• Lutosławski’s ‘didlumdi, didlumdaj’

On my visit to the Karol Szymanowski Academy of Music in Katowice last week – and what a terrific institution it is, both in terms of staff and students and of its buildings, old and new – I took advantage of its library to check out a volume that furnished Witold Lutosławski with melodies for his Dance Preludes.  From transcriptions that I found in a folder of folk materials in his house in 2002, I knew that he had relied for the melodies of the first two preludes on the work of Łucjan Kamieński.  It was but a small step to guess that they came from Kamieński’s Pieśni Ludu Pomorskiego, I: Pieśni z Kaszub południowych (Pomeranian Folk Songs, I: Songs from Southern Kaszuby, 1936).

Sure enough, the melodies – one in the first prelude from Borsk, two connected tunes in the second prelude from Rybaki – were there, alongside the other eleven tunes that he’d selected but not used.  Lutosławski had transposed most of the melodies and sometimes modified them rhythmically.  I was hoping that the material for the other three preludes would be in the bulk of the volume that he had not apparently transcribed.  Frustratingly, they were not there, so the search for their sources goes on.

I was tickled by the text of the refrain of the melody for the first prelude, which was also the first tune in Kamieński’s volume.  Now I can no longer listen to Lutosławski’s version without mentally muttering the immortal words: ‘didlumdi, didlumdaj, didlum, didlumdaj!’.

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• A Discarded Lutosławski Page

What happened to the first draft of Lutosławski’s Third Symphony?  (A numerically appropriate question for today, the third anniversary of his birth after the centenary in 2013.)  Charles Bodman Rae commented in The Music of Lutosławski on the gestation of the Third Symphony:

Initially, he envisaged a one-movement symphony in four sections: Invocation, Cycle of Etudes, Toccata, and Hymn.  This was plan was eventually rejected, however, and he temporarily abandoned the project.  Work was resumed in 1977, after the completion of Mi-parti, and extensive sketches made, only to be set aside once more as still unsatisfactory.  When he finally returned to the symphony in 1981 he began afresh, although some material from the earlier sketches was incorporated into the new scheme.

Lutosławski put it slightly differently, commenting in an interview published in Polish Music in 1983 to mark the world premiere of the final version that he ‘wrote the main movement which I then scrapped, disqualified it completely, and began a second time’.

Wherever the manuscript of this first ‘main movement’ now lies, it’s not going to be complete, because I have one page of it.  It was given to me as a present in 1995 – marking the 25th anniversary of my first visit to Poland – by the founder of the Polish Radio Experimental Studio, Józef Patkowski.  He in his turn had been given it by Lutosławski, along with some other score materials (although Józef did not specify what they were).  My apologies for the quality of the image – it was the best I could do through the glass – but it is mostly readable, even though the new WordPress format compresses photos.  I have posted a larger photo on my Facebook WL100 site:
https://www.facebook.com/LutoslawskiWL100/photos/p.566242630211382/566242630211382/?type=3&theater

IMG_8377 copy-2 copyAs was Lutosławski’s custom with rejected ideas, the page has a big X over it.  The page is actually half a page of (I suspect) 28 staves, now measuring 25×17.5 cms, and the music is notated in pencil.  It must have come some way through the movement as it is numbered ’96’.

The tempo marking is Meno mosso (crotchet = 90) and the music is scored for a ‘choir’ of 3 flutes, 3 oboes, 3 clarinets, joined shortly by 3 bassoons (playing at the top of their register and using Bb rather than the out-of-reach Gb as their starting point; the oboes soon join them).  The initial downbeat includes a semiquaver beat on 3 trumpets (although three further pitches are squeezed in, first and second violins (four pitches), violas and cellos combined (six pitches).  The resulting asymmetrical chord contains ten pitch-classes, all except D natural (which soon appears) and C natural (which is absent across the page).

The material for the woodwind choir (which evidently carries over onto the next sheet) is characteristically organised, with different versions of a basic idea overlapped to create a dense weave.  The core motif is a descending chromatic line, sometimes presented ‘straight’, sometimes developed into little curls and eddies, sometimes extending the semiquaver runs to as many as eleven notes.  Such ideas are already evident in the woodwind material at the start of the page.

