It is
forever suggesting water--fountains and pools, the glistening spray and
heaving bosom of the sea. Or, it shadows forth the formless breath of
the breeze, of the storm, of perfumes, or the play of sun and moon. His
orchestration invariably produces all that is cloudy and diaphanous in
each instrument. He makes music with flakes of light, with bright motes
of pigment. His palette glows with the sweet, limpid tints of a Monet or
a Pissaro or a Renoir. His orchestra sparkles with iridescent fires,
with divided tones, with delicate violets and argents and shades of
rose. The sound of the piano, usually but the ringing of flat colored
stones, at his touch becomes fluid, velvety and dense, takes on the
properties of satins and liqueurs. The pedal washes new tint after new
tint over the keyboard. "Reflets dans l'eau" has the quality of sheeny
blue satin, of cloud pictures tumbling in gliding water. Blue fades to
green and fades back again to blue in the middle section of "Homage a
Rameau." Bright, cold moonlight slips through "Et la lune descend sur le
temple que fut"; ruddy sparks glitter in "Mouvement" with its
Petruchka-like joy; the piano is liquid and luminous and aromatic in
"Cloches a travers les feuilles."
Yet there is no uncertainty, no mistiness in his form, as there is in
that of some of the other impressionists.
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