the piece. Steele’s oboe playing was lyrical throughout, gracefully adding to a richly satisfying dialogue between the four musicians.
After the Mozart appetizer followed Boccherini’s Guitar Quintet performed with Jason Vieaux on guitar accompanied by viola, two violins and cello. Living in Madrid for most of his life, images of Spain sprung to mind in the opening moments of Boccherini’s piece. Vieaux played Boccherini’s shifts between accompanist and solo lines with grace and ease, controlling dynamics masterfully.
During the final movement, the aptly named “Fandango,” cellist Julian Schwarz provided aerobic and percussive playing that seemed to captivate the audience. He even took a short break during the piece to play on castanets, one of the two percussion instruments the program notes mention (the other, a sistrum rattle, was sadly absent from this performance). The inspired performing, with special shout-outs to Schwarz and Vieaux, brought the audience to its feet for three ovations.

Following intermission, EMF favorite Awadagin Pratt joined the faculty for a moving performance of Brahms Piano Quintet in F minor. Much darker and undulating in tone than other Brahms chamber works, the piece introduces in a musical idea which it riffs and rhapsodizes over the course of the opening movement, creating a dark tapestry of sound different from for instance, the playful Mozart from the first half. The tone of the first movement is one of uncertainty, creating a feeling of suspense as a listener.

The Andante section is a lighter detraction from the first movement, and Pratt and his cohorts made the shift in tones seamless to create a romantic intermezzo. A rousing Scherzo section followed, containing some ensemble glitches. Despite these, the climactic moments of exuberance were well captured by the players.

The Finale, a mirror to the first movement in contrasting tones, pushed the quintet into its most passionate playing, as if the musicians had been held back for three movements and now, they are able to let loose. Brahms’s sudden shifts in mood were thrilling to experience. By the time they reached the final chord, the audience did not seem to want it to be over. It makes you wish every Monday could be this inspiring.

The Strad: Review of Israeli Chamber Project's NYC Concert May 5, 2016

The Strad
Review by Leah Hollingsworth

The Israeli Chamber Project played with character and aplomb in this concert at Merkin Hall. The dense score of Weber's Clarinet Quintet was performed with a rich depth that may have seemed a mire overbearing but which conveyed a confident and charismatic energy.

André Caplet's Conte fantastique began with an arresting reading of Edgar Allan Poe's The Masque of the Red Death - on which the piece was based - by actor Michael Cumsty. A sinister entry by violist Dov Scheindlin and cellist Michal Korman gave way to a tumultuous and brilliantly executed performance by all members of the quintet (string quartet and harp). Complex rhythms and myriad extended techniques were well executed and embodied the disturbing and dramatic nature of the text effectively. The piece reached a frenetic climax that verged exhilaratingly on losing control. The ensemble playing was fantastic and harpist Sivan Magen was particularly vibrant.

Although by the end of Brahms's Piano Quintet the string players were obviously fatigued, their performance of this marvellous music was as passionate and heartfelt as the earlier works. Korman's introduction to the finale's theme was absolutely stunning - light but not trite, and played with an optimistic sound tinged with sadness and depth.

Violin Channel: Julian Schwarz Guest Blogs about Schoenfeld International String Competition

With the 2016 Schoenfeld International String Competition underway this week in Harbin, China, VC recently caught up with a number of former prize winners to get a better understanding of their time at the competition – and the career-changing opportunities the biennial event has presented.

2013 Cello Division 1st prize winner, Julian Schwarz guest blogs about his eventful experience:

“In 2004 I had the great honor of performing in a masterclass given by the distinguished cellist Eleanor Schoenfeld. I had heard wonderful things about her teaching, and was eager for the opportunity. She was a very elegant woman. Her German accent was subtle yet intriguing, as was her graceful playing. Little did I know that nine years later her namesake competition would prove such an important part of my young career.

A week in August 2013 was the first installment of the inaugural Alice and Eleanor Schoenfeld International String Competition (then in Hong Kong, now in Harbin). Though I had made the effort to apply and officially enter the competition, I was reticent to make the trek. The timing was not ideal, as the competition was set to take place following my first summer as a faculty member at the Eastern Music Festival, which directly preceded a residency at the piano Sonoma Festival in California. I had the usual pre-competition thoughts and fears—what if I go all the way there and get cut in the first round? When will I find time to prepare the compulsory piece?

