Contemporary Music Review

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Hues, Tints, Tones, and Shades: Timbre as Colour

in the Music of Rebecca Saunders

Eva McMullan-Glossop

To cite this article: Eva McMullan-Glossop (2018): Hues, Tints, Tones, and Shades:
Timbre as Colour in the Music of Rebecca Saunders, Contemporary Music Review, DOI:
10.1080/07494467.2017.1452697

To link to this article: https://doi.org/10.1080/07494467.2017.1452697

Published online: 04 Apr 2018.

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Contemporary Music Review, 2018
https://doi.org/10.1080/07494467.2017.1452697

Hues, Tints, Tones, and Shades: Timbre

as Colour in the Music of Rebecca
Saunders
Eva McMullan-Glossop

Rebecca Saunders’ refreshing approach to composition brings a diversity of sounds that

tantalise the sonic palette of the contemporary ear. While pushing the parameters of
musical composition, Saunders’ priortisation of ‘colour’ and ‘timbre’ over ‘melody’ and
‘pitch’ has raised significant questions on how the asethetic experience of her music can
be interpreted by performers, fellow composers, music analysts, and musicologists alike.
Currently, a consistent language that addresses the aesthetic experience of both ‘colour’
and ‘timbre’ are absent from musical discussion. However, both aspects have been
acknowledged to require a more nuanced understanding in order to appreciate, fully,
the richness of sound that Saunders’ music exemplifies. The aesthetic domain of our
musical experience of ‘colour’, specifically, is implicitly related to visual art, a prospective
affiliation that will receive detailed consideration in the article that follows.

Keywords: Rebecca Saunders; Colour; Timbre; Texture; Visual Art; Analysis

Exploring the intrinsic elements of sound has been at the core of the compositional
output of London-born composer Rebecca Saunders. Through her compositions,
she is ‘preoccupied with drawing out multiperspectives of the colour of a tone, [b]y
creating palettes of Klangfarben for each instrument, and for groups of instruments’
(Sperber, 1996, p. 92). Through this ‘emancipation of timbre’, Saunders explores
the contrasting shades and hues of sound ‘in the pursuit of new means of musical
expression and articulation’ (Ellward, 2008; Sperber, 1996, p. 92). While her work is
expanding the parameters of sonic diversity, ‘the frequency of timbral contrast
within the total time span of a composition is one of the most elusive aspects of
style analysis’ (White, 1994, p. 241). Therefore, her work not only presents a distinctive
experience for the listener, but also exposes the continued tenuous relationship

© 2018 Informa UK Limited, trading as Taylor & Francis Group

2 E. McMullan-Glossop
between ‘timbre’ and ‘colour’ within musical discussion. The amplified emphasis that
these elements receive by Saunders, both in the precomposition and compositional
processes are fundamental to appreciating her work and is ‘a challenge the style
analyst music meet’ (White, 1994, p. 241).
With the increased sonic diversity in the music of Saunders, and her contempor-
aries, the terms ‘pitch’, ‘rhythm’, and ‘melody’ have become increasingly redundant,
with musical parameters such as ‘space’, ‘colour’, ‘texture’, and ‘timbre’ increasing
in applicability. Thus,

colour, not pitch, is the principal carrier of line: whilst nostalgic fragments of com-
pressed melody and clearly defined pitch centres can be heard, they are not at the
forefront of the music. (Saunders, 2006)

But as astutely identified by Trenkamp, while ‘melody’, ‘harmony’, and ‘rhythm’ have a
sophisticated vocabulary, both ‘timbre’ and ‘texture’ have a handful of analytical terms
and a multitude of ‘blatantly descriptive’ terms that have been haphazardly used in
their discussion in a musical context’ (Trenkamp, 1980, p. 13).1 This is primarily
due to the lack of clarity around the actual meanings of these terms and how they
relate to additional idioms.
While vital in discussions of contemporary music, the inclusion of ‘colour’ as a legit-
imate musical term has often been met with uncertainty. The divergent contexts in
which ‘colour’ has been used has done little to support its inclusion. Imbedded in
the history of musical discourse, there have been extremes of its usage, from being
used as a generic descriptor, to the assignment of specific colours to pitches, as in
Newton’s ‘colour-wheel’ and the work of synaesthetic composers.2 This is consequen-
tial to the fact that ‘colour’ did not originate as a musical term, but as both a creative
and theoretical element in painting. Therefore, this concept draws on a terminology
that is not musically founded. This ‘lack of terminology is a problem that seems pre-
liminary or academic, but proves to be conceptually fundamental’ particularly when
trying to discuss the innovative compositions of a composer such as Saunders
(Elkins, 1998, p. 216).
Nevertheless, there already exists a shared terminology between music and painting.
Words such as ‘harmony’, ‘rhythm’ and ‘colour’ are used in both disciplines; what
Adorno identifies in his seminal article ‘On Some Relationships between Music and
Painting’, as the ‘would left by rational order’ (Adorno, 1995, p. 79). While
‘harmony’ and ‘rhythm’ have a substantial and validated history in discussions of
music, ‘colour’ understandably does not, as it is a term primarily used in painting.
In addition, ‘colour’ exposes one of the main differences between the two artforms,
which is the concept of time. While temporality in music is concerned with the
linear progression of a piece of music in real time, this element is considered absent
from visual art. Adorno, however, believes this to be a ‘convergence of difference’
between the two artforms (Adorno, 1995, p. 69). Adorno argues that temporality is
also present in visual art and is vital in considering the tension that exists between
 Contemporary Music Review 3
the components of a painting, as ‘tension, however, can in no way be perceived without
temporality. For this reason, time is immanent in painting’, therefore perhaps legita-
mising a further exploration of this converged relationship in language (Adorno, 1995,
p. 69).
‘Colour’, while originating in visual art, its history has also been immersed in con-
troversial debate. This issue is of seminal importance in an influential publication by
David Batchelor, entitled Chromophobia, wherein the author explores why artists and
theorists have avoided utilising and discussing ‘colour’ in any depth. Robert Melville,
for example, thought ‘colour’ was used only for cosmetic purposes and contained what
he called ‘subtle deceits’ (Batchelor, 2000, p. 17). Batchelor, designates an entire
chapter, ‘Apocalyptick’, to this point: ‘the Latin colorem is related to celare, to hide
or conceal; in Middle English “to colour” is to embellish or adorn, to disguise, to
render specious or plausible to misrepresent’ (Batchelor, 2000, p. 52). At the linguistic
level, then, a word as seemingly everyday as ‘colour’ in fact always already disguises its
own content. Underlying more common extrapolations of its meaning, is one in which
‘colour’, both as a concept and in practice, has the power to manipulate, or evade, the
spectator. Viewed from this perspective, it is perhaps of little surprise that so many
commentators have regarded ‘colour’, almost wholesale, with suspicion.
Discontentment with ‘colour’, as an analytical term, has been fuelled by the ways in
which it has been identified in painting. This is reflected in Interaction of Color wherein
Joseph Albers acknowledges ‘equally, a factual identification of colors within a given
painting has nothing to do with sensitive seeing, nor with an understanding of the
color action within the painting’ (Albers, 1971, p. 5). In this publication, Albers exam-
ines how one person’s interpretation of a ‘colour’ can be very different from another’s.
He states that even though most people can identify the ‘colour’ red, the shade of red
will differ from person to person.3 This contrasting understanding is a result of the
‘innumerable colors—shades and tones in daily vocabulary, [yet] there are only
about 30 color names’ (Albers, 1971, p. 3). As pointed out by Sloane, ‘colour
names, unless they are hallowed by centuries of use, are redundant and are, indeed,
an obstacle to visual experience’ (Gage, 2006, p. 134).
Consequently, we find ourselves asking once again the question that was raised by
Stanford as far back as 1911 in his renowned publications Musical Composition—‘what
then is colour in music?’ (Stanford, 1911, p. 97). Stanford’s efforts at answering this
question exemplify the obvious problem with ‘colour’, as it currently has numerous
applications:

