​A Note from Leon:

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Dear friends,

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Welcome to our next concert project "Properties of Passion!" This concert is not just a concert. It is a disorderly autopsy of human feelings, conducted with surgical precision by the kitchen axe of great art. We will penetrate the depths of Beethoven and Brahms, and also immerse ourselves in the cinematic stories of the amazing German silent film director Friedrich Murnau and the genius Leo Tolstoy with his "Kreutzer Sonata."

Take, for example, Beethoven... his music stirs the soul, it is meant to shake you to the core. This property was almost maniacally criticized by Leo Tolstoy (though who didn't he criticize from Shakespeare and Dante to Rachmaninoff caught under his fiery hand). You might ask why? Because all Tolstoy's ideals were in the past! In theory, he craved the humilities of love and harmony, not just in life but in art (the ideals of Mozart and Chopin), but you can't fight what's inside... Despite any theories, he often listened and responded and even sometimes cried listening to Beethoven, while claiming that he, Tolstoy, couldn't stand him!  Why? It's clear why! Because what was so blatantly obvious in him: passion! That's exactly why I personally think Beethoven's music and Tolstoy's novel cannot just be "played-read"—they need to be "lived" like a novel. It seems to free itself, foaming at the mouth, ready to turn us inside out. And all this contradiction, plus his attitude toward family and the right-fear of jealousy, was reflected by Tolstoy in his scandalous "Kreutzer Sonata." He asserts that this same music can lead us to the ecstasy of passion and even to murderous jealousy. Perhaps for the first time in the history of art, the artwork itself—Kreutzer Sonata—acts as a passionate and fervent hero, a catalyst for an emotional whirlwind, and even—oh horror—murder . As Pasternak said, "Here art ends, and the soil and fate breathe."

Brahms, in contrast, in his Violin Sonata No. 3, almost hides his fiery passion, cloaking it behind a thinner, seemingly more objective passion—as a seasoned intimate conspirator, hinting that not all married couples burn down the house. Some just slowly simmer, turning us into a fragrant and fervent dish of the soul.

Also, as always, traditionally, we have woven into the program clips from a 1929 silent film masterpiece that essentially dialogues with the "Kreutzer Sonata." In the film, a farmer, nearly perished in the murky waters of infidelity (like the hero of the Kreutzer Sonata, but there it leads to murder), finds love again thanks to the sturdy hook of marital ties. Ah! If only it were always so! In any case, this old silent masterpiece, like the "Kreutzer Sonata," swings from despair to joy, like a pendulum of unstable clocks—or our own hearts.

This evening, we will perform together with the wonderful violinist Sergey Ostrovsky. If he, like in Switzerland this past summer (watch the very amateur, but "passionate" video:))), https://youtu.be/cIdj8M2Lot0  controls his violin like a torch capable of melting the frostiest of souls, prepare to be scorched, dear friends, or at least properly warmed up—I'll make sure to have a piano fire extinguisher ready for any Beethoven splashes.

We hope this evening will not be just peaceful music listening. We will confront passion face to face. So, after all: Is passion a hero or a villain? Does it save us or lead us into a dead end, giggling as we wander? This evening promises to be an exploration, a challenge, and perhaps a revelation, as we dance on the tightrope of human emotions under the guidance of the greatest masters: Beethoven, Brahms, Tolstoy, and Murnau.

And how does your passion manifest? What are you willing to pay for it? For example, express it in your choice of attire for the concert? Daring? Let's discuss this together, laughing and delving a bit into the mine depths of our hearts.

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​Musically yours,
Leon Livsin