I may now know what the third part will sound like, but that doesn’t make it quick and easy to write down. The score is a peculiar thing. Something between a manual on how to perform a piece... and the piece itself. To my mind, it’s more of the former, but I also recognize the importance of such elements of the score that cannot be read or put into practice in one way only, as they, too, form part of the entire nuanced message. I believe there may be differences in “handwriting” even when the score is typed on a computer keyboard. Perhaps the crucial difficulty is striking the balance between what must be written down and what can (or should) be left to the performer and life itself, which never fully yields to our control. Or to be left to the music and sounds themselves (differentiation intended), as they nearly always prove to have a richer impact than expected. As usual, there are important lessons to be learned from the old masters’ scores, which can often give the impression of having been written down quite carefreely. Mozart or Beethoven barely drafted their historic works, subjecting the rest to guesses, customs and mere circumstances. Yet it does not seem to make their works any worse. Trying to put down all the details, especially those regarding articulation and dynamics, but also rhythm, seems to be a counterproductive effort that yields little (if any) result and strains the trust between the performer and the composer. Of the most recent maestros, the greatest in this respect was probably the late Penderecki. The simplicity and suggestiveness of his scores is dazzling. They seem to have been written with confidence, using the bare minimum of resources to ensure maximum readability. Rooted in tradition whenever possible, with no unnecessary complexities, equipped with graphic symbolism that is novel yet comprehensible enough not to require a lengthy key. I admire what I consider to be a touch of nonchalance reflecting both the composer's absolute confidence in the effect and his complete trust in and respect for the performer.

This week, I have been mostly working on including the EBow device I mentioned last time in the notation. I’m wondering:

- if I should try to note down the exact pitch produced by sliding EBow up a string (which might not necessarily make sense, as those are simply the subsequent sounds of a spectrum, and the moment they resound is not easily controllable);

- most of all, if and how to note down the transitions from one spectrum stage to another (they are, in fact, of most interest to me, yet they can’t be easily noted down pitch-wise; they should rather be easily understood from a well-formulated instruction);

- how accurately I should specify where to place EBow over the string (it’s no use doing it too accurately, as guitars differ in details such as the particular location of pick-ups);

- to what extent I should reflect in the score the hustle that appears when placing EBow in certain positions over the string (if not mentioned at all, the performer could try to avoid it, while I consider it necessary and suitable);

- how to reflect the dynamics (i.e., the volume): should I note down the expected “overall volume” and leave the details to the guitarist, conductor and sound engineer, or should I suggest certain volume settings for the guitar, the amplifier and the mixing console.

Apart from these details, I worked on composing and noting down the first part of the target form, that is, a three-minute “prelude” for a saxophone and a guitar (these instruments, according to the “Chekhov’s gun” rule, have so far been placed somewhat in the background, but now they will play fully solo):

- given the limited control I have over the rhythm of the guitar, should I also leave it for the saxophonist (and fate) to decide?

- should I note down any specification of the tempo, which shapes the overall character to a certain extent, or should I only specify the approximate duration of particular parts?

And so on. Below is a screenshot I took towards the end of last week showing the score and the website with saxophone multiphony that accompanied me all the time. There’s also a short audio recording of what that excerpt may sound like.

LISTEN

After the prelude, there’s a dialogue. It starts off quiet. Melody-wise, it builds on earlier themes and it is anchored in the “nodal points” of the whole work’s harmony: the d-axes and the G-sharp-axes. I’m considering a slight yet significant change to the characters’ names into Puer and Puella. As long as Szczepan consents to it. Why? Perhaps I’ll explain it later.

PUER (MAN)

I desired something I cannot name.

What did I desire when the wind was 

filling my ship’s rectangular sail?

PUELLA (WOMAN)

You wanted me to desire you,

your might and fame, and wealth.

PUER (MAN)

Wealth?

After all, I departed this life naked.

(transl. Zuzanna Wnuk)