

![]()



Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend. Nativity, once in the main of light, Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd, Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight, And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow: And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand, Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
~ William Shakespeare, Sonnet 60 (1609)
STUDENT EDITORS: CARLA LEE, GRACE LIU, HANNAH LIM STAFF EDITOR: DR DANIEL FARDON

Dear readers,
It is our greatest pleasure to welcome you to the fourth issue of Waves! Every year, our magazine receives a diverse range of submissions showcasing the boundless creativity of our students and staff. This year’s edition is no different: Waves 2026 brings together the voices, ideas and originality that truly encapsulate life at Purcell, and the pages that follow are a celebration of our collective spirit.
Inside this year’s edition, you will be met by original canvases and photography, such as Skylar and My Sister Summer. Thought-provoking articles range from Year 7 writers in Poetry Corner to our Director of Music’s The Liszt Room Artwork. Ms Cox’s Unnatural History Notes returns for a second volume, along with artists' responses that explore Feminine Energy through Tamara Łempika and the intricacy of impressionism.
As students of Purcell, editing the 2026 edition has been a deeply inspiring experience, and we would like to thank all the students and staff who contributed their time, ideas and effort. Your enthusiasm and commitment have made Waves possible, and we are reminded of how extraordinary our community is.
A special thanks goes to Dr Daniel Fardon, who entrusted us with the opportunity to edit it. His creative vision and continued dedication is the foundation of Waves and we are able to celebrate the diverse talents of our school because of the platform he has provided.
Carla Lee, Grace Liu and Hannah Lim Student Editors
Franz Liszt (1811-1886), his daughter Cosima Wagner (1837-1930), and Clara Schumann (1819-1896) Reframed

There are three newly reframed pictures in the Liszt Room: an original Liszt manuscript from 1856, a letter hand-written by his daughter Cosima Wagner in 1865, and an 1888 print of Clara Schumann. The first two artefacts were donated to The Purcell School in the late 1990s as part of a collection that formerly belonged to the Liszt Society; both were in rather distressed frames and behind glass that did not protect the ink from sunlight. The latter was rediscovered recently in the basement of the school, a little battered in a broken frame, provenance unknown.
I have had them reframed professionally in order to present them all in a manner that matches their historical significance, and to preserve them better for the future. The process led me to rethink these major figures, and reconsider the implications of what now lies between the lines and behind the glass. It has caused me to reflect particularly on Liszt’s daughter Cosima Wagner, and the loveless childhood that perhaps goes a little way to explain what most people found to be a pretty terrible adult.
“A
Franz Liszt was a pianist and composer, about whom millions of words have been written, and thousands of whose notes are frequently heard being practised somewhere on a piano at The Purcell School. This manuscript is in ink on paper, and signed. I am grateful to the Liszt scholar Professor David Trippett at Christ’s College, Cambridge, for his guidance: “It is an early sketch for his symphonic poem Die Ideale (The Ideals) (1856-57), based on a rearrangement of Schiller’s poem of the same name, and composed for the unveiling of the Goethe and Schiller statue that still stands just outside the theatre of the Deutsches Nationaltheater in Weimar.”

Some of Liszt’s sketches for Die Ideale, displayed in the Liszt Room at The Purcell School.

showing a clear affinity with systems 3 and 4 of the sketch.

The third and fourth systems of the manuscript are clearly very close to the music at figure A of the final version, with the triplet arpeggiation of the sketch changed to duplet semiquavers.
Whilst the first two systems show material that is less easy to correlate with the finished work, it shows tertiary key relations (B/Eb), in an arpeggiation pattern often found in Liszt’s orchestration of the 1850s. There are two places in Die Ideale where different musical material modulates from B to Eb, at figure I and again in the apotheosis at figure Ee.
In the estimation of David Trippett, “This makes your manuscript a notable, early set of thoughts on a central work of Liszt’s time in Weimar. He dedicated it to his closest companion at the time, his long-term partner Princess Carolyne von Sayn-Wittgenstein.” More of her later.
“BOLD
The Goethe-Schiller Monument outside Weimar’s State Theatre. Liszt’s Die Ideale was written to be played at the unveiling of the statue in 1857.

An example in Die Ideale of an abrupt change of key from B major to Eb major, prefigured in the sketch. This facet of Liszt’s compositional style - “the bold harmonic turns, without any transition at all, of the two keys most distant from each other” – was cited with admiration by none other than Béla Bartók.
Franz Liszt was so famous in his lifetime that it is hard to imagine today. He was known for his exceptional pianistic virtuosity, modelled on Paganini; the enormous charisma of his performance and public persona; and a physical aura that today we would be more likely to find in a film star or a model. He invented the idea of both the piano recital and the masterclass, and he was exceptionally generous towards piano pupils and other composers, never charging for lessons, and often lending or giving money to colleagues. Inspired primarily by Beethoven, Berlioz and Chopin, he pioneered the development of programmatic music in general, and specifically the orchestral tone poem. The German philosopher Nietzsche was an ardent admirer and friend, but still teased him about how many women fell in love with him. It must have been difficult to be one of his children. Nietzsche wryly referred to two aspects of his personality in the phrase: “Liszt, die Schule der Verfeinerung – bei Frauen” (Liszt, the school of refinement – for women).
Cosima was the middle of Liszt’s three children with the prominent intellectual and writer Countess Marie d’Agoult. Their elopement from Paris in March 1835 caused a scandal since she was already married with two young daughters. Her first daughter with Liszt, Blandine, was born in Switzerland in December 1835. Cosima was born in 1837 in Como, Italy, during one of her father’s European concert tours. In 1839, while Liszt continued his travels, Marie gave birth to a son, Daniel, in Venice.
It is not hard to imagine any number of reasons that might have prompted Marie at this point to take the decision to return to Paris alone with her young daughters. It did not work out at all well: her influential mother, Madame de Flavigny, refused to acknowledge her new grandchildren; and Liszt’s solution was to remove the girls from Marie, and place them with his own mother, Anna Liszt, in her Paris home, while Daniel remained with nurses in Venice.
By 1841 Liszt and Marie were seeing little of each other, and in 1845 Liszt forbade contact between mother and daughters; Marie accused him with some justification of attempting to steal her children, while Liszt insisted that he alone could decide the children's future – he was after all rich, famous and male.
Though they were all living in the same city, Cosima and Blandine did not see their mother at all for five years, until 1850. Liszt’s new partner Princess Carolyne von Sayn-Wittgenstein (see above) had the most influence on Cosima’s upbringing, packing her off to governesses and boarding schools. The young girls were sent to Berlin to be educated, eventually to live with the von Bülow family. Their son Hans was a piano pupil of Clara Schumann’s father; he would soon become Liszt’s star pupil, then Cosima’s husband and eventually Wagner’s conductor, and the first performer of Tchaikovsky’s First Piano Concerto.

A caricature from 1864 of Wagner walking arm in arm with Cosima. Her husband, the conductor Hans von Bülow, is obliged to follow them, trying to carry all the scores of Tristan
“LISZT WAS SO FAMOUSIT MUST HAVE BEEN HARD TO BE HIS DAUGHTER”
Out of the blue, in 1853 Liszt walked back into his teenage children’s life after a complete absence of eight years, accompanied by Wagner and Berlioz, no less. Cosima could never have developed any emotional bond with either parent, and at the age of nineteen she married Hans von Bülow, who was twenty-seven. Their wedding took place just three weeks before the premiere of Liszt’s Die Ideale in Weimar, the sketch of which is described above.
Furthermore, both of Cosima’s siblings tragically died in quick succession, and she produced two daughters, named in their memory: Daniela (1860) and Blandine (1863). In a curiously exact echo of her own parents’ situation, she then fell deeply in love with Richard Wagner. He was almost as old as her father, and with her help he would become even more famous. An extraordinary period followed throughout 1865 (the date of our letter) in which Cosima lived in Munich with Wagner, and gave birth to the first of his three children, Isolde. She very insistently denied any impropriety, and named her Isolde von Bülow.
Fifty years earlier, Wagner’s own father had died soon after Richard’s birth. His mother remarried almost immediately, leading Richard to a life-long insecurity and uncertainty about his own paternity: it is perhaps unsurprising that so many of Wagner’s operas deal with illicit unions, hidden or fractured parentage, the tension between society’s expectations and personal desire; and a longing for redemption. Cosima provided unquestioning devotion to “the Master”, intellectual and administrative drive, and a literally undying commitment to the project to create a “New German Music”: she would live for another sixty-five years, by which time Wagner’s mythical life and work was being put to the service of the Third Reich, and many Wagner family members were enthusiastic Nazis.
Written in French, Cosima’s first language, and signed C de Bülow, this letter gives a little insight into the domestic, financial and secretarial work Cosima was doing for Wagner in Munich while nursing their
8-month-old baby Isolde, and maintaining the fiction of her marriage. It is a single sheet only slightly smaller than A4, folded in two, and written on three sides. The ink of the first page is darker than the back, which is presented as a digital scan, having faded over the years of being displayed through ordinary glass. It appears to have been folded in on itself with the address written on the fourth side, though this is indecipherable.