Lutosławski has lettered the motivic variations ‘a’ to ‘l’, making twelve in all.  The disposition of the motifs across the twelve instruments is as follows (I have inserted three letters that he missed out on the score, in square brackets, in the parts for oboe 2, clarinet 1 and bassoon 3; and I have put into round brackets three motifs which begin at the very end of the staves in flute 2, oboe 1 and bassoon 3):

fl.1:  def
fl.2:  efg(h)
fl.3:  fgh
ob.1:  jbc(d)
ob.2:  [k]cd
ob.3:  lde
cl.1:  gh[i]
cl.2: hij
cl.3: ijk
fg.1:  kl
fg.2: la
fg.3: a[b](c)

The pattern for the most part is clear, but the sequence is disrupted occasionally, as in the placing of ‘j’, ‘k’ and ‘l’ in the oboes.  If one were to replace these three (jkl) with the regular pattern (abc), the sequence would be: flutes: def-efg(h)-fgh; oboesabc(d)-bcd-cde; clarinets: ghi-hij-ijk; bassoons: j?kl-k?la-l?ab(c) (these last three start later so putatively are each missing their first motif).  All the possible ‘forward’ combinations of the 12 letters in batches of three are now accounted for.  Yet, as often with Lutosławski, what might be presumed to be a regular pattern is subverted by substitution (oboes), by omission (bassoons), or by not sequencing it regularly down the page (the oboes in such a pattern would go above the flutes).

Of course, a single page like this tantalisingly whets the appetite for the preceding 95 pages and however many followed.  Now there’s a task for someone to round them all up and do a proper analysis!

• WL100/1-81: The Complete List

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2015

January
• 2.01.15  WL100/1-81: The Complete List
• 1.01.15  WL100/81: Roussel 3, Lutosławski 3

2014

December
• 31.12.14  WL100/80: Lutosławski’s Chair
• 30.12.14  WL100/79: Jeux vénitiens conducting score
• 29.12.14  WL100/78: Jeux vénitiens pitch designs
• 28.12.14  WL100/77: Lutosławski’s French Bookmarks
• 27.12.14  WL100/76: Lutosławski Learns To Drive
• 26.12.14  WL100/75: Lutosławski’s Bookshelves
• 25.12.14  WL100/74: Lutosławski Rules!
• 24.12.14  WL100/73: Lutosławski’s Batons
• 23.12.14  WL100/72: Lutosławski’s Desk

2013

November
• 27.11.13  WL100/71: Lissa on Concerto for Orchestra
• 26.11.13  WL100/70: Concerto for Orchestra, **26.11.54
• 18.11.13  WL100/69: Livre, **18 November 1968
• 15.11.13  WL100/68: Nie oczekuję dziś nikogo
• 11.11.13  WL100/67: Notebook, 11 November 1961  on conducting
• 9.11.13  WL100/66: Overture, **9 November 1949

October
• 26.10.13  WL100/65: Mr and Mrs  Lutosławscy in Prague
• 24.10.13  WL100/64: Notebook, 24 October 1959  Webern
• 22.10.13  WL100/63: Mi-parti, **22 October 1976
• 19.10.13  WL100/62: Notebook, 19 October 1960  Pierre Schaeffer and objet sonore
• 15.10.13  WL100/61: Symphonic Variations
• 14.10.13  WL100/60: Cello Concerto, **14 October 1970
• 6.10.13  WL100/59: Lutosławski in Moscow (1951)

September
• 16.09.13  WL100/58: ‘old’ Derwid CDs
• 15.09.13  WL100/57: ‘el Derwid’ CD
• 6.09.13  WL100/56: Los Angeles (1985)  reposting of Lutosławski in Los Angeles (1985) (2.09.11)
• 5.09.13  WL100/55: Death of Lutosławski’s Father
• 3.09.13  WL100/54: Lutosławski and Panufnik (1945)
• 2.09.13  WL100/53: Trio, **2 September 1945

August
• 27.08.13  WL100/52: His Last BBC Prom
• 26.08.13  WL100/51: July Garland (1949) – the music
• 21.08.13  WL100/50: Volcano in Łowicz (1949)  Gałczyński
• 20.08.13  WL100/49: 22 July 1949 and a letter  July Garland
• 19.08.13  WL100/48: 22 July 1944 and after  Lutosławski’s medals
• 18.08.13  WL100/47: Folk Melodies, **22 July 1946
• 17.08.13  WL100/46: Notebook June-July

