International Photographers Association of Los Angeles 洛杉磯國際攝影家協會

黃甦老師是我們攝影沙龍的發起人之一，他一直很忙，沒能上網和我們交流。以下是他的原話：

“我十分感激這麽多網路英雄為我們沙龍之網添瓦增輝，爲了對各位藝友表達由衷的謝意，在此榮幸結識各位，倍感珍貴，獻上25年前的一首作品以表謝意。不悅耳之処還望包涵，此曲時至今日方得正名。”

http://photosalonla.org/media/lost_style.mp3

CD cover。

YI FENG (Lost Style) (1983)
Frank Su Huang, cello
Recorded at the Shanghai Recording Studio, Shanghai, China, in 1983
Sun De-xiang - Producer
Tang Hai-yang - Recording engineer

WRONG, WRONG, WRONG! (2006)
Margaret Leng Tan, voice, self-accompanied by a toy orchestra
Tom Lazarus - Engineer
Recorded at Classic Sound, New York, August 10, 2006

FOUR STUDIES OF PEKING OPERA- (2003) for piano quintet
The Shanghai Quartet
Kathryn Woodard, piano
Recorded on April 4 & 5, 2006 in the Frymire Auditorium at the
Annenberg Presidential Conference Center, Texas A&M University

Ge Gan-ru

Ge Gan-ru, described in the New Grove Dictionary as “China’s first avant-garde composer,” is often regarded as one of the most original composers of his generation. Following his critically acclaimed orchestral CD Chinese Rhapsody in 2005 (BIS Records), the chamber works on this CD are further examples of his immediately identifiable individualism and unique sound.

Ge Gan-ru’s life is the product of momentous circumstances. Born in Shanghai in 1954, he studied violin when he was very young but never intended to become a musician. In 1966, when he was 11 years old, the Cultural Revolution broke out. As all schools were closed, he spent most of his time practicing violin at home. Western music was strictly forbidden, so he had to practice on a muted violin with windows closed and sealed. At 17, he was sent to a labor camp to receive so-called “re-education” where unexpectedly he met and became a pupil of one of the best violin teachers in China who was also forced into hard labor at the camp. After a year of planting rice in the fields, Mr. Ge was summoned to play violin in an ensemble, entertaining fellow workers every night. “It was an odd ensemble”, he recalls, “with a mixture of Western and Chinese instruments. We were only allowed to play revolutionary music.” However, Mr. Ge showed a great interest in arranging music for the ensemble in spite of a lack of training in music theory. That was his first experience in anything close to composing. When Mr. Ge was 20, the Shanghai Conservatory of Music reopened and he was admitted as a violin student. In the next three years while he was studying violin, he had an increasing urge to be a composer. He eventually transferred to the Composition Department where he studied for another four years. His principle teacher was Chen Gang whom he values as a life-long mentor. In 1980, he also studied with the British composer Alexander Goehr who was the first composer from the West to be officially invited to China after the Cultural Revolution. In 1981, after graduation, Mr. Ge was appointed assistant professor of composition at the Shanghai Conservatory of Music. By the late 1970s and early 1980s, Mr. Ge was already known in China as the first composer to employ contemporary and avant-garde techniques, which were prohibited at the time. His experiments caused him trouble politically. He was criticized for his individualism, which was directly at odds with the prevailing ideology. In 1980-1981, David Gilbert, assistant conductor of the New York Philharmonic, visited China and brought Mr. Ge’s music back to the U.S. which landed in the hands of Chou Wenchung, a pioneer composer who creates Western music with a Chinese sensibility and who was at the time the vice dean of the School of Fine Arts at Columbia University. In 1983, Prof. Chou invited Mr. Ge to study with him and Mario Davidovsky at Columbia University where he eventually obtained his doctoral degree in composition.

Mr. Ge has been living in the New York area since 1983.

Yi Feng (Lost Style)
By Kathryn Woodard

With his piece for solo cello, Yi Feng, composed in 1983, Ge Gan-ru positioned himself at a unique and influential crossroads in the music of China. Translated as “Lost Style,” the title implies the quest to regain what was lost during the Cultural Revolution, a period from 1966 to 1976 when only state-sanctioned music was supported and artists of both Chinese and Western traditions, including Ge Gan-ru, were persecuted and sent to labor camps, and schools were closed. Following the death of Mao Zedong in 1976, which brought an end to the Cultural Revolution, artists began to trace over paths that—even in the remarkably short period of ten years in the context of Chinese musical history—had been all but obliterated by cultural policies. Ge Gan-ru’s conscious search for lost elements of Chinese music places him firmly in the realm of “root-searchers,” a term often used to describe literary trends in post-Revolution China as writers sought to reestablish ties with the past. However, whereas “root-searchers” is used to designate a specific trend in literature that is separate from the avant-garde movement of a younger generation in the mid-1980s, Ge Gan-ru’s music explores his Chinese roots within an avant-garde musical language as early as 1982. Yi Feng is said to be the first work to be composed in an avant-garde style in China.

