I first played the Vivaldi cello sonatas in the late 1950s when I was 12 or 13 years old. I always have loved the pieces, and go back to them from time to time.

When I play them now, I have a Proustian experience of remembering where I was when I practiced these pieces as a young girl. In my mind’s eye, I’m in my childhood bedroom (where I practiced), looking out the window at the darkness on a winter evening. All this is gone now and only in memory — my parents are no longer here, and the house was sold many years ago to another family. But the Vivaldi sonatas remain a constant in my life, as do lingering memories from my past.

As I age, I have a deeper connection with Vivaldi sonatas. I can’t imagine how they sounded when I was on the cusp between childhood and teenhood. What I wouldn’t give to hear the innocent sound of that young girl playing the Vivaldi cello sonatas in a New Jersey house in the late 1950s. I remember even then thinking how sad the pieces were.

They are still sad, as is much of music. Because music touches the emotions directly, and love is inextricably linked to sadness in some way, and music is pure emotion, mediated by intelligence. As an adult musician, I now have the capacity to transform loss into music and experience it deeply while I am playing, and hope that I can project the experience to my listeners.

If you’re looking for a recording of these pieces, I highly recommend the performance by Roel Dieltiens and his group, Ensemble Explorations.

– Laurie Israel 2/15/06, updated 11/1/10.