RECITAL
Morgan Museum & Library
Young Concert Artists
Sang-Eun Lee - Cello
Carlos Avila - Piano
Schumann - Fantasiestücke, Op. 73
Shostakovich - Sonata in D minor, Op. 40
Beethoven - Sonata No. 3 in A Major, Op. 69
Hear the artist playing Bach...
Playing her YCA program at Merkin Hall...
22-year-old cellist Sang-Eun Lee has been hailed for her expressive artistry and dazzling technique. The Washington Post praised: “She is a prodigiously talented young artist with powerful technique and musical poise.” Ms. Lee has won top prizes in various international competitions; she won the 2014 Young Concert Artists International Auditions, and First Prize at the 2014 YCA Auditions in Seoul, Korea. At 15, she won First Prize at the 2009 Johansen International Competition in Washington, D.C., Second Prize at the 2009 International Tchaikovsky Competition for Young Musicians, and the Young Musician Prize of the Emanuel Feuermann Competition in Berlin. She was also awarded Germany’s Kronberg Academy Cello Festival’s 2009 Ingrid zu Solms Culture Prize.
Her 2016-2017 season includes performances at the Morgan Library and Museum, Boston’s Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory, Chamber on the Mountain, Tri-County Concert Association, the Evergreen Museum and Library, and an appearance as soloist with the Orchestra of St. Luke’s at Alice Tully Hall. Last season, Ms. Lee made her acclaimed Kennedy Center debut, co-presented with Washington Performing Arts and supported by the Korean Concert Society Prize, and her New York recital debut, sponsored by the Michaels Award, on the Young Concert Artists Series. She also performed at Colgate University, Buffalo Chamber Music Society, the Paramount Theatre, the Jewish Community Alliance in Florida, the Lied Center of Kansas, and the Music@Menlo Festival.
Ms. Lee has been invited to perform as a soloist with Korea’s leading orchestras including the Seoul Philharmonic under Myung-Whun Chung, the Suwon Philharmonic, the Prime Philharmonic, the Korean National University of Arts Orchestra, the Gangnam Symphony and GMMFS orchestras. She made her Seoul recital debut at the age of 13 on the Kumho Prodigy Concert Series and has given recitals at the Blue House in Seoul and the Musée du Louvre in Paris. Ms. Lee has been featured on KBS (the Korean Broadcasting System).
Born in Seoul, Korea, Ms. Lee attended the Korean National University of Arts, from the age of nine, where she worked with Myung Wha Chung and Sang Min Park. She is a grant recipient of the Bagby Foundation for the Musical Arts, and currently attends the Curtis Institute of Music, working with Peter Wiley and (YCA Alumnus) Carter Brey.
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On the way out of the Morgan Library we visited the Emily Dickinson Exhibit.
https://www.wsj.com/articles/im-nobody-who-are-you-the-life-and-poetry-of-emily-dickinson-review-1485988331
‘I’m Nobody! Who are you? The Life and Poetry of Emily Dickinson’ Review
22-year-old cellist Sang-Eun Lee has been hailed for her expressive artistry and dazzling technique. The Washington Post praised: “She is a prodigiously talented young artist with powerful technique and musical poise.” Ms. Lee has won top prizes in various international competitions; she won the 2014 Young Concert Artists International Auditions, and First Prize at the 2014 YCA Auditions in Seoul, Korea. At 15, she won First Prize at the 2009 Johansen International Competition in Washington, D.C., Second Prize at the 2009 International Tchaikovsky Competition for Young Musicians, and the Young Musician Prize of the Emanuel Feuermann Competition in Berlin. She was also awarded Germany’s Kronberg Academy Cello Festival’s 2009 Ingrid zu Solms Culture Prize.
Her 2016-2017 season includes performances at the Morgan Library and Museum, Boston’s Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory, Chamber on the Mountain, Tri-County Concert Association, the Evergreen Museum and Library, and an appearance as soloist with the Orchestra of St. Luke’s at Alice Tully Hall. Last season, Ms. Lee made her acclaimed Kennedy Center debut, co-presented with Washington Performing Arts and supported by the Korean Concert Society Prize, and her New York recital debut, sponsored by the Michaels Award, on the Young Concert Artists Series. She also performed at Colgate University, Buffalo Chamber Music Society, the Paramount Theatre, the Jewish Community Alliance in Florida, the Lied Center of Kansas, and the Music@Menlo Festival.
Ms. Lee has been invited to perform as a soloist with Korea’s leading orchestras including the Seoul Philharmonic under Myung-Whun Chung, the Suwon Philharmonic, the Prime Philharmonic, the Korean National University of Arts Orchestra, the Gangnam Symphony and GMMFS orchestras. She made her Seoul recital debut at the age of 13 on the Kumho Prodigy Concert Series and has given recitals at the Blue House in Seoul and the Musée du Louvre in Paris. Ms. Lee has been featured on KBS (the Korean Broadcasting System).