When cellist Frank Su Huang requested a new piece from Ge Gan-ru, his music theory teacher at the Shanghai Conservatory, the composer was fully aware of historical practices of Western composition, which had been adopted in China throughout the twentieth century, and he could have followed any number of stylistic trajectories in a new piece for cello. However, in the spirit of renewing Chinese cultural and intellectual life during the time, he took the opportunity to explore intersections between Chinese musical elements and new playing techniques that would broaden the potential for Western instruments. He describes his compositional approach with the following:
“I felt an uncompromising gap between the twelve-tone music, which I was experimenting with, and my root music. I found that the way… elements were represented in Western and Chinese music was fundamentally different. For instance, in Western music, the pitch relationship is paramount. But in Chinese music what is important is the particular pitch and its microtonal and timbral characters. In Yi Feng the cello is tuned in fourths an octave lower than normal for the purpose of setting a new frequency of sound. Because of the loosened strings, the part behind the bridge can be fully utilized. The strings are bowed and plucked in many unconventional ways and the body is struck in different parts to produce timbres simulating Chinese percussive instruments.”

Ge Gan-ru’s experimentalism not only aligns him with composers of the American avant-garde such as John Cage and Harry Partch, but also melds the seemingly opposed worlds of Chinese and Western music through the practice of sound mimesis, simply defined as the representing of one sound by another, which in turn creates intentional relationships within and between acoustic, social, and spiritual realms. More complex than the simple act of imitating, mimesis involves multiple levels of interpretive meaning, such as those found in Ge Gan-ru’s music. On an acoustic level, he uses one instrument to represent the sound of others as a way to intersect Chinese and Western sound worlds and in the process create a new soundscape that goes beyond either identity. On a social level Yi Feng represents a remarkable statement of individualism both for the performer and for the composer at a time when artists in China were just beginning to embrace past traditions but not yet willing to venture into the experimental realm. In fact, the cellist, Frank Su Huang, offered considerable input during the compositional process and contributed to the piece’s individualistic voice. By composing for a soloist in such an experimental way, Ge Gan-ru breaks away from the power of collective identity and the strong expectation for collaboration in the arts. This proved to be a profoundly alienating act for him, and because of his staunch individualism the piece met with substantial criticism and controversy after its premiere. However, additional layers of social and sonic representation exist in the work and tie it to older Chinese musical practices. With his solo cello piece Ge Gan-ru establishes ties to the older and much revered practices of solo performance on instruments such as the pipa and especially the qin, which in earlier periods of Chinese Imperial history was considered an integral part of any cultivated person’s education. Even the so-called “experimental” techniques on the cello can be understood as references to the playing styles of these instruments that foreground timbral aspects of sound, such as attacks on the strings and body of the cello and shifting tone colors—the “lost style” of the title. The result of all these factors—to my ears at least—is the equivalent of “heavy metal” cello. As another style that emphasizes timbral elements, heavy metal ironically also provides a comparative model and context for sonic references to alienation, and even violence, that I find inherent in the work’s soundscape.

In spite of the controversy surrounding Yi Feng—or perhaps because of it—Ge Ganru sought out opportunities to further his “root-searching” avant-garde style and was led eventually to study composition at Columbia University with Chou Wen-Chung who had initiated cultural exchanges with China following the Cultural Revolution. Ge Gan-ru has remained a resident of the U.S. since arriving in 1983—with his first return trip to Shanghai only in 2004—and in the past two decades he has continued to embrace aspects of his Chinese musical heritage while exploring new representations of traditional sound worlds.