[t]he term has really a twofold meaning. There is firstly, colour in the sense of variety
of expression, and of the timbre which underlies the variety in a single instrument
… The other kind of colour we shall term ‘collective’. It is produced by the combi-
nation of the timbre of different instruments and their contrast to each other. Indi-
vidual colour is the sole property of the executive artist; the composer has no control
over it on paper. He can spoil the effect of the composer’s colouring by inferior
playing, but he cannot alter its inherent qualities. The picture may be hung in a
bad light but its value remains the same. (Stanford, 1911, p. 97)
4 E. McMullan-Glossop
As described by Standford, not only does expression create ‘colour’, but, in addition,
there is a ‘colour’ created from a group of ‘timbres’; that is, the ‘colour’ of a sound is
determined by the individual ‘colours’ of individual instruments. This exposes one of
the fundamental challenges in discussing ‘colour’, which has been the inability to talk
about its diverse effect on the perceivable qualities of music and specifically ‘timbre’. In
the music of Rebecca Saunders, ‘timbre’ is a ‘synthesis of several factors’ of which
‘colour’ is an intrinsic element (Sadie, Tyrell, & Campbell, 2001, p. 478). Therefore,
‘colour’ is used extensively in discussions of ‘timbre’, a term which is used synony-
mously with ‘tone colour’. ‘Timbre’ and ‘tone colour’ are often used as interchangeable
terms, as one is a loose translation of the other. However, ‘tone colour’ ‘is perhaps the
most paradoxical of music’s parameters. The paradox lies in the contrast between its
direct communicative power and the historical inability to grasp it critically or analyti-
cally’ (Cogan & Escot, 1976, p. 327). In Sound Structures in Music, Erickson voices his
dissatisfaction with the terms ‘timbre’ and ‘tone colour’ as they are used in the ‘same
sense’, ‘neither [of which] is very satisfactory, nor is the “tone quality” much of an
improvement’ (Erickson, 1975, p. 7).
Lexicographical sources have done little to clarify the meaning of these terms and, in
many ways, have reinforced the perplexity of their understanding. While some sources
consider these terms to be synonymous, others define them as independent entities.
The Oxford Dictionary of Music, for example, directs the reader to the entry on
‘timbre’, while The Harvard Dictionary of Music defines the parameter of ‘tone
colour’ as a separate entry to ‘timbre’. Here the author states ‘tone colour’ is:

the character of a sound, as distinct from its pitch; hence, the quality of sound that
distinguishes one instrument from another. It is largely, though not exclusively, a
function of relative lengths of the harmonics (and sometimes nonharmonic fre-
quencies) present in the sound. (Randel, 2003, p. 899)

In contrast, The New Penguin Dictionary of Music describes ‘tone-colour’ as

[t]he quality which distinguishes a note as performed on one instrument from the
same note as performed on other instruments (or voices). The French word timbre
is also used in English in this sense. On analysis, the differences between tone-
colours of instruments are found to correspond with differences in the harmonics
represented in the sound. (Jacobs, 1988, p. 416)

What has often gone ignored in analytical discussions, is that there are contrasting
types of ‘colour’ which can be problematic when attempting to differentiate
between ‘tone colour’ and contrasting forms of ‘colour’ within the same context.
However, it is the ‘minute transformations [that] offer the opportunities for the
creation of new sounds and colors, and provide clues to rich resources of tone-
color composition’ (Cogan & Escot, 1976, p. 333). In addition, it is ‘within
these basic tone-color distinctions [that] there exists a variety of subtle shades’
(Cogan & Escot, 1976, p. 345).
 Contemporary Music Review 5
Acknowledging the need to differentiate between contrasting kinds of ‘colours’ in
musical perception, Wayne Slawson proposes a ‘Sound Color Theory’. Within this,

[s]ound color does not necessarily refer to musical instruments; it is, rather, an
abstract property of auditory sensation. By definition it has no temporal aspect.
Sounds may vary in color over time, but the variation in a sound is not itself a
color. (Lansky, 1989, p. 193)

Slawson developed this ‘speculative theory’ of ‘sound colour’ by relying on vowel

sounds. He defines ‘sound color’ as ‘an attribute of auditory sensations, it is not an
acoustic property’ (Lansky, 1989, p. 195). He believes sound colour has a number of
dimensions including ‘OPENESS, ACUTENESS, LAXNESS, and SMALLNESS’
(Lansky, 1989, p. 193).4 Slawson’s aim within his study was

to raise the musical organization of ‘timbre’ to a state comparable to the aesthetic

evaluation of pitch and to govern timbral progressions according to a kind of
logic entirely equivalent to that logic which satisfies us in the melody of pitches.
(Sandell, 1990, p. 256)

The logic to which Slawson is referring are those methods that were popularised by
serial composers. To enable this precision, he continues to define nine detailed
‘sound colors’ which are governed by those concepts found in serial composition, par-
ticularly ‘combinatoriality’ and the ‘aggregate’ (Slawson, 1981, p. 97). The limitations
of this approach are acknowledged by the author himself when dealing with ‘sound
color mixtures’,

as it is another topic that I am not sure how to deal with. I suspect something more
interesting than treating two or more simultaneous colors as some kind of sum of
the individual colors is possible, but I have not yet found anything that is really sat-
isfactory. (Slawson, 1981, p. 139)

However, the recognition that ‘timbre’ and indeed ‘colour’ should be considered as sig-
nificant, as the ‘aesthetic evaluation of pitch’ supports the argument put forward in this
article.
With such controversy surrounding its meaning in both disciplines, surely the
inclusion of ‘colour’ in discussions of music can only lead to further frustration.
However, if more clarification was given to the exact meaning of ‘colour’ its impact
would be magnified. In every artform, ‘colour’ is an imperative element that can be
found in the ‘foreground’ or ‘background’. It acts as the medium through which ges-
tural and compositional elements are represented. ‘Colour’ is most often found in
plurality and it is through comparing and contrasting that it may be fully perceived.
Therefore, following Albers, it seems more productive for the listener to be primarily
concerned with what happens between the ‘colours’. Consequently, as Merleau-Ponty
expresses it, ‘the question rather concerns us with the dimension of colour, that
dimension which creates identification of difference in texture, a materiality, a
6 E. McMullan-Glossop
something creates then from itself for itself’ (Harrison & Wood, 2000, p. 769). There-
fore, to include ‘colour’ as a legitimate term in music, a way to examine how these
‘colours’ interact must be identified.
The rate of ‘colour action’ and interaction through timbral explorations are perti-
nent features of Saunders’ music. This preoccupation with ‘timbre’ has not tradition-
ally been associated with English composers, and therefore it is believed that this
influence originated from the musique concrète instrumentale of Helmut Lachenmann,
as well as the time Saunders spent studying with Wolfgang Rihm (1991–1994). The
exploration of timbral possibilities forms an integral part of her extensive pre-compo-
sitional process, as Saunders believes:

[e]ach work requires a thorough investigation of the palettes of sound available in

each specific instrumentation and how they can be fused together and worked
against each other, i.e. [she finds herself] starting very much at ‘the beginning’
each time, scraping together tiny moments of colour and gesture before the actual
composing process can take place. (Ellward, 2008)

Therefore, where possible, Saunders works closely with the musicians in order to
understand the sounding potentials of the instruments, an influence that additionally
stems from Lachenmann who similarly explores the instrumental capabilities prior to
embarking on the compositional process. For this reason, he is also renowned for
working closely with the instrumentalists prior to composition.