Born in Seoul, Korea, Ms. Lee attended the Korean National University of Arts, from the age of nine, where she worked with Myung Wha Chung and Sang Min Park. She is a grant recipient of the Bagby Foundation for the Musical Arts, and currently attends the Curtis Institute of Music, working with Peter Wiley and (YCA Alumnus) Carter Brey.
___________________________________________________
On the way out of the Morgan Library we visited the Emily Dickinson Exhibit.
https://www.wsj.com/articles/im-nobody-who-are-you-the-life-and-poetry-of-emily-dickinson-review-1485988331
‘I’m Nobody! Who are you? The Life and Poetry of Emily Dickinson’ Review
At the Morgan Library & Museum, a treasure trove of objects offers a rare chance to truly meet the reclusive poet through both her work and her web of relationships.
By
Edward Rothstein •Feb. 1, 2017 5:32 p.m. ET
Daguerreotype of Emily Dickinson (c. 1847) Photo: Amherst College Archives & Special Collections/Millicent Todd Bingham, 1956
“Did you ever / read one of /her poems back / ward” the fragmentary lyric reads, “because / the plunge from the front over / turned you?” Emily Dickinson’s words are scrawled on coarse brown, awkwardly cut wrapping paper—as if the question came to the poet’s mind so suddenly it had to be captured on whatever scrap could be found. It is one of the small sensations at the winningly conceived exhibition “I’m Nobody! Who are you? The Life and Poetry of Emily Dickinson” at the Morgan Library & Museum through May 28. She seems to be alluding to her own poems with their metaphorically condensed, startling language that plunges the familiar into paradox, the ordinary into the metaphysical. Dickinson’s beginnings can be so overturning (“It was not Death, for I stood up”) one might indeed be tempted to read backward.
There are other telling scraps here too, along with a selection of faintly penciled manuscripts discovered after the poet’s death at age 55 in 1886. She had mailed hundreds of poems to friends, but only 10 had been published during her lifetime, anonymously and presumably without consent. Her family found almost 1,800 others, many carefully sewn into small leaflets now preciously called “fascicles,” their slanted writing peppered with dashes. The last decades of Dickinson’s life were lived in near isolation, the poet staying in her parent’s home in Amherst, Mass.—her grandfather was a founder of Amherst College and her father had long been its treasurer—emerging from her room at times in white, like a wraith, avoiding most guests, her poetic cosmos circumscribed by her bedroom, her plants, her letters and her often ghostly script.
But in gathering nearly 100 objects—billed as the most ambitious presentation of Dickinsoniana to date—the curators, Mike Kelly, head of archives at Amherst College, and the Morgan’s Carolyn Vega, are intent not on the solitary poet’s mind but her “extensive web of relationships,” some established in youth, some in correspondence (as with the abolitionist minister and editor Thomas Wentworth Higginson) and some until death. They even continued, in contention, well beyond, since her estate was inharmoniously split between Emily’s great friend—her brother’s wife, Susan Dickinson—and her brother’s mistress, Mabel Loomis Todd. That is one reason it now also remains largely divided between Amherst and Harvard.
Otis Allen Bullard’s portrait of ‘Emily Elizabeth, Austin and Lavinia Dickinson’ (c. 1840) Photo: Houghton Library/Harvard University
A lovely portrait here from a more pastoral era (c. 1840) shows the poet as a child with her two siblings. And a recently discovered 1847 roster from Mount Holyoke Female Seminary shows a fellow student’s verse sketch of the 16-year-old Emily: “She is ever fair, and never proud / Hath tongue at will and yet is never loud.” On a touch screen we can leaf through the young Emily’s herbarium scrapbook in which over 400 plants were pasted, such close acquaintance later resonating in the poems.
The exhibition is circumspect—too circumspect—about the poet’s possible amatory relations, particularly since suggestions of same-sex attractions have become a staple of recent scholarship, but we see clearly that late solitude came at the cost of once-cherished intimacy. For her entire life she kept an 1850 invitation to a “Candy Pulling!!” by one presumed suitor (George Gould) and in 1876, we see here, she wrote a poem on its reverse (“I suppose the time will / come”) about relentlessly passing time.
We can see too why she did not court publication. “Blazing in gold and quenching in purple”—a paean to the setting sun—is shoehorned into an 1864 issue of the Springfield Daily Republican, framed by anecdotes about a blinded soldier and an “elderly woman” with rheumatism. But a friend chastised the “great poet” for her public reticence: “When you are what men call dead, you will be sorry you were so stingy.” Perhaps she is—though she might now also be wary of being harnessed so often to represent contemporary categories of identity.
