Morton Feldman wrote For Frank O'Hara, his first piece with a title honoring a friend, in 1973, but it wasn't until the last six years of his life that his dedicatory pieces came to dominate his output, ranging in scope from the four-minute For Aaron Copland to the four-and-a-half-hour For Philip Guston. For Bunita Marcos, for piano (1985), lasts a relatively chaste 70 minutes. The piece, like so much of
Feldman's work, is notable for its quiet volume level, its sparse textures, and the lack of an easily discernible structure or compositional plan. This quote by
Feldman, cited on the CD cover, helps explain his aesthetic: "My past experience was not to 'meddle' with the material, but to use my concentration as a guide to what might transpire. I mentioned this to
Stockhausen once when he had asked me what my secret was. 'I don't push the sounds around.'
Stockhausen mulled this over, and asked: 'Not even a little bit?'" Based in the evidence of the music itself, the answer is apparently, "Not even a little bit." For Bunita Marcos makes
Feldman sound like a minimalist, in the original sense of the term when it was taken over from the visual arts, before it became associated with the particular idioms of
Terry Riley,
Steve Reich, and
Philip Glass.
Feldman makes use of a limited tonal palette, for the most part, as well as patterns that are not identical, but are nonetheless recognizable as recurring. The spareness of the textures (only rarely are two notes struck simultaneously) adds to the sense of art pared down to its most elemental components. The music's largely untroubled stasis conveys a quietness born out of serenity.
Stephane Ginsburgh plays with delicacy, but with a confident touch -- the music itself may be emotionally reserved, but his performance is never tentative or cautious. Sub Rosa's clean, present sound allows the music to be appreciated without distraction.