Wrong, Wrong, Wrong!
By Margaret Leng Tan

When I first met Ge Gan-ru in 1985 and heard his Yi Feng, I immediately asked him to
write for me. Just as Ge’s cello composition made totally novel and radical demands on
the instrument and its player, I wanted a work that would highlight the piano’s identity in
Chinese nomenclature as a steel qin (steel zither). The result was Gu Yue (Ancient Music),
a paradoxically original creation inspired by traditional Chinese instrumental sonorities,
yet realized through a most untraditional approach to that most archetypal of Western
instruments – the piano.1 Shortly after, Ge was to write me another major work, this time an
unusual piano concerto called Wu (Rising to the Heights), commissioned by the Pittsburgh
New Music Ensemble in 1986.2

Two decades later Ge has come up with yet another one-of-a-kind gem: Wrong,
Wrong, Wrong!, a Peking opera-inspired melodrama for voice self-accompanied by a toy
orchestra.

In March 2006 Ge had come across Wrong, Wrong, Wrong!, a heartfelt poem by the
illustrious Song dynasty poet Lu You (1125-1210). Ge knew then and there that he had the
makings of a melodrama in hand. Lu You’s renowned poem was written spontaneously on
a wall of the Sun garden in 1155 following a chance encounter with Tang Wan, his cousin
and former wife whom Lu You was made to divorce on the decree of his tyrannical mother.
Their deep love for each other persisted undiminished through the years; she wasted away
from a broken heart while he, in his autumnal years, composed poems lamenting his loss
and affirming his abiding love.

Wrong! is an example of the Song dynasty’s poetic tz’u form and in accordance with
tz’u convention, it gives voice to the woman’s perspective. The poem speaks of her sorrow
while clearly reflecting the anguish of the poet himself. (The “malevolent East Wind” in the

first stanza is but a caustic metaphor for the hateful matriarch!)
One of the most fulfilling aspects of this latest collaboration with Ge Gan-ru is his
willingness to allow me an active role in the creative process. Over the past decade my
preoccupation with the toy piano’s potential as a “real” instrument also led me to explore
other toy instruments, all in keeping with Marcel Duchamp’s comment that “poor tools
require better skills”. I sifted through my considerable arsenal of toy instruments and made
suggestions. In the end Ge settled on the toy piano, a toy table harp (which he could treat
as a toy qin), toy glockenspiel, and a percussion battery consisting of two claves, three cup
gongs, one beaded gourd rattle, a pitched plastic hammer and a smiley-face bead-rattle
drum. The hammer and the drum each cost one dollar in Manhattan’s Chinatown as did the
plastic flute and a paper accordion endowed with a two-note compass – the humblest of
instruments indeed! Electronic frog and cricket boxes and an old-fashioned water warbler
completed the ensemble. With this panoply of seventeen instruments, Wrong, Wrong,
Wrong! qualifies as the most ambitious endeavor within my toy piano/toy instrumental
repertory, train whistles and bicycle bells notwithstanding!

Then there was the challenge of using my voice which Gan-ru had first encountered in
my rendition of George Crumb’s Makrokosmos 1 and 11. I think he was struck by my unbridled
dramatic utterances and the fact that I could vocalize so comfortably in a man’s register,
no less. Given the limitations and idiosyncrasies of my untrained voice, Gan-ru allowed
me free rein as only I knew what I could or could not do. The way it has turned out, the
vocal element of Wrong is, to a greater or lesser degree, extemporized as I alternate freely
between my head voice and chest voice, assuming both female and male roles respectively.
Stylistically I have tried to capture something of the nasal timbre and melismatic flights of
fancy so characteristic of the woman’s singing as well as the peculiar guttural texture of
the declamatory male voice. I do not claim authenticity. It is merely my own personal take
on the Chinese operatic tradition.

When Gan-ru broached the idea of a Peking opera-style melodrama with the
formidable task of handling both vocal and instrumental responsibilities simultaneously, I
was not only game but realized I had come full circle: as a child growing up in Singapore,
we would regularly attend Chinese opera productions that lasted all afternoon at my
father’s clan association. For an aspiring pianist already steeped in Mozart and Beethoven
it was a jarring contrast. From my present vantage point, however, I can boldly claim that
Sprechstimme3 was part and parcel of the Chinese operatic tradition centuries before
Arnold Schoenberg introduced the technique to Western ears through his Pierrot Lunaire
of 1912!

With Wrong, Wrong, Wrong!, as in his earlier Gu Yue and Wu, Ge Gan-ru has once
again succeeded in fashioning a singular work born of his ingrained Chinese sensibilities
yet oh so unfettered in its innovative audacity!

