The traditional mode of engraving music, not into digital software but on copper or pewter plates, produces inevitable imperfections – invisible chips, off-kilter slurs, unbalanced impressions.These tiny inconsistencies and traces of the “human” fascinate me: the imagery of an engraver carefully ruling staves with their rastrum, delicately hammering in noteheads and accidentals as their hands start turning a silvery grey. This obsessive focus on every detail – the length of note stems, subtle shifts in slur width, the weight of beams – was a central muse during the conception of this piece.

This process of intense concentration is applied to the first measure of J.S. Bach’s Cello Suite No. 4, Prelude. An E-flat major arpeggio that would normally take around three seconds to play is stretched out over a duration that is more than 200 times that. The music zooms into each microscopic impression on the metal plate, bringing into view the individual specks of dust and pewter that would otherwise go unnoticed and disregarded.

[Recording forthcoming]