Rarely does my cat stay in the room while I’m studying, but this week he’s sprawled out in my viola case while I study the jagged rhythms of Le sacre du printemps distracted from current affairs. My bow jerks in varying beats that I try to keep within a metronomic corset, but I quickly miss the juicy dissonances of the wind instruments. Without them my playing is a struggle instead of music. If my mobile phone signals a new tidings, my cat is faster. With playful attention he throws himself at it with his whole little body and interrupts my habit of checking the news every once in a while. Critically, I gather my concentration and dive back into my game.
Over the next few days in the orchestra, my viola pulses in Stravinsky’s bloody wind chords and I manage to keep my mind on the music, until the Russian conductor tells a folk song on which one of the main themes is based. Although he only talks about sacrifices, primitive cultures and Stravinsky’s dream about a Russian spring that will change the world by cosmic violence, my heartbeat rises. When he also confesses that he is half Ukrainian, I lose my concentration for good.
The musical adoration of the Slavic primal forces feels more threatening by the day. The viola part loses its innocence and as my right hand mimics the stamping feet, I can’t stop the tumult in my head. During the concert, the many changes of time shake the music scenes of the premiere year 1913 and the terrifying month of March 2022. In the final I chase through the dance sacred as if I myself am the chosen one who has to dance myself to death. The applause relieves me of my confusion.
It’s late when I get home this evening. Tired, I go to my study to put the viola in its place. The lectern has fallen to the floor, the sheet music is scattered throughout the room. When I turn on lights, I see my cat lying on Stravinsky’s lot. He yawns, stretches and approaches me innocently. Ultimately, I think ballet is about primal forces. I pick it up and marvel at the universal language of music.
Ewa Maria Wagner is a violist and writer.
A version of this article also appeared in NRC in the morning of March 29, 2022
