sestina for piano solo, written in 2023, began as a experiment utilizing highly restrictive limitations found in the medieval occitan poetic form of the same name. the piece serves simultaneously as a study of musical boredom as well as a study of rubato; two different perceptions of time arise from repetition and the negation thereof inherent in such a form, as what is repeated continually finds itself in a new context. this sestina thus renews and erodes its own memory with each passing iteration.
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though this sestina was written in 2023, i performed it for the first time in june 2025, having been asked to present a shorter piece in a concert. i chose it for practical reasons as i could play it myself without organizing an ensemble or rehearsals, which i was already doing for other projects. the first time i played through the piece again, i despised it and regretted choosing it for the concert. the piece seemed foreign, like i couldn’t get inside it, and like the momentum of the piece kept failing, that it was constantly “falling on the floor.”
after a few days i tried again and came to the same conclusion, no matter how much i practiced. i tried out a few changes, but attempts to make the piece flow seemed to destroy its logic completely. after a while i finally understood that this lack of directionality (related to slack, to use Martin Arnold’s term, but not completely fitting his definition) was in fact the strongest, most characteristic detail about the piece. curious phenomena occur in these moments where the music seems to tread water; a vague physical tension arises and the passage of time seems to slow dramatically. one experiences the music from outside, as the sense of immersion is constantly thwarted.
after performing the piece, i received many comments which confirmed (and retrospectively informed) my thoughts on this idea. most of those who commented on the work seemed to have the impression of being outside the piece, as if in a voyeuristic situation; they were witnessing something rather than experiencing it. some relayed this notion through narrative means, others through mathematical or geometrical ones, but still the similarity between their experiences was one of exteriority.
perhaps this exteriority arises from the contradiction between its tight, ordered structure and its lack of direction, creating a sense that the piece as an object exists even outside its perception, resisting the solipsism of subjective interpretation or the infantile need to be constantly convinced by a work. rather, the piece is just there, and the listener can participate in hearing it just as much as they want. of course there have been many works over the last 50 or 100 years (Wandelweiser, Cage, Feldman, Satie, etc., the list continues much further into the past) which have also dealt with this, so i am not claiming any sort of originality in this regard. what is beginning to materialize however is an ethical stance when it comes to the concert situation… maybe with the goal of inciting boredom; different speeds of boredom, different types and speeds of waiting, of observing time itself. the importance of boredom today cannot be overstated. much discourse has been devoted to boredom being a new type of luxury, only available to those who can afford leisure time. one can steal boredom (and therefore time) through composing, or performing, or going to a concert. the composer can be a robin hood of time. it doesn’t work if the music attempts too much to be immersive or exciting, as is often the case in both ends of the aesthetic spectrum- slow, quiet music as well as fast, loud music: neither are boring enough, and because of that they are simply too boring.