Through Mozart’s Eyes
The lecture hall was full to the last seat. This was my first time as a guest lecturer at the Fullerton School of Music. I was very excited to give a lecture on Mozart’s “Requiem”, the famous composition the musician wrote on his deathbed.
First, I started with a little biographical introduction to Mozart’s late creative period. Then, I talked about some aspects of Requiem – its rich textures and impassioned expressivity already foreshadowed in previous works, like the motet Ave verum corpus, which dealt with theme of Christ’s suffering and crucifiction.
I was swept away by the thrill of the moment – lost in a reverie of words. Although the lecture podium was only a foot high, in a split second my leg slipped. I only remember sinking into a thick gray fog. The next thing I knew, there I was sitting at an old wooden desk.
A pile of choral scores, an ink bottle and a quill were in front of me. Suddenly, the door opened and a dark-eyed woman in a soft angelic voice asked: “Wolfferl, dear, are you not tired of composing? I want to go for a walk. We didn’t come to Baden to sit in the room, did we? Are you coming?”
In a strange high tone, I heard my own voice saying: “No darling, I have to finish this motet.” I looked back at the scores. It was the “Ave verum corpus” motet. Astounding.
At that moment, my chair sank back into a deep, dark tunnel. Soon enough I saw several curious and concerned faces looking at me. A student said: “You fell, passed-out and had a ‘syncopa’. This group of my fractal pictures is inspired by this strange incident and especially by themes of Mozart’s motet “Ave verum corpus”.
Oh, syncope, syncopa!