Playing Kottos is a lesson in humility. I have been working on this piece since 2014, and I have presented it in concerts all around the world. It is one of the pieces I played the most and it is definitely the one I spent the most time learning. And yet, every time I am invited to perform it, I am both very scared and very excited. Studying this work forces one to face the limits of their body. Numerous aspects of Xenakis’ writing are literally utopian: some tempos are physically impossible to achieve, some of the double stops (playing two notes at once in the cello) would require giant hands to be played as written. In several passages, the extreme dynamics are very hard to maintain for such extended periods of time. As performers, we then have to find solutions to stay as faithful as possible to a score that cannot be physically achieved as written. Not only is the piece extremely demanding on a technical level, but it is also physically and emotionally exhausting. The physical engagement and the energy that needs to be deployed to perform this work are tremendous. Throughout the whole piece, the cellist needs to generate and channel a huge energy discharge, while making sure not to overpass their limits, in order to be able to reach the end. A fragile equilibrium to maintain between intensity, trust, strength, and stamina.
Learning Kottos led me to develop a higher level of consciousness of my own body in the act of playing the cello. Therefore, at some point, it became a necessity for me to memorize the piece in order to get a deeper physical understanding of the work and find the raw and visceral energy that the music demands. Performing a work of this level of complexity, alone on stage and without the score, puts one in a position of intense vulnerability. Everything could fall apart during the performance and this is exactly what pumps the adrenaline needed to perform this work.