Principal flautist Gaby Pas-Van Riet was one of his few admirers … .Delighted by
her determination, laughter and passion, [Helmut Lachenmann] spoke of writing
something for her one day. Ten years later, she received a phone call: the ‘something’
had become an enormous double concerto for flute and trombone, eight male voices
and orchestra. Before beginning rehearsals, Lachenmann invited Pas-Van Riet and
the trombonist Mike Svoboda to his home to demonstrate a few tricks on their
instruments. Characteristically, he bought himself his own trombone, and had
Svoboda give him lessons. (Steinz, 2005)

In an analysis of Gesungene Zeit (Time Chant) (1991–1992) Rihm equally details his
allegiance to exploring timbral possibilities of instruments as ‘to [him], instrumental
virtuosity is an enhancement of vocal abilities. On string instruments, in particular,
I love the drawn-out vocal timbre, the vibration of the flow of time’ (Rihm, 1992).
It was Rihm’s stylistic use of silence in Chiffre Cycle for 18 players that had a significant
impact on Saunders’ compositions, as within this cycle these silences illustrate
‘moments of prolonged resonance … [yet are] devoid of any melodic implication’
(Brown, 2016). The impact of such silences Saunders believes ‘can force the listener
to re-adjust their ears to zoom in on a new perspective of the sound world(s) in the
piece’ (Saunders, 2006). Creating new colours in a piece through the strategic use of
silence is at the core of both Stirrings Still (2007) and Vermilion (2003) as ‘from this
surface of apparent silence [Saunders tries] to draw out and mould sound and
colour’ (Ellward, 2008).
 Contemporary Music Review 7
Saunders’ music ‘is clearly concerned with the immediacy of sound, but the visual
correlations emphasised by the choice of titles, many of which make reference to
colour or colour processes, are striking’ (Saunders, 2006). Her preoccupation with
the colour red is reflected in Cinnabar (1999) for violin, trumpet, and ensemble; Ver-
milion (2003) for clarinet, electric guitar and cello; Crimson (2004) for two panos;
Miniata (2004) for accordion, piano, choir, and orchestra; Rubricare (2005) for
strings and organ. The consideration of ‘light’ and ‘dark’ shades of colour form a the-
matic link, not only between the titles of Saunders’ compositions, but also the internal
manipulation of sound within her music.

Colour as Light and Dark

It is the many manifestations of ‘light’ and ‘dark’ that can also affect what hue, tint, tone,
and shade of a particular ‘colour’ is perceived in painting. As Joseph Marioni observes,
‘light’ and ‘dark’ can have a huge impact on how something is perceived: ‘as the light
source changes, the colour shifts’ (Gage, 2006, p. 208). Consequently, there have been
a number of concepts and terms that have been developed to capture these essences
in painting that could encourage more informative discussions of ‘colour’ in music.
‘Light’ and ‘dark’ are in no way foreign concepts to musical discussions and have, in
the past, been used to describe the expressive aspects of musical structure. For
example, ‘in Mozart’s Dissonance Quartet’, (Kivy, 1993) ‘says the relationship
between the dark anguished character in the introduction … and light, sunny character
of the allegro that follows, creates an effect of strong, expressive resolution’ (Juslin &
Slobada, 2011, p. 61). Similarly, musicologist Gregory Karl and philosopher Jennifer
Robinson described Shostakovitch’s Tenth Symphony as ‘a progression from dark to
light or a struggle to victory’ (Karl & Robinson, 1997, p. 166). However, the concepts
of ‘light’ and ‘dark’ have been most frequently used to describe certain ‘textures’ in a
piece of music. A ‘light texture’, for example, is most often used to describe a ‘texture’
that is ‘thin’ in its instrumental content and high in pitch. In contrast, a ‘dark texture’ is
frequently used to describe a large number of instruments playing lower in pitch. This
kind of analysis has been called ‘gravitational synaesthesia’ and the alternate effects of
these ‘textures’ have rarely been pursued on any additional level (Galeyev, 1993,
p. 76).5 In musical discourse, references to these aspects have largely tended toward
the generic.6
However, in painting, there is a considerable amount of terminology to describe the
contrasts and interaction between ‘light’ and ‘dark’ which would be particularly rel-
evant to discussions of Rebecca Saunders’ music, particularly her solo compositions
such as Blauww (2004) for solo double bell trumpet and Shadow (2013) for solo
piano. While these compositions ‘reiterate the same intension, [within these pieces,
Saunders] tries to approach the same essence of exploring changes of focus, and
changes of light cast, and shadow, background or canvas, also “close-ups” seeking
the grain of the material’ (Saunders, 2006). The need to address these timbral
nuances in Saunders’ work was emphasised at the commencement of this article
8 E. McMullan-Glossop
and ‘a challenge the style analyst music meet’ (White, 1994, p. 241). Nonetheless, how
can we elaborate further on those aspects of ‘colour’ to discuss the musical experience
of Saunders’ compositions?
Since ‘light’ and ‘dark’ have received detailed consideration in visual art, closer examin-
ation within this framework can more accurately contribute to how we think about these
aspects in discussions of ‘colour’ in music. However, to support and enhance their rel-
evance in musical discussion, I have adapted a means of categorisation similar to that
found at the conclusion of Simon Waters’ interdisciplinary discussion in Living Without
Boundaries. In this publication, Waters divides his ‘Keywords’ into the following categories.

Basic Concepts;
Strategies of Contextualization;
Strategies of Connection;
Strategies of Reduction;
Strategies of Expansion.7

The terms are segregated by this categorisation process, yet it is assumed the reader will
make inferences across these divides. Moreover, ‘it will become rapidly evident that
these distinctions are artificial, but the sections may prove useful as a means of naviga-
tion’ (Waters, 1994, p. 4). A summary these terms may be seen below in Table 1.8
The terminology suggested in the table above will assist in creating a more accessible
way of discussing the music of Rebecca Saunders through metaphorical connections
with painting. Theories on the relevance of metaphorical language and its place in
musical discussion have emerged since the middle of the twentieth century, particu-
larly in the areas of musicology (Kerman, 1985), ethnomusicology (Feld, 1981,
1982) music theory (Saslaw, 1996) and cognitive science (Zbikowski, 1998). Similar
to Waters, I believe ‘our only access to creative practice other than through the activity
itself is through metaphors’ (Waters, p. 74). Additionally, Morton Feldman believes

Table 1 A Summary of Terms and Strategies to Assist ‘Colour’ Analysis in Music.

Basic Concepts Colour as Light and Dark
Timbre
Strategies of Contextualisation Complimentaries
Chiaroscuro
Push and Pull
Strategies of Connection Gradation
Simple/Reverse /Active
Strategies of Reduction Blending
Sfumato
Shading
Shadow
Strategies of Expansion Crescendo
Swell
Shimmering
Shattering
 Contemporary Music Review 9
that metaphor brings ‘clarity’, as it facilitates different ways of explaining ‘in order to
be clear’ (Feldman, 2000, p. 195). However, there have been two underlying issues with
such approaches, to date, one of which is how this metaphorical language connects
with what Zbikowski calls ‘musical facts’. The second issue was identified by Naomi
Cumming who believes that the problem in fact lies with the limited range of language
available for such an approach (Cumming, 1994, 2000, pp. 49–51). Nevertheless, this
current method aims to go some distance towards addressing both of these concerns,
as if you disregard the role of metaphors ‘you cease to describe the experience of music’
which is central to this discussion (Scruton, 1997, p. 92).

Basic Concept
The ‘basic concepts’ are the fundamental constituents of musical perception from
which additional analytical terms have been generated.9 By establishing this concept
firmly, the related terms that form part of the strategies that follow will have a ration-
ale. To illuminate the significance of ‘colour’ in music, its parameters have to be
extended beyond ‘colour’ classification. In order to eradicate any confusion in its appli-
cation, I have consequently defined ‘colour’ as a fundamental entity in the composition
and analysis of music; it is usually found in plurality and influences what is audible as
‘figure’ or ‘ground’.10 ‘Light’ and ‘dark’ are the colouristic attributes that contribute
significantly to the ‘colour action’ that was described by Albers. This includes the pro-
gression from one to the other through ‘gradation’, which is the addition and subtrac-
tion of ‘light’ and ‘dark’, and ‘blending’, both perfectly and imperfectly. The
distributions of ‘light’ and ‘dark’ may also be found dispersed throughout a piece of
music to emphasise certain musical aspects and detract from others.
I also include ‘timbre’ within this ‘basic concept’ category, as ‘timbre’ is an element
which plays a vital role in how sounds are identified, therefore to eradicate it from
musical discussion in general would be impractical. ‘Timbre’ was previously defined
as ‘a term describing the tonal quality of a sound (Sadie et al., 2001, p. 478).
However, Jean-Claude Risset’s definition, found in ‘Timbre et Synthèse des Sons’, is
more favourable, as he believes ‘the notion of timbre implies fusion; it corresponds
to the sound quality of an ensemble of components integrated in an auditive entity
which is assignable to a single source, whether real or virtual’ (Risset, 1991, p. 257).
The aim of defining what is understood by these ‘basic concepts’ at this point is to
enhance the accessibility of the ‘colour’ concepts and musical examples that are out-
lined in the strategies that follow.

