#54: Metaphors as problem-solving
Section 7: Antonin Dvořák – String Quartet Op.51, ii: Dumka
Another approach which helped us to develop a more implicit sense of flow was to treat each gesture as ‘starting from here’, and let the precise implications ‘work themselves out’. This meant that the relationships between the lengthened semiquaver and the rushed demi-semiquavers could be grasped more flexibly. The viola entry then simply reversed that temporary ‘rule’ of where the gesture started, and that was enough to transform the (same) material into a long-breathed, dovetailing anacrusis.
Another option was to imagine the earlier entries as if they were still searching for their destination; but when the viola enters, it already knows where the music is heading. By that time, the goal had been established by the other parts, who had already set out on a longer phrase (from b.17, beat 4). The indirectness is ideal here, for if the viola’s gesture starts with knowledge of the fact that it has further to go, a more distributed, ‘shallower’ trajectory will emerge almost ‘by itself’. That broad metaphor means that, unlike the other gestures in that family, this statement opens not with a stressed A, but with a de-accented one; but one does not think in terms of ‘stress’ or ‘de-accent’ of the individual notes, but grasps their entire context. When suggesting that we treat b.19 (beat 1) as an intermediate staging post, rather than a point of arrival, we were adopting the same kind of strategy.
It is possible, of course, that the viola’s slur lasting a quaver longer – that it extends to the C# (b.18, beat 4) – may create a sense of continuation quite independently of this formulation in rehearsal. That extra note subtly affects the gesture’s physical execution: it demands that the contact in the bow is held for slightly longer, and this means it is less easily ‘thrown’ in precisely the same way as the preceding versions in the other instruments. And a further dimension of this is the way in which the C# continuation note now forms a ‘peel’ against the low F pedal that has been established in the cello. The tension between these resonances feels vastly different from the barer, lighter texture of the first three incarnations of this gesture; indeed it is in a very telling register in both parts: on the lowest string, and also where one has a long string length available, which positively affects the range of resonant ‘types’ one can find in the bow.
More generally, the way in which the Czech Quartet always had the option either to linger or ‘carry’ such gestures meant that the simple act of playing more ‘neutrally’ itself bore more meaning, and this was heightened still further by the nature of their interactions. It was as if simplicity had ‘become’ a topic, which could serve an expressive function of its own. Clearly, such an option is useful for directing the attention of a listener elsewhere: towards a more expressive or characterised voice. But we also found that simplicity could more easily become the object of attention itself in this style than our own, probably because of the contrast it formed with the more ‘active’ dispositions that often surrounded it. The relative simplicity of the viola line in b.18-19, in which the rhythm was less ‘elasticated’, seems to reflect the idea that the whole group has ‘moved on’: what was previously thematic material now lived ‘in the swim’, and had ceased to be the primary focus of attention. And yet it may also draw the attention, precisely because that simplicity is markedly different to the previous incarnations of the gesture.