My response to these fears was to put off buying my plane tickets and focus on my work at hand. The days hurried by. The competition was right around the corner and I had neither began learning the required piece nor booked any travel or accommodation whatsoever. Decision time. I bought my tickets. I figured that I would somehow find a way to prepare the necessary repertoire if I had no choice but to step on that plane.

On the day of my flight to Hong Kong, I found myself in a state of palpable stress. I had yet to look at the commissioned piece. I told myself to focus on my concert that afternoon and worry about the competition on the way to the airport (I was catching a 1 am flight after a late afternoon chamber performance in Sonoma).

The flight was long, but allowed me to study the repertoire over my breakfast of seafood congee. It was my first time in Hong Kong, but I promised myself I would not let my desire to enjoy the town get in the way of my preparation. I checked into the hotel and started to practice. It turned out that nature had its own way of insuring my practice captivity—it was typhoon time. Yes, the whole city was filled with rivers of water, and I was confined to my hotel room by government order. All day I practiced. I played from morning till night, and sometimes with a practice mute at 4 am during bouts of jet lag.

During this period of practice madness I convinced myself that the only way to get over the guilt of having royally procrastinated learning the required piece, was to commit it to memory. How could the jury possibly think I had crammed learning a piece that I had memorized? This pursuit was aided by the competition’s 24-hour postponement of the first round.

The preliminary came and went in a flash. My bow hair limp, I performed my best and made it through my required piece unscathed. As I hadn’t heard back from the competition that evening, I figured my presence in any future rounds unlikely. When 2 am rolled around, I rolled around to my deafening hotel phone. I had advanced. The next round was in 8 hours.

Though the typhoon made scheduling slightly more compact, I can’t say I had any problem with it. In performance, it’s the best feeling to just get out there and do it. The more time you have to think the worse it gets. If you give your brain a chance to get anxious, it will get anxious. This is one of the reasons I adore afternoon concerts. You get up, have something to eat, and play your heart out. For an evening performance, you get up, worry, worry some more, and then play your heart out.

The next rounds happened in similar fashion to the first. Always a 2 am wake-up call with good news, and another performance right around the corner. The final call was to tell me I had won the first prize.

The prizewinners concert was the first moment the reality of my win started to sink in. It was my conversation with the eminent maestro Jorge Mester directly following the performance that made me the most excited. I was just onstage holding a big foam check in one hand and a human sized trophy in the other, but it was my very brief conversation with maestro Mester that gave me the biggest rush.

“Maestro Mester would like to see you now,” I was told by a competition employee.

I was caught off guard, but was eager to hear what he had to say—he was the jury chairman after all.

“Yes Julian,” he started, “I need you to be the principal cello of the Louisville Orchestra this season ok? Think about it ok? Here’s my information. Thanks.”

I could barely get a word in of appreciation before he had left. Wow, what an offer. And so soon after all of the incredible competition festivities.

I was still in school and, with great regret, had to turn down the offer, but this was just the beginning of a wonderful friendship and musical partnership with this great maestro. I played the opening week as principal cello in Louisville, as it was before school was set to begin. That week I was offered a solo engagement with the orchestra in a coming season. The next summer, I was called by the Orquesta Filarmonica de Boca del Rio in Mexico to perform as its first guest soloist. It was a newly created orchestra, with none other than the great maestro Jorge Mester as the Music Director.

Since the competition I have worked with maestro Mester in Boca del Rio, Veracruz, Louisville, and Mexico City, performing Dvorak, Elgar, and Shostakovich 1st Concertos. What a gift the competition gave me to play for this great conductor.

The year after the competition my solo engagements started to increase. Presenters and orchestras that had been considering me as a soloist for some time finally had the stamp of approval that only a prominent international competition can provide.

The most influential opportunities the Schoenfeld Competition awarded me came as a result of the important jury members and their desire to engage me in the future, but the monetary prizes were also useful in my career. The money I won was used to record the complete cello/piano works of Ernest Bloch for the Milken Archive, to make my debut recital recording with pianist Marika Bournaki (to be released later this year), and to buy a beautiful upright piano for my apartment in New York City. I was also awarded a fantastic German cello that I still own. It was quite the ordeal to figure out how to get two cellos back with me to the U.S. post-competition, but I am happy to say that the German instrument survived just fine in the hold!

