NadiaKarpenko

Ooy Song for solo violin began with a melody I wrote when I was seven years old. At the time, I had created an imaginary world called “Ooyiyland,” whose dominant species, the Ooys, were engaged in a war against another species, the Spiders. I composed the opening theme to evoke the struggles of the Ooys, and years later, when my high school violin teacher, Elbert Tsai, asked me to write a piece to perform at his graduating senior violin concert, this childhood melody became the foundation of the work. Given the theme’s origins, Ooy Song was naturally the first title that came to mind.

I have been told that my earliest melodies often resemble Ukrainian folk songs, likely reflecting the Ukrainian folk music I heard frequently as a child. In returning to this early theme, I sought to preserve its folk-song-like character while experimenting with a form of theme and character variations. Rather than simply ornamenting the original melody, each variation explores a distinct emotional state, many of which reflect moods I remember experiencing when I was young.

The theme itself is emotionally almost neutral, but tinged with melancholy. The first variation introduces a more colorful and expressive sadness, while the second abruptly transforms the material into unadulterated joy. The third turns toward intense rage, followed by a fourth characterized by fear and unfamiliarity. The fifth variation exchanges this unease for feistiness and defiance. Finally, the original theme returns, making one last attempt to cling onto life before gradually withdrawing and trailing into nothingness.

Through these contrasting characters, Ooy Song revisits a musical idea from childhood through a later perspective, retaining the simplicity and imaginative world of its origin while allowing the theme to inhabit a broader emotional landscape.

The inception of Scherzando occurred around midnight about a year before its completion. Earlier that day, feeling sad, I had begun composing a waltz from a melody that had come to mind. By the time I finished writing down its theme, I realized that I was the only person still awake in the house. Something about the stillness of that moment inspired me to begin composing in 7/8, and from there, the music seemed to rush out almost faster than I could write it down.

Of all my works, I feel that Scherzando most closely encompasses my personality and musical voice. I think of it as a direct window into my thoughts: restless and adventurous, but also contemplative, with ideas and harmonies shifting fluidly from one to another. In some ways, its musical language recalls the songs I created before I became closely acquainted with classical music. Since I was five, I have improvised and composed music to accompany stories set in an imaginary world I called Ooyiyland. I have also been told that my earliest compositions resemble Ukrainian folk songs, likely reflecting the folk music I frequently heard as a young child.

This combination of adventure and contemplation shapes Scherzando. Its 7/8 meter is divided into changing groupings of two and three eighth notes, allowing the rhythmic character to transform while the underlying meter remains constant. The first theme, in C-sharp minor, follows a 3–2–2 grouping, while the feistier second theme, in A minor, shifts to 2–3–2. These asymmetrical patterns give the music a sense of continual motion and unpredictability. Amid these shifting minor-key passages are several arrivals in C major—a key that has been my favorite since childhood—which provide moments of brightness and clarity.

Scherzando ultimately became the second movement of my five-movement Dances for String Quartet. The waltz I had originally set out to compose that same night became the suite’s fourth movement, linking the two works to the midnight creative impulse from which Scherzando unexpectedly emerged.

My cadenzas for Beethoven’s Violin Concerto were the first cadenzas I composed and the first original works I premiered before a large audience in a solo concert. My violin teacher, Elbert Tsai, encouraged me to write them after recognizing my interest and ability in composition. He often remarked that their unpredictability made them particularly engaging—you never quite knew what would happen next.

Writing for solo violin also allowed me to draw directly upon my technique as a violinist. The ability to write and perform virtuosically gave me greater freedom to explore complex harmonies and musical ideas, making my first experience composing for unaccompanied violin feel surprisingly natural.

I later performed the third movement of Beethoven’s concerto with the Palo Alto Chamber Orchestra after winning its concerto competition using my own cadenza.