The Morgan, unfortunately, did not provide transcriptions of the handwritten poems; they appear in the catalog and are recited on an audio tour, but the manuscripts present themselves more gnomically than they should. Prepare to visit first the vast online archives (at the Amherst College Digital Collections and the Emily Dickinson Archive) and then come here to be jostled by the remarkable traces of a poet who, in an 1883 letter to her young niece and niece’s friend, signaled perhaps, how much she had discovered in her circumscribed world: “Who has not found the Heaven—below— / Will fail of it above. / For Angels rent the House next our’s, / Wherever we remove.”
—Mr. Rothstein is the Journal’s Critic at Large.
Edward Rothstein •Feb. 1, 2017 5:32 p.m. ET
Daguerreotype of Emily Dickinson (c. 1847) Photo: Amherst College Archives & Special Collections/Millicent Todd Bingham, 1956
“Did you ever / read one of /her poems back / ward” the fragmentary lyric reads, “because / the plunge from the front over / turned you?” Emily Dickinson’s words are scrawled on coarse brown, awkwardly cut wrapping paper—as if the question came to the poet’s mind so suddenly it had to be captured on whatever scrap could be found. It is one of the small sensations at the winningly conceived exhibition “I’m Nobody! Who are you? The Life and Poetry of Emily Dickinson” at the Morgan Library & Museum through May 28. She seems to be alluding to her own poems with their metaphorically condensed, startling language that plunges the familiar into paradox, the ordinary into the metaphysical. Dickinson’s beginnings can be so overturning (“It was not Death, for I stood up”) one might indeed be tempted to read backward.
There are other telling scraps here too, along with a selection of faintly penciled manuscripts discovered after the poet’s death at age 55 in 1886. She had mailed hundreds of poems to friends, but only 10 had been published during her lifetime, anonymously and presumably without consent. Her family found almost 1,800 others, many carefully sewn into small leaflets now preciously called “fascicles,” their slanted writing peppered with dashes. The last decades of Dickinson’s life were lived in near isolation, the poet staying in her parent’s home in Amherst, Mass.—her grandfather was a founder of Amherst College and her father had long been its treasurer—emerging from her room at times in white, like a wraith, avoiding most guests, her poetic cosmos circumscribed by her bedroom, her plants, her letters and her often ghostly script.
But in gathering nearly 100 objects—billed as the most ambitious presentation of Dickinsoniana to date—the curators, Mike Kelly, head of archives at Amherst College, and the Morgan’s Carolyn Vega, are intent not on the solitary poet’s mind but her “extensive web of relationships,” some established in youth, some in correspondence (as with the abolitionist minister and editor Thomas Wentworth Higginson) and some until death. They even continued, in contention, well beyond, since her estate was inharmoniously split between Emily’s great friend—her brother’s wife, Susan Dickinson—and her brother’s mistress, Mabel Loomis Todd. That is one reason it now also remains largely divided between Amherst and Harvard.
Otis Allen Bullard’s portrait of ‘Emily Elizabeth, Austin and Lavinia Dickinson’ (c. 1840) Photo: Houghton Library/Harvard University
A lovely portrait here from a more pastoral era (c. 1840) shows the poet as a child with her two siblings. And a recently discovered 1847 roster from Mount Holyoke Female Seminary shows a fellow student’s verse sketch of the 16-year-old Emily: “She is ever fair, and never proud / Hath tongue at will and yet is never loud.” On a touch screen we can leaf through the young Emily’s herbarium scrapbook in which over 400 plants were pasted, such close acquaintance later resonating in the poems.
The exhibition is circumspect—too circumspect—about the poet’s possible amatory relations, particularly since suggestions of same-sex attractions have become a staple of recent scholarship, but we see clearly that late solitude came at the cost of once-cherished intimacy. For her entire life she kept an 1850 invitation to a “Candy Pulling!!” by one presumed suitor (George Gould) and in 1876, we see here, she wrote a poem on its reverse (“I suppose the time will / come”) about relentlessly passing time.
We can see too why she did not court publication. “Blazing in gold and quenching in purple”—a paean to the setting sun—is shoehorned into an 1864 issue of the Springfield Daily Republican, framed by anecdotes about a blinded soldier and an “elderly woman” with rheumatism. But a friend chastised the “great poet” for her public reticence: “When you are what men call dead, you will be sorry you were so stingy.” Perhaps she is—though she might now also be wary of being harnessed so often to represent contemporary categories of identity.
The Morgan, unfortunately, did not provide transcriptions of the handwritten poems; they appear in the catalog and are recited on an audio tour, but the manuscripts present themselves more gnomically than they should. Prepare to visit first the vast online archives (at the Amherst College Digital Collections and the Emily Dickinson Archive) and then come here to be jostled by the remarkable traces of a poet who, in an 1883 letter to her young niece and niece’s friend, signaled perhaps, how much she had discovered in her circumscribed world: “Who has not found the Heaven—below— / Will fail of it above. / For Angels rent the House next our’s, / Wherever we remove.”
—Mr. Rothstein is the Journal’s Critic at Large.
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