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The "two pictures" make
a resonant diptych: Caspar David
Friedrich's monk on the seashore,
solitary self-communion as the storm threatens — dark bluey-black,
latent turbulence, pain, anguish: Breughel's
harvesters communal, lusty, fecund, all glowing browns and yellow
gold. I'd intended to try now to work the South American
impressions of 1981 into a concerto for orchestra. But it
and they weren't ready and didn't come: this symphonic poem,
far better suited to the commission for Simon
Rattle and the C.B.S.O.,
swept everything else aside. It flowed forth with such natural
ease that the only difficult part was finding the right title. |
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