June
• 25.06.13  WL100/45: Trois poèmes, UK*25 June 1969
• 20.06.13  WL100/44: Paroles tissées, **20 June 1965
• 17.06.13  WL100/43: Variations, **17 June 1939
• 12.06.13  WL100/42: 33 ‘Derwid’ songs published

May
• 23.05.13  WL100/41: Symphony 4 (Polish premiere)
• 22.05.13  WL100/40: London Sinfonietta, 22 May 1993
• 18.05.13  WL100/39: Polar Music Prize, 18 May 1993
• 9.05.13  WL100/38: Les dessins de Michaux
• 9.05.13  WL100/37: Trois poèmes, **9 May 1963
• 8.05.13  WL100/36: Le songe de Desnos (1938)
• 4.05.13  WL100/35: Lutosławski in Riga

April
• 24.04.13  WL100/34: Jeux vénitiens, **24 April 1961
• 13.04.13  
WL100/33: Zanussi documentary (complete)
• 12.04.13  
WL100/32: Les espaces, **12 April 1978
• 9.04.13  
WL100/31: Notebook, 9 April 1969  on conducting (and Boulez)
• 7.04.13  
WL100/30: Notebook, 7 April 1960  on Cage
• 6.04.13  
WL100/29: Notebook, 6 April 1961  on ‘poor caricatures’
• 3.04.13  
WL100/28: Jazz Conversations (Lutosphere)

March
• 19.03.13  
WL100/27: Notebook, 19 March 1961  on rain and Jeux vénitiens
• 13.03.13  
WL100/26: Notebook, 13 March 1961 (2)  on electronic music
• 13.03.13  
WL100/25: Notebook, 13 March 1961 (1)  on feeling in music
• 11.03.13  
WL100/24: Notebook, 11 March 1961  on new instruments (and Jeux vénitiens)
• 9.03.13  
WL100/23: 9-10 March 1957  speech to Polish Composers’ Union
• 9.03.13  
WL100/22: Chain 1, figs 40-41

February
• 16.02.13  WL100/21: Funeral and Homily, 16.02.94
• 15.02.13  WL100/20: Dance Preludes, **15 February 1955
• 12.02.13  WL100/19: ‘Lutosławski live’, 12-19.02.93
• 12.02.13 WL100/18: Notebook, 12 February 1961  on his current music
• 6.02.13  WL100/17: Notebook, 6 February 1959  as a parachutist
• 2.02.13  WL100/16: Philharmonia Festival, 2-12.02.89

January
• 26.01.13  WL100/15: Thank-you note, 26 January 1993
• 22.01.13  WL100/14: Lutosławski at Polish Radio  new archival website
• 19.01.13  WL100/13: In Conversation with Zanussi
• 17.01.13  WL100/12: ‘Breaking Chains’, BBC 1997
• 16.01.13  WL100/11: ‘The Hidden Composer’  Witold Lutosławski and Polish Radio
• 13.01.13  WL100/10: ‘Breaking Chains’, GSMD 1997
• 12.01.13  WL100/9: Lutosławski’s Carpet
• 10.01.13  WL100/8: Musique funèbre, 10 January 1958
• 5.01.13  WL100/7: Lutosławski info online
• 3.01.13  WL100/6: Epitaph, **3 January 1980
• 2.01.13  WL100/5: Notebook, 2 January 1963  on Cymer the carpenter

2012

December
• 31.12.12  WL100/4: Lutosławski Likenesses
• 20.12.12  WL100/3: Lutosławski in Belfast (gallery)
• 18.12.12  WL100/2: Lutosławski in Belfast (DMus)
• 17.12.12  WL100/1: Lutosławski in Belfast
• 17.12.12  WL100

• WL100/81: Roussel 3, Lutosławski 3

The commonly accepted score line is Roussel 3, Lutosławski 1.  Or, in musical parlance, Roussel’s Third Symphony is usually linked with Lutosławski’s First.  Lutosławski himself laid emphasis on the significance of the French composer’s work, especially with regard to symphonic form.  Charles Bodman Rae investigates this relationship more than others when he also finds motivic functional patterns linking the slow movements of the two symphonies.

In his conversations with Irina Nikolska (Stockholm, 1994; p.81), Lutosławski added another dimension:

I like this composition very much.  There was a period in my life when I was simply captivated by it.  Even today I consider it a chef-d’oeuvre.  What an inventiveness in the field of melody!  (A rare thing nowadays.)