Wagner scholar John Deathridge wrote: “The most interesting thing about the Cosima letter for me is that she speaks of gifting a page of the Lohengrin score to Gasperini. I have done quite a bit of research on this piece, including a new critical edition of the score for Eulenberg, and an essay on the composition sketch. This latter was a document in separate numbered sheets that Wagner was in the habit of giving away to friends (and debtors!), a tradition continued by the Wagner family later. Irritating, to say the least, because this fascinating document has only partially survived for that reason.” This habit might also explain why there is a random page of Liszt’s sketches in our possession.
The photo displayed with the letter, labelled Cosima Wagner, is a replacement, cut later out of a musical encyclopaedia. John Deathridge identified this more specifically: “The photo of Cosima was taken on 24 May 1877 in London. It was part of a set taken by the firm Elliott & Fry of 55 Baker Street. You can see from the other photo shown that Cosima is wearing the same outfit and hairstyle. Wagner visited the Athenaeum Club for a dinner the night before the photos were taken. They still have the menu in the archive. Wagner had a keen interest in wine and champagne”. No wonder he looks a bit queasy here!
Incidentally, one can easily find pictures of other musicians’ calling cards made by Elliott & Fry of 55 Baker Street, including both Liszt and Clara Schumann. The address, round the corner from the Royal Academy of Music, is now a newly renovated 1950s office block, in between Soho Coffee and Fitness First.
This print of an etching is from 1888. The artist, attributed here as an unknown JMB, would have etched the portrait in reverse on a wax covered metal plate, before dipping it in acid to score the drawn image in the metal. The metal plate could then be covered in ink and a copy printed many times. One copy is in the Victoria and Albert Museum collection, and online you can find later examples coloured in aquatint. Clara Schumann was for a long time known primarily as the wife of Robert Schumann. However,

no matter how significant a figure he was, and no matter how much his life of struggle with mental illness was ameliorated by the mother of his eight children, this cliché undermines the major importance of her as an exceptional musician in her own right.
Portrait photos of Richard & Cosima Wagner taken in the studio of Elliott and Fry, on 24 May 1877, the morning after a heavy evening at the Athenaeum Club. Franz Liszt, Clara Schumann and many other musicians also had visiting cards made in the same studio.

Clara Schumann, an etching from 1888, the year of her last ever concert tour to London. She was 69 years old, she had borne eight children, and made the journey nineteen times, giving well over 300 concerts in England and Scotland. She was one of the most celebrated pianists ever.
The Belgian pianist Eliane Reyes spoke to me last year about her mentor and friend Martha Argerich. She has long revered Martha’s drive, and her ability in her eighties still to draw huge sold-out crowds to her many extraordinary concerts all over the world. “You know, there is only one artist like that in each century –Martha now, and Clara Schumann in the 19th”.
It is all the more remarkable that Clara sustained a performing career, given the sacrifices that Robert obliged her to make to support him. She was unable to practise while he was composing, as the noise disturbed him. Presumably it was quite a job to keep the children from disturbing him too. Her own composing was as prodigious as her playing when she was young; one of her best known works now, the Piano Concerto, was completed when she was fifteen. However, life as a woman in the 1840’s intervened, and she was unable to continue developing significantly as a composer. Only
She also played the music of Mendelssohn, who had conducted her debut as a concerto soloist, playing her own concerto in the Leipzig Gewandhaus in 1835, aged just sixteen. She visited England and Scotland nineteen times, playing in dozens of small towns, and most often in London, Manchester and Birmingham. Reviews of the 1860s in The Times and The Musical World praised her seriousness of programming in contrast to the paraphrases and showmanship of Liszt; and by the 1880s she was seen as a living legend, a breathing authority on the greatest German composers, all of whom she knew intimately:
“Her playing is remarkable for purity of style and intellectual precision, the work of the composer being rendered with a fidelity and refinement rarely surpassed.” “Madame Schumann is no mere virtuoso; she is an interpreter in the highest sense, revealing the intention of the composer with singular clearness





Painting in an Impressionist style, I explored the expressive power of shadow and movement. I used horizontal lines of varying lengths and thicknesses to suggest unevenness, depth and distortion, creating a surface that feels alive rather than still. My work draws inspiration from both Van Gogh and Claude Monet. From Gogh, I was interested in the energy and direction of the brushstrokes; from Monet, I took the idea of atmosphere, light and layered colour. Using acrylic paint, I built up the surface in layers, combining different brush marks and directions to create texture and intensity. Although rooted in Impressionism, I wanted the final image to feel slightly surreal, as if seeing a familiar scene transformed through memory and light.




f not for the beige velvet drapes, she might have mistaken the view for a freshly painted canvas – oils still wet, glimmering where the light lingered. The sun did not merely shine; it breached the window with a blinding insistence. Do not peek, it seemed to whisper. It was too alive for sight alone. She closed her eyes and let the warmth gather on her skin, blooming into an image behind her lids – a private landscape stitched from fragments of the world outside, threaded with the phantom scent of drying oil paint.
With her eyes still closed, she felt the light wake her freckles. A faint flush rose to her cheeks, soft against the muted green of the chair. Around her, quiet voices folded into one another, and the scent of warm croissants drifted through the carriage, gentle and unhurried. Yet beneath that domestic ease, something remained slightly out of place.
When the warmth faded, she opened her eyes. Below the peaks, a dense pine forest settled into shadow, its dark body gathered thickly at the mountain’s base. Above it, the snow lay bare and luminous. In the thin air of the peaks, the sun fell with a merciless weight – where nothing interrupted its glare, and nothing shielded the cold.
Her gaze lingered there.
A passing cloud dimmed the window, and the mountains lost their sharpness. The light thinned, leaving the carriage briefly colourless.
Then a flare of yellow caught her eye a few tables away.
The fabric of the woman’s gown seemed deliberate in its brightness, holding what light remained and deepening with it rather than surrendering it. She sat alone, head inclined towards a book, one gloved hand resting lightly along the page.
Abigail watched a moment longer than she intended to
She did not know the woman’s name. Mabel, she thought - something soft, something easily loved.
She turned back towards the window, though the mountains no longer held her.
Then Abigail raised her head.
She met the woman’s eyes directly. She did not look away.


The gaze held. The rhythm of the carriage continued, steady and indifferent.
After a moment, she turned back towards the window.
The mountains had already lost their sharpness.
Mabel did not lower her eyes at once. She had expected the woman to look away sooner. When she did, the movement was deliberate.
She returned her attention to the book, though the sentence before her no longer held its meaning. The woman by the window had been studying the mountains as though they were a challenge to be met.
Mabel wondered, briefly, what she had seen there.
The carriage continued its measured progress. A spoon struck porcelain somewhere behind her. Someone laughed softly, then stopped.
She read the same line twice before it settled.
By the window, Abigail remained very still. She kept her gaze on the mountains, though she no longer traced their edges.
The moment lingered, quiet and unfinished.
After a time, Abigail let her gaze move across the carriage.
The woman was turning a page. As if aware of being observed, she raised her eyes.
This time, Abigail did not look away immediately.
A faint shift touched the woman’s mouth – not quite a smile.
Abigail felt the urge to respond, though she was not certain to what. She held the gaze a moment longer.
After a moment, Mabel lowered her eyes to the page again.
Her gloved hand smoothed the edge of the paper, as though the interruption had been no more than a passing draft.
Abigail remained very still. The name she had given her felt suddenly transparent.
The yellow of the gown was deliberate. No one chose such a colour without intent.
Sometimes one dresses in advance of courage.

Across the aisle, Mabel lifted one hand and eased off her glove. She folded it neatly beside her cup. For a moment, her bare fingers rested lightly against the table before she turned another page.
The carriage swayed gently as the light shifted once more across the snow. Conversations rose and fell without consequence. Somewhere further down the aisle, a latch clicked into place.
Mabel turned another page, then closed the book entirely. She rested her hand upon its cover for a moment, as though the moment itself were marker enough.
The rhythm beneath them altered – not abruptly, but enough to be felt.
Mabel lifted her head.
Her eyes found Abigail without hesitation.
This time she did not look away, nor did she smile. The faintest inclination of her head followed – so slight it might have been nothing at all.
Abigail held the gaze.
Outside, the mountains passed without sharpness.



On Tuesday 21 October, the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra (RPO) delivered a captivating performance of Puccini and Mahler, masterfully conducted by Vasily Petrenko. The evening began with Puccini’s sublime Preludio Sinfonico, which carried the audience to a world of serene beauty. The orchestra’s strings were on fire, their entries seamless and precise. The woodwind solos decorated the piece: delicate, crisp and stylish.
As the music unfolded, Petrenko guided the orchestra through a series of mood changes, each one more dramatic than the last. The transition from calm to frenzy was sudden, and the dissonant chords were precise and powerful. The choir shone brightly, their voices flowing above the orchestra with ease. The young treble, Edward Scholes, sang with the voice of an angel. His performance was the highlight of the evening, captivating the audience with its beauty and innocence. Petrenko followed his lead with sensitivity and attentiveness, mindfully and almost paternally.
The second half of the concert featured Mahler’s majestic Symphony No. 1 and, to borrow the words of the younger generation, the RPO “ate and left no crumbs”. The cellos and lower strings provided a solid foundation, with an expertly crafted bass solo, while the brass section shone brightly, particularly in the second movement. The horns were magnificent, standing confidently to deliver their soli with precision and power. Throughout the evening, Petrenko held the audience’s attention, and they were visibly enthralled, responding with enthusiasm after each piece. The cumulative tension, building section by section, and the release, when it came, shook the audience time after time.
The night ended with a bang: Petrenko took his bow, and he was brought back for three more. It was clear that he had completely won the audience over. The whole performance was epic, and it is definitely one I will remember for quite a while.





Blair Huynh, Year 7
Oh the darkness feels louder than ever before
The silence is burning my heart
The bed feels colder with you not around
I long for you in my dreams
Flashbacks of summer swim through me
But these tears keep overflowing
My screams are loud but my voice is silent
And the rain keeps pouring onto my grave
The dark and despair eat me alive
like an icy blanket that covers the moon
I reach out for your embrace but all i can feel is sorrow
The cold seems to enter my mind
But all I can think of is you.
When you moved away.
Shining beyond the wispy clouds
A sphere so bright, enchanting and light, it woke up the townsfolk with its majestic shine.
The people waved goodbye to the bare and frosty grass
As flowers are bound to appear when spring comes.
The weather still shaken from winter’s grasp
But new leaves were regrown in time for a laugh.
Spring time isn’t an excuse to put gloves and woolly hats away.
Instead it’s a reminder that second chances are nearing,
A new chapter, beginning, or even a day.
Easter eggs hidden, children ready to seek.
As baby chicks move for the first time, just a wiggle of their beak.
Locals decluttering, known as spring cleaning.
Children running around doing things with no meaning.
“Spring time is here!” They scream and they cheer, For new beginnings have arrived at their door.
Death is as simple as it seems, One little thing, as small as a shove, could stop somebody’s heart.
Just like that, the presence of a loved one vanishes into thin air. All that is left of them is a mere memory.
You will never be ready to let go, but it is just a reminder of how delicate living is. It’s never easy, but nothing ever is.
The swallow sat by the grey squirrel’s nest, And with each rise and fall of its silvery chest, It sang out a melody, loud and clear, That all could hear, far or near.
And as the fox drank by the river,
His red left ear began to quiver.
He turned to the tree where the grey squirrel belonged, And there he heard the silver swallow’s song.
The fox sat there and wondered what to do,
As his family was starving and had no food.
He knew that the swallow would be a perfect meal.
But how would the fox feel?
And in the end, he decided to quit, Because he could never dare hurt it.
The little silver bird with the resonant melody.
The sweet tune would never leave the sly fox’s memory.
long car rides through the darkest nights, city lights with gleams of hope, journey to my home with creeping frost— a home with me alone, but i will be just fine.
my phone lights up; it’s not your name, and how could I even dare to think that you still have me in your heart? if only i were not a fool, would i still have been free and fine?
you were my friend, we were so close… but it is time to set us free, now that i’ve let you go so far, please don’t come back, don’t bring the pain, and i will be just fine alone.

