Tabula Rasa

Although Arvo Pärt (b. 1935) was born in a free Estonia, his country endured Soviet occupation from 1940 until 1991. He could easily have been stifled by the narrow-minded artistic dictates that filtered out from Moscow. But early work as an engineer with Estonian Radio brought him into contact with influential musicians and filmmakers. He hungered for exposure to western Europe’s avant-garde and remained on the cutting edge among Estonian composers. From the initial influences of Prokofiev and Shostakovich, Pärt soon delved into serialism—perhaps the most strictly controlled compositional system—before shifting into free collage principles. Reception was mixed. Pärt felt some discomfort with his new direction, so he entered a period of self-imposed “contemplative silence” (1968-71) during which he studied Medieval and Renaissance vocal music. His style changed noticeably, but it was the second such hiatus (1972-76) that proved life altering. In those pivotal years Pärt found his voice: mystical, minimalist, and completely original, what he calls “tintinnabulation.
This new technique opened the floodgates of inspiration. Several of the composer’s best works were written in 1977 immediately following the second contemplative silence. Tabula Rasa, Latin for “blank slate,” was composed in this year for Latvian violinist Gidon Kremer. Its two spacious movements, marked Ludus (“play” or “game”) and Silentium (“silence”), wonderfully epitomize the new direction Pärt was going, as his own comments about the first performance show: “It was beautiful, quiet and beautiful.” Hearing this 25-minute piece in live performance, it is hard not to recede into one’s self. Its austerity can move one to a deep state of reflection. In the rush of our daily lives, such artistic immediacy carries profound power and meaning.

(c) Jason Stell