FORM

"Form is generally organized simultaneously with the conception of linear movement and vertical amplification so as to achieve an integrated and balanced framework for an ordered interplay of motion, tension, texture and timbre. As a result, it has a tendency to be symmetrical in design-not only in the complete work as a whole but in the component sections as well-as exemplified by All in the Spring Wind, And the Fallen Petals, Soliloquy of a Bhiksuni, and The Willows Are New."

Characteristically, Chou Wen-chung disclaims the importance of technical aspects of his music. "To paraphrase a fundamental Buddhist concept," he writes, "the material is immaterial, the immaterial material. Technique is merely the vehicle for the ultimate purpose of expression, the catalyst for the crystallization of emotion. Line (linear movement), mass (vertical amplification), and their interrelationship (form), together with such elements as rhythm, texture, timbre and dynamics, serve only as the means for achieving expressiveness and conveying emotion through the controlled flow of sound-the organized complexity and ordered interplay of all the properties of sound at the immediate disposal of present-day instruments and orchestral resources."

Let us now consider Chou's individual works. His first important score was Landscapes, which he wrote at the age of twenty-five. It is inspired by three poems by Cheng Hsieh (1693-1765), Ting P'eng (c.1661), and Liu Chi (1311-1375). The guiding lines of the poems mark the sections of the work. They are "Under the cliff, in the bay," "The sorrow of parting," and "One streak of dying light" The first section is a series of condensations and rarefactions, in dynamics and in tempo; the main melody is pentatonic; the secondary intervallic scheme is quartal. "The Sorrow of Parting" is a dialogue between the English horn and the oboe; its antiphonal character is brought out by the use of mutual intervallic inversions. The pentatonic structure is translucent; a cadential passing note does not affect its classical purity.

The concluding section has more mobility; in the composer's words, "The changing mood is projected by means of a tonal brushwork extending over the entire orchestral spectrum." The music concludes on a pulsating progression of luminous points of sound, very softly, very slowly.

The score of All in the Spring Wind bears the subtitle "A Rondelet for Orchestra." The epigraph is from a poem by Li Yu, last emperor of the Southern T'ang Dynasty. The orchestra here is larger than in Landscapes, with a percussion group augmented by the celesta, xylophone, and glockenspiel. A measured beat of the timpani establishes the mood of the opening; minor seconds and minor ninths determine the intervallic scheme, and are used both vertically and horizontally. The dynamic plan is outlined by recurrent intensifications of sonority in brief explosive figures. The instrumental coloring is chiaroscuro, in light and shadows. Trills, glissandi, rapid tremolos create an illusion of static brilliance, but cumulative dynamic condensation leads to an agitated movement, unusual for the composer. Equally unusual is the ending in fortissimo in the entire orchestra in unison. The piece is a tour de force of coloristic brushwork, entirely athematic in structure.

The only pentatonic references are in the fleeting game. Ian-like passages.

And the Fallen Petals, a triolet for orchestra, takes its title from a poem by Meng Hao-jan (689-740). It is the most formally organized work of Chou; its cyclic structure is emphasized by the use of an identical figure in the Prologue and the Epilogue. This basic figure is set in the pentatonic mode, composed of a succession of falling fourths that illustrate the falling petals of the title.

The changing moods of the music are indicated by descriptive headings marking the principal sections in the score: Lontano e misterioso, Gioioso in distanza, Vigoroso quasi barbaro, Inquieto and Tragico in distanza. The images that inspire the work are these: a quiet landscape, with budding blossoms dancing in praise of life in the spring wind, and a storm that drives the petals far and wide. The original image returns, as the fallen petals are swept away and fresh blossoms on the branches dance again in the spring wind.

The Willows Are New, for piano solo, composed in 1957, is in some respects the most typical work of Chou Wen-chung. It embodies his favorite techniques in an immediately perceptible manner; furthermore, this piece can be played without difficulty by anyone who can read music. Vertical structures and melodic embellishments are based exclusively on the frictional intervals of minor second and minor ninth, with the tritone occupying a focal position in some patterns. The somber low register predominates, while the high treble is used for bell effects. In a work as exiguous and fragile as this, expressive nuances assume major importance, as they do in similarly evocative pieces by Scriabin or Anton Webern. Chou explains that its effectiveness depends on a calculated rubato, a constant expansion and contraction on the temporal scale of the recurrent thematic motives. The changing meters indicate the approximate fluctuations of thematic occurences; the general instruction is Lento ma non troppo, with intense but "strained feeling. It is interesting to note that condensations and rarefactions of speed and dynamic intensity are concomitant; acceleration is accompanied by crescendo; a slower tempo by diminuendo, down to the point of extinction (estinto). As usual, Chou Wen-chung is ready with a poetic and yet technically meaningful program note: "In The Willows Are New, mutations of the original material are woven over the entire range of the piano and embroidered with sonorities that are the magnified reflexes of brushstroke-like movements ... projected by means of the same principle that marks the art of Chinese calligraphy, wherein the controlled flow of ink--through the interaction of rhythm and density, the modulation of line and texture--creates a continuum of motion and tension in spatial equilibrium."

The title, The Willows Are New, is taken from a poem by Wang Wei, the Chinese poet, painter and musician who flourished in the eighth century. Sprigs of willow, used in farewell ceremonies, are regarded as a symbol of parting.

In 1958 Chou Wen-chung composed Soliloquy of a Bhiksuni, inspired by a scene in a sixteenth-century Chinese drama representing a Bhiksuni (Buddhist nun) worshipping before the image of Buddha. Chou's rendition of the inner state of the worshipper is poetic and eloquent:

I am only sixteen

In the early spring of Life

Yet I am thrust through

The Gate of Emptiness

Hearing only the sound of

Temple bells and ritual pipes

Striking stone chimes

Endlessly endlessly

Ringing bells

Blowing the shell trumpet

Beating drums

Trying vainly to communicate

With the Land of the Dead

The Soliloquy is scored, for a muted trumpet solo, four horns (also muted most of the time), three trombones, tuba, drums, triangle, tambourine , suspended cymbal, and gong. The pentatonic scale of the melody is often embellished by chromatically lowered auxiliary notes.

The harmonic formation is in fourths, in minor seconds and in minor ninths. Once more, Chou asserts in his explanatory note the kinship with the art of Chinese calligraphy, its linear and textural vitality.

In all these works Chou conveys the meaning of Chinese poetry by purely instrumental sonorities. In his Seven Poems of Ta'ng Dynasty, composed in 1952, he lets the singer intone the words. This work reveals clearly the powerful influence of Varèse, in its intervallic scheme with wide melodic leaps, in the use of instrumental sonorities, in its subtle dynamics. But there are some individual traits, and the songs retain their attraction and their effectiveness.

Chou's music lends itself perfectly to choreographic interpretation. In his projects for future works, choreography is mentioned time and again. Classical Chinese art remains invariably the source of his inspiration. He explains the reasons for his dedication in the following lines:

"I am attracted to these classics of the East that have come to be fairly well-known in the West, not only because of the dramatic impact of their multicolored content and the universal appeal of their humanistic message at a time like ours, but also because of their polygenetic and polymorphous history. It is my belief that these qualities will afford me opportunities to carry out some of my own ideals--musical or otherwise. The wonderful Tunhuang cave paintings come to mind: their power of communication, freedom of expression and freshness of conception, achieved through an audacious fusion of styles inherited from the actively crisscrossing cultures of that era, between the fifth and the eleventh centuries."

- Nicolas Slonimsky