- Program Notes
- The Psalms have always held a great degree of significance to me, both as a one-time Christian and as an artist. Much has been written about their beautiful composition and their timeless imagery, but beyond the Psalmsâ considerable literary beauty and their theological profundity, I have always been drawn in by their honesty. For such early literature, these songs are remarkable for their frank depictions of their respective authorsâ emotional states, whether ecstatic joy (as in Psalm 126), deep contrition (Psalm 51), assured hope (Psalm 23), or meditative ponderance (Psalm 39). The emotional nakedness of the Psalms always reminds me of Godâs pursuit of our hearts: He would know us in our truest selves, rather than our constructed, âreligiousâ selves. It was with this posture that I began to write A Mere Breath, a reflection on Psalm 39.
Psalm 39 feels uniquely ahead of its time, prefiguring the book of Ecclesiastes with its existential themes of ephemerality and uncertainty. Its surprising emotional complexity is perhaps what has made it so enduringly appealing, appearing in pieces from Johannes Brahmsâ German Requiem to Igor Stravinskyâs Symphony of Psalms. I found myself identifying with the Psalm thanks in no small part to the time in which I had begun writing my piece: as the world continued to square off against the Covid-19 pandemic, I was applying to more school and was not altogether sure where I would be the next year. I identified with the Psalmâs thinly veiled frustration and confusion that stemmed from recognizing the sheer smallness of humanity in the face of an eternal God.
A Mere Breath casts the violinist as psalmist, contending with the depths and scale of the eternal. Wispy and capricious, the violin part gradually unfolds the pieceâs main theme, a plaintive, Hildegard-like hymn of simple beauty. Pursuing it across a variety of figurations, the soloist eventually takes hold of the melody with relief, swells in thanksgiving, and ultimately vanishes into nothingness.
- Performer Credits
- Megumi Stohs Lewis