Four Studies of Peking Opera
By Kathryn Woodard

In Four Studies of Peking Opera Ge Gan-ru turns to the most established and well-known
form of musical drama in China for his inspiration. Composed for piano and string quartet,
the work was commissioned by the San Francisco Arts Council, dedicated to Charles
Amirkhanian, and premiered at the Other Minds Festival in 2003. Prior to the recording
in April 2006 revisions were made to the piece, most notably to heighten the role of the
piano within the ensemble. The four-movement form remained intact with each movement
presenting a different sonic and dramatic aspect of Peking Opera: 1) Prologue, 2) Aria,
3) Narrative, and 4) Clown Music.
Throughout the work the instruments of the quintet take on mimetic roles, as in Yi
Feng. The instrumental ensemble that accompanies Peking Opera figures as the sonic
model for the work with the prepared piano serving largely as the percussion section of
the ensemble, and the strings as the melody instruments, such as the jinghu, a two-stringed
bowed fiddle. However, Ge Gan-ru avoids strictly defined roles for each of the instruments
and uses the ensemble to explore unique sonic representations of Peking Opera drama.
Without the elaborate face painting, costumes, acrobatic stage action, and, indeed, without
the vocalists of Peking Opera, Ge Gan-ru nonetheless creates a stage drama by heightening
the interplay between the performers through musical and gestural dialogues. The extreme
movements required for the extended piano techniques, in particular, add a significant
gestural content to the performance.
In Four Studies, the textures, timbres, melodies and playing styles effectively evoke
the sonic environment and dramatic force of a stage production without the presence of
voices and language. One argument that supports the idea of the drama stemming from
instrumental sources can be found in theoretical writings. In his recent introductory volume
on Peking Opera, Xu Chengbei states, “In traditional opera theory, a good performance
is said to ‘depend on front stage (acting and singing) by 30 percent and on back stage
(music) by 70 percent.’” In addition, from my own experience attending two operas in
Beijing in 2005, I can attest that the amplification of the vocalists was so overwhelming
as to completely distort the sound of the voices (and possibly even the lyrics judging from
the surtitles provided in Chinese at one venue). One effect of the distortion was to draw
my attention away from the stage action and focus on the instrumentalists; another was
to observe the singers solely as action figures without connecting their overly mediatized,
and thus perceptually disembodied, voices to the rest of the production. Whether in direct
response to this dilemma or not, Ge Gan-ru has effectively enveloped the vocal style that so
defines Peking Opera within his chosen instrumental setting.
The first movement, “Prologue,” evokes a prominent feature of Peking Opera,
namely, the repetitive phrases that accompany intense stage action, such as martial arts
and acrobatics. Preparations in the piano create sounds reminiscent of gongs, cymbals
and woodblocks that are part of the percussion section in an opera ensemble called wu
chang. With slap pizzicati and wild, extended glissandi, the string instruments emerge as
both percussive elements and evocations of operatic vocal techniques.
In the second movement, “Aria,” a melody filled with intense longing is passed
among the string instruments creating an ever more complex texture with each statement
and combining techniques of counterpoint and heterophony, thereby intricately melding
Western and Chinese textures. Even within this interpretation of wen chang, the lyrical
instruments of an operatic ensemble, the piano offers otherworldly percussive gestures,
using a glass on the steel frame and strings, as accompaniment and punctuation to the aria
before stating the brief climactic passage for the movement.
As a tonal language, Chinese (Mandarin and other dialects) creates meanings in
words through the use of tones for each syllable. The result is a language that is essentially
always “sung,” or at least the boundary between singing and speaking is much blurrier than
in a language such as English. This effect is heard in narrative, spoken passages in Peking
Opera when the tonal aspects of spoken lines are exaggerated and highly stylized. Ge Ganru
uses such tonal inflections in the third movement, “Narrative,” but takes the idea further
to explore extended tonal and timbral techniques on each of the instruments.
The lively music of the fourth movement, “Clown Music,” draws its inspiration from
one of the four main character types in Peking Opera, which are sheng (male characters),
dan (female characters), jing (male roles with elaborately painted faces) and chou (clowns,
both male and female). In this upbeat finale, the humor and often treachery of such
characters is conveyed through simple, catchy tunes that build to intense climaxes only to
start over with a new instrument at the lead. One of the signature sounds of this movement
is that of “glass piano.” By strategically placing and sliding a glass on the strings of the
piano harmonics and glissandi create the main motives of the melody that are traded among
the string instruments.
In addition to creating a form of “music drama,” the piece explores a form of social
mimesis as in Yi Feng. In contrast to the individualism of that piece, the process of revising
Four Studies called for extensive collaboration, both between the composer and myself
as we retooled preparations and extended techniques and together with The Shanghai
Quartet whose interpretive artistry informed and defined the possibilities for intersecting
chamber ensemble with Peking Opera. Whereas the individualism of Yi Feng was necessary
to embrace “lost” sounds and to reject the power of the collective, the collaborative efforts
of Four Studies reflect processes inherent in revitalizing traditions of stage performance.
Xu Chengbei laments the current state of opera training: “New generations of actors and
actresses tend to imitate predecessors rather than innovate. Development of schools
in Peking Opera performing art has largely come to an end.” Ge Gan-ru in turn provides
an innovative interpretation of what it means to “study” Peking Opera and offers a new
perspective on a traditional performance genre. The result is a sound world that is at once
experimental and traditional, futuristic and nostalgic.

