Light in Music


Light in music


Music: Debussy Claude. “Et la lune descends sur la temple qui fut” performed by Asya Ardova on the page ardSOUND   of

Photos: Yuri Minkin (1, 2, 3, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10), Asya Ardova (4, 5)

Poetic scenario: Lazar Ardov

poems: Maurice Carême (1), Charles Baudelaire (2, 3, 5, 6, 7), Vitezslav Nezval (4, 8, 9, 10) translated to English by Asya Ardova

Places and objects depicted: Philadelphia (USA) landscapes (1, 2, 6, 7, 10), Florentine Palazzo Vecchio in Italy (3, 8, 9), “Ahasuerus, Haman and Esther” by Rembrandt (4) and fresco by Caravaggio from Rome (5).

the single tone would hardly form music art, were the information concluded in its kernel measured only by just height, volume and value.

Sounding reality is self-satiated due to inexplicable inner purports, setting free evident connections between arts and Nature itself. 

   Artists are eagerly striving for palpable abundant existence. Musicians-impressionists were not an exception as it’s used to consider. Impression is neither spectre, nor magic. Sensuality is the apex of impressionism.

     Sometimes there rises the irresistible willing of the sound’s flesh to be touched. Sometimes the light’s flesh is getting tangible.

Light is not silent, while stones resound, when “the moon descends over the old temple”.

Yuri Minkin masterfully depicts different hypostases of nature phenomena by means of his camera. The objects he shows are palpable and magnetic.




         I’m looking at the Moon,

And seizing his bloody light,

I’m looking at the Moon,

And water reflects his might.




The Sun has dazzling eyes, it wakens springing heart,

Both flowers and roots are either palpitating,

Let’s run and pass the skyline — thus awaiting

The Sun’s last ray to glisten and to part.




The columns and the porticos arise,

The moonlit spurt has shaped their gold,

The Sun at dawn is willing to disguise,

The opium enlarges nightly dream —

 The space and forms for to unfold,

And senses grow enormous, getting keen.



 Rembr Esther cut

I plunge quite of a sudden inside your eyes,

The lightning’s speed —

It lifts you with the Universe, that flies,

And I’m a bottom weed.





Here darkness moans, like tormented mind,

That drank the poison deadly to the end,

While heavens like some altars brand,

The Sun is burning far behind.




Those merciless arrows of the Sun are thrown,

Onto the roofs, the fields and harvest’s grown.

I’m walking and my dreams are full of fancy —

I pick up rhythms everywhere — fine and pensive.




The sun is charming, when the East,

Bursts out with the morning dress.

Let one be blessed, whose eyes caress

The Sun a-creeping like a beast.





When the garden’s flame,

Taps sunrays insane.




Watch this shining balm,

And let down your palm.





Bid the lantern of glow rush in pertinent might

For the ways of the Light.














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