At Summer’s End
The seasons turn—sometimes with a quiet sadness, sometimes with a cruelty so sharp it aches.
Nothing lasts forever. No matter how much we wish to linger in a moment, time moves forward. The scenery shifts, and so do our hearts.
The sky is just as blue, the heat just as relentless, and yet—it is no longer summer. There is a crispness in the air, the unmistakable scent of autumn.
Indeed, summer is over. And soon, that long winter will begin again.
I know, of course, that winter too will pass, and that another summer will follow.
And yet, why does this moment fill me with such a deep sense of longing?
Perhaps because the summer to come will not be a continuation of this one.
A full year will have passed, and I will be living in a time far beyond this present moment.
This fleeting "now" exists only once.
“Live in the moment, with all your heart.”
The changing of the seasons gently reminds us of this fundamental truth of life.
Recently, WASO’s 2025 season opened.
This marks the first season since Perth Concert Hall closed for renovations, and with it, the first subscription concert held at Winthrop Hall at UWA.
Everything feels unfamiliar. A season filled with uncertainty has begun.
I have been with WASO for fifteen years now. I am no longer a newcomer or yet a veteran, but still, the habits and routines I have built over more than a decade, ones that have become almost automatic, must now be reexamined, restructured.
Even changes I never wished for must be met with flexibility.
This year will test not only the resilience of the orchestra as an institution but also the strength and adaptability of each of us as individuals.
And in such a season opening, we played Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5.
For me, this choice of repertoire felt like a test, a challenge.
I have played this piece over and over again—
In different countries, with different orchestras, at different stages of my life.
The notes are the same. The music is the same.
And yet, that sameness only makes the passage of time all the more tangible.
I find myself holding this music up like a mirror—
Reflecting on my present self, my thoughts, my emotions.
This is where the universality, the essence of classical music truly shines.
What is the value of classical music?
It is this—it becomes a place to return to, a home for the soul.
Nothing in life is permanent.
But perhaps that is why we are drawn to music’s timelessness, why it holds such deep meaning.
This is what I want to teach the next generation.
As I played Beethoven’s Fifth—so familiar that I could almost play it from memory—I found myself lost in these thoughts.
My next project is the complete cycle of Brahms’ violin sonatas.
And what does Brahms’ music tell me?
That the heart must be filled with love.
The things we love.
The people we love.
The passions we cherish.
Even if no one understands.
Even if it changes nothing in the world.
Even if it is entirely one-sided.
Brahms embraces all of it—
The warmth of human connection, the fire of devotion, the frustration of words left unsaid, the weight of a wounded heart.
Perfection is not what matters.
There is no single "right answer."
Even if things don’t quite add up, even if they don’t make sense—
"You can still stay here."
That is what his music seems to whisper.
I have played the first and second sonatas countless times.
The third will be new to me.
Each of these pieces holds a special place in my life, shaping different chapters of my journey.
As summer fades, I want to approach them with devotion—
Warming my heart as I step into his music, letting it unfold slowly, deeply.
Akiko Miyazawa