The Equation of Time is the quantity that measures the difference between apparent solar time, which is determined by the observed daily motion of the real Sun across the sky, and mean solar time, a uniform 24-hour timekeeping system based on the average (mean) motion of the Sun (see GMT). It arises from two principal effects: eccentricity, because the Earth’s orbit is elliptical and the Earth therefore moves at a varying speed around the Sun, and obliquity, because the Earth’s axis is tilted relative to the plane of its orbit, so the Sun’s apparent motion along the ecliptic does not project uniformly onto the celestial equator. These two contributions combine, sometimes reinforcing and sometimes offsetting one another, to produce the Equation of Time itself: a seasonal variation in the discrepancy between apparent and mean solar time across the calendar year.
On the graphic score, the central line representing y = 0 (as in Mean Time; see GMT) has been reimagined to y = the frequency B4. The x-axis, which in the Equation of Time is divided into the 12 months of the year, has instead been divided into 15-second sections. The y-axis has been translated into a pitch series (mode) of B lydian b7 (or the lydian dominant/acoustic scale) going either up or down in pitch from the central line which represents B4 (the B above Middle C). This is due to the natural soundworld that the ‘acoustic’ scale provides given its relationship to the harmonic/overtone series.
Requirements: stopwatches for all performers, triggered together by one performer. Each performer follows their respective line/curve from the graph:
• Red line = Equation of Time
• Blue line = Obliquity
• Green line = Eccentricity
• Pedal Points = Can be performed by any instruments capable of playing the pitches.
Performers are free to interpret the score freely whilst adhering to the fixed times of each 15-second section following the stopwatch. 15 seconds have been provided at the beginning to allow for performers to prepare for the beginning of the piece (starting at 0:15). Performers should aim to follow the shape of their line/curve in a faithful way, aligning with the pitches of the y axis. This will mean that at different moments in the piece – depending on the nature of the curve – the melodic line will move at different rates, from very slow (e.g. at the peaks and troughs of the curves where only a few pitches will be explored) to faster (e.g. where the curve is steep and covers more pitches in a single 15second section).
The pedal points part signals the beginning of each 15-second section with a pedal note. This forms a dodecaphonic 12tone row (all 12 pitches) to represent a pitch for each month of the year. At the end, performers should cut off abruptly. You may employ a variety of playing styles to explore the graph (for example glissandi to represent the curves of the lines). Dynamics are at the performers’ discretion, but may relate to the nature of the graph (e.g. louder dynamics at peaks). The result should be a representation of the Equation of Time in sound.




Feminine Energy explores femininity not as a fixed identity, but as a broad evolving spectrum of emotion, heritage, creativity and self-expression. This theme is deeply personal to me, as it reflects both who I am, how I see myself and how I have grown creatively over time. From an early age I was surrounded by music art and visual culture through my mum’s love for the art of Tamara Łempicka (1894-1980) and her close friendship with the fashion designer Arkadius (Central Saint Martins in London), which introduced me to modelling, photography, fashion and self-presentation. Although I was always highly creative, I rarely had the space to formally develop art as a subject until choosing it at Alevel, making this project especially significant to my personal and artistic development.
Throughout this body of work, femininity becomes a lens through which I explore identity, vulnerability and confidence. Much of the work directly references myself, including self-portrait photography and painting, allowing me to investigate how feminine energy can be communicated through pose, colour, texture and atmosphere. However, this project also moves beyond self-portraiture to examine femininity as a wider concept. Paintings of flowers, symbolic imagery and a short film exploring common insecurities in many young girls, all contribute to a broader narrative of emotional experience rather than a single representation of a person.
Heritage also plays an important role in this investigation, inspired by my hometown in Poland and Eastern Bloc aesthetics, allowing me to explore my family history that lived there during the communist times, memory of my childhood, and cultural identity. This project is therefore both an exploration of feminine energy and a visual diary of my artistic and personal evolution, inviting the viewer to question how identity, spontaneity, emotion and femininity intertwine.
TAMARA ŁEMPICKA (1894-1980) has had a profound influence on my work, both personally and artistically. I grew up surrounded by copies of her paintings in my home, as my mum is a big fan, and this early exposure created a connection to her art. Łempicka’s distinct Art Deco style, her use of bold shapes and colours, and her elegant figures (mostly of women) have always captivated me – shaping an understanding of beauty, femininity, and self-expression.




When I was 12, I posted a video of myself on Instagram, playing the violin in front of one of her paintings at home. Unexpectedly, Marisa de Łempicka, her granddaughter, messaged me. After extensive conversations, I was invited to collaborate on a biographical film about Tamara’s life. I met the film director from LA, and was invited to take part in the documentary; in the final cut, there is a section showing me playing the violin. Attending the premiere last year was a wonderful experience; it was incredible to see Łempicka’s work celebrated not only in Poland but across Europe and the United States. I hope the film continues to bring her wider recognition, as her artistry is truly remarkable.
Inspired by her legacy, I humbly recreated some of her paintings, applying my own techniques and interpretation while respecting her irreplaceable style. My first attempt involved exploring her palette with water colour paints, and later I completed The Lady in Pink using acrylics, which became one of my proudest Year 12 outcomes.
Recreating these works allowed me to engage intimately with Łempicka’s aesthetic and understand her approach to portraying femininity, elegance, and strength. Through this process, I felt a profound connection to her art, which remains a central influence on my exploration of feminine energy and personal expression.
Łempicka’s painting Young Lady in Pink (1929) is one of her most well known works and is a strong example of the Art Deco style. It was created during the period between the two world wars, when society was changing and modern life was becoming more fashionable and fast paced. Łempicka was very influenced by Renaissance artists such as Ingres, but also took inspiration from modern movements like Cubism, shown through the sharp shapes and structured composition.
The painting shows a stylish young woman wearing a bright pink satin dress, along with gloves and a large hat, which suggests wealth and confidence. The pose feels powerful, which reflects how Łempicka often portrayed women as strong and independent. The lighting is very dramatic, creating strong highlights and shadows that make the figure appear almost sculpted, like a statue. This effect is very typical of her style. Łempicka used oil paint and blended it carefully to remove visible brushstrokes, giving the painting a polished smooth finish that feels modern and glamorous.
The bright pink colour is especially important as it draws attention and symbolises femininity, confidence, and luxury. During the 1920s, women were gaining more freedom in society, and this painting reflects that change by showing a woman who looks in control and very self assured instead of passive. Today, this painting is highly valued and is seen as an important part of art history, with Łempicka’s work displayed in major galleries and selling for very high prices.
One of Łempicka’s most famous collectors is Madonna; she has many original paintings of Tamara, which also promotes her art in the circle of strong independent women.

Recreating these works allowed me to engage intimately with Łempicka’s aesthetic and understand her approach to portraying femininity, elegance, and strength. Through this process, I felt a profound connection to her art, which remains a central influence on my exploration of feminine energy and personal expression.
GEORGIA O’KEEFFE (1887-1986) is another artist I have become drawn to. She is best known for her large scale flower paintings, which focus on natural forms, colour, and emotion. She was an American modernist artist who worked in the early to mid 20th century and became one of the most important female artists of her time. O’Keeffe often painted flowers extremely close up, filling the whole canvas, which made people notice small details in nature that they would normally overlook. Her work was simple yet very powerful in mood and colour. Many people have interpreted her flower paintings as symbols of femininity, even though O’Keeffe herself never directly confirmed this. However, the soft curves, layered petals, and organic shapes strongly connect to ideas of the female body and feminine energy. Her paintings feel intimate and calm, showing beauty in natural forms rather than in traditional portraiture. This makes her work especially relevant to my theme, as she presents femininity in a quite subtle and symbolic way instead of something very obvious or dramatic.

Her work influences my own approach mainly through my use of flowers as a symbol of emotion and femininity. Last year, I created a self portrait photoshoot using flowers and pink lighting, combining myself with natural elements. Later, I began painting more this Yea and produced more flower themed acrylic paintings. My favourite outcome is a series of three flower paintings inspired by O’Keeffe’s focus on nature. Although her colours are usually softer and more natural, mine are bolder and more expressive, showing my own interpretation and style.
Georgia O’Keeffe’s Jimson Weed was painted in 1936 during a time when she was spending more time in New Mexico and becoming very deeply inspired by nature and the landscape around her. She often painted flowers because she felt people were too busy to properly notice them, so by making them huge on the canvas, she forced viewers to slow down and really look. This painting shows large white jimson weed flowers filling almost the entire space, which makes something simple from nature feel powerful and important.
The very pure soft blending of light and shadow across the petals makes the flower feel layered and almost 3D. The curves are smooth and flowing, which gives the painting a calm gentle mood. The darker centre of the flowers pull the viewer’s eye inward, while the lighter outer petals create contrast and movement. Many people connect her flower paintings to ideas of femininity because of these very organic shapes and softness of colour. I chose this painting because I really enjoy painting flowers myself and exploring texture, shading, and depth, similar to how O’Keeffe does. In my own work I’ve painted flowers such as peonies, lilies, and hibiscus, which have very similar soft and curved shapes. I use acrylic paint and watercolour instead of oil on linen, but I still focus on layering colours and building shadows to give the petals dimension. My biggest painting is on a large canvas fully covered in flowers and patterns, which was directly inspired by O’Keeffe’s focus on nature. Even though my style in my outcomes is bolder and more expressive, her work strongly influenced my subject matter and approach.