FRANK SU HUANG

Frank Su Huang, a multi-talented and passionate performer, was born in Shanghai in 1955.
The son of two musicians, he started learning music as a small child and graduated from the
Shanghai Conservatory of Music in 1983. After serving as principle cellist at the Shanghai
National Ballet Theater, he became a soloist, playing both classical and contemporary
music. In 1986, he was invited by the Michigan State University as a visiting artist. He also
studied at the University of Southern California in 1989.
Frank Su Huang has performed frequently in the U.S. and Asia. In 2002, he recorded
Dvorak’s cello concerto with the Shanghai Symphony Orchestra. In 2003, he premiered
several contemporary works by Chinese composers at the “Chinese Music Today Festival”
in Japan. That same year, he created the Frank Su Huang Chamber Music Composition
Contest for the 50th Anniversary of the Shanghai Conservatory of Music’s Attached Middle
School. In 2004, he premiered Ge Gan-ru’s Cello Concerto at the 21st Shanghai Spring Music
Festival. Mr. Huang is the founder of Shanghai Trio which tours between China and Japan.
Yi Feng (Lost Style) by Ge Gan-ru is China’s first avant-garde work. Mr. Huang’s premiere
and recording of it make him an important contributor to the development of China’s
contemporary music. Included here is the original, one-shot and unedited recording made
on April 28th, 1983 at the Shanghai Recording Studio.

MARGARET LENG TAN

Margaret Leng Tan has established herself as a major force within the American avantgarde;
a highly visible, talented and visionary pianist whose work sidesteps perceived
artificial boundaries within the usual concert experience. This has won Tan acceptance
far beyond the norm for performers of avant-garde music, as she is regularly featured at
international festivals, appeared on American Public Television and at Carnegie Hall and
Lincoln Center.
Tan’s performances embrace aspects of theater, choreography and performance tempered
with a disciplinary rigor inherited from her mentor John Cage with whom she enjoyed
an active collaboration that lasted from 1981 to his death in 1992. She is recognized as
one of the pre-eminent interpreters of Cage’s music partly through her early New Albion
recordings, Daughters of the Lonesome Isle and The Perilous Night/Four Walls, and more
recently on Mode Records.
Tan takes a lively interest in the musical potential of unconventional and unlikely instruments
and in 1997 her groundbreaking album, The Art of the Toy Piano on Point Music/Universal
Classics, elevated the lowly toy piano to the status of a bona fide instrument. Tan is certainly
the world’s first professional toy piano virtuoso. Since then her curiosity has extended to
other toy instruments culminating in Ge Gan-ru’s Wrong, Wrong,Wrong!
Tan favors music that confronts and defies the established boundaries of the piano and her
toy instruments, collaborating with like-minded composers to create works for her (Ge Ganru,
Cage, Michael Nyman, Tan Dun, Alvin Lucier, Julia Wolfe, Toby Twining). She is also a
favorite of composer George Crumb. Tan is the subject of a feature documentary by filmmaker
Evans Chan, Sorceress of the New Piano: The Artistry of Margaret Leng Tan, which has
been screened at numerous international film festivals including Vancouver, Melbourne and
AFI/Discovery Channel’s SILVERDOCS where it was a Best Music Documentary Nominee.
-Adapted from David N. Lewis’ biography of Ms. Tan, courtesy of All Music Guide

