Written by April Chaiwon Lee
Illustrated by Dongnyung Lee
The maestro sat on his chair. The artist sat next to him on a wooden one.
“Long time no see,” the maestro said quietly.
“Can’t believe we’re going to create something together again. After all these years.” said the
artist.
“You know my music best. I was certain that you were the best person to do the job. Drawing
my music. Understanding it.”
“Well, I am not so sure. You will need to explain in words.”
“I haven’t changed that much. Not enough change my whole philosophy about this emotion
that is the core of not only this piece but all music. This one is not abstract nor excessively intricate. A
good listener will hear the simplicity and clarity with which my music carries my soul.”
The artist was silent. He could not tell whether she was being truly indifferent or teasing him,
provoking him to say more. Was she expecting a particular answer? The maestro sighed. “Very well.
“At first it is fresh and new. A little tentative, yes- yet, like a newborn, it would want to explore
and take chances. Going through numerous trials, you will also face disappointment as well as jovial
excitement. For flowers to bloom, all has to be in harmony. A slight mismatch, even when there is not
a huge trouble, can discourage the beginning. But throughout its first season, spring, love’s life energy
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is vigorous, and it will hold on to another’s love tenuously…
He went on to explain the summer of love-- how more audacious love becomes! Occasional
tempests that result from the culmination of passion, the uprooting and shaking, the burning….and the
placid time that renews the thirst for another storm, then another shower that falls with no regret, that
empties the sky entirely of moisture. Overall, the bandy of feelings becomes more rush and more rich.
The important thing about spring and summer, he said, was that it determined fall, the time
for bountiful harvest. But the other side of fall is lonely and bleak, even more so than winter, since a
lost heart must fear the coming of cold months that would be spent in solitude. Of course, a bohemian
may also regard his lone state with warmth, acceptance, and reminiscence, returning in his mind to the
pleasant memories and reflecting on the regrets.
As for winter…
The maestro’s eyes twinkled. “It could be very merry or very grim.”