When comparing Tamara de Łempicka and Georgia O’Keeffe, I came to the realisation that though both artists strongly portray femininity, they do it in very different ways. Through my contextual research I discovered that both artists were powerful women who used their work to express female identity, confidence, and emotion – however their visual language and intentions were almost opposite. Tamara’s work is bold, direct, and unapologetic, while Georgia’s is softer, more subtle, and symbolic.
Tamara is open and very straightforward about what she wants to communicate through her paintings. She doesn’t suggest femininity quietly but presents it clearly and confidently through strong compositions, dramatic lighting, and confident poses. Many of her works include nude portraits of women where the body is fully visible and celebrated rather than hidden. This shows her bold intention to represent women as powerful and independent figures. Her sharp lines and polished surfaces reflect control and strength, making femininity appear confident and sharp. Through analysing her work I was able to understand how this kind of direct visual impacts the viewers’ feelings and immediate understanding of her work.
In contrast, O’Keeffe expresses femininity in a more hidden symbolic and emotional way. Rather than painting women directly, she integrates feminine forms into nature, particularly in her close up flower paintings. The curved, layered petals, and soft shading suggest the female body without showing it openly. Her work feels calm and intimate, showing a gentler side of femininity. This contrast between the two artists highlights two different approaches - strong and visible, the other one soft and hidden.
I applied this understanding throughout my own development, using experimentation in photography, painting, and mixed media to explore both sides of feminine energy. My work reflects this contrast clearly, almost like being half soft and half strong. One of my outcomes (on the next page) shows the softer side through a self-portrait with flowers, wearing a white dress in soft pink lighting. This work focused on atmosphere, colour, and symbolism, inspired by O’Keeffe’s gentle portrayal of femininity and natural forms.
In addition, I created a short film exploring insecurity, comparison to others, jealousy, and emotional struggles which are at some point common experiences for nearly all young girls, including me. This allowed me to express the stronger and more raw side of femininity, linking more closely to Łempicka’s bold approach. Through recording personal experiences and emotions, I was able to make my work more meaningful and honest. This is why I wanted my project to be diverse. Femininity has so many different sides: beauty, softness, confidence, struggle and vulnerability – it is most definitely not just one fixed idea. By developing my ideas across different media and final outcomes, I aim to express how feminine energy exists across a very wide spectrum.
Being a woman comes with so many diverse experiences and emotions that we face. It’s important to see different sides of this, and also notice that you cannot describe the word “feminine” in one way – it is a wide spectrum, and I loved discovering a part of it. Studying both artists helped me understand that femininity cannot be defined in one way. Łempicka represents openness, straightforward power, and bold selfexpression; O’Keeffe represents softness, symbolism, and delicate emotional depth. I really enjoyed diving into both worlds and exploring different sides and meanings of femininity. Exploring and combining these contrasting approaches allowed me to create a completely personal interpretation of feminine energy through my own art.


In year 12, students of German study “Good Bye Lenin”, an excellent tragicomedy which explores the complex feelings experienced by many East Germans around 1989-1990, as they transitioned between life in the communist GDR to life within a reunified BRD. The film presents a huge range of conflicting attitudes to the old GDR and the process of Westernisation it underwent, and nothing is spared from the director’s satire! The following essay, written by Natalie Denley, focuses on the film’s presentation of the BRD / Western influences, and she has also provided a translation into English.
Finden Sie die Darstellung der BRD-Gesellschaft und des Westens in diesem Film eher positiv oder negativ? Begründen Sie Ihre Antwort.
Der Film zeigt uns sowohl positive als auch negative Aspekte des westlichen Einflusses. Außerdem gibt es häufig ambivalente Situationen, die beim Zuschauer gemischte Reaktionen auslösen. Im Folgenden Aufsatz werde ich diese unterschiedlichen Aspekte abwägen, um zu einem Schluss zu kommen, ob das Gesamtbild des Westens eher positiv oder negativ ist.
Einerseits könnte man sagen, dass wir ein sehr negatives Bild des Westens bekommen. Zum Beispiel, die Arbeitslosigkeit, über die Herr Ganske, sich beschwert, betont ein Gefühl der Hoffnungslosigkeit und der Unglücklichkeit, das von vielen Ostdeutschen nach der Wende erlebt wurde. Zusätzlich dazu der Mangel an Selbstwertgefühl, den viele DDR-Bürger wie Doktor Klapprath empfinden, demonstriert eine Sehnsucht nach der Vergangenheit - das heißt, Ostalgie - bei der man sich wünscht, dass alles so wie früher wäre. Das führt dazu, dass wir als Zuschauer denken, dass die Wende etwas ganz Negatives war, weil viele Leute tief unglücklich scheinen. Dies wird weiter verstärkt, als wir Alex sehen, als er sich mit Rainer über die Miete streitet, weil wir den Eindruck bekommen, dass alles im Westen teurer ist. Es gibt auch die sogenannte "kulturelle Entdeckung”, wobei Alex ins Pornogeschäft geht, was den Westen als schäbig und unzivilisiert darstellt. Darüber hinaus symbolisieren die zahlreichen Auftritte von Coca-Cola im Film eine Art Invasion der westlichen Kultur in der DDR, die den Westen in einem schlechten Licht präsentiert, als wäre er ein Feind. Dies wird noch dadurch verschärft, als ein Coca-Cola-Manager sehr unhöflich ist, als Alex und Denis versuchen, ihre ‘AktuelleKamera’-Sendung zu filmen, was das negative Bild des Westens vertieft.
Andererseits lässt sich nicht leugnen, dass der Film auch ein positives Bild des Westens schafft. Ein Beweis dafür ist der klare Jubel, der nach dem Fall der Mauer gezeigt wird, was Aufregung und Begeisterung für den Westen demonstriert. Zusätzlich dazu sehen wir, wie Ariane die Westkultur völlig umarmt, indem sie alte DDR-Kleidung ablehnt und einen neuen Job bei Burger King bekommt.
Ariane repräsentiert eine jüngere Generation, die bereit ist, die Vergangenheit hinter sich zu lassen und nach vorne in die Zukunft zu blicken. Weiterhin ist Denis ein typisches Bild des Fortschritts und Erfolgs, weil er westliche Werte wie Unternehmertum und Innovation verkörpert. Zum Beispiel, als er und Alex die Satellitenschüsseln verkaufen. Ein anderer positiver Eindruck des Westens, den wir bekommen, ist in den Off-Kommentaren, die von “echtem Geld” sprechen, was die Spannung auf die neue D-Mark widerspiegelt. Was auch interessant ist, ist die Umwandlung, die Alex in seiner neuen Arbeit bei der Satellitenschüsselfirma erlebt: er entwickelt sich von einem deprimierenden und gelangweilten Mitarbeiter zu einem engagierten und aufgeregten Angestellten, was den vorteilhaften Einfluss des Westens unterstreicht.
Man darf nicht vergessen, die gemischten Vorstellungen des Westens zu erörtern. Zum Beispiel, während Alex die alten Lieblingsprodukte seiner Mutter nicht mehr im Laden finden kann, gibt es viel mehr Auswahl und das Geschäft wirkt nach der Wende bunter und fröhlicher. Außerdem denkt
Alex am Anfang, dass sein Vater ein typischer, fauler ‘Besserwessi’ ist, aber in der Realität ist Robert ein erfolgreicher respektabler Mensch, der ein gutes Leben im Westen führt. Darüber hinaus, während die jüngere Generation die westliche Kultur total annimmt, scheinen die älteren Generationen, wie zum Beispiel die Nachbarn, die neue Gesellschaft ein bisschen zu hektisch zu finden, was die guten und schlechten Seiten des Lebens nach der Wende zeigt.
Im Großen und Ganzen denke ich, dass der überwältigende Eindruck des Westens negativ ist. Das liegt daran, dass die Lücke zwischen den Erwartungen und der Realität des Westens klar betont wird. Statt einer Gesellschaft der Freiheit und des Erfolgs sehen wir Arbeitslosigkeit, Unglück und falsche Versprechen. Weiterhin wirkt die westliche Kultur wie Coca-Cola und Burger King ein bisschen geschmacklos und billig, was zu einem

Gefühl der Ostalgie beiträgt. Aus diesen Gründen würde ich sagen, dass das Bild des Westens eher negativ als positiv ist.
English Translation:
Do you find the portrayal of BRD-society and the West in the film more positive or negative? Give reasons for your answer.
The film shows us both the positive and negative aspects of Western influence. Furthermore, there are frequently ambivalent situations, which trigger mixed reactions in viewers. In the following essay I will weigh up these different aspects in order to come to a conclusion as to whether the overall image of the West is more positive or negative.
On the one hand, one could say that we get a very negative picture of the West. For example, the unemployment of which Herr Ganske complains of emphasises a sense of hopelessness and unhappiness,
which would have been experienced by many East Germans after the fall of the GDR. In addition, the lack of self-worth experienced by many East German citizens demonstrates a yearning for the past - in other words, ‘Ostalgie’ - where one wishes that everything would be like before. That leads to us as viewers thinking that the fall of the GDR was something rather negative, as many people appear to be deeply unhappy. This is further reinforced when we see Alex argue with Rainer about the rent, as we get the impression that everything is more expensive in the West. There is also the so-called ‘cultural discovery’ when Alex goes to the porn shop, which depicts the West as shabby and uncivilised. Moreover the numerous appearances of Coca-Cola in the film symbolise a sort of invasion of western culture in the GDR, which presents the West in a bad light, as if it were an enemy. This sentiment is once again strengthened when a Coca-Cola manager is rather impolite when Alex and Dennis are trying to film their ‘Aktuelle-Kamera’ program, thus deepening the negative image of the West.
On the other hand, it cannot be denied that the film also creates a positive picture of the West. An example of this is the clear joy that is shown after the fall of the Berlin Wall, demonstrating excitement and enthusiasm for the West. In addition we see the way Ariane fully embraces Western culture through her rejection of old GDR clothes and her new job at Burger King. Ariane represents a younger generation which is ready to leave the past behind them and to look forward to the future. Furthermore, Denis is a typical image of progress and success, as he embodies western values such as entrepreneurship and innovation. An example of this is when he and Alex sell the satellite dishes. Another positive impression of the West that we get is in the voice-over, which speaks of ‘real money’, reflecting the excitement towards the new D-mark. What is also interesting is the transformation that Alex undergoes in his work at the satellite dish company: he develops from a depressed and bored coworker to an engaged and excited employee, underlining the advantageous influence of the West.

