Context
If we recall the words of Gospodinov, for whom the afternoon of the year falls in August, can we then say that the afternoon in music is the second movement of the sonata-symphonic cycle?
The instrumental “suonata” (to play, from Italian) is a narrative in sound. Its emergence is linked to the newly developed capabilities of musical instruments during the Baroque era in Western Europe. But it also expresses another transformation in the human world—the change in our sense of time. Previously, time unfolded cyclically, in the circles of the ecclesiastical or natural calendar; with the Enlightenment, it became eventful. That is, one began to see oneself as capable of changing the course of the world's relentless cycles through one's own actions.
The play between change and repetition is the unifying thread in sonatas from Scarlatti to Berg and beyond. And although other musical forms share a similar play of opposites, the sonata is distinguished by its explicit striving to reach a metaphysical essence through them. Unlike, for example, the instrumental fugue, where the search for the metaphysical is tied to divine revelation, the sonata form expresses this quest through a scientific, almost alchemical transformation of opposing elements by the composer. It is a revelation of the secrets of beauty, measured by the proportions of reason.
But let us suppose this has already happened: the synthesis of the elements has been achieved, the secret of beauty discovered. What follows in the subsequent movements of the sonata cycle? Why do the other movements exist at all, if the essential has already passed?
In our present time—greatly diminished by the drive to fulfill all our desires—it is difficult to determine what is essential for ourselves amid the endless consumption of content. Perhaps this is why we have become fixated on the ceaseless search for the essential, bordering on utter impatience if we do not find it on the spot. Yet it is precisely this fixation that prevents us from discovering it, since by definition, the essential always surpasses our notion of it.
In the past, if one wished to hear music, it was easier to perform it oneself than to hear it elsewhere. The very act of listening was extraordinary. On one hand, people needed this act to last longer; on another, they wished to fully unfold their inner world within it, in the brief time it took place in their daily routines. Accordingly, composers—those architects of fantasy—had greater freedom to seek different forms in which to cast it. Much more attention was entrusted to them by their listeners, and correspondingly, they had much more musical time at their disposal. Where, or rather when, should the essential be in the musical work, and when—the sense of repose from it?
In the present concert-play, the second movement is regarded as a symbol of the space beyond our expectations. The play with expectations—ours and the composers’—for the second movements of sonatas is guided by the personal creative process of the performers, woven into a single program. Some emblematic second movements from chamber sonatas for flute and piano or violin and piano have been selected.
The idea and poetry are by Martin Pavlov, the final composition is by Ivan Kerekovski, and with the help of Ivan Nikolov, it is brought to life as a performance. The photographs, which can be found on the concert website, are made by Ines Simeonova. The program text and the website are by Ivan Kerekovsky. The posters in Pleven, Dobrich, and Vratsa are by Martin Pavlov, and in Sofia by Ivan Kerekovsky.
We would like to thank the Pleven Philharmonic for their partnership and support, Dobrich Municipality, Vratsa Symphony, Sofia National Art Gallery, Sofia Music Weeks, as well as the National Culture Fund, whose financial support—performers’ fees, advertising, and rentals—made this project possible.
If you wish to support the participants in this concert, you can do so on this link
Program
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The manuscript of this Bach flute sonata has reached us thanks to the composer’s son, Carl Philipp Emanuel. It is one of the sonatas whose authorship is blended — Bach teaching his son to compose, imparting his knowledge of polyphony, the figured bass, and form — in this case modeled on the old Baroque Sonata da Chiesa, a church sonata in four movements (slow–fast–slow–fast). Beyond these elements, one can clearly hear the influence of the emerging “Galant style”: simplified forms and an elegant melodic line that strongly echoes—and even directly quotes—the fifth variation from the Goldberg Variations in the second movement (which will open the concert). And in the fourth movement, instead of the typical pair of alternating gavottes (with the first repeated after the second), we have a different dance altogether: a minuet.
A minuet that follows the first movement, which itself is in the classical tradition of sonata-allegro form. Written in Paris during the period when the composer lost his mother, this is a two-movement sonata, with both movements in the same key—a very rare occurrence in a sonata cycle. It is also the only work by Mozart in E minor, written for any instrument or ensemble. Mozart's sorrow, expressed through the decorative musical idioms of classicism, transports the listener as if to the world of Commedia dell'Arte, where it is precisely the meeting of decorativeness and inconsolability—bordering on irony—that gives the work its enduring strength. The dramatic development of the music draws increasing attention to the artistic movement Sturm und Drang, or more specifically Empfindsamer Stil, the sensitive style in music that directly precedes Romanticism.
A Lied for six-stringed cello that is not written in the typical ternary ABA form of Schubert’s songs, but instead divided into three different sections—ABC. After the first movement of this sonata in minor key, it seems that here in this movement lies a secret of transforming shadow into light or sorrow into joy, which is then expressed in the vibrant third movement in A major of this three-movement sonata.
The Romanticism of Schumann or Hoffmann’s tales is not alien to Reinecke, who in this programmatic piece — both figuratively and even literally — depicts the meeting of the knight with his beloved siren Undine. Here the humor, the fantastical whims, and the flight from formal designations—even from the formal label “for flute and piano”—are characteristic and charming traits of his.
