Sunday morning under blue sky clouds homeless, almost fragile weather, and joyful Brigetoun nauseous, brain stuck with no desire to try to make an effort to record impressions of the concert on Saturday night, which were already somewhere in the distant past. So briefly, to use the wrong photos.
surprise of a wet soil, but bet to keep coat and not to umbrella, the rain having occurred at any time of any inattentiveness.
Effect of names - the opera that is normally almost half-empty chamber music was not as full as had hardly ever seen to listen and especially Kathia Buniatishvili Renaud Capuçon.
She, beautiful naked back in a long black robe, his head turned away, leaning into the piano - he, dressed in a banker in good taste, restraint gestures, refusal of any natural posture and theatrical gestures, concentrated on music, just leaning back slightly for the flights, or folded, bent on his violin in the rapids negotiated full energy.
program began, for my pleasure, the Sonata No. 2 Bartok, the beautiful synthesis of some popular music and a strong entry into serialism. Music moving and built, movements played without stop marks, or almost. The independence of the two instruments and the union of these elements. Ruptures, the stridency, the hammering, the harmonious lines etc. ... A great pleasure.
They were chained to the Sonata No. 2 Brahms, the beauty of the violin song in expanding further in the first movement. The unity and complexity. Timeless beauty.
An interval occupied by a questionnaire filled out unreadable, and without understanding all the issues but it occupied me.
And the Sonata in A major by Franck who is said to be fine and important, which I appreciated a bit, despite the barrage of silly dating my teenage years, which means that, for me, this music evokes a charming young girl or young woman, rich and talented enough to afford some transgressions and innovations the edge of standards, a perfume 17th district, St. Cecilia, Parc Monceau, tea from China and bridge.
I know, this is not a way of appreciating the music but it's stronger than me and I have great difficulty in overcoming some trouble vague.
concert short. Back in good humor, contemplation and empty nonsense about Arte +7, before going back on a wolf in the oven and perfection of the "shotgun" to Inoue.
And then Sunday, I, a little under the weather by struggle between fear, shyness, and pleasure of meeting with a writer blogger face which felt miserably ignorant and stupid.
Little wind, beautiful light coming in ahead of the place of the clock, deserted at the end of Sunday morning,
short wait while the square people, and the sky ditto,
sheep and plate puffy gray, fine droplets, and meets
with him is made, an enjoyable and interesting time (for me) lunch, very small circumnavigation in the streets near
time that the wind drives the clouds, without malice but with effectiveness. Back. Thank you to him. Laziness.
Here, here .
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