It cannot be denied that the film also creates a positive picture of the West. An example of this is the clear joy that is shown after the fall of the Berlin Wall, demonstrating excitement and enthusiasm for the West. In addition we see the way Ariane fully embraces Western culture through her rejection of old GDR clothes and her new job at Burger King. Ariane represents a younger generation which is ready to leave the past behind them and to look forward to the future. Furthermore, Denis is a typical image of progress and success, as he embodies western values such as entrepreneurship and innovation. An example of this is when he and Alex sell the satellite dishes. Another positive impression of the West that we get is in the voice-over, which speak of ‘real money’, reflecting the excitement towards the new D-mark. What is also interesting is the transformation that Alex undergoes in his work at the satellite dish company: he develops from a depressed and bored co-worker to an engaged and excited employee, underlining the advantageous influence of the West.
One must not forget to discuss the more mixed presentations of the West. For example, whilst Alex can no longer find his mother’s old favourite products in the grocery store, there is much more choice and the shop seems more colourful and cheerful after the fall of the GDR. Also, at the beginning Alex thinks of his father as a typical, lazy ‘Besserwessi’, when in reality Robert is a successful and respectable person who leads a good life in the West. Additionally, whilst the younger generations totally accept western culture, the older generations, such as the neighbours, seem to find this new society a little too hectic, demonstrating the good and bad sides of life after the fall of the GDR.
Overall I think the overwhelming impression of the West is negative. This is due to the clear emphasis of the gaps between the expectations and reality of the West. Instead of a society of freedom and success we see unemployment, unhappiness and false promises. Furthermore, Western culture like Coca-Cola and Burger King seems a little tasteless and cheap, which contributes to a sense of ‘Ostalgie’. For these reasons I would say that the image of the West is more negative than positive.








How far do you agree with Josiah Nott that not a single African civilisation has ever existed?

Overall, I mostly disagree with Josiah Nott’s statement that “not a single African civilisation has ever existed.”
There is strong evidence that African civilisations did exist, especially in areas such as education, trade, wealth and government.
The Mali Empire was highly civilised because of its education system. Timbuktu became one of the most important centres of learning in Africa.
This shows that African societies valued knowledge, scholarship and religion. African empires were also wealthy and well connected through trade. For example, the Ghana Empire became rich through gold.
It had strong trading links with other regions, including North Africa and the Middle East. Trade helped African empires become powerful, organised and prosperous. Some people might agree with Josiah Nott because African empires sometimes used war and conquest. For example, the Songhai Empire had a very large army.
Some might argue that war made these empires seem less “civilised” because conquest was violent. However, this is not a fair argument. Many European kingdoms, including England, also fought wars and tried to conquer other lands.
For example, England fought wars with France and Scotland. Therefore, African empires should not be judged more harshly than European ones.
In conclusion, I strongly disagree with Nott’s view. African empires such as Mali, Ghana and Songhai clearly had education, trade, wealth, armies and political organisation. Although they had problems, they were no less civilised than many European societies at the same time.
I lay beside an unripe youngling tree, The fronds embraced each other noiselessly, And through the gaps a chequered dapple flew, To make the emerald a golden hue, So sweet the buds with privy girlish grace, Their curtsied stems but shy to show their face, A wizened tree stood tall, its crawling hands, Unravelled from a mess of mossy strands, That hid the yawning hollows petrified, Long blooms of lichen sprouted from their eyes, Yet birds approached, inviolate and proud, Their silken wings brushed downily the boughs, And as one caught a feather on a finger, I watched it rock and catch a breath to linger, To sway its loure and swing upon the air, To slide into the reeds so lissome, fair, And nymphal in its milky purity, I knew that Spring had sent it down for me, To bright my days and bless my foolish heart, And show the honesty of Nature’s art.








Vol. 2



As you may be aware, a vast amount of honest-to-goodness Yorkshire tea is drunk in the Composition Office each day. You may not, however, be aware that the inhabitants in the Composition Office keep a special pet called an Epatto.
Epattos (Epatti) are sensitive, shy, affectionate creatures with exceptionally high IQs and enormous ears. They can hear and understand everything that is going on for miles around and are very useful in letting the Composition Department inhabitants know what is being discussed in important meetings at the other end of the school, and what sixth formers are gossiping about in their common room. The Epatto has a strange, creaky but perfectly tuned singing voice and enjoys taking fiendishly impossible aural tests in which it always scores full marks or A*.
The Purcell School’s Epatto is so shy that it hides from everybody except the Composition Department staff and Purcell School alumni. It spends most of its time fast asleep buried in manuscript paper and only appears occasionally; always at 7.32 a.m. The Epatto’s diet consists entirely of discarded teabags, which makes them excellent pets for tea drinking addicts like Dr Fardon and Ms Cox. The Composition Department is very fond of its Epatto indeed.
In bygone days, there was an Epatto called Chai who helped a gentleman called Earl Grey to clear the teabags from his English Breakfast with Lady Grey, his wife. Earl Grey loved Chai so much, that he erected a statue in his honour (see photograph). It is not known whether there have been any known sightings of Epatti in the Composition Departments of Chets, Wells, Menuhin or St Mary’s.


You may think that the Small Feathered Hoon looks like a gentle, cuddly little creature. It is very small, creamy-white in colour and can be held comfortably in the palm of the hand. It makes a squeaky whimpering sound, something like a cross between a viola tuning up and a kettle boiling. When alarmed, it rolls itself into a perfect sphere and can roll away at breakneck speed. Hoons are known to travel vast distances, especially in windy weather.
The Small Feathered Hoon has a long sucker-like mouth which is used to absorb its food. It is entirely carnivorous and has an ingenious way of securing its prey. The Hoon’s delicate feather-like body is so utterly soft, soothing and delightful to the touch, that it causes those who pick it up and caress it to relax completely and fall asleep. Whilst asleep, the Hoon’s sucker-mouth absorbs the sleeping prey, gently and quietly, little by little. It also has an amazing ability to compress large food items into much smaller particles, which are stored in its little round body, enabling it to go for years without eating anything.
The habits of the Small Feathered Hoon are little-known in the U.K. It is rumoured that there may be one camouflaging itself on the Purcell School Tennis Court, but recently there have been no inexplicable disappearances of staff nor students, so we must assume that, if a Hoon is around, it is currently dormant. However, the official advice from the Home Office is to be very careful when playing with soft spherical children’s toys or tennis balls.




When the Purcell School created a Tardis some years ago, they simply didn’t realise what they were getting themselves into. Since 1963, the BBC Studios and the Dr Who TV set were a little-known but highly lucrative route onto this planet for uninvited interstellar migrants, who appeared and integrated themselves so successfully, that they were indistinguishable from those created by the BBC Radiophonic Workshop for the Dr Who series itself. The Kotikoti is a particularly enterprising, daring migrant from the distant solar system Proxima Scissauri. It landed in 1964 at the BBC studios and was so daring that it even managed to sneak in as an extra on several of the Dr Who filming sessions. It has sharp, scissor-like jaws which can sever anything and a terrific sense of adventure.
The Kotikoti has adapted well to life on earth. It especially likes to spend time by the sea and often travels secretly in the bags of BBC film crews to seaside places, where it suns itself on the cliffs, and has fun looking for things to sever in half with its scissor jaws (pebbles, crabs, beach huts…)
A Kotikoti once travelled in the bag of a film crew member who was filming BBC Young Musician at the Purcell School and escaped. As it was lolloping around the school, it discovered a Tardis at the foot of some stairs where it has remained ever since. No one really knows why and no-one has ever seen it. Maybe it is hoping to travel back to its home planet some day? One day, if the Tardis suddenly disappears from the Purcell School, we shall all know what has happened.
Kotikotis have occasionally been spotted sunning themselves by the sea in Norfolk and Dover by former members of the Purcell School’s IMPULSE outreach groups.


The Whib is slow-moving and almost completely hollow. It is pale blue in colour and has round sticky flat feet which make it easy for it to sleep upside-down on ceilings and inside large brass/woodwind instruments (especially tubas and bassoons). Nowadays they are almost extinct, except in certain regions of Hertfordshire and the Outer Hebrides.
Whibs are very good at disguising themselves. When disturbed or alarmed unexpectedly, the Whib will suddenly emit a loud trumpeting sound, rather like a mad fanfare. It will rapidly straighten itself out completely, pull its legs and nose in, freeze and turn a silver-grey metallic colour. Flautists and oboists at the Purcell School used to have a somewhat unfair reputation for leaving their instruments around the school in strange places.
It is rumoured that nowadays there may be one or two Whibs living in the Purcell School, and that they are possibly somewhere in or around the pipework of the CP Hall. If you see a flute or an oboe lying around, then check it carefully. If you are a tuba player or a bassoonist, who knows what you might find when you next look inside your instrument?
A Whib is harmless and can be delightful to watch and play with and can be fed by hand. They eat bonemeal and peeled grapes. WARNING – under no circumstances should they be fed with lettuce.