Strategies of Contextualisation
The context in which a sound is found predominantly affects how it is perceived, or how
it integrates into the perception of the work as a whole; how something is perceived is
dependent on what is heard before and after. Therefore, the following terms retain
their relevance only when considering the environment in which the sound is heard.
10 E. McMullan-Glossop
Complimentaries
Since the early seventeenth century, artists have explored the many effects that can be
created by exploiting these attributes of ‘colour’. The impressioniste-luministe, Georges
Seurat (1859–1891), was a protagonist in the utilisation of ‘light’ and ‘dark’ which led
to the formation of his own language called ‘Chromoluminarism’. Seurat’s preoccupa-
tion with these aspects was emphasised in a note taken by him from Michel-Eugène
Chevreul’s book De la loi du contraste simultane des colouers et de l’assortiment des
objets colorés.11 This publication addressed the effects created by the use of complimen-
tary colours: ‘to put a dark colour near a different but lighter colour is to heighten the
tone of the first and to lower that of the second, independently of the modification
resulting from the mixture of complimentaries’ (Gage, 2006, p. 55). Correspondingly,
in music, whether a ‘colour’ is perceived as ‘light’ or ‘dark’ is context-dependent, on
what precedes and follows it.
The use of such complimentaries is evident in the opening moments of Rebecca
Saunders’ Quartet for Accordion, Clarinet, Double Bass and Piano (1998). In the
opening seconds of this piece, the listener is immediately presented with an
‘explosion-like’ sound from the slam of the piano lid and a forte ‘thick continuous
chromatic-cluster glisssando’ played by the accordion which is ‘dark’ in ‘colour’ (Saun-
ders, 1998, General Notes). This initial ‘darkness’ is followed by the sparse brightness
of the upper accordion notes as the glissando ‘[thins] out to [a] given arrival tone’
(Saunders, 1998, General Notes). This initial ‘explosion’ shatters, and its fragments
disperse into these opening seconds. While the upper notes of the accordion are
fortississimo, the ‘darkness’ of the opening ‘timbre’ dominates. This darkness is then
followed by a surprisingly ‘light’ sound from the C sharp and D of the double bass;
these moments behaving just as complimentary colours would in a painting, the
‘darkness’ of the opening moments lowers the impact of the ‘lightness’ of double
bass (Figure 1).

Chiaroscuro
Chiaroscuro comes from the Italian word chiaro meaning ‘bright’ or ‘clear’, and oscuro,
the for ‘dark’ or ‘obscure’ (Soanes & Stevenson, 2006, p. 298). The term has most often
been used to describe ‘light’ and ‘dark’ when they are strongly contrasted in a painting.
When chiaroscuro is used, there is a particular pattern to its overall distribution. This
element was first used by the aforementioned fourth-century Greek artists Appollo-
dorus (B. C.) and Zeuxis who developed techniques of chiaroscuro. As Gage states,
‘these techniques put a premium on the contrast of light and shade, and we shall
see that this continued to be a major—if not the major—preoccupation until
modern times’ (2006, p. 18). Charles Blanc dedicated an entire chapter to chiaroscuro
in his book Grammaire wherein he ‘concluded that colouring in painting is nothing but
a more nuanced light and shade’ (Gage, 2006, p. 18). This is exemplified in a series of
22 mezzotints produced by David Lucas under the supervision of John Constable.
 Contemporary Music Review 11

Figure 1 Rebecca Saunders, Quartet for Accordion, Clarinet, Double Bass and Piano (1998)
bars 1–9, courtesy of Edition Peters.
12 E. McMullan-Glossop

Figure 2 from English Landscape Scenery, ed. H.G. Bohn, Old Sarum (second plate), 1855,
John Constable (1776–1837) / David Lucas (1802–1881). ©Tate, London 2017.

Collectively known as English Landscape, these paintings explore scenery through the
dramatic contrasts of ‘light’ and ‘dark’ of which Old Sarum (1830) is such an example
(Figure 2).12
Chiaroscuro has gained in importance as a compositional consideration in the work
of composers such as Feldman, Druckman, Henriksen, and Corigliano along with
many others.13 For example, Morton Feldman explored the contrasts of ‘light’ and
‘dark’ in Coptic Light (1985), as did Jacob Druckman in Chiaroscuro (1977). Even
so, the term has received limited usage in musicology even though its properties
could significantly aid analytical discussions of works that overtly and inovertly manip-
ulate patterns of ‘light’ and ‘dark’.
Rebecca Saunders’ music is rich in exploring these contrasting patterns of ‘light’ and
‘dark’. This is more than apparent at the conclusion of the aforementioned Quartet. At
bars 248–296 the music becomes almost frenetic at times with ‘dark’ sforzando stabs
from the piano answered by ascending octave jumps in the clarinet. These are then mir-
rored by sustained clusters from the accordion and interjections from the double bass.
These moments of freneticism are juxtaposed with Saunders’ characteristic silences and
‘lighter’ sounds from the piano and accordion from bar 266 through to 275. The sus-
tained double bass from bar 276 creates a ‘shading’ of sound until the music returns
to a feverish intense cacophony. This then gives way to a decrease in sounding material
which concludes with a pianississimo duet by the bass and clarinets, bringing both ‘light-
ness’ and a sense of tranquility as the sound dissipates (Figure 3).
 Contemporary Music Review 13

Figure 3 (a). Rebecca Saunders, Quartet for Accordion, Clarinet, Double Bass and Piano (1998)
bars 248–259, courtesy of Edition Peters. (b). Rebecca Saunders, Quartet for Accordion, Clar-
inet, Double Bass and Piano (1998) bars 260–271, courtesy of Edition Peters. (c). Rebecca
Saunders, Quartet for Accordion, Clarinet, Double Bass and Piano (1998) bars 272–283, cour-
tesy of Edition Peters. (d). Rebecca Saunders, Quartet for Accordion, Clarinet, Double Bass and
Piano (1998) bars 284–295, courtesy of Edition Peters. (e). Rebecca Saunders, Quartet for
Accordion, Clarinet, Double Bass and Piano (1998) bars 296–298, courtesy of Edition Peters.
14 E. McMullan-Glossop

Figure 3 Continued.
 Contemporary Music Review 15

Figure 3 Continued.
16 E. McMullan-Glossop

Figure 3 Continued.
 Contemporary Music Review 17

Figure 3 Continued.

Push and Pull Effect

When ‘light’ and ‘dark’ elements are dramatically contrasted, they have the
ability to emphasise certain aspects of a painting, detracting attention away from
other parts.
This is what Hans Hoffman called the ‘push and pull effect’.14 He believes there is an
interdependence of ‘colour, form and space’ in painting and dramatic contrasts in one
of these will be consequential on the others. Audible extremes of ‘light’ and ‘dark’ will
similarly have significant consequences on the perceived structural aspects of a piece of
music. In addition, these extremes often enhance the movement in the music, while
also augmenting the tensional aspects. This is conducive to what Hofmann’s ‘push
and pull effect’ which is a

visual sensation created by the mind either through the experience of tensions in
nature or through the creation of tensions on the pictorial surface […] a vivid
tension controlled and force-impelled sensation of suggested movement ‘in and
out’ of depth is created without [destroying] the two- dimensionality of the
picture surface. (Fiedel, Dickey, & Hofmann, 1998, p. 90)

The creation of such tension brings with it the converged temporality detailed by
Adorno previously.
18 E. McMullan-Glossop
A similar ‘push and pull effect’ can result when our attention is drawn to a par-
ticular aspect of a piece of music only to be diverted from others as a result of dra-
matic contrasts in musical content. In fact, ‘more than simply conjuring shades out
of sound, [Saunders] seems concerned to direct our attention towards the proper-
ties of the surfaces from which light is refracted’ (Adlington, 1999, p. 52). An
example of such an occurrence is found in Vermilion (2003), a work composed
for an instrumental trio consisting of electric guitar, cello, and clarinet. Like
many of Saunders’ compositions, it was inspired by the writings of Samuel
Beckett, particularly his use of reduced language and the emphasis he placed on
silence.15 Throughout this piece, Saunders aims to examine sound in silence by
exploring:

what are its inner qualities, what are its weight and body, how does it relate to past
and future sounds, how does it frame musical gestures, and what function does it
have between stasis and position? (Struck-Schloen, 2008, pp. 16–17)

The discontinuity of these silences is evident from the beginning of the work with
the first silence arriving at bar 7. The frequency at which these silences occur is
illustrated in the table below. These are juxtaposed with diverse musical contrasts
(Table 2).
However, one of the most pertinent examples arrives at bars 219–221 when
there is an unexpected dramatic subito fortissimo octave descent by the clarinet.
The effect is amplified, as it immediately follows the pianissimo section from
bars 216–218 and the silence that precedes it. Therefore, our attention to the for-
tissimo section is quicky diverted away to the softer section that follows and once
again to the emptiness of the silent section, hence creating this ‘push and pull’
effect (Figure 4).
This ‘push-and-pull’ effect is also created within Blauuw (2004), a solo for double
bell trumpet. While a piece composed for a solo instrument, Saunders successfully

Table 2 Sections of silence as heard in Rebecca Saunders’ Vermilion (2003).