I was reminded of this when I spent three days researching in Lutosławski’s house in late September 2002.  There on his shelves was his score of Roussel’s Third Symphony, which Lutosławski had heard in Warsaw as a teenager at the start of the 1930s.  It even had his name stamped on the cover (does the stamp help to date Lutosławski’s purchase of the score?).

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More interestingly, tucked inside were three folded pieces of manuscript paper on which Lutosławski had transcribed some of the main themes of Roussel’s symphony.  (I did not come across any transcriptions of any other works by other composers.)  They are not in chronological order, and the scherzo is ignored.  It is quite possible that Lutosławski did this much later in his life, when he was preparing a lecture on Roussel’s symphony that he gave at the Academy of Music in Basle.  (The text is translated in Zbigniew Skowron’s collection Lutosławski on Music (Plymouth, 2007; pp.193-97); he thinks that it was probably delivered in June 1970.)

The ‘first’ sheet contains two themes: (i) the first six bars of the first movement, Allegro vivo, and (ii)  the opening ten bars of the finale, Allegro con spirito.

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The ‘second’ sheet has just one theme: (iii) the first ten bars of the second movement, Adagio.

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The ‘third’ sheet has two themes, both from the finale: theme (iv) picks up the fifth bar of fig.65 and takes it four bars, while theme (v) jumps to the very end of the movement (excluding the last two bars), starting at fig.80.

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What struck me most was this ‘last’ sheet.  Combined with comments in his Basle talk, it reinforced something that I had perceived long ago and yet which – to the best of my knowledge – no-one has ever pointed out.  If correct, it sheds new light on Lutosławski’s relationship with Roussel’s Third Symphony.

In the second part of his Basle lecture (the first part covers issues such as the neglect of Roussel’s symphony and the definition of neoclassicism), Lutosławski goes through the key thematic material.  He gives page numbers and contextual musical information, although it is not a thoroughgoing analysis.  He does focus, however, on what he calls the ‘motto theme’.  This evidently intrigued him.

The theme inveigles its way into every movement, sometimes overtly, sometimes indirectly.  For example, it is incorporated into the violin line at fig.1, although Lutosławski does not mention this first instance.

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In the first movement, he refers to page 10, where the flute figure embraces the theme (here it is on its recapitulation, on violins, six bars after fig.17, on p.30).

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More obviously, the motto theme thunders out on page 27 (four bars before fig.16).

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Lutoslawski begins his observations on the Adagio with the motto theme – see manuscript above, theme (iii).  He then cites the semiquaver fugato four bars after fig.31 (p.50) as beginning with the first five notes of theme, ignoring the fact that it is prefaced by a slow version in the first violins.

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He reserves special delight for the end of the second movement.  He is captivated by the motto theme’s triple appearance, starting six bars after fig.38.  On pages 66-67, marked again Adagio, the theme is played in succession by solo flute, solo horn and solo violin.  Lutosławski comments: ‘These three entrances represent for me a particular, rare beauty’.  This is the flute entry.

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When it comes to the third movement, Vivace, Lutosławski makes no explicit reference to the motto theme, although it is embedded in what he labels a ‘call to attention’ for the main theme that follows a bar after fig.41 (p.70).

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For the finale, Lutosławski first cites the main theme  – (ii) above – and then a violin phrase ‘worthy of attention’ – (iv) above.  He highlights the motto theme at fig.71 (p.119) that comes just before the recapitulation: ‘This time it is played by the solo violin against a background of harmonies that are both simple and sophisticated, and it constitutes one of the most beautiful moments in the whole work’.  This is the start of a section that lasts for almost twenty bars.

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Finally, Lutosławski comes to the peroration that crowns Roussel’s Third Symphony – theme (v) above: ‘The recapitulation ends with the motto theme; this time in a solemn version, but free of any pomposity.  It is a gorgeous completion of this extraordinary work’.

It is obvious from this text that Lutosławski’s enthusiasm for Roussel’s symphony was undiminished, from the Polish premiere at the start of the 1930s to his Basle lecture 40 years later and beyond, as when he spoke with Charles Bodman Rae in 1988 (see The Music of Lutosławski, p.28, fn.9).  In fact, his enthusiasm was not unconditional, as his Basle lecture reveals.  Nevertheless, it was ‘in his bones’, it was part of his musical life-history.