NOTE: Wave’s Unnaturalist, Ms A.M. Cox Dip. O.M.G., O.T.T., (hons) who has been compiling these articles for many years, has been invited by unknown experts to present her unnatural historical research at unnatural conferences in unknown parts of the world. This means that she will regretfully have to hand in her resignation as Waves’ Unnaturalist from September 1st 2026.











“I confess with a little shame that, even as much as I admire Mozart, I have never been able to finish listening to “Così fan tutte” or “Le nozze di Figaro”; so much beauty always in the same colour and identical tessitura ends up being too sweet. Those who assert that Wagner writes with a recipe can say what they want, but there is no bigger recipe in the world like that of the classical composers, especially Mozart, and he adhered to it in most of the works he produced” (Albéniz, 1990).
When Albéniz wrote these words in 1897 he was in his late thirties and about to write some of his most ambitious and renowned pieces, including a monumental operatic trilogy based on the legend of King Arthur, and the often-called “suite” Iberia . Without any context, one could easily guess the approximate date of these words and not miss by many years, since these words are nothing but the product of the ideological tenets of Romanticism, implicit in the underlying aesthetic values on innovation and originality. However, this greatly contrasts with eighteenth-century ideologies and compositional practices, since, as eighteenth-century scholars have shown, composers shared a vast network of musical vocabulary whose conventionality served as a means of communication (Mirka and Agawu, 2008). 1
Part of these eighteenth-century musical conventions were codified by Robert Gjerdingen in what he called “galant schemata” (Gjerdingen, 2007). Galant schemata are ideal representations of a set of pre-determined melodic and harmonic formulas in a fixed metrical position and with a relatively fixed function in the form. Schemata constituted a shared compositional vocabulary and an essential component of eighteenth-century musical syntax. They were also a means of communication through which composers could assert their learned social status in an eighteenth-century courtly environment. Through galant schemata, composers, performers, and their audiences engaged in a musical dialogue only possible through the conventionality of the musical material. In that sense, musical schemata equated good manners, and, as such, were acquired through an intense musical education, which included memorization through exercises like partimenti (predominantly bass lines to which the student was expected to add upper voices or chords in order to create a complete keyboard work). This was a practice that, as Gjerdingen points out, resembled that of their contemporary actors of commedia dell’arte who learnt a set of predetermined speeches, jokes, and gestures collected in their zibaldone. This practice, which links composition and improvisation with memory, constitutes a creative tradition with roots in classical rhetoric that could be traced back to Quintilian (Canguilhem, 2015). To put it simply, galant schemata were courtly conventions, or, to paraphrase Albéniz, eighteenth-century musical “recipes”.
As Walter Clark has pointed out, the term “suite” might be inappropriate for the collection (Clark, 1999).
Isaac Albéniz’s musical language is often defined by its integration of Spanish folklore into nineteenth-century tonal practices, and, in his later compositions, by its hints of French modernism. However, one essential component of Albéniz’s aesthetics and his compositional style has been taken for granted and has not received the analytical attention it deserves. Both Jacinto Torres and Walter Clark have pointed out the strong classical foundations of Albéniz’s music (Torres, 1994). Clark broadly defined Classicism as a term applied “more generally to the entire eighteenth century, including the Baroque, especially the compositional techniques and dance forms of that period” (Clark, 2015). Clark supports his claim with several arguments. First, he points out Albéniz’s “rational” attitude towards religion: an attitude directly indebted to Enlightenment thought and which greatly contrasts with that of “his Romantic idol Liszt”. Second, he clarifies Albéniz’s relationship with nationalism: although Albéniz extensively used Spanish folk music in his compositions, his connection with this material was closer to eighteenth-century conceptions of folk music than to nineteenth-century national reinterpretations of folklore. Finally, Clark also points out a “predilection for eighteenth-century genres and forms”, as well as a vast eighteenth-century repertoire that he constantly performed as a concert pianist. As a composer, Albéniz’s classicism is also manifested in his numerous piano sonatas and “suites anciennes”, as well as in his carefully constructed formal frameworks, his predilection for sonata form, and in his ultimate compositional motto: “variety within logic”.
Despite Romantic rhetoric and artists’ anxieties of influence, nineteenth-century composers also followed their own “recipes”, adapting and manipulating pre-existing formulas. The present study aims to unveil one of Albéniz’s own “recipes”, which, at the same time, share the same roots as one of Mozart’s. Taking my cue from Clark’s work and using Gjerdingen’s methodology, I will specify concrete compositional techniques commonly employed by Albéniz that have their roots in eighteenth-century music, or, more specifically, in galant music. I will concentrate on a particular galant schema: the Prinner. First, I will define this schema in general and illustrate how it was used in galant music, and then demonstrate how Albéniz used it in his own work, showing continuities with the galant tradition, adaptations to a new stylistic context, and interaction with other elements more often associated with Albéniz.
The Prinner is the galant schema that stands out most in Albéniz’s oeuvre. It was named by Gjerdingen after the seventeenth-century theorist Johan Jacob Prinner (1624-1694), and typically combines a descending stepwise melody from ❻ to ❸ , with a descending bass line in parallel thirds ( ④ - ① ) that usually inserts a dominant before the final ①.

Example 1: Prinner prototype.
As a galant convention, the Prinner typically functions as a riposta, an elegant answer to a question posited by a previous musical phrase. In fact, Gjerdingen presents the Prinner as one of the most common riposte to the Romanesca, another typical galant schema.

Example 2: Wodiczka, op. 1, no.3, mvt. 1, Adagio, bar 1 (1739). (As quoted in Gjerdingen, “The Romanesca”).
In addition to the Prinner’s function as a riposte, the schema was widely used as a means to modulate to the dominant key. This has led Gjerdingen to label this variant of the schema as a “modulating Prinner”. Gjerdingen argues that given the polyvalence of the la sol fa mi tetrachord in both the natural and soft hexachord systems, the tetrachord could be used in both tonic and dominant keys.

Example 3: Modulating Prinner in Bononcini, Il trionfo di Camilla, Sinfonia, mvt. 3, Allegro, m.1 (Naples, 1696), original F Major, as quoted in Gjerdingen “The Prinner”.
The Prinner, thus, provided an excellent means to moving rapidly and smoothly to the dominant while at the same time fulfilling the expectation for a riposta generated by a previous musical statement. Once we have defined the schema and illustrated its main functions in galant music, we can begin to explain its role in the music of Albéniz.
The Prinner in the music of Albéniz
Throughout his entire career and especially in his earliest compositions, Albéniz’s tonal and formal plans remained highly rooted in common-practice tonality. Hence, modulations to the dominant remained as the primary tonal goal of his music, and he frequently employed the modulating Prinner to achieve this, since, as in galant times, it still “provided an excellent means to moving rapidly to the dominant while at the same time fulfilling the expectation for a riposte” (Gjerdingen, 2007).
Although examples with a typical ❻ - ❶ melodic descent in the top voice are numerous in Albéniz’s compositions, he usually preferred a different melodic formula: a ❻❶❹ arpeggiation (or ❸❺❶ of the initial key).

Example 4: Albéniz Prinner prototype.
The following example corresponds with the second theme of Albéniz’s piano concerto, and illustrates the typical function of the schema in Albéniz’s music.

Example 5: Modulating Prinner in Albéniz’s Piano Concerto, Op.78, i, “second theme”, bars 73-76.
As the scale-degree labels on the bass indicate, the modulation introduced by the Prinner constitutes a local movement towards B Major that is immediately reinterpreted as a dominant of the main key through the use of a dominant seventh chord. The fragment presented here constitutes the antecedent of a period — i.e. an initial statement of a theme that closes with a non-conclusive, usually dominant-oriented cadence. The antecedent is followed by a consequent: an answer to the antecedent that counterbalances the initial dominantoriented movement with a more stable authentic cadence in the main key. Thus, the Prinner of the piano concerto not only functions as a riposte to the initial two bars of the second theme, but also serves to reach the dominant that helps to articulate the periodic structure of the theme (a systematic definition of “periods” and “sentences” can be found in Caplin, 1998).
More “Prinner” examples from the piano concerto or the piano sonatas could be easily found, but perhaps the presence of the Prinner in those compositions comes as no surprise, since they have a “neutral, somewhat academic and impersonal expression” associated with the early nineteenth century (Torres, 1994). Therefore, in both the piano concerto and the piano sonatas Albéniz used the Prinner in a very similar way as in galant times: i.e. as a riposta to a previous musical statement and as a way to achieve the dominant that articulates the periodic structures of the themes. In other words, so far we have dealt with “continuities” with the galant tradition.
The following section will explore how the Prinner, a galant convention, fared with the folkloristic language with which Albéniz is so often associated, and how it interacted with other elements of Albéniz’s style. More in general, this section will show how the Prinner was adapted to new stylistic constraints.
The modulating Prinner often appears in some salon-like works, and in the better-known “Spanish-style” pieces, with which Albéniz is most often associated. For instance, Orientale, a piece composed in 1891 and published in 1892 in the collection Chants d’ Espagne, is “thoroughly rooted in Spanish folk music, and its principal theme (bars 8-9) is a model of the octosyllabic copla rhythm [and] the Phrygian colouring and subdued dynamics contribute to a mood of wistful reflection” (Clark, 1999). A copla is a type of (usually) octosyllabic verse that narrates daily life events, with a typical ABCB or similar rhyme scheme. Coplas are usually sung and end with a characteristic turn on a triplet before the final note. How could the “galant” Prinner function in such context?

6: Modulating Prinner in Orientale, bars 15-23
The modulating Prinner functions as a riposte to the first five bars of the theme in the fragment shown, and provides “an excellent means to moving rapidly [and smoothly] to the dominant”, which functions as the tonal goal of this first section of the piece. The Prinner is somewhat disguised through its minor mode (galant Prinners are often, if not always, in major), and the melodic figuration using the typical triplets of the copla. Notice, at the same time, how the modulating Prinner “fails” to produce the necessary closure, and Albéniz needs to confirm the new key through a final, strong PAC. At the same time, the form of the first theme is articulated through the dominant key, which in this case is achieved through the modulating Prinner.
Albéniz’s most highly regarded composition was, without any doubt, Iberia. This often-called “suite”, written between 1905 and 1907, is a collection of piano pieces known for its use of Spanish folklore and its hints to French modernism. It seems difficult to imagine a galant Prinner in this stylistic context. However, the schema does appear a few times in this collection. The following example corresponds to bars 18-19 of Eritaña, the last piece of Iberia.