Bar 7 (10 beats in 3/4 time)
Bar 15 (8 ½ beats in 7/8 time)
Bar 25 (7 beats in 3/4 time)
Bar 32 (8 beats in 5/8 time)
Bar 49 (4 ½ beats 7/8 time)
Bar 71 (5 ½ beats 4/4 time)
Bar 87 (5 beats 3/4 time)
Bar 104 (3 beats in 5/8 time)
Bar 114 (6 ½ beats in 3/4 time)
Bar 141 (9 beats in 3/4 time)
Bar 148 (9 beats in 4/4 time)
Bar 197 (2 ½ beats in 5/8 time)
Bar 218 (5 ½ beats in 7/8 time)
Bar 227 (5 ½ beats in 3/4 time)
 Contemporary Music Review 19

Figure 4 Rebecca Saunders, Vermilion (2003) bars 216–221, courtesy of Edition Peters.

creates the effect with dramatic juxtapositions of ‘colour’.16 One of the most effective
moments is created in the opening bars of the second section. As seen in Figure 5, the
sixth bar of this section concludes with a diminuendo on E that is followed by three
and a half bars of silence. This is then dramatically juxtaposed with fortississimo rhyth-
mic figure an octave below. As seen in the previous section, such juxtapositions of dra-
matically contrasted material creates this tensional pushing towards and away from
musical material. This work, therefore, exemplifies the words of Goethe included by
Saunders in her introductory notes, ‘we love to contemplate blue, not because it
advances to us, but because it draws us after it’ (Goethe, 2012, p. 171).

Strategies of Connection
The field of composition is in a constant state of flux, each era, genre, and subgenre
bringing with it an eclectic mix of new and rejuvenated approaches emphasising par-
ticular stylistic aspects. Changing perspectives on how temporality is created within a
piece of music has led composers to consider how phrases or musical moments are
connected. For example, the symphonic compositions of Beethoven, like many of
his contemporaries, were concerned predominantly with the horizontal progression
of a composition, with the realisation of structural form and design being achieved
by the unfolding of each phrase in succession.17 However, there has been an increase
in the number of compositions, particularly from the early twentieth century, that
seems static, and therefore putting emphasis on the vertical aspects of a piece of
music as well as the horizontal.18 Often there is no set pattern, no hierarchical strategy,
20 E. McMullan-Glossop

Figure 5 Rebecca Saunders, Blaauw (2004) opening bars of section two, courtesy of Edition
Peters.

but, there are certain elements that act as connectors within the aforementioned ‘basic
concepts’. This is similar to what Gilles Deleuze who, with Guattari in A Thousand Pla-
teaus, spoke of the ‘rhizome’ or ‘rhizomatic formations’. By ‘rhizome’, he is referring to
how connections can be made between things without typically coming from a tree-
like structure, without a root—a lack of genealogy. The concept of the ‘rhizome’:

draws from its etymological meaning where ‘rhizo’ means combining form and the
biological term rhizome describes a form of plant that can extend itself through its
underground horizontal tuber-like root system and develop new plant. (Colman,
2005, p. 231)19

In a similar way, the music of Rebecca Saunders unfolds through time by making con-
nections horizontally or vertically in a seemingly unconventional but creative manner.
This kind of strategy can accommodate ‘even the holes, silences, ruptures and breaks
[that] are a part of contemporary music’ (Deleuze & Guattari, 1987, p. 106). It has
been ‘gradation’, and its many manifestations, that have proven to be most relevant
in viewing the connections in Saunders’ compositions.

Gradation
In certain contexts, there may not be a distinct difference between ‘light’ and ‘dark’ in a
painting. Instead, there may be a gradual progression from one to the other: this steady
 Contemporary Music Review 21
movement is called ‘gradation’. Joseph Albers recognised the importance of ‘gradation
studies’ in black-and-white photographs, as these ‘consist of grey shades of the finest
gradations between the poles of black and white’ (Albers, 1971, p. 12). Albers proposed
the development of grey steps, grey scales, and grey ladders to help the observer ident-
ify these progressions between ‘lighter’ and ‘darker shades’. ‘Gradation’ may therefore
be defined as a ‘minute change from one shade, tone, or colour to another’ (Soanes &
Stevenson, 2006).
In music, these ‘gradations’ from ‘light’ to ‘dark’ can be more obvious, as there is
often a gradual increase in the number of instruments, a lowering of pitch,
accompanied by dynamic markings. I have identified three specific kinds of ‘gradation’
to include simple/reverse/active gradations.
This device is used significantly in the music of Rebecca Saunders, as her ‘com-
positions focus the ear on minute gradations of timbre and intonation, and turn her
performers into Zen masters of attention and focus’ (Service, 2012). An optimal
example of a ‘simple gradation’ is found in the opening section of Blaauw (see
Figure 6). The fourth system commences with a progression from a forte on F to
a fortississimo on G flat, whose sound dissipates through the two and a half bars
rest that follow. This ‘light’ airy quality demarcates the beginning of the ‘gradation’
that commences with double stopping, alternating from intervals of a perfect fourth
to minor thirds. These sustained notes are accompanied by an initial pianissimo
sempre that leads to a crescendo on the second minor third that is intensified by
the ‘yu yu’ performance direction. The mezzo piano dynamic that follows is
immediately juxtaposed with a subito piano with the previous effect cancelled.
The change to 3/4 time emphasises the additions of ‘darker’ material, accompanied
by an additional change to subito mezzo piano and again to subito pianississimo. The
ear is not only drawn to the horizontal progression of these grey colours, but also
the vertical harmonics that are increasingly inviting these ‘darker’ tones. However,
this section of ‘gradation’ does not resolve to total ‘darkness’, but reflects the
minute manifestations that Albers was referring to previously.
In contrast, ‘reverse gradation’, as the term implies, creates the opposite effect to the
previously examined ‘gradation’ and depicts the gradual progression from ‘dark’ to
‘light’. A notable example of this is also seen in the initial moments of Blauuw. Sub-
sequent to the climactic fortissimo D that appears in bar three, there are two diminuen-
dos, first to piano and then to silence. This progression to ‘light’ is amplified by the use
of fluttertongue (flz) technique which seems to intensify the diminuendo that then pro-
gressively dissolves the sound into the characteristic tensional silences of Saunders’
music. Considering this, it makes the citation from Kandinsky that precedes the
opening bars of the score even more apt (Figure 6):

as it deepens towards black … (blue) becomes like an infinite self-absorption which

has, and can have, no end. The brighter it becomes, the more it loses its sound, until
it turns into the silent stillness and becomes white. (Wassily Kandinsky’s on the
spiritual in art found in Gage, 1999, p. 192)
22 E. McMullan-Glossop

Figure 6 Rebecca Saunders, Blaauw (2004) opening bars, courtesy of Edition Peters.