So one should not be surprised that its influence resurfaced more than 30 years after the First Symphony.  In addition to ‘Roussel 3, Lutosławski 1’ we may surely add ‘Roussel 3, Lutosławski 3’.  The reason is staring us in the face, although it appears to have passed unnoticed.  I would be extremely keen to hear if anyone has written about this already.

Let me cut to the chase by recalling Lutosławski’s admiring phrase: ‘What an inventiveness in the field of melody!’.

Compare the various versions of the motto theme in Roussel’s Third Symphony with the climactic melody in Lutosławski’s Third.  They share a descending succession of two intervals – variously minor 3rd/major 3rd followed by perfect 5th/minor 6th or major 6th.  They then rise, almost or exactly, to where they started (usually octave/minor 7th in Roussel, minor 7th or major 7th in Lutosławski).  The main anapaestic rhythmic kernel is the same in both. The principal difference lies in the conclusion of the motif, where Roussel, strange as it may seem, sounds more dissonant (it is because of the way in which he comes to rest not on the lowest pedal note, as Lutosławski does, but on the step above).

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In the Lutosławski, the motivic seeds have been sown earlier, such as in the opening flute ‘bundle’, in the first trumpet at fig.63 and the violins five bars later.  Before fig.81, the descending minor third resurfaces in the first violins. But the first overt appearance of the ‘motto theme’ is in the first violins at fig.84.  In a manner parallel to the final statement of the motto theme in Roussel’s Third Symphony, Lutosławski gives his equivalent a climactic sweep at fig.97, just before the canonic coda.

I am not suggesting that Lutosławski was consciously referencing Roussel.  He may have been doing so, or he may have realised the connection later, or he may have been totally unconscious of his tribute.  The parallels are certainly uncanny, and I cannot now hear the concluding melody of his Third Symphony without recalling Roussel’s Third too.

• WL100/80: Lutosławski’s Chair

When the BBC Radio 3 Music Matters team was preparing for its profile of Lutosławski to mark the centenary of his birth (broadcast on 19 January 2013), its web page included several archive photos of the composer plus one taken on location by his stepson, Marcin Bogusławski.  This photo was of his studio, with his desk and bookshelves.

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It is interesting to compare this photo from 2013 with the one taken by me in September 2002

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and with the undated one taken much earlier by Malcolm Crowthers with Lutosławski at his desk.  It was used for the front cover and inside flap of O muzyce. Pisma i wypowiedzi (Gdańsk, 2011), the Polish version of Lutosławski on Music (Plymouth, 2007).

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Crowthers’ photo is self-evidently the earliest of the three, with Lutosławski gazing out of the window from his desk, which is much fuller of materials than when I took my shot.  (See also my photos in WL100/72: Lutosławski’s Desk and WL100/74: Lutosławski Rules!.)  Bogusławski’s photo has many, but by no means all, of the same books on the shelves, often in a different order.  It also has the accoutrements of modern technology, in which Lutosławski had no interest: a computer and printer.  His typewriter is still there, as are the painting on the end wall and the wooden library steps underneath.  There is, however, a noticeably new office chair.

I cannot tell from Crowthers’ photo what Lutosławski was sitting on, but I would hazard a strong guess that it was the office chair that was still tucked into the desk in 2002.  Sadly, it was in a parlous state by then.  The padded seat was in a bad way and the adjustable back had lost its upright position and leaned impossibly towards the floor.

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It was something deeply melancholic to see it in this state of disrepair, its occupant long absent.  It was a reminder of how much Lutosławski had written from this chair and how much he was missed.

Incidentally, on the seat in the background of my photo is the growing pile of materials that I and Nicholas Reyland made during our three days in the house in 2002.  It contained conducting scores and folders of manuscript materials etc..  On the top we put a note to suggest that they should all go to the Paul Sacher Foundation in Basle to join the rich array of other items that Lutosławski had deposited there.  I do not know if that was ever done; I hope so.

Tomorrow will bring the last of my WL100 posts.  (Better late than never.)  To give you a sporting chance of guessing what it might be, here is a choice of score lines (ho-ho):

• Roussel 3, Lutosławski 1
• Roussel 3, Lutosławski 3

Happy New Year!

• WL100/79: Jeux vénitiens conducting score

As a follow-up to yesterday’s post on the pitch designs for Jeux vénitiens (1960-61), here is Lutosławski’s complete conducting score.  It is a bit tattered, especially the back pages.  There was no indication of how long he had been using it, but it is quite possible that he marked it up for the first time that he conducted Jeux vénitiens, in Basle on 14 May 1968.  Lutosławski has tidily marked it up with conducting cues etc., some harmonic reminders in the first movement, rhythmic reductions in the second, timings and upbeats in the third, and sfpp sequences in the finale, and various other indications.