I wish nothing but the best for the prizewinners of this year’s Schoenfeld Competition. There are fantastic opportunities for those who win, and for those who don’t, one must remember that being a musician is about getting out there and doing it. I love playing for people. I love playing wherever there is a public willing to listen. I played for large, appreciative audiences at the 2013 Schoenfeld Competition. That will always be enough.

-Julian”

Pablo Sáinz Villegas Performs in Sold-Out Tribute Concert for Placido Domingo

Pablo Sáinz Villegas on stage with Plácido Domingo in front of a sold-out stadium of 60,000.

Pablo Sáinz Villegas was honored to be invited to perform at the historic tribute concert, “Plácido en el Alma” (Placido in the Soul), for the great Plácido Domingo at the Santiago Bernabeu stadium in Madrid on June 29, 2016. The event was in honor of the beloved artist's 75th birthday. Proceeds from the concert were given to 38 sport schools of Real Madrid’s Foundation in Mexico.

The Guardian: Orchestral maneuvers in the park - classical festivals in stunning scenery

Dawn in Grand Teton national park. Photo: Alamy

The Guardian
By Brian Wise

Visual artists have been so successful at capturing America’s national parks that some have served as valuable campaigners for wilderness conservation. Consider Albert Bierstadt’s huge landscape paintings of Yosemite or Ansel Adams’s famous photographs of Yellowstone. But composers have mostly refrained from portraying these natural wonders, perhaps hampered by music’s fundamentally abstract nature.

A few have tried, however, and more will do so in the coming months as the National Park Service celebrates its 100th anniversary.

In the 20th-century, Ferde Grofé was classical music’s greatest national parks advocate. His Grand Canyon Suite – inspired by a camping trip to Grand Canyon National Park in 1916 – depicts a painted desert, a pounding storm, and the clip-clop of a mule descending to the canyon floor. Grofé later portrayed other national parks, composing a Death Valley Suite in 1949 and a Yellowstone Suite (1960).

In 1972, French composer Olivier Messiaen, a synesthete and lover of birdsong, made an eight-day visit to Utah’s Bryce Canyon and neighboring national parks, which yielded Des Canyons aux Étoiles … (From the Canyons to the Stars …), a gaudily pictorial, 12-movement symphonic poem. More recently, Nico Muhly, on a commission from the Utah Symphony, composed Control: Five Landscapes for Orchestra (2015), also inspired by Utah’s national parks (and featured on a new recording).

A category apart is Stephen Lias, an American composer who has held a series of National Park Service residencies, living and working in Rocky Mountain, Glacier, Denali and Glacier Bay National Parks, among others. His music will be performed in centennial concerts in Washington DC on 23 and 25 August.

There’s another way that culture and national parks intersect: at a number of music festivals that take place near or on park grounds.

Grand Teton music festival (Grand Teton national park, Yellowstone national park)

When it comes to Rocky Mountain festivals, Aspen, and to a lesser degree, Vail, get most of the attention. But this fest, located in Teton Village, Wyoming, puts you within an alphorn’s call of Grand Teton national park, with its magnificent 13,000ft peaks. It’s also an hour’s drive from Yellowstone, with its hot springs and grazing bison. Headliners include violinist Joshua Bell performing the Four Seasons of Vivaldi and Piazzolla, cellist Johannes Moser (Tchaikovsky’s Rococo Variations), violinist Nicola Benedetti (the Korngold Violin Concerto) and up-and-comer Simone Porter (Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto). While programming leans on the tried and tested, the rugged surroundings can pull you out of your comfort zone.

4 July - 20 August, $10-$55, gtmf.org

Strings Artist Blog: Julian Schwarz on “Your Cello Sounds Great!”

The old Heifetz story goes that the master would be told frequently after concerts, “Maestro, your Stradivari sounds incredible.” In response, he would open up his case, bring his violin to his ear, shrug, and quip, “I don’t hear anything!” Though this comedic response has become a joke among many prominent soloists, the reality remains the same—there is a fundamental misunderstanding among musicians and music lovers alike as to what produces sound and, by extension, what is to be lauded.