KATHRYN WOODARD

Pianist-scholar Kathryn Woodard specializes in repertoire that explores intersections
between cultures. Her performances and research have taken her to China, Korea, Turkey,
and the central Asian nation of Kyrgyzstan where she was the first pianist to perform the
music of Henry Cowell, John Cage and Frederic Rzewski. As an advocate for new music,
Woodard has curated and performed numerous innovative programs at venues across the
United States and has worked with composers Karlheinz Stockhausen, Yehudi Wyner, Harold
Blumenfeld, Ge Gan-ru, Huang Ruo, and Allen Otte of the Percussion Group Cincinnati. Her
research on the Turkish composer Ahmed Adnan Saygun led her to serve as a consultant
for Turkish music with the Silk Road Project, Inc., founded by Yo-Yo Ma. Woodard holds the
Doctor of Musical Arts degree from the University of Cincinnati College-Conservatory of
Music and an undergraduate degree from the Hochschule für Musik in Munich, Germany.
She is a native of Dallas, Texas, where she studied with Jo Boatright of the new music
ensemble, Voices of Change. She has taught at Hunter College and is currently assistant
professor of performance studies at Texas A&M University.

SHANGHAI QUARTET

Weigang Li, violin
Yi-Wen Jiang, violin
Honggang Li, viola
Nicholas Tzavaras, cello

“The whole performance was superb,” says The New York Times. Originally formed in
Shanghai 25 years ago, this versatile ensemble is known for their passionate musicality,
impressive technique, and multicultural innovations. The Shanghai Quartet’s elegant style
of melding the delicacy of Eastern music with the emotional breadth of Western repertoire
allows them to traverse the genres, from traditional Chinese folk music to cutting edge
contemporary classical works. To celebrate their 25th anniversary (2008-2009), the Quartet
will premiere commissions from the three continents that comprise their artistic and cultural
worlds: Chen Yi, Krzysztof Penderecki, and jazz pianist Dick Hyman.
The Quartet has performed on the world’s most prominent concert stages, and regularly
tours the great music centers of Europe, North and South America, and Asia. Recent
seasons have included tours of Japan, China, Australia, New Zealand, and Europe. The
Quartet has made regular appearances at Carnegie Hall both in chamber performance and
with orchestra, and in 2006 performed the world premiere of a Concerto for Quartet and
Orchestra by Takuma Itoh in Carnegie’s Isaac Stern Auditorium.
The Quartet has a long history of championing new music and juxtaposing Eastern and
Western sounds. In addition to their 25th Anniversary Commissions, the Quartet’s range of
commissions and premieres includes Works by Lowell Lieberman, Bright Sheng, and Zhou
Long, among others.
The Quartet has built an extensive discography that now totals over 20 recordings, on
multiple labels. The most recent include: the Mendelssohn Octet (Camerata), and Zhou
Long’s “Poems for Tang” Quartet and Orchestra (BIS). In 2003, the Quartet released its most
popular disc to date: a 24-track collection of Chinese folk songs, titled ChinaSong, featuring
music arranged by Yi-Wen Jiang that reflect on his childhood memories of the Chinese
Cultural Revolution. Their current projects include recording the complete Beethoven
string quartets (Camerata), beginning with the Opus 18 Quartets. The complete cycle is
scheduled for release over the next five years.
The Quartet has appeared in a diverse and interesting array of media projects. They
performed on the soundtrack recording (Bartok Quartet No. 4), as well as making a
cameo appearance on screen, for the Woody Allen film, “Melinda and Melinda.” They
have appeared on PBS’s Great Performances television series. Other on-screen film
accomplishments include an appearance by violinist Weigang Li in the documentary “From
Mao to Mozart: Isaac Stern in China,” and cellist Nick Tzavaras’ family was the subject of
the 1999 film “Music of the Heart,” which starred Meryl Streep.
The Quartet has a distinguished teaching record. They serve as the Ensemble-in-Residence
at Montclair State University. They also serve as visiting professors at the Shanghai
Conservatory and the Central Conservatory in China.

Hey, I know these two brothers, had dinner with Honggang's family at his NJ home once.

When I was a member of the Beethoven Society, we invited Shanghai Quartet to play in French Embassy here. I was totally mesmerized, what a treat!

Dear Ray,

I'm so glad you know Li's brother. They are my neighbor in Shanghai. Thanks again, and we hope to see you soon.

Yeah, what a small world, or I should say, a small music world!

Hopefully, I get a chance to see you and others in person.

Warm regards from Virginia.

黃甦老師拉的葛甘孺的遺風是音樂中的畢加索.