Here the typical top voice of the Prinner is hidden in an inner voice, and the galant features of the schema are lessened through the parallel voice leading, the thick texture and the octave doublings. At the same time, the Prinner assumes quite an important structural role by articulating the cadence that divides the first section of the piece. Just a few bars latter the more “Albenician” variant of the Prinner appears, using the
arpeggiation.
In this example, the Prinner no longer functions as a riposte, and it is neither employed to achieve the dominant that serves to articulate the theme. In fact, the schema is used developmentally to create an ascending-fifths sequence in the transition section of this sonata form.

Schema identification requires from the analyst/listener both deductive and inductive processes – bottom-up and top-down approaches, as Gjerdingen called them (Gjerdingen, 1988). A set of individual features make us recognize a specific example as an instance of a schema, but, at the same time, the schema, our a priori representation, helped us find those individual features on the first place. But to what extent is variation possible in one of those individual features without compromising the recognition of that schema? Gjerdingen has introduced concepts from cognitive psychology to answer this question, two of which are most pertinent here: typicality and confidence. Typicality refers to the degree in which a particular example resembles an abstract representation of a schema (a prototype), whereas confidence is the degree of conviction a person possesses when labelling a particular example as an instance of a schema. Gjerdingen argues that a zero level of typicality is nearly impossible, because a low level of confidence will most likely result in the emergence of a different schema as an alternative explanation of that particular passage. This situation is graphically represented in this figure:

Graphic representation of the cognitive process of schema identification.
Gjerdingen concludes that if a researcher’s knowledge is limited to a single schema, he or she would be more likely to identify particular examples with low typicality as instances of that schema, instead of choosing an alternative model. The following example explores this particular problem in the second theme of “Asturias,” a very well known piece published in both Chants d’Espagne and Suite Española.
As already hinted at before, one of the main reasons why the modulating Prinner provided a very smooth modulation to the dominant key was the polyvalence of both the la sol fa mi tetrachord in the top voice and the fa mi re do in the bass in the natural and soft hexachords. Translated to more modern tonal theory, this 6-5-4-3 and 4-3-2-1 combined soprano-bass pattern could be diatonically reinterpreted in both the tonic and dominant keys. However, whereas this is true for the major mode, the same does not hold for the minor scale, since the bass tetrachord is not equivalent in the first and fourth scale degrees. In other words, the descending tetrachord on ① ends with a half step (i.e. ⑥-⑤ of the minor mode). Therefore, in a modulating process to the dominant in a minor key, the ⑥ needs to be raised to become ② of the new key — all the examples of a (minor) modulating Prinner seen so far show this. The persistence of the diatonic ⑥ would preclude the modulation in a strictly tonal context, since the final note of the tetrachord would still be perceived as a dominant of the initial key. However, this tetrachord with a half-step between the last two tones would be characteristic of the Phrygian mode. Example 10, taken from the second theme of Asturias will illustrate this situation and will propose the Prinner and the Phrygian tetrachord as alternative interpretations of the passage in question.
The difficulties already start with determining the key of this section. Given that the piece is in G minor, one would expect the secondary key to be B♭ Major or, less likely, D minor. However, a classically trained musician would most likely interpret this passage in G minor. Although hints to all these keys are present in the quoted passage, someone more familiar with Albéniz’s oeuvre would recognize that this piece is very much inspired by flamenco music: the first theme of Asturias (not shown) is usually related with the bulerías, and the beginning of the second theme is a deep lamentation imitating the cante jondo (Clark, 1999). Albéniz usually evocates this “deep song” with a monodic texture: a melody doubled at the 15 in the Phrygian mode, repeated, varied, and with “instrumental interludes” (bars 65, 69, and 74 of example 10) that end with a major chord on the finalis of the Phrygian mode on D, as it is customary in flamenco music. In terms of tonal plan and tonal contrast, the key of D (Phrygian) would also make more sense. Thus, the D interpretation seems to be more in line with Albéniz’s style, although a (somewhat latent) G minor interpretation would not be impossible at all. It is in this context that the pattern in bars 83-87 arises.


Some of the features of the Prinner are discernible: the harmonization of the three initial chords (5/3, 6 and an implied 5/3), the usual parallel thirds between soprano and bass, and the descending tetrachord. However, an interpretation from G minor is problematic, since the descending bass line would start on ① and not on ④ . Likewise, a D Phrygian interpretation of the progression would also be troublesome from a Prinner perspective, given the half step between the last two notes of the tetrachord. Harmonically speaking, the resulting augmented-sixth chord on E ♭ and the dominant potentiality of the last chord of the pattern also conflict with the Prinner prototype. All these features diminish the levels of “typicality” and “confidence” on the Prinner. In this context, an alternative schema arises.
The descending bass pattern is rather interpreted as the so-called Phrygian tetrachord characteristic of Spanish music. The following example shows this tetrachord in B Phrygian in Malagueña.
Example 10: Phrygian tetrachord in Malagueña, bars 14-17

This article has pointed out a component of Albéniz’s music that is not so often associated with the Spanish composer. Albéniz tends to be associated with musical nationalism, and his music described in relation to Spanish folklore. My study, on the contrary, has put Albéniz’s work in dialogue with galant music and with eighteenth-century ideologies and compositional practices.
I have shown that, throughout his entire compositional career, Albéniz extensively used a particular galant schema that Robert Gjerdingen termed “the Prinner”. The schema appeared in the “academic” compositions like the piano concerto and the piano sonatas, in the “Spanish-style” pieces, and his monumental Iberia. The Prinner was one Albéniz’s favourite strategies to modulate to the dominant key; it acted as an elegant, modulating riposta to a theme; and was often used to achieve the dominant that articulated the form, either in period-like phrases or larger formal units; at the same time, Albéniz also used it simply to develop material. Moreover, I have also revealed how this galant schema was adapted to a late nineteenth-century stylistic context, and how it interacted with other elements more often associated with Albéniz’s music. Thus, contrary to his own Romantic rhetoric quoted at the beginning of this article, Albéniz’s systematic use of the Prinner points out that he (obviously) had his own compositional “recipes”.
This study has shown how galant schema could still function as a very fruitful heuristic framework to analyze nineteenth and even twentieth-century music. I believe that this type of work could be easily expanded to other nineteenth- and even twentieth-century repertoires. I hope that my investigation could also help future

Bibliography:
Albéniz, Isaac. Impresiones y diarios de viaje, ed. Enrique Franco. Madrid: Fundación Isaac Albéniz, 1990. Canguilhem, Philippe. “Improvisation as a concept and musical practice in the fifteenth century” in Anna Maria Busse Berger and Jesse Rodin, The Cambridge History of Fifteenth-Century Music (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 149-163.
Caplin, William E. Classical Form: A Theory of Formal Functions for the Instrumental Music of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven. New York: Oxford University Press, 1998.
____________. “Harmony and Cadence in Gjerdingen’s Prinner”, in What is a Cadence? Theoretical and Analytical Perspectives on Cadences in the Classical Repertoire. Ed. Markus Neuwirth and Peter Berge (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2015), 17-57.
Clark, Walter Aaron. Isaac Albéniz: Portrait of a Romantic. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999.
______________.“Variety within Logic: Classicism in the Works of Isaac Albéniz”, Diagonal: An Ibero-American Music Review, 1/1, 2016.
Gjerdingen, Robert O. A Classic Turn of Phrase : Music and the Psychology of Convention. Studies in the Criticism and Theory of Music. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1988.
_______________. Music in the Galant Style. New York: Oxford University Press, 2007.
Heartz, Daniel. Music in European Capitals: The Galant Style, 1720-1780. 1st ed. New York: W. W. Norton, 2003.
Ijzerman, Job. “Schemata in Beethoven, Schubert, and Schumann: A Pattern-Based Approach to Early NineteenthCentury Harmony”, Music Theory and Analysis, 4/1 (2017): 3-39.
Mast, Paul. Style and Structure in Iberia by Isaac Albéniz. PhD dissertation. Eastman School of Music, 1974. Mayer, Arno J., and American Council of Learned Societies. The Persistence of the Old Regime Europe to the Great War. New York: Pantheon Books, 1981.
Meyer, Leonard B. Style and Music: Theory, History, and Ideology. Studies in the Criticism and Theory of Music. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1989.
Mirka, Danuta and Agawu, V. Kofi. Communication in Eighteenth-Century Music. Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2008.
Predota, George A. "Towards a Reconsideration of the "Romanesca": Francesca Caccini's "Primo Libro Delle Musiche" and Contemporary Monodic Settings in the First Quarter of the Seventeenth Century". Recercare 5 (1993): 87-113.
Rice, John A. Music in the Eighteenth Century. Western Music in Context: A Norton History. 1st ed. New York: W.W. Norton, 2013.
Sanguinetti, Giorgio. The Art of Partimento: History, Theory, and Practice (New York: Oxford University Press, 2012) Torres, Jacinto. “La inspiración clásica de Isaac Albéniz”, liner notes for Isaac Albéniz: Sonatas para piano n 3, 4, 5. L’Automme, Albert Guinovart, piano, Harmonia Mundi CD HMI 987007, 1994, p.5; reissued 2003 (HMA 1957007). English translation by Christine Losty.
___________. Iberia, de Isaac Albéniz, al través de sus manuscritos. Madrid: EMEC, 1998.
___________. Catálogo sistemático descriptivo de las obras musicales de Isaac Albéniz Madrid: Instituto de Bibliografía Musical, 2001.










