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Decrescendo
THE LIGHT IS RIGID,
IT BREAKS EASILY
By Ekatherina Dotcheva
Posted on July 16 2025
Notes of the Phantom Woman – a monodrama for mezzo-soprano and chamber ensemble by Gheorghi Arnaoudov and Iana Boukova – was born on May 31 this year in the “Annex” Hall in Vancouver, Canada. It was performed by soprano Heather Pawsey with a chamber ensemble conducted by the renowned Canadian conductor and contemporary music advocate Leslie Dala. In fact, the composer created this piece specifically for the distinguished singer, who also served, in a sense, as an editor of the vocal part of the composition. On July 2 in Sofia, the Bulgarian premiere took place in the packed Chamber Hall “Bulgaria,” featuring mezzo-soprano Anna-Bineta Diouf (Germany), actress Martina Apostolova, and the Vienna-based ensemble “Sapiace,” including Alvaro Colao Le?n (Chile) – saxophones, Matthias Gredler (Austria) – cello, and Evgenia Radoslavova – piano. (The name of the trio is an acronym formed from the first letters of the instruments it includes.) They were joined by percussionists Miroslav Dimov and Charlie Milov. The event was conducted by Viliana Valcheva. The concert truly became a noteworthy moment, adding another repertoire highlight to the chronicles of the “Sofia Music Weeks” festival and to Sofia’s concert life more broadly. I should add that this year was not the first time Arnaoudov was selected as the festival’s “Composer in Focus.”
In an effort to spark greater public interest in this remarkable composition, some media labeled it as “a crime piece”—a description that, if I were to be dramatic, I would call sacrilegious. While it is true that the literary text was inspired by a real criminal case (in Germany), its poetic nature elevates it to an entirely different plane, addressing core themes that paint an authentic picture of the “brave new world” we live in. I was not at all surprised that this text captured the attention and creative drive of Gheorghi Arnaoudov. If I’m not mistaken, this is his third composition based on texts by the remarkable poet Iana Boukova. I recall The Valley of Fables for soprano, cello, and piano, as well as the instrumental piece inspired by The Summer of My Dream Book from The Palaces of Diocletian. There is a shared sensibility between Arnaoudov’s artistic world and Boukova’s—what I would call an individual interpretation of the fraught layers of today’s social environment. It is a defiant and often shocking interpretation, often described (even by Boukova herself, in her book) as “depressive realism”—a psychological term that speaks to the dense, sobering insights into the tragic strangeness of the contemporary human condition. What we witness is the convergence of two creative approaches that “postulate reality,” to borrow Borges’ phrase. I do not mention the name of the great patrician of the spirit lightly. Both Arnaoudov and Boukova can be seen as Borgesians—not only because he composed music inspired by Borges, and she references him, but because their shared artistic attitudes disrupt norms and explore reality through interwoven epochs, philosophical fragments, and genre-defying structures. This is especially evident in Arnaoudov’s music, which fuses these ideas into intricate forms and freely expressive melodic and harmonic behavior.