The ‘reverse gradation’ found in Vemillion comes dramatically at the end of the piece,
which, up to this point, is quite frenetic at times. However, from 247 to 252 there is a pro-
longed section that concludes the piece with a ‘light’ airy colour in a serene manner. The
electric guitar is playing low textured chords which is in stark contrast to the scratchy high-
pitched triplet interjections above. Intensified by a pianississimo dynamic, the dramatic
contrast in pitch exposes the ‘darker’ colours in the chords to these insertions of ‘light’
from the upper motif. While initially accompanied by the clarinet and cello with sustained
notes, they fade out through a diminuendo intensifying this slow movement from ‘dark’ to
‘light’ (Figure 7).
An ‘active gradation’, as the name suggests, is the prompt oscillation between
materials injecting a rapid and almost frenetic movement. ‘Active gradations’ are
a prominent feature in the Quartet for Clarinet, Accordion, Piano and Double
Bass, particularly at bars 24–26. Here there is a change of ‘colour’ instigated by
the piano that is now dampened with the performers right hand inside the instru-
ment. The ploding chords invite the higher semi-tone clash of E natural and F on
the accordion, such contrast in pitch intensifying the colouristic differences. The
clarinet adds additional brightness with a triplet figure on F sharp that is soon fol-
lowed by the high-pitched clusters in the piano and accordion. Therefore, the initial
‘darkness’ in the piano is diluted through this ‘active gradation’ to bring brighter
shades of sound (Figure 8).
 Contemporary Music Review 23

Figure 7 Rebecca Saunders, Vermilion (2003) bars 247–252, courtesy of Edition Peters.

Strategies of Reduction
Musical material can be manipulated in diverse ways to evoke a reduction in perceived
musical material to which alterations in ‘colour’ can contribute. This is supported by
Waters, who believes:

a basic principle of much art makins is that 1 + 1 = 3, which I mean only that any
two objects (sounds, lines, movements, words, images) placed together in a given
context will interact with each other, producing an effect which is additional to
the objects themselves. (Waters, p. 5)

The following approaches not only account for the ways in which this diminution of
material is achieved, but also the effect that is generated as a result.20 Depending on the
context, these strategies can be conceived as generating a kind of ‘distortion’.

Blending
Joseph Albers has also considered the way ‘light’ and ‘dark’ have had an effect on how
one perceives ‘background’ and ‘foreground’. He found that ‘light colors on light
grounds and dark colors on dark grounds prove that the light of a ground subtracts
in the same way that its hue does’ (Albers, 1971, p. 20). To support how this is discussed
in painting, Albers thus introduced the terms ‘additive’ and ‘subtractive’ mixtures. The
terms themselves refer to the addition or subtraction of ‘light’ from ‘colour’. Therefore,

when a pigment or paint is mixed on a palette or in a container it is seen by the eye as

reflected light […] the more color that is mixed, the more the mixture approaches a
dark grey leaning toward black […] this we call subtractive mixture. (Albers, 1971,
p. 28)
24 E. McMullan-Glossop

Figure 8 Rebecca Saunders, Quartet for Clarinet, Accordion, Piano and Double Bass (2003)
bars 20–28, courtesy of Edition Peters.
 Contemporary Music Review 25
A ‘light texture’ in music refers to a small sounding body, playing at a high pitch
with a transparency of sound, whether forte or piano. The manner in which the per-
ceived ‘background’ can either enhance or reduce the impact of the ‘foreground’ is
by the subtraction or addition of these ‘light’ components. In the same way, the
addition of musical material can increase or decrease the impact of the perceived
‘light’ and ‘dark’ in a composition.
An ‘audible mixture’ can result when ‘light’ and ‘dark’ are mixed together: such a
mixture can create ‘blending’, both perfectly and imperfectly. The ‘blending’ of
sounds can occur in many instances where the sounds themselves become amalga-
mated. In this, ‘the dependent parts give up, to some degree, the properties that
they had as individuals’ (Bregman, 1994, p. 474). Therefore, a reduction in audible
‘colour’ results; this instigates a change in the quality of the ‘texture’. An example of
‘blending’ may be heard in the concluding moments Vermilion. Up to this point,
each of the instruments is exploring a number of contrasting ‘colours’ through the
use of extended techniques. However, at bar 246 the cello now plays without vibrato
and the clarinet is instructed to play without fluttertongue (flz) through a crescendo.
This is immediately followed by a pianississimo dynamic allowing their individual
sounds melt into the guitar’s open strings (Figure 9).

Sfumato
A further result of ‘blending’ is sfumato. Sfumato is derived from the Italian word
sfumare meaning ‘to tone down’ or to ‘evaporate like smoke’. It refers to the fine
shading that produces soft, imperceptible transitions between colours and tones
[…] without lines and borders’ (Editors of the Encyclopedia Britannica). Leonardo
da Vinci was one of the main exponents of this device and as he described, it
created an image that appeared ‘without lines or borders, in the manner of smoke’
(Soanes & Stevenson, 2006, p. 1619).
A comparable element can occur in music, but the absence of a relevant vocabulary
has hindered its efficient recognition. In music, it can behave as a virtual ‘cloud of
sound’ without easily recognisable parts. Sfumato is a term that is most appropriate
when discussing the occurrences in Saunders’ music, particularly the effects created
by silence. These silences can be Cagean in their effect, as the sounds that have com-
pleted a previous part disperse into the prolonged sections. A seminal example exists in
the aforementioned quartet, specifically at bars 77–78 that precedes such a silence. The
piano is to be played ‘inside with the palm’ that causes the sound to linger for two bars
as it suspends in space without boundaries, indeed behaving as smoke (Saunders, 1998,
p. 8) (Figure 10).
Vermilion is also rich in sfumato because of the extended silences. The piece com-
mences with a clarinet with staggered entries by the cello and electric guitar in a
sudden ‘swell’ that is immediately followed by a decline. The instruments ‘blend’ to
almost uniformity and together create sfumato. The remnants of the electric guitar dis-
integrate gradually into the prolonged silence that follows (Figure 11).
26 E. McMullan-Glossop

Figure 9 Rebecca Saunders, Vermilion (2003) bars 236–246, courtesy of Edition Peters.

Shading
‘Shading’ can result when ‘colours’ are blended imperfectly emphasising the subtle
contrasts between ‘timbres’. Experimenting with ‘dark’ and ‘light’ has inevitably led
painters to simultaneously also explore ‘shading’. In 1528 Count Ludovico of
Canossa delivered a lecture on painting, ‘asserting that everything in painting must
depend on light and shade’ (Gage, 2006, p. 165).21 In a discussion of Rembrandt’s
landscape paintings, Ralph Nicholson Wornum stated ‘colour in itself is light, and
without shade would have but a flat, monotone effect in a picture. It is indeed only
by means of shade that real forms of objects are apparent’ (Wornum, 1864, p. 419).
 Contemporary Music Review 27

Figure 10 (a). Rebecca Saunders, Quartet for Accordion, Clarinet, Double Bass and Piano
(1998) bars 67–77, courtesy of Edition Peters. (b). Rebecca Saunders, Quartet for Accor-
dion, Clarinet, Double Bass and Piano (1998) bars 78–79, courtesy of Edition Peters.
28 E. McMullan-Glossop

Figure 10 Continued.

Saunders is constantly exploring, not only the ‘light’ and ‘dark’ contrasts in her
music, but also the subtle variants in tone that she can achieve. For example, the
use of ‘shades’ and ‘shading’ are important elements in Ire (2012), a concertino for
cello, strings and percussion, particularly the ‘final section [which] is fragile and deli-
cate without rubato or rit. Quasi-melodic exploring subtle shades of timbre’ (Saunders,
2012, General Notes). This is evident at bars 108–184 in the Quartet for clarinet, accor-
dion, piano and double bass. Here the piano repeats these quasi-melodic motifs which
are above the ‘texture’, while the other instruments create the subtle ‘shades’ of sound.
For example, the flautando on cello that appears at bars 111–112, the ‘echo’ that
appears in the bass clarinet at bars 119–121 and the ‘very dark’ pianississimo chords
in the accordion at 161 all contribute to this ‘shading’ of colour (Figure 12).