Jeux vénitiens was co-published by PWM in Poland and Moeck in (West) Germany.  Lutosławski’s score was the Moeck imprint (large format, 40cm tall), published in 1962.  I don’t remember how many of his other conducting scores were still there in his study in September 2002.  One that I did photograph, and to which I will return in due course, was of the Cello Concerto.

Meantime, here is the complete score of Jeux vénitiens, rather variably photographed (some are in black and white, although most show his blue-pencil markings), but I hope its 45 pages will be of some interest.

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• WL100/78: Jeux vénitiens pitch designs

Among loose manuscript paper in Lutosawski’s study in September 2002 were three rather special sheets relating to Jeux vénitiens (1960-61).  They are not preparatory material but rather a post-compositional aide-mémoire.  And the fact that they are written on English and not Polish manuscript paper confirms this.  Perhaps they were drawn out as preparation for a lecture to composition students.

On these three sheets Lutosławski has outlined the harmonic trajectory of the four movements of Jeux vénitiens. You will hardly find a more succinct summary of his pitch designs for this key work.

Sheet 1

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This contains material for the first and second movements.  The harmonic framework of the first movement is well-known.  He gives here the pitch structures for the components that are introduced successively in sections A, E and G; there is nothing for C as that is for (unpitched) timpani.  He then gives the harmonic progressions underlying sections B D F and H.

The second movement is less straightforward.  First, Lutosławski ignores the opening 29 bars, starting his notation at the moment when the strings stop playing and pursuing it to the end of b.36, just before the strings re-enter.  Secondly, he jumps to the next non-string section, bb.55-68.  What is especially revealing here is that the changing chords are not fully represented in the score.  Instead, they serve as wells from which Lutosławski draws his droplets of sound in woodwind, brass, xylophone, vibraphone and harp.  Although this movement is often regarded as the most conventional of the four, this was a technique that he used on many occasions as it maintained the notion of twelve-note harmony while giving the texture air and a sense of intangibility.  The rest of the movement is absent from this summary.

Under six of the chords between b.59 and b.67 are some capital letters.  These were Lutosławski’s private code.  He thought of certain types of chord, with characteristic intervallic constructions, as reminding him of some of his favourite twentieth-century composers.  Elsewhere, for example, ‘P’ refers to Panufnik and ‘Ro’ to Roussel.  Here there are D, R and S.  I leave you to divine which composers are represented by these initials.

Sheet 2

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Sheet 2 is devoted entirely to the third movement of Jeux vénitiens.  This was composed after the premiere of the other three movements in Venice (24 April 1961); the revised work was premiered in Warsaw later that year (16 September).  The concept of this new movement is to take the motivic cells from the woodwind in component A of the first movement, where they are treated harmonically, and unravel them gradually as a melodic line for solo flute. This line is absent from Sheet 2.

Instead, Lutosławski follows the two interlocking orchestral strands: (i) the developing continuum in  woodwind, harp and piano (A to W) and (ii), where ‘strings’ is written above the third system, the string chords that punctuate the sustained texture between letters D and W.  As can be seen in each of these strands, Lutosławski contracts and expands them, using the changing vertical space as an integral expressive device.  The string chords, for example, unfold outwards from the dense twelve-note clusters of L-P, but they reach their fully opened position not at the end of the movement but as the first chord of the fourth movement, as indicated here.

Sheet 3

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As with the material given for the second movement, this third sheet is also selective in what it contains from the fourth movement.  The top line (bb.6-14) intriguingly gives a linear presentation of what in the score seems to be more of a shifting harmonic sequence in the wind.  Pitch-rotational techniques seem to be in operation.  There is no reference to the sfpp accent that first appears in b.10.  The second system does something similar for the string passage that begins in b.38 and goes as far as the introduction of the first objet sonore (‘a’) of the nine that will lead cumulatively to the movement’s climax.  For some reason Lutosławski has not included the pitch material for the piano for ‘e’.