Having studied with Mendelssohn, Schumann, and Liszt, Reinecke lived at a time when, for the first time, instrumental music and literary art were combined in program music, with the idea that it should always portray a given poetic scene. The second movement of this four-part sonata is in rondo/verse form, akin to knightly songs. In its sections it first depicts the sea-siren amid the spray, then the knight on horseback who meets her—literally—and finally, in the central episode, their love (figuratively).
Written as a wedding gift for his fellow Liège native, the violinist Eugène Ysaÿe, César Franck’s sonata is a romantic and idealized interpretation of the old church sonata—with an introductory, slower first movement, a tempestuous second, a slow third, and a fast fourth. Its movements are linked together in a cycle of a single unified work. Because of the emblematic nature of the second movement, we hope it will be perceived as a quotation that speaks sufficiently to the context of the other movements in this piece as well.
Composed in 1957 and dedicated to Elizabeth Coolidge, the American patron of chamber music, the second movement of this three-movement sonata reflects Poulenc’s love for the pure melodic line, refracted through the lens of the post-war world. His desire to shelter his inspiration within the idioms of classicism, in an irreversibly modern era, expresses his melancholy for a bygone time. The composer himself described his sonata as inspired by Debussy—and indeed, some moments recall Debussy’s songs for voice and piano on texts by Verlaine.
The idioms of bygone eras also occupy Hindemith’s attention. In this movement of his three-movement sonata, he employs the dotted rhythms and ascending runs characteristic of the French overture, but with a very different and dramatic reality in mind—one revealed to people after the cataclysm of the First World War in which the composer himself participated. The premiere took place at the Washington Chamber Music Festival of Elizabeth Coolidge in 1937—another connection with Poulenc’s preceding sonata.
Hardly could have Prokofiev managed to “break” the classical forms of the sonata scherzo better in this second movement of his four-movement sonata for flute and piano, had he not known them so intricately. In this measured and precisely notated chaos, where the four-bar structure is only apparent, the music takes excursions into a phantasmagoric world akin to that of Kandinsky. Composed in 1943, it shares common features with other works written by him during World War II, such as the Seventh Piano Sonata (1942). Interestingly, the structure of the entire sonata again resembles that of the old church sonata.
Born in Chicago, the composer completed his four-movement sonata for flute in 1960. In the second movement, he weaves his jazz harmonies into an unrestrained scherzo. His notation being outside the classical norms is striking—for example, he uses the pedal of the piano to unite motifs into phrases, and also chooses unconventional alternation of time signatures. Similar to the previous piece in its “broken” scherzo style, but written almost twenty years later—did the composer perhaps use it as inspiration?
Composed for the ocasion of the present concert-performance with the idea of being the second movement of a three-movement sonata. I was interested in the minimal necessary changes required to convey a certain state without distracting from its experience. The concepts of negative harmony, modal and metric modulation, as well as all four types of polyphonic permutations of a motif were among the tools that supported my work in developing the initial idea.
One of the four sonatas that could surely be attributed to Bach, and the only one in the form of a Sonata da Chiesa—a church sonata in four movements, slow–fast–slow–fast. It was not written for obbligato harpsichord with a fully written-out part, but for basso continuo, echoing the practice of the accompaniment being realized in real time based on the musical idioms of the era and the characteristic voice-leading in the harmony, without it being notated literally in the score. This allows for a more open form of performance.
The second movement is written in the style of an Italian concerto—a favorite instrumental genre of Bach’s, associated with his fascination for Italy and the concertos of Vivaldi, which he had previously transcribed. In this genre, ritornello—imitating the orchestral “tutti”—alternates with chamber “soli”. In these soloistic episodes, the composer may have forgotten he was writing for the flute—there is not a single free second for the performer to take a breath. The return of the ritornello always marks the rhetorically important moments in the movement, acting as giving the punctuation of the piece. In this sonata, this movement is more developed than the first, with a pronounced dance element—apparently admissible after the more serious affect of the first movement has already sounded.
In the present performance, the original figured bass part is used.
Performers
Martin Pavlov PhD, is a flutist and an assistant professor of chamber music at the “Pancho Vladigerov” National Academy of Music, holding a PhD in Chamber Music since 2021. He is an active concert performer, winner of awards from national and international competitions, and has participated in prestigious festivals and masterclasses. In addition to chamber music, he also performs as a soloist and orchestral musician, as well as in recording projects.
Ivan Kerekovsky is a freelance pianist who, after graduating from the Royal Flemish Conservatory in Brussels, chose to work and live in Bulgaria. In recent years, he has been actively performing as a soloist and chamber musician in various ensembles across different musical styles. He is a recipient of the “Musical Project of the Year” award for 2023, together with Trio “Divertimento” and Maria Doneva, for their concert series throughout Bulgaria.
Ivan Nikolov graduated from NATFA in 2015. He works as a freelance actor in theaters around the country as well as in cinema. He is a co-founder of the theatrical association Conclave together with Boyan Kracholov and Dimitar Krumov, and together they received the Askeer Award in the “Rising Star” category for their first joint project. Ivan is also a recipient of the 2024 Askeer Award for his roles in “Platonov” at Theatre Laboratory Sfumato and “The Petrovs In and Around the Flu” at the Ivan Vazov National Theatre.
Ines Simeonova began her musical journey with the piano at an early age. She is currently teaching at the ‘Lyubomir Pipkov’ National Music School and pursuing a doctorate at the ‘Prof. Pancho Vladigerov’ National Music Academy. Even during her school years, she developed a passion for photography, and at the end of 2024 she held her first solo exhibition.
