From rainy Seoul
Finally taking a little break in Seoul after the busy and quite a stormy season.
April 27 Scriabin concert was probably the most difficult one for me in many aspects of preparation.
Knowing this composer is almost hypnotic, being captivated by his compositions is almost like being possessed, and I was extremely drawn to the realm of his emotive depth. And at the same time, I was facing the biggest fear in my life:
My beloved grandmother passed away soon after the concert.
She was my world. Raised me very closely, loved me endlessly, and she was the foundation of my strength. Losing her was like losing myself, and not being able to be with her when she was hospitalized was pure torture for me. I was debating to cancel my concert, and run to her in Korea, but I had to choose between my will against hers. I still don’t know if my conscience was completely clear. Perhaps I prioritized the concert to her. Didn’t I?
Life is surreal, and living is cruel. No matter how much I loved her, I could not be her, could not die for her.
Between two human beings, you never know anything because I am not you, and you are not I. That empathy you feel might be for your own projection to define whatever you have to in yourself. The concept of “we” is illusion to lay you in the comfort zone, but all of “we” are alone. So I resist to accept consolation. Who would dare understand…
But I know there was love. That love we all fail to convey….
I know that the core of all the chaotic human connections, some really look for this love. Perhaps all of us, but not realized.
My attempt to perform for the listeners is somewhat an irony. I resist people, and almost despise that superficial connection, yet I do urge to bring out what we all long for, what we all are deprived of.
Till we meet again, dearest grandmother, soon.