He then jumps to the climactic chord at letter G, followed by the contracting harmonic span (celesta, harp and piano) that leads to letter J at the end of b.145.  The unlabelled, four-stave chord that concludes this sheet refers to the passages leading to and away from letter M.  Reading up from the bottom: cellos and basses, vibraphone and brass, celesta and piano, and violin and viola harmonics.  The harp cluster and dying embers of the flutes are not included.

There are several other posts on this site concerning Jeux vénitiens.  To find them, simply type ‘Jeux’ or ‘Jeux vénitiens’ into the blank (search) box in the header on the top right of any page and press ‘GO’.

• WL100/77: Lutosławski’s French Bookmarks

Lutosławski was in the habit of marking pages in his books with bookmarks and/or underlining of titles and key passages.  One such book was La poésie surréaliste, where he bookmarked poems by Desnos (‘Les Espaces du sommeil’), Ivšić (‘Météores’), Mansour, De Massot (‘De tout repos’) and Paz (‘Pierre de soleil’/’Piedra de sol’).

Among the other books and bookmarkings of French poetry were:

• Charles Baudelaire: Les Fleurs du mal et autres poèmes (Paris: Garnier-Flammarion, 1964)
• Andre Guimbretière: Roger Bodart (Paris: Pierre Seghers, 1966)
Anthologie des poètes français contemporains, vols IV/V (Paris: Librairie Delagrave, 1958/1959)

It is interesting to note, in the case of the first two items, that Lutosławski cannot have received or bought these copies until after he had decided to use the poetry of Henri Michaux (Trois poèmes, 1963) and Jean-François Chabrun (Paroles tissées, 1965).

Les Fleurs du mal et autres poèmes

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Lutosławski bookmarked five pages, and underlined five titles:

• XXXVI: ‘Le Balcon’ (pp.62-63)
• XLVII: ‘Harmonie du soir’ (p.72)
• CXXI: ‘La Mort des amants’ (p.148)
• VIII: ‘Le Jet d’eau’ (p.170)
• VII: ‘Recueillement’ (pp.200-01)

These were the five poems (not in this order) that Debussy set in his Cinq poèmes de Baudelaire, so it is reasonable to assume that this was why Lutosławski marked them and not because he intended to use them himself.  There were no further annotations.

Roger Bodart

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This was a poet new to me.  Roger Bodart (1910-73) was a Belgian poet whose major collection was La Route du sel (1964).   This searching and multilayered poem was bookmarked in Guimbretière’s critical biography, as was the associated essay that followed.  Yet the writing on the bookmark does not look like Lutosławski’s.  L’Académie royale de langue et de littérature françaises de Belgique includes the following paragraph on La Route du sel:

Cette remise en question devient impitoyable dans La Route du sel (1964), l’ouvrage majeur de Roger Bodart. En termes haletants et abrupts, le poète y décrit une aventure exceptionnelle, un univers abyssal, secoué par un terrible séisme qui reflète, de toute évidence, le péril atomique, les pires angoisses de notre temps, mais aussi d’une autre manière, l’histoire d’une préhistoire bien plus ancienne que celle de la préhistoire. D’emblée, Bodart nous introduit au cœur d’une entreprise singulière, difficile à définir, dans la mesure où celle-ci est porteuse de significations multiples. La Route du sel est une de ces œuvres particulièrement riches que l’on peut lire à plusieurs niveaux. Une métamorphose nous est décrite qui peut être identifiée à la genèse du monde, à la mort et à la renaissance d’un homme ainsi qu’à la création d’un poème. Itinéraire initiatique, démarche marginale, rigoureusement individuelle, La Route du sel témoigne d’une implacable expérience intérieure qui, dans son subjectivisme extrême, rejoint pourtant l’universel.

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Anthologie des poètes français contemporains

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The two volumes of this series devoted to French poetry since 1866 had six page markers but no writing of any kind. Given the presence of Desnos, it may be reasonable to speculate that Lutosławski perused these volumes in the years preceding the evolution of Les Espaces du sommeil.  Several of these authors remain little-known.  The most poignant of them is the last, Sabine Sicaud, who died aged just fifteen and a half.