Just as Heifetz implied, the sound of an instrument is created by the musician. Though a great instrument can give a skilled artist access to a wide color palate, that same instrument does not create colors by itself. There is no string playing equivalent to piano rolls . . . yet!

That said, I have grown to interpret the comment, “Your instrument sounds great,” to mean, “You make a great tone.” I assume this is the intention of the compliment—at least I hope it is. It’s always difficult for me to remind myself of this, however, especially in the moment. I recently performed a series of concerts, after which I received nice compliments—about things over which I had no control.

“Wow, the new shell in our hall made your cello project so well!”

“Wow, that is the loudest cello I have ever heard!”

“Wow, your cello is amazing!”

“Before the recent renovation of our hall, it was so difficult to hear cello soloists, but now I can hear every note!”

Of course, I try to see the best intention of each comment. Though each remark did not give me credit for my sound production, the end result was the same—I sounded loud.

The next day a review came out, which some would say was very good. Objectively, it was. Yet, after noticing the creativity in credit given the evening before, I could not help but notice a similar trend in the review. The critic commented that my cello produced wonderful colors and sounds in the concerto, and that the cello podium on which I sat projected my sound to a great extent.

Now, the cello podium was responsible for my projecting tone.

I was puzzled. I was not upset that the cello podium received undue credit, but I was confused as to what the writer thought my involvement was (if any) in the performance. If I neither made the sound nor the color, what did I do? Why has this become a popular way of saying “It sounded good” or “You have a nice sound”?

In this way I am envious of pianists. It seems ridiculous, as they have the hardest job in the industry (having to change instruments for every performance and become one with a new tool every time, always at the mercy of a piano technician to achieve the ideal tuning and action, and often without the ability to warm up on the instrument prior to a performance), but a pianist will rarely be told that his or her piano has a nice sound. Why? Because—with a few exceptions like Cliburn and Zimmerman—it is not their own piano. And every pianist who plays on that particular instrument has a different sound.

This side of the equation confuses me even more. A piano is merely a series of buttons. If I press the button and you press the button, the same sound should come out, right? And yet this could not be further from the truth. As many concertgoers and musicians notice, the sound and range of color and dynamics on a piano differs greatly, depending on who is playing.

On a stringed instrument, the variables seem much greater. A stringed instrumentalist’s sound, through the use of the bow, can vary to an even greater extent through weight, speed, sound point, strength, and one’s ear. The sound desired by a performer is incredibly subjective, and satisfaction with a particular sound at a particular time differs greatly from player to player. It is as much what you do to produce a sound as what you desire the sound to be like at its core.

Often a great pianist will receive the comment, “Wow, this piano has never sounded like that!” For a string player, it is very rare that an audience member would hear the same exact instrument played by two different players.

I first realized the great range of sound from player to player as a young student. I was attending a small chamber festival when my teacher took my cello for a demonstration. I did not recognize the sound. My jaw dropped. How was it possible that my cello sounded so different? It might have been my physical position in listening (an instrument always sounds different from a distance than under one’s own ear), but this was too great a disparity to attribute to my orientation.

I was stunned. Since then I have always been curious to hear other cellists play my instrument. There are great lessons to be learned in regard to one’s own sound, and the sound others produce naturally.

And as far as sound production is concerned: Yes, it is building up muscles. Yes, it is what is in the ear. Yes, it is partially to do with the greatness of an instrument. But guys, give us string players some credit once in a while, would ya?

For more from Julian Schwarz, read his other Strings exclusive blogs: “I Play the Cello. Should my Teacher?” and “Destiny—Tied with a Bow.”

Ray Lustig Gives TEDx Talk in New York

Renown composer and scientist who has achieved numerous accolades in each discipline, Ray Lustig, was invited to give a TEDx talk in New York on June 11, 2016. Lustig spoke about how barriers and limitations can actually be a great source of freedom and creativity. His music has been presented in venues ranging from New York City clubs and galleries to major concert halls and festivals around the world—from Le Poisson Rouge and Galapagos Art Space to Carnegie Hall, Lincoln Center, and the École Normale in Paris. Also a highly respected researcher in moleclar biology, Lustig is fascinated by science, nature, and the mind. He has helped to co-found the Juilliard Weill Cornell Music and Medicine Initiative, a collaborative project that explores the many intersections of music, the sciences, the mind, and the healing arts.

