When I was younger, FREDERIC CHOPIN was my god. He is still my favorite composer. I played (poorly) many of his piano works. Today as I paint, his Ballades, Scherzos, Nocturnes and Waltzes are loud and crisp in my background.The most fabulous composer of the ROMANTIC era, Monsieur FREDERIC embodies the passion of our combined spiritual quest; the wistful, nostalgic yearnings of our innermost thoughts.
CHOPIN mesmerized his audiences.
Described by the harshest critics of his time as being pallid, frail and of having a "sick-room talent"; and while Polish-born FREDERIC performed in the most intimate interiors of elite Paris Salons during the formative years of the nineteenth century, his passages reek of the SPIRITUAL tremors in our dreams and of the magnificent glory of nature itself.
CHOPIN opened one of history's doors.
IMPRESSIONIST painters walked through it and took their seats.
Born in Warsaw in 1810, our master poet of the keyboard died in Paris in 1849. We can only wonder at the superb body of work we have been denied by his untimely death.