Shadow
Extremes of ‘shade’ can, in turn, result in the creation of a ‘shadow’ that is caused by the
reduction of ‘light’ and the use of ‘shading’. Aristotle emphasised the significance of ‘shade’
in the creation of a ‘shadow’, as ‘all things appear black when a small amount of light is
reflected. The failing light produces shadows’ (Jarman, 1993, p. 25). As stated by
 Contemporary Music Review 29

Figure 11 Rebecca Saunders, Vermilion (2003) bars 1–17, courtesy of Edition Peters.

Pallasmaa, ‘deep shadows and darkness are essential, because they dim the sharpness of
vision, make depth and distance ambiguous, and invited unconscious peripheral vision
and tactile fantasy’(Pallasmaa, 2008, p. 46). The significance of ‘shadow’ in music is
twofold. A ‘shadow’ in music can similarly be audible as a result of extreme ‘shading’,
30 E. McMullan-Glossop

Figure 12 (a). Rebecca Saunders, Quartet for Accordion, Clarinet, Double Bass and Piano
(1998) bars 101–115, courtesy of Edition Peters. (b). Rebecca Saunders, Quartet for Accor-
dion, Clarinet, Double Bass and Piano (1998) bars 116–130, courtesy of Edition Peters. 12
(c). Rebecca Saunders, Quartet for Accordion, Clarinet, Double Bass and Piano (1998) bars
131–143, courtesy of Edition Peters.
 Contemporary Music Review 31

Figure 12 Continued.
32 E. McMullan-Glossop

Figure 12 Continued.
 Contemporary Music Review 33

Figure 13 Rebecca Saunders, Shadow, Study for Solo Piano (2013) bars 125–132, courtesy
of Edition Peters.

but it primarily refers to a kind of imitation that can be either generated melodically,
rhythmically or stylistically. Saunders believes that ‘shadow is the seat of creativity’,
which is reflected in her piece for solo piano, Shadow (2013) (Saunders, 2013, General
Notes).22 This piece is saturated with exciting bursts of fortissimo sections of material ‘sha-
dowing’ each other, often in a playful and almost eliptical manner.23 However, section
eight is one of the most pertinent parts of this work where this ‘failing light’ becomes
most evident. Intensified by the ‘slow’ tempo heading accompanied by the ‘expressive
and melodious’ performance instruction, there is a dramatic change in ‘texture’ with a
single dotted crotchet D sounding alone. This is then juxtaposed with a sforzando
‘darker’ chord cluster containing this D that amplifies this ‘shadowing’ effect. This is sub-
sequently followed by ‘lighter’ material that is responded to by a poco forte chord. The
phrase then concludes with a ‘light’ single D flat minim (Figure 13).
Interestingly, Saunders extends this idea further by recognising an ‘acoustic shadow’
which occurs when ‘sound waves encounter a very dense structure: through the con-
sequential absence of echoes, nearly all of the sound is reflected’ (Saunders, 2013,
General Notes). This is evident at bar 109 where the ‘texture’ becomes very dense
with material emphasised by the ‘furious’ performance instruction that leads to a for-
tissimo dynamic. There is no echo but the sound is directed outwards creating this
acoustic shadow (Figure 14).

Strategies of Expansion
The ‘texture’ of a piece of music can be manipulated through an expansion or augmen-
tation of its sounding components. This expansion can be perceived as an increase in
musical content even if there is no real addition of material to the ‘texture’. This
audible illusion can be created by the diverse ways in which colour movement is incor-
porated into a piece of music.

Swell
When a sound gets gradually louder through a steady crescendo, the listener can
not only perceive an increase in volume, but also an expansion in ‘colour’.
When a musical idea becomes stretched over a longer period of time, it inevitably
amplifies its importance, often deceiving the listener into perceiving an increase in
34 E. McMullan-Glossop

Figure 14 Rebecca Saunders, Shadow, Study for Solo Piano (2013) bars 106–125, courtesy
of Edition Peters.

colouristic content. Similarly, this can result in the perception of a ‘swell’ as it dis-
tends through time. In addition, ‘swelling’ can also involve the perceived expansion
in musical material through ‘simple gradations’. The ‘swells’ as they appear in
much of Saunders’ work can be very dramatic, as often they are shortlived. The
opening of Vermilion is such an example. As seen in Figure 11, an ‘erratic’
sound from the cello enters at bar 8, which settles into a dramatic ‘swell’ only
to quickly recede once again. This expansion of material is also owed to the altera-
tion from the flautando non vibrato to the sudden use of vibrato expressivo, hence
an increase of perceived material even though the A natural remains. The use of
glissandi can also create this effect, as is found in the Quartet at bars 65–66 in
the piano. In bar 65, the piano has a soft rhythmic figure which, as it progresses,
increases in dynamic to forte. The ‘swell’ of the glissando is heightened by the dis-
torted D found in the piano part and the very wide bellows motion in the accor-
dion (Figure 15).

Shimmering and Shattering

‘Shimmering’ is the result of imperfect ‘blending’ and, similar to the aforementioned
‘swell’, it can be a device used for augmenting musical ‘colour’. When sounds do not
blend completely, and hence do not create a cohesive new sounding body, a quick
 Contemporary Music Review 35

Figure 15 Rebecca Saunders, Quartet for Accordion, Clarinet, Double Bass and Piano (1998)
bars 58–66, courtesy of Edition Peters.
36 E. McMullan-Glossop
alteration between these differing sounds results. This is what Ogden Rood has ident-
ified as ‘lustre’ in a painting, which can occur when

the colours are blended, though somewhat imperfectly, so that the surface seems to
flicker or glimmer—an effect that no doubt arises from a faint perception from time
to time of its constituents. This communicates a soft and peculiar brilliancy to the
surface and gives a certain appearance of transparency; we see into it and below it.
(Gage, 2006, p. 56)

The ‘flickering’ or ‘glimmer’ (related to ‘shimmering’) refers also to the oscillations

that can occur in the movement between pitches, if present, or just within the
‘sound’ itself. One of the stylistic qualities in Saunders’ extended techniques is the
exploration of the ‘colours’ created through vibrato. This may not seem particularly
unusual, but in her compositions she specifies both when to use and when not to
use this technique in order to intensify the effect she wants to create. This is most
evident in Blaauw where at the start of section 3, Saunders instructs the trumpeter
to play vibrato expressivo on a sustained F. The effect generated is one of ‘shimmering’
which is heightened by the immediate instruction of non vibrato expressivo on G flat.
However, this is followed by the direction for both bells of the trumpet to play a tremelo
with the fluttertongue (flz) technique. Therefore, the ‘shimmering’ of each segment is
intensified by the non vibrato that separates the two sections (Figure 16).

Figure 16 Rebecca Saunders, Blaauw (2004) opening bars of section three, courtesy of
Edition Peters.
 Contemporary Music Review 37
‘Shattering’ can also occur and augment the perceived amount of material, as was
seen in the opening bars of the Quartet in Figure 1. Here the slam of the piano followed
by an ‘explosion’ of sound from the accordion and double bass created a ‘shattering’
effect. The sounds of the after-affect disburse the material, sending fragments outwards
and hence augmenting the perceived material. The impact of this ‘shattering’ is
enhanced by the double bass that ‘uses the bow freely as necessary to sustain intensity’
and the thick chromatic-chord glissandi that ascends to the D (Saunders, 1998, Score
Notes).

Conclusion
Rebecca Saunders brings new and exciting sensuous colours from acoustic instruments
by extending their auditory capabilities. ‘Colour’ emanates from Saunders’ compo-
sitions, both within pre-compositional and compositional stages. Therefore, to eradi-
cate considerations of these colouristic aspects would be to ignore the essential facets of
these works. Finding a vocabulary that can address the ‘colour action’ in her work
seems invaluable to discussing, not only her compositional approach, but also the
musical experience of listening to her music that is so rich in timbral contrasts.
However, ‘if we want to describe the surface of a musical composition we run into
some difficulty. This is where analogies from painting might help us’ (Feldman,
2000, p. 86). It would be frivolous to imply that both artforms are synonymous
without any differentiation ‘as established by nature the eye is always the eye, the
ear an ear—at the same time it must not refuse, in the rage for identity, to recognise
its Other’ (Adorno & Gillespie, p. 59). Yet the formation of a comprehensive lexicon,
from visual art, can be counter-productive if it cannot be translated into a vocabulary
fit for use in analytical discourse more generally.
In the context of this article, the avoidance of hierarchical structures ensures that
flexibility is to be a vital feature: ‘by putting the “wild beast” in a cage, all we preserve
is a specimen whose life we can control’ (Elkins, 1998, p. 89). Consequently, the adap-
tation of Simon Waters’ categorisation system has been an efficient way of organising
this extensive terminology. This classification is not intended to encourage a structur-
alised approach to ‘colour’ analysis; on the contrary, it acts merely as a way of present-
ing the language in a more manageable, and hence, accessible manner. Nevertheless, it
has never been the intention to produce a definitive terminology with which to discuss
this diverse and ever-expanding concept. The terminology is intended to act only as a
framework on which to build and develop additional strategies of colouristic consider-
ation, as to reiterate Barthes, ‘a text’s unity lies not in its origin but in its destination’
(Barthes, 1977, p. 148).