Boston Musical Intelligencer: Ellipsis Trio Searches, Satisfies

Boston Musical Intelligencer
By David Patterson

Ellipsis Trio brought a Beethoven cello sonata, an Arthur Foote trio, and the premiere of a work written for Ellipsis by the late William Thomas McKinley to Killian Hall on the campus of MIT on Saturday night. My guess is that most at this inviting concert were probably not, if at all, familiar with the works programmed, never mind the music of local composer McKinley. That, in and of itself, could make for a satisfying musical outing.

That is only one of several reasons I have continued to follow this fairly new trio, which started up in early 2013. It was the summer of 2014 when first I encountered them—in a “refreshing and remarkable” excursion with Dvořák and Ravel.

Newness, if you will, went further still when the group moved to Killian, presumably in the hunt for a more welcoming venue. The living room size of the place appeared just right with the very nice turnout comfortably seated. The room’s acoustics also seemed suitable, allowing every note to be heard loud and clear. While sometimes the going got too loud, that was not particularly due to the room.

Another shift involved that of the pianist. Ellipsis followers had come to know Konstantinos Papadakis as the Trio’s pianist from the very outset. So it was a surprise last night to see Constantine Finehouse, who is becoming increasingly well-known to Boston audiences, at the Steinway concert grand for this outing.

A program note for Beethoven’s mature Sonata for Piano and Cello No. 4, in C Major Op. 102 No. 1 set us off in the right direction. Eftychia Papanikolaou, Associate Professor of Music at Bowling Green State University (Ohio), related a comment made by a contemporary of Beethoven about his late music: “It is so original that no one can understand it on first hearing.”

Five tempos compacted into two movements would indeed keep even today’s listener on the alert. Patrick Owen committed the lyrical and tender moments in both Andantes and the Adagio with touching sensitivity, at times with wisps of the bow, at times with a warm, vocalized-like vibrato. In the two Allegros, Finehouse found security in strongly pointed power sweeps and dominating accents. Overall, the two played more as strangers, the cellist phrasing one way, the pianist another. When they did match, ears lit up.

Such a joy it was next to meet up live with Trio No. 2 in B-flat Major from Boston Second School composer Arthur Foote. I came to this piece with the same sense as Papanikolaou, who wrote that this Trio would “recall a French ethos representative of Gabriel Faure’s chamber music.” With Ellipsis, French-American ebullience shot through the score as shooting stars intermittently flash through a pellucid sky.

Amanda Wang’s violin looked upon Foote’s loveable melodicism with exact remove coupled with delectable tone, truly a high spot of the evening.

As to the bigger picture, ebullience would drift into loudness, volume overtaking feeling. Or, those moments might be described as resolute, that early German influence on Foote coming to the fore.

Patrick Owen took to a few words in introducing William Thomas McKinley’s Trio for Violin, Cello and Piano in 5 movements. When Owen arrived to give McKinley a ride, the composer got in the car and “dumped the score in my lap, saying, ‘This is for you’.”

McKinley’s approach involved highly attractive opening moves acting as “ritornellos” that in turn provided grounding for an array of intervening tangents, often emulating jazz and blues.

Ellipsis showered the 36-minute richly eclectic work with un-diluted devotion, heaping lifeblood through and through upon the mysterious atmospheres of “distant land,” the off accents of “here’s the beat,” the hushed piano oscillations with suspended strings in “silk,” the dance allusions in “Tango Sonata,” and in-a-hurry rhythms of a metropolis in “Downtown Walk.”

Ellipsis’s world premiere of the work completed just before McKinley’s death in 2015 stopped the show, drawing sincere reaction from the intent listeners from enthusiastic applause to random vocalizations of approval.

Strings Magazine: Benoît Rolland on the Making of Bows 1500 and 1515

Strings Magazine

Award-winning, Parisian-born bow maker Benoît Rolland studied both piano and violin, graduating from the Paris and Versailles conservatoires. He trained as a bow maker in Mirecourt, France, (1971–75) with master maker Bernard Ouchard, and opened his first studio in Paris in 1976. His bows have been played by Yehudi Menuhin, Mstislav Rostropovich, Yo-Yo Ma, Anne-Sophie Mutter, Kim Kashkashian, Lisa Batiashvili, and many other professional musicians. He moved permanently to Boston in 2001, and was awarded a MacArthur Fellowship in 2012.

