THE CRITIC AS ARTIST. Oscar Wilde, 1891
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THE CRITIC AS ARTIST. Oscar Wilde, 1891

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“dark extends itself, I breathe it in, something cruel or casual, something kind,” — Jill Jones
just got a c- on my first italian test woot
a semester later and i got an a+ on my italian II midterm! we love growth and learning how to study, ladies
hey! i know i haven’t been posting a lot on here (the school year has been crazy sorry!! i promise i’ll be back in action after this semester lol) but in the meantime if you want to check out my personal blog it’s @svnflwrs
If you don’t mind me asking where are you going to school?
hey! i don’t think i’ll post where exactly i go to school but i do go to a public university in america. if you have any other qs about the admissions process or music in university feel free to send them my way!

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When your violin friend won’t pay attention
Dmitri Shostakovich in 1957, by Nicholas Tikhomiroff.
I’m a sucker for a bit of tchaikovsky not gonna lie
the screen tests at the andy warhol museum made me look mysterious and moody but really i’m just loud and melodramatic
Tchaikovsky’s Serenade for Strings in C major, Movement III

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One of my favorite stories about Beethoven was told by Dorothea von Ertmann, a pianist and a friend of Beethoven’s. When she lost one of her children, Beethoven invited her over, said, “Now we will converse in music,” and improvised for hours. “He said everything to me,” Dorothea later said about that day. “And finally gave me consolation.”
And this wasn’t an isolated incident. Another of Beethoven’s friends, Antonie Brentano, a woman given to deep depression, said that Beethoven would come to visit without speaking a word. He’d just sit at the piano outside her room and improvise for a few hours before silently leaving again. He was “telling her everything and bringing comfort,” she said.
just got a c- on my first italian test woot
me at any given point: grades don’t define you! as long as you work hard and learn then there’s nothing to worry about :)
me, after getting a bad grade, through gritted teeth: grades.. don’t define you
our conductor: so what do we know about appalachian spring?
some violinist: *reading the title* it’s for martha
some woodwind player: copland is gay
me: octaves
i miss paris!! take me back!

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Coming out of a bad practice session
mood: when chopin tied a packet of his own letters with a ribbon and inscribed them as “moja bieda” (my misery)