So when I heard that Arnaoudov had composed a piece based on Notes of the Phantom Woman, I sensed this would be more than just another work—it would be a stylistic evolution. And indeed, the very nature of the text led to unexpected manifestations of his musical language, expanding and complicating his stylistic paradigm. What I didn’t know at the time was that the music would be composed to the English translation (by John O’Kane and Ekaterina Petrova) of Iana Boukova’s poetry collection, from which Arnaoudov selected specific texts for the preferred monodrama structure: 15 scenes grouped into five sections, titled Introduction (Scene 1), The Light is Rigid (Scenes 2–5), Observations from the Island (Scenes 6–11), Sect (Scenes 12–14), and That is How It Goes (Scene 15). The female voice, which performs an autopsy of the world with the detachment of a pathologist, is the central figure of the work. Around and with her, the instruments “speak” as well: alto and soprano saxophones, cello, piano, and—as previously noted—two percussionists, using drums, marimba, glockenspiel, and even a typewriter (Olivetti M40, specifically requested by the composer). The instrumental ensemble functions as an equal partner—not only providing an acoustic environment, but reinforcing and coloring the vocal text, adding timbral variety and rhetorical emphasis, and complicating the narrative through rhythm, pacing, and polyphonic layering. Arnaoudov’s attention to sound—something to which he always brings a personal, even humorous dimension—offers both beauty and challenge to the listener. These qualities are on display from the very first moments, when the sound of a typewriter begins tapping out the idea of something taking shape. At first I couldn’t believe a typewriter was part of the ensemble—it was only later, reading the score, that I saw it confirmed. The first line sung in the piece is: “There’s a black hole in your pool.” The voice delivers this line first in Spanish, then in English (“A Black Hole at the Bottom!”), then echoes it in German (“Ein schwarzes Loch”), and finally, with ominous slowness, in Russian (“×?đíŕ˙, ÷?đíŕ˙ äűđŕ”). After this multilingual and phonetic indulgence, suggesting the poetic-musical depth of the piece, the composition continues only in English—Arnaoudov’s first time working solely in that language. Once again, I am struck by the composer’s fine ear—not just musically, but linguistically. He listens deeply to the phonetics of the language, to its rhythmic and accentual structure, and how these shape meaning. I also strongly admire the rhythmic organization of the piece—it becomes a core feature of his reading of Boukova’s poetic world. Her writing spans genres—from brief news flashes to metaphorical paradoxes (“The light is dry. It breaks easily. No flexibility.”) to philosophical reflections drawn from raw, documentary realities. I won’t go on listing, because I am not a literary critic—but as a musician, I clearly recognize the latent and explicit polyrhythmic structure of the text. This artistic choice has a significant impact on Arnaoudov’s musical language. Though he retains his stylistic essence, the music here incorporates new elements: complex rhythmic phrasing, abrupt and expressive vocal articulation, and a limited but strikingly effective palette of instrumental colors. The acoustic environment drives the dramaturgy. It works with sonic precision, adding to the composition’s tone repetitions (which I dare compare to literary alliteration), exploring tessitura, timbre, melodic contour, breath—and all of this mirrors the semantic turns in Boukova’s writing. The vocal line and ensemble maintain a continuous rhythm-melodic polyphonic tension or conflict, resolved under the precise direction of Viliana Valcheva. Each performer received cues with clarity and responded with flawless timing and expressivity.
The vocal part follows, to some extent, the monotonal recitative style typical of monodrama—but also regularly escapes it with brief melodic “detours,” phrases often ending on long tones that function not only as melodic anchors but also as rhetorical high points. This gives the voice a certain shadowy balladic quality. It’s an important stylistic mark in Arnaoudov’s writing—what Roland Barthes might describe as “thought elevated upon a d?cor of notes over words,” never frozen, but charged with existential agitation. Sometimes it breaks into paroxysms of trauma; other times it deceives, leading into different psychological territories—as in Scene 9, where the melodic line evokes a sensual blues mood, or Scene 13, the slow waltz of a dreamed paradise, which ends with the horrifying image of “in the foreground – a tree with many hanged cats.” A complex, cathartic work, provoking imagination and intellect alike—inviting reflection on the nature of things and their acceleration into dark multiplicity.
The performance of this deeply challenging work was stunning—particularly Anna-Bineta Diouf in the lead. If I have one minor criticism, it is that the vocal diction could have been clearer for full intelligibility of the text. But in terms of phrasing, emotional nuance, and capturing the psychological states within Iana Boukova’s poetic testimony to the inevitabilities of reality—enhanced by the excellent and eloquent reading in Bulgarian by actress Martina Apostolova—the audience experienced something extraordinary.
The monodrama Notes of the Phantom Woman by Gheorghi Arnaoudov and Iana Boukova is set for upcoming performances in Vienna and Rome. It is an artistic fact that poses the eternal existential questions—not only in its study of the world but also of ourselves within it. It demands, provokes, insists on personal answers—sometimes unbearably heavy ones that fracture the inner being.
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© 2020 - 2025, Gheorghi Arnaoudov
© 2020 - 2025, Photos: Alexander Nishkov
© 2020 - 2025, Paintings: Yassen Panov
Contact e-mail: garnaoudov(at)gmail.com
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