Bansa

While writing Bansa (반사), translating to "reflection" in Korean, I set out to accomplish two things: to explore the many forms of symmetry found in music, and to write a guitar virtuoso showpiece for a friend of mine.

Throughout my musical studies last year, I found symmetry, in its many representations, to be a pervasive theme in the greatest masterworks. Whether analyzing Bach’s The Wedge fugue for organ, delving into Messiaen’s Techniques of My Musical Language, or studying Bartók’s String Quartet No. 4, I noticed how symmetry—from concrete and motivic to abstract and formal—underpinned some of the most important works in the classical canon. In Bach’s The Wedge, symmetry is embedded within the fugue subject, constructed with intervals that successively pull away from a central pitch, forming a visual wedge-like shape in the score. In Messiaen’s Quatuor pour la fin du temps, non-retrogradable rhythms—rhythmic palindromes that sound identical forward and backward—create a sense of stasis and developmental ambiguity. Similarly, Bartók’s String Quartet No. 4 showcases formal symmetry through its arch-like structure, with the outer first and fifth movements, intermediary second and fourth movements, and the distinct yet tethered third movement forming a balanced whole.

At the same time, after combing through the guitar literature of Villa-Lobos and especially Takemitsu - so idiomatic and sensitive! - I was eager to write a showpiece for my guitarist friend. The challenge lay in synthesizing these ideas of symmetry into a single guitar work. Initially, I doubted it could be done, dismissing the task as too difficult.

But who was I kidding - of course I had to at least try. 

As I began, striving to create an architecture that could accommodate these three notions of symmetry, the process felt like assembling a musical jigsaw puzzle. For starters, I realized that non-retrogradable rhythms evoked a sense of stasis—a suspended, ethereal quality that suggested something dramatic might follow or had just passed. I used this to frame the climactic center of the piece, placing sections of non-retrogradable rhythms before and after the climax to create a pattern of tension and release. Further, inspired by Bartók’s arch-like form, this meant I must position the climax at the exact center of the piece, with symmetrical episodes surrounding it. The piece’s conception continued in this fresco-like construction process.

Another important element was ensuring the piece would begin and end with the same material in retrograde. I opened the piece with a questioning bell motif—a sound that would later reappear—and mirrored this at the conclusion, starting and ending on the same note, but in reverse, capturing the reflective affekt I desired.

And finally, the title Bansa ("reflection") not only alludes to literal musical symmetry but also to the emotional landscape I hoped to convey. This past year, from many personal challenges, I’ve learned the power of reflecting upon myself, of taking critical thought of my values and actions, and of learning about myself. Reflecting on my values and actions felt foreign at first, but it ultimately brought me a sense of optimism I never thought possible just months ago.

So, in essence, I hope Bansa stands as a reminder of the power of reflection—how it can serve the shape of the creation of music, but more importantly how it can influence you.