Volume IV
• Tristan Klingsor (1874-1966): ‘Ballade de l’adieu’, from Le Tambour voilé (pp.72-73)
• Alphonse Seché (1876-1964): ‘Le Grand camion’ (pp.178-79) and/or ‘La Chanson du vieux monsieur’ (p.179)
Volume V
• Franz Hellens (1881-1972): ‘Testament’ (p.58-60) [this edition abbreviated the poem: p.58 had sections I and II, p.59-60 X, XIV and XVI]
• Robert Desnos (1900-45): ‘Si tu savais’ (fragment) and/or ‘J’ai tant rêve de toi’, from Corps et biens (160-61)
• Pierre Jean Jouve (1887-1976): ‘Matière céleste dans Hélène’ (p.171) and/or ‘À une soie’ (p.171-)
• Sabine Sicaud (1913-28): two untitled fragments (p.208-09) and/or ‘La chataigne’ (p.209-)

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I have deliberately made little or no comment on the poetry or why it may have attracted attention.  Happy reading!

• WL100/76: Lutosławski Learns To Drive

The most unexpected volume on Lutosławski’s bookshelves was an undated notebook with a green binding.  On the cover he had written: W Lutosławski, Warszawa – 33, Zwycięzców – 39.  Lutosławski lived with his family in a flat at 39 Ulica Zwycięzców (Street of the Victors) from 1946-68.  The ’33’ seems to relate to the district’s Post Office (there are now offices closer to his old flat).  Apologies for the out-of-focus shot of the cover.

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When I opened the notebook I was surprised to find its pages filled with notes about how to drive.  I took just a single further photo, of one of the early double pages, mainly because it included his diagrams of how to do three-point turns and how to navigate junctions.  Evidently, preparation was the key for everything in Lutosławski’s life!  It is also possible that the notes were written not for himself but for someone else in his family.

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• WL100/75: Lutosławski’s Bookshelves

I took the opportunity when spending three days researching in Lutosławski’s house in September 2002 of taking shots (with permission) of his bookcases: in his studio, the attic room, the upper hallway and the lounge.  It now turns out that in the intervening years many of the volumes on these shelves have been dispersed and so these photos – which I believe were little touched since the composer’s death and that of his wife in 1994 – are perhaps the only surviving survey of Lutosławski’s collection.

Studio

The first floor studio is L-shaped, or, more accurately, reversed L-shaped.  The entrance was along the inside wall of the short limb of the L and the first sight that greeted visitors was Lutosławski’s much photographed grand piano.  His wife Danuta moved it out after his death and replaced it with her bed.  Neither piano nor bed was there in 2002.  I took two photographs of the long limb of the room.  The first looks from the patio doors towards the desk (the piano would have been on the immediate left).

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The bookcase beyond the desk contained reference volumes, mainly dictionaries; handy for when Lutosławski was writing letters or programme notes.

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Behind him, along the wall hidden from view on the main photograph, were shelves and cupboards, with a number of souvenir items, awards etc. on display.  Here there were more reference volumes (such as a Grove dictionaries), other books (including two copies of Steven Stucky’s monograph and my own little volume on Bacewicz) plus his collection of scores by other composers (of which more anon).  It had three divisions; here they are reading from left to right.

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The second location photo looks from the entrance to the corner behind the coffee table, with the patio windows onto the veranda just out of shot to the right.  The desk and other shelving are over the left shoulder.

134-3417_IMGThis corner shelving contained quite a miscellany, with Lutosławski’s books of and on foreign literature, especially French poetry, plus other volumes on composers plus his (incomplete) run of ‘Warsaw Autumn’ programme books. Among the items that I found here, but which has sadly now disappeared according to his daughter-in-law, was the one containing his annotation of Desnos’s poem Les espaces du soleil (it can be seen in the second of the next group of photographs, bottom shelf, sixth from the right). In order to try and capture as much of the detail as I could, I split each of the bookcases into top and bottom, so the following sequence runs top right, bottom right, top left, bottom left.

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Attic

It was in the attic that I discovered the folder containing Lutosławski’s collected folk materials (1950-54) which I have written and talked on several times since.  Also here were two cupboards containing spare copies of his published scores.  Other bookshelves contained a wide range of books for which there was no room downstairs.

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Landing

On the first-floor landing was a single bookcase, holding a non-musical selection of books, notably volumes by Stanisław Dygat, the brother of Lutosławski wife.  The top shelf contains Hedrick Smith’s The Russians, which spends a couple of paragraphs reporting the reception of the Russian premiere of Lutosławski’s Cello Concerto in 1972.

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Lounge

As a low-level partition, there was a double-sided bookcase containing primarily Polish literature, plays (Genet, Ibsen and Shaw among them) and philosophical volumes.  My apologies that the second photo is poorly focused.

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