Rolland’s career is multifaceted: traditional bow making entwined with contemporary art, innovation, and education. In 2016 he is drafting an educational initiative called the Heritage Project. With it, Rolland aims to communicate his bow-making knowledge and celebrate the heritage of the French School of bow making, while also supporting continued innovation.

Rolland penned this feature to commemorate the making of his 1,500th and 1,515th signed bows. The process, though exacting, is revealed to be as much poetry as it is motion.

December 2014

I am about to make my 1,500th signed bow. This is a moving moment, after 45 years making bows nearly every day. I’ve built 1,850 pieces actually, starting with 350 bows for apprenticeship. And I’ve tested 20,000 bows over the years. As numbers grow, so does my fascination with performing music—its complexity, and the commitment and energy it demands.

I postpone the making of Bow 1500. The time is not right; I am absorbed by the commissioned list and wish to reserve a special moment for this artwork, dedicated to musicians.

May 2015

I reach Bow 1515, which I skip—along with 1500. The two bows will be twinned, and I intensify my work at the bench to reach the point where the hand flows with intention while the mind navigates between music and bow making.

Summer and Fall 2015

Moving to a new studio. It’s flooded by a particular incidence of the Northern light that I have been looking for since Mirecourt. The first bow I make here is for violinist Leonidas Kavakos.

The concept for 1500/1515 is taking shape. I am obsessed with it, but shall wait some more as I concentrate on the next bow, for Yo-Yo Ma. Designing bows that respond to musicians’ complex intentions pushed my understanding far beyond my perception as a violinist. How should lifelong listening crystallize in two bows? It will be a joy to try pieces in my stock that I have, until now, refrained from using: Fine woods are natural wonders that invite respect and restraint.

November 13, 2015

A tragic link in the long chain of violence around the world, the attack of the Bataclan in Paris targets a popular music venue in existence since 1865. Violence is never acceptable, and I have stood against it since early in my life. I feel that each of us can act toward a more peaceful and just world.

I decide to give Bow 1515 to Community Music Works, a committed nonprofit that brings string music to young people living in severely disadvantaged contexts. Perseverance, artistic dedication, and sharing music link our paths. Bow 1515, like bow 1500, will be gold mounted with conflict-free diamonds and a novel inlay. Community Music Works will sell this bow to a musician or a patron willing to support its work. Then, in its owner’s hand or care, the bow will move on to be played on professional stages. So the bow can mark a continuity between children discovering music in unlikely contexts and the finest soloists. Music offers the chance of a link.

December 2015

I choose the various materials and a piece of pernambuco with rich sound potential for Bow 1500. In 1984, I was attracted by its volume, density, and weight in the hand, and I cut slightly curved “blanks” in the 80-year-old plank. Pliant, resilient, this wood has a sensual presence; it sounds under the lightest touch, gives a clear G note to a finger tap. Rubbing and tapping give different kinds of information. I am curious to observe how these sounds will evolve as the bow shapes. Much is to be discovered as I go down to its core.

Early January 2016

A first shaving reveals a deep, dark orange. Under the plane, I seek how the vibration travels, identifying strong and weak points—like sight-reading a score. It is a wildly reactive wood: The bows should be thrilling to play, exuding a palette of overtones, but will be nerve-wracking to build. There is a risk that they may warp over the flame or even break in the course of the making. I memorize the wood patterns, constantly correlating playability and sound to ultimately obtain a warm, rich timbre and response to the lightest contact with the string.

Each few millimeters will have a slightly different profile. Making a lean, muscle-like bow requires taking risks. We love this emotion when the musician gets “under our skin”—in terms of carving bows, it means routinely working to a precision of 1/50th of a millimeter, leaving no point thicker than it really needs. At playing, I’d like a bow that the hand forgets.

The numerical data I record on bows represents but a fragment of the complexity of this object. Each new bow offers potential for multiple combinations that I must comprehend and order before touching the bench. Music accompanies this process, like Debussy’s Des pas sur la neige for Bow 1000. Preparing Bows 1500 and 1515, I increasingly listen to André Previn’s Song, alternating with Schubert’s Piano Sonata D960. They outline a quality of silence around them, a calm that guides the mind.

