ABSTRACT
Composer Sofia Gubaidulina sits across from me in her hotel room in Stockholm. I ask questions in German and she answers in Russian. She understands me; I don’t understand hen But her body language is so strong that I can’t fail to grasp part of the content in her answer in spite of the language barriers. She does not hide her Tartar heritage and Russian upbringing—the sharp lines of her face and the excited verbal outbursts reveal all. Her music is, naturally, similarly revealing. She wears all her music and her culture in her facial expressions: unfathomable melancholy, religious dedication, ironic distance, threatening energy. The eyes can express holy piety and murderous fury in one and the same look.