Notes
[1] In ‘Considerations Preliminary to the Formation of a Textural Vocabulary’, Anne Trenkamp
addresses the way in which existing musical terminology has been segregated into both
38 E. McMullan-Glossop
‘primary elements’ and ‘secondary elements’. The former category includes ‘melody’,
‘rhythm’, and ‘harmony’, while the latter category contains those terms that are usually con-
sidered to be of lesser importance, specifically ‘timbre’ and ‘texture’ (Trenkamp, 1980, p. 13).
[2] Since the early eighteenth century, there has been an interest in the creation of ‘colour scales’.
That is to say, a scale in which each note corresponds to a particular ‘colour’. Newton’s ‘colour
wheel’ was the first of these paradigms to emerge in 1704. Based on the Dorian mode,
Newton’s ‘colour wheel’ encouraged others to explore this correlation between ‘pitch’ and
‘colour’, an influence that would extend to Steve Zieverink’s colour scales created in 2004
(Brougher, Strick, Wiseman, & Zilczer, 2000, p. 46).
[3] An example of such disparity in the use of ‘colour language’ is found in Derek Jarman’s
Chroma. In a chapter, entitled ‘The Perils of Yellow’, Jarman describes how ‘[t]his morning
[he] met a friend on the corner of Oxford Street. He was wearing a beautiful yellow coat
… He had bought it in Tokyo and he said that it was sold to him as green’ (Jarman, 1993,
p. 94). Correspondingly, in ‘Purple Passage’, Jarman shows the contrasting perceptions of col-
ouristic terms once again, as ‘[i]n Japan if you’re purple you’re purple with envy, not green.
But purple is also an expression for being gay, the blue of men and the red of women combine
to make queer purple’ (Jarman, 1993, p. 131).
[4] These are an adaptation of Chomsky and Halle’s ‘distinctive theory’, as found in The Sound
Pattern of English (1968).
[5] Refer to Galeyev (1993).
[6] The general application of these terms to texture receives detailed discussion in a chapter
entitled ‘Thick or Clear’ in Colour and space: Linguistic lacunae in analytical language for
musical texture (McMullan-Glossop, 2011, pp. 7–47).
[7] However, ‘strategies of expansion’, which was not included by Waters, has been added in this
case, as a result of its significant role in the perception of ‘colour’.
[8] This approach forms part of a bigger strategy entitled ‘The Bag of Tricks’ that was employed by
the author in Colour and space: Linguistic lacunae in analytical language for musical texture, to
address ‘texture’ and ‘textural manipulation’ in contemporay music (McMullan-Glossop,
2011, pp. 332–333).
[9] These terms, to date, have not been considered seriously as fundamental constituents in music
analysis. However, within the context of this article, the author believes these terms to be para-
mount in discussing the music of Rebecca Saunders and her contemporaries.
[10] In an article entitled ‘On Figure and Texture in Aesthetic Perception’, Howard Gardner dis-
covers how the work of Edgar Rubin, an experimental psychologist, explored the importance
of the ‘figure’ in ‘colour’. His works encouraged further research on this topic in related dis-
ciplines, specifically in ‘auditory stimulation’ by Werner, Strauss, and later by Forgus
(Gardner, 1972, pp. 40–59)
[11] This publication was translated by Charles Martel in The principles of harmony and contrast of
colours and their applications to the arts (Martel, 1885).
[12] David Lucas was inspired by the work and teachings of John Constable who believed French
painting in the nineteenth century emphasised how to exploit chiaroscuro in nature.
[13] Morton Feldman based his composition Coptic Light (1985) on chiaroscuro by exploring the
idea of an orchestral pedal. Jacob Druckman entitled his orchestral work Chiaroscuro
(1977) in which the ‘light’ and ‘shade’ aspects are explored through the use of instrumental
‘colour’. The freestyle jazz experimentalist, Arve Henriksen, released an album dedicated to
the technique Chiaroscuro (2004). John Corigliano, similarly, composed a work entitled Chiar-
oscuro (1997) in which he explores the contrasts of ‘light’ and ‘dark’ between two pianos tuned
a quarter tone apart.
[14] The ‘push and pull effect’ featured in The Painter and His Problems—A Manual Dedicated to
Painting, (Hofmann, 1963).
 Contemporary Music Review 39
[15] This is exemplified by a quotation from Beckett’s Company which precedes the score, depict-
ing the relationship between sound and silence: ‘by the voice of a faint light is shed./ Dark
lightens while it sounds./ Deepens when it ebbs./ Is whole again when it ceases’ (Samuel
Beckett, Company, 2012).
[16] Blaauw comes from the Dutch word blauw meaning blue.
[17] This realisation of structure through the horizontal progression of a piece of music over time is
particularly releveant in the case of sonata form. For example, its structure is reliant on the first
subject being connected by a bridge section to its second subject, exposition to development
and then to recapitulation.
[18] This focus on the vertical realistion of a piece of music was also to be found as early as the
eleventh and twelfth centuries in the three and four-voiced organa of Léonin and Pérotin.
This focus on verticality also formed part of Stockhausen’s ‘moment form’ while also a pro-
minent feature of Brian Eno’s ambient music.
[19] In botany, rhizomatic formations are found in the growth patterns of root ginger, bamboo,
and Western poison oak.
[20] A perceived reduction in musical material is not to be confused with the extrapolation of
certain phrases from a work for analytical purposes, as that proposed in Schenkerian or
Fortean analysis. In this particular instance, there is a perceived reduction in material
through intentional manipulation or through performance, which results in the music exhi-
biting characteristics of ‘shrinkage’ or ‘elision’ for example.
[21] This is found in one of the earliest discussions of the relationships between painting, sculpture
and poetry. It was published in Baldassare Castiglione’s Book of the Courtier (1958) which
includes a eulogy of painting by Count Ludovico of Canossa (Gage, 2006, p. 165).
[22] Rebecca Saunders includes this citation from C.J. Jung’s Psychology of the Shadow from 1938 in
the general notes that precedes the music of Shadow. Saunders also includes a definition of
umbra which is ‘the darkest part of a shadow’ (Saunders, Shadow, 2013).
[23] As seen in figure 1, this is evident in the opening section of the Quartet, as short echoes from
the clarinet are heard in the texture. This instruction is clarified by the composer in the expla-
natory notes where she defines an ‘echo’ as a ‘shadow-like’ tone, very quiet and dark klangfarbe
(Saunders, 1998, Explanatory Notes).

Acknowledgements
I would like to thank the Department of Music, University College Cork, where this research took
place. I would also like to also extend my gratitude to my husband Adrian and my children Joe,
Sam, Rosie-May, and Arhie, for their support and patience during this research project.

Disclosure Statement
No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author.

Notes on Contributor
Eva McMullan-Glossop is a musicologist with interests in contemporary music and the collaborative
arts, music theory and analysis, music education, medieval secular song of the ars nova and ars sub-
tilior, music in the early years, as well as choral arranging. Renowned for her enthusiastic presenta-
tions, Eva currently lectures on undergraduate programmes that illustrate her expertise in
contemporary music and interdisciplinary studies, as well as music theory courses. Eva lectures
extensively on continuing education programmes for UCC and is the conductor of the University
College Cork Choir.
40 E. McMullan-Glossop
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