January–February 2016

Looking for a jewel quality to the frogs, I solicit my wife, painter Christine Arveil, for a design. I will hand-inlay gold parts that look like brush strokes, rather than resort to computerized technology. It will be challenging, given the hard ebony and the curved, hollowed frog. I build minuscule tools to carve the narrow grooves, and practice setting gemstones flush in gold, a technique that I find is quite difficult.

After a month exploring options, we adopt a design that I first execute over an ebony blade, noting a few minor changes. Next, I make an ebony-and-silver frog to further verify how lines and volumes play together. I later prepare the gold pieces. The calligraphic line with a diamond spark evokes a bow stroke. Christine has expressed the music dynamics while extending the black canvas of the frog to integrate ferrule and button.

February 26–29, 2016

I begin the rough out—the most physical phase in making a bow, and a decisive one: all that follows will be a perfecting of this base.

By segments of 30–45 minutes, uninterrupted fast movements define the shape. Between them, the progression is controlled visually and by muscular perception, flexing the stick with both hands.

Following the teachings of the French School, I don’t allow the bow to leave my hand, which is serving as a vice; the gesture is ample, never chipping the wood, never changing tools. I feel the evolution of the vibration through my body, and listen to the sound of the plane as I shave this particularly hard wood.

Adrenaline rush, focused energy: Every element that appears under the plane is analyzed in real-time against stores of memorized data. A good bow harmonizes contradictions (agile and athletic, yet soft and sensuous). A fast decision process selects, balances, and defines the multiple components of these opposites as wood is removed. There is no going back. Because I cut my blanks slim, no meaningless removal of wood should distract the attention: The rough-out will play on about 20 grams of wood dust.

Once Bow 1500 reaches a satisfactory profile, I go on reproducing the concept into 1515. I cannot simply repeat my work, because each piece of wood is different. I need to stay alert.

Early March 2016

I set aside 1515 and continue shaping 1500. A rewarding phase, where experience is delightful: The bow evolves toward playing. Shaping with a knife and a file alternates with cambering over a flame—actions that repeat themselves until the stick is homogeneous. It feels almost like modeling clay while I enhance the bow’s musical capacity. First octagonal, the shaft becomes round. With now only a few grams to play with, I must maintain a tightrope walker’s attention and move softly. The work spreads over several days to refresh control. The precision of the craftsmanship is focused on the musical outcome. Fortunately, the wood is flawless and takes the camber well.

It will not break and I can enjoy sculpting the head once the gold tip is in place. I look for balanced lines and an intimate harmony of angles and curves, somewhat daring.

Then, the light drastically shifts from unusually bright to grey, interfering with my sight. I pause on profiling the stick and move to crafting the metal pieces (ferrules, linings, eyelets, screws). For the gold parts, I use 18K strips that an old French goldsmith has prepared to my color specification. Forming the ebony and gold button, I slightly modify my usual proportions to complement the frog inlays.

Mid-March 2016

While I continue returning to the sticks with minute detailing, the work now centers on the frogs. The art design is reserved for the musician’s side, while a diamond eye and ring will face the audience.

With great emotion, I am looking at two exquisite ebony pieces, gifts from Bernard Ouchard that I dared not use yet. A magnificent black, the old wood is smooth and polishes in a whisper. It is very hard, too, and I launch into inlaying with nerves like rubber bands on a sling! I get both frogs fitted. The ensemble is complete with pearl slides from seashells that I had harvested and prepared while living on the French island of Bréhat.

Late-March 2016

With the frog adjusted, I can immerse myself in finishing Bow 1500. Setting the hair is a most important aspect of bow making. What follows is sanding, polishing, and fine tuning the camber—with each step repeated several times. I verify the bow’s unity and “evidence”—a French notion that hardly translates. I hope it will be easy to play, docile.

March 31, 2016

Today I sign bow 1500 and set the diamonds, sparks of light that we wish forever conflict-free. Keeping the continuity, I resume shaping Bow 1515. Again, the ancestral gestures will integrate sensation and experience, balancing emotion and technique in split seconds. Composing with and against the wood, with a sound in mind, is captivating, but in the end, the bow will be just a fluid conduit for the musician’s creative energy.

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Benoît Rolland would like to acknowledge the generous and substantial assistance of his wife, Christine Arveil, in the writing of this journal.