In this generation social media is now at the forefront of each individual's lives. It is undeniable that social media has a subconscious impact on our general understanding of everything, however I feel that social media has particularly altered the way I understand history from a third party perspective. Social media has restructured not only how I comprehend events from history but has enabled me to understand historical events from different standpoints. Despite this, it is inevitable that social media has also brought danger to my understanding of history by ultimately giving all members of society the voice of their opinion, no matter how controversial it may be.
It can be concluded that our own general understanding of history is built upon narratives by the individuals who were present in that time. These narratives that we base research upon, however, are founded on the principles of a largely patriarchal society, one which we have only begun to break from during the 20th century. Historically, women have been excluded from public literary and public life and so therefore their individual stories have been largely absent from the documents we have available to us. Emily Davison is a prime example of how far women will go to make their voice heard in a society that doesn’t want to listen. Recent studies have revealed that women who do have their own narrative on events, are often forced to exclude their name and gender from their piece. Women have always made up 50% of the population but only occupy around 0.5% of recorded history, meaning we have lost the richness of voices within history.
There is a clear absence of the perspective from everyday women, academic women and noble women. The influence of social media on a patriarchal society deliberately challenges the whole aspect of taking away female voices. This is perhaps most evident in the patriarchal oppression of women in Afghanistan today. Much like Emily Davison, Afghan women are risking their lives to ensure their voices get heard. However, unlike Emily Davison, they now have a platform through Rukhshana Media outlet to publicise their voices. Girls as young as 16 are risking their lives to show how “being a woman is a crime” in their own society. Without social media being present today, we would not be aware of the extent of the oppression. Online platforms, like Tiktok, have exposed me to facets of modern history that I otherwise would not have access to. The dangers associated with the permanent footprint of uploading content onto social media, will serve as a benefit for the Afghan women as it will remain permanently and now provide a pathway for future understanding of history.

Throughout history, the majority of sources and narrative have been written from the white, male and Christian perspective. This is most obvious in the event of the Indian Mutiny in 1857 between the British and Indians. The 1857 Mutiny was a turning point within the expansion of the British Empire and with this came a significant amount of coverage by the press. The Times was a crucial component to the coverage of the Indian Mutiny and was often seen as an act of “biased imperial institution”. This suggestion made by historians implies that the press in Britain when covering this event, had a clear perception of India even before the Mutiny. Although, the “biased” narrative taken on board by ‘The Times’ may have been a result of Britain’s desire to maintain their expansion, it is prominent that the history of this event that would have been understood by British society, was based upon unreliable sources. This narrative didn’t only target Indians as the ‘villain’ of the Mutiny but also encouraged the rise of a racist rhetoric. During this time, Hinduism and Islam prevailed and Indian individuals were usually stereotyped to being part of these religions regardless if they actually were. Hindus were often viewed as cowards, dishonest and Muslims were referred to as “ferocious animals”. The press in Britain was concentrated upon the perspectives of the British and had no path to allow Indians to speak their own truth. This enabled a distortion of events and we can understand now that the British were at as much fault as the Indians. It is implied even further that the British were purposefully trying to cover up the Mutiny from reaching the public as a whole. This specific Mutiny, although was a consequence to the treatment of Indians from the British themselves, was framed as a “Mutiny” rather than a “Rebellion”. The primary use of this label automatically gives the impression that the Mutiny was caused just by the uprising of Indian soldiers (Sepoys) themselves and downplays the political significance as well as the depth of Indian opposition to their rule.

The issue of having the lack of perspective of historical events is not only apparent in this specific event but has been apparent throughout all history, which inevitably can deform an individual's understanding when learning about historical events later. However, I believe that social media has been able to start providing a solution for this issue. Social media brings a platform where everyone’s voice can be heard, without a pre-empted assumption; narratives in the past have been used to align with an assumed collective consciousness, based on shared religious and political beliefs of a society. Social media itself has enabled historical and political events to be viewed through a myriad of perspectives. Having multiple viewpoints of a single event, can change personal perception and challenge pre-existing biases, rather than reinforcing them.
Throughout time, social media has not only widened the perspective of history itself, but also has opened up conversation for debate on certain topics, particularly in politics. Before modern day social media, we saw the extensive use of propaganda - marking the first attempt at indoctrination. Propaganda has been exploited by many countries, however it was especially significant in Nazi Germany, where it was not only used as political persuasion but as a role in the persecution of Jews. Hitler used his propaganda to manipulate the public opinion and as a means to enable justification for his actions. The success of the Nazi propaganda campaign against the Jews in particular was because of the absence of access to oppositional views. While propaganda is still rife within current social media, access to opinionated materials online enables people to question the materials freely. It is now obvious why governments often resort to cutting off access to social media. The Russian government has cut off public access to social media platforms to contain the narrative from Russians that they are “helping” Ukraine. It has become increasingly evident that regimes often utilize censorship of social media within revisionist history.
Social media does not only expose the unjust but having the platform to reveal perspectives can lead to healthy discussions and now there are online platforms like The Dr Daf. Show and Counterpoint, where observers are exposed to both sides of an argument, irrespective of their personal views. I feel platforms like these are key to stopping a bias in opinion and helping to perhaps neutralise strong viewpoints on a given topic. Examples of topics that have been discussed on these shows include immigration, the current situation involving ICE as well as Republic vs Democrats opinions. The tendency in history was always to follow the majority, however, now that has evolved to forming your own opinion based on the wealth of material and perspectives av

Social media does not only hold the benefit of helping to neutralize political history but has become a vessel to transform global awareness of topics and places emphasis onto the concept of accountability. The increased use of social media as time progresses has led to an increase in the awareness of individuals on moral issues. An example of this is the stark difference between the awareness of oppression in North Korea now, compared to the lack of knowledge on the Holocaust from the other nations during that time. The genocide that was orchestrated by Hitler was only found out by Allies afterwards, a week before Christmas in 1942. On the contrary, with access to social media, oppression like the situation in North Korea, is widely acknowledged by society and has been covered by the news in various respects. This online coverage, granted that the wider population share similar political and moral standings, can aid in the development of reaching a collective moral standard. Personally, becoming more aware of social issues within other countries through social media has allowed me to become more perceptive in my understanding of events within the context of today’s world. The UK curriculum, for instance, in the subject of history itself is often saturated with British history, resulting in the absence of teaching the history of non-European nations.
It has been calculated that only 42% of the nation is currently teaching the history of a non-European nation and that the majority of schools (82%) teach a series of lessons on the British Empire. Social media offers the opportunity to close this gap with the emergence of history social media ‘influencers’, who create interactive content educating the public on events that happen in a variety of nations. In my own experience, how I was able to learn about certain situations like the humanitarian crisis in Sudan is owed to social media platforms like Tiktok, which allowed this spread of awareness. My discovery of the crisis in Sudan allowed me to differentiate the impact of social media vs usual media outlets. News itself has been around all throughout history, whether through the forms of posters to online platforms, however it is certain that there is a particular ‘hierarchy’ that shows itself within the news network. Unlike social media, media outlets have the ability to present themselves with a bias. This can be through the choice of which stories to cover or even through specific tones they may use to target a specific emotional response. Consequentially, this enables a lack of coverage on various parts of history but due to social media, this absence can be filled.
There is, however, an obvious instability stemming from social media which is the danger associated with freedom of speech. Social media provides a platform for freedom of speech but with this comes also the freedom of opinion. This gives everyone a chance to spread misinformation, bringing an opportunity to alter history as a whole. This is apparent in some individuals denying the existence of the Holocaust itself and spreading an ideology which directly opposes the suffering of an entire demographic. These claims about the Holocaust have managed to pave their way into the mind of British individuals, with a survey showing that 5 per cent of UK adults do not believe that the Holocaust took place, and one in 12 believing that the scale of the genocide has been exaggerated.
The rise of historical information on social media, in general, has highlighted the altering that is needed for engaging with historical knowledge. Historical knowledge that presents itself online is quick, fun and prompt, and raises the question that we only consume this knowledge because it is aligned with our attention span and not because it is always true. Although social media has allowed the entrance of the voiceless and contributed to the widening of perspectives, there are challenges that oppose this directly with regard to misinformation and reliability. When learning through social media, a careful and sensitive perspective must be obtained to critically analyse the information we see.
Social media is forever evolving, and the use of these platforms in our daily l ives can result in individuals becoming dependent on social media for historical information. The dependency on social media not only is evident within history but has translated itself into real life scenarios. Young people are now using social media as a means for education when forming their own political stance in elections, voting etc, creating a highlight for the need of political history in education. I have felt, when using social media, the abundance of perspectives and opinions has the capacity to lead to a more negative impact than positive. The variety of opinion is appreciated but without knowing any background sources of how they have been formed, it can ultimately also subscribe to the spread of misinformation. The narratives that build up the social media generation of history is beneficial for granting a deeper insight into context, nonetheless like any narrative, contradictions persist. The online world becomes a place where the “good guys” may become the “bad guys” and “wrong” perspectives can become “right” for some.
To conclude, social media is neither an advantage or disadvantage, in terms of my understanding of history. It is a digital tool that can be used to expand on historical events as well as extending the education of an audience. Subsequently, although social media has brought paths for societal issues to settle, it also brings a level of falsehood to history itself. From my view, social media, when used effectively, has given me a greater insight into history and allowed me to look at history from numerous perspectives. However, I have learnt that one should be intentionally critical when looking at any narrative from social media. One should carefully evaluate the sources and critically select which sources to build their own narrative upon. The constant evolution of social media, through quick animations, reels, endless scrolling is shaped to be a form of entertainment, raises the inevitable question how much of the historical information shared by social media is being registered in our memory and how much of it can be trusted as a truthful account of actual events.

1.You have 10 minutes to memorise as many of the numbers of Pi as you can.
2.Everyone tries to recite one number of Pi in order around a circle.
3.The winner is the person who has managed to remember the most numbers!
(Numbers on the next page!)
How many bakers does it take to bake a pi?
What are 3.14% of sailors?
Why did pi fail its driving test?
What was Sir Isaac Newton’s favorite dessert?
What’s wrong with the equation “pi r squared”?
~ Jokes by Jarvis Saunders
Granny made an apple pi-e for her ‘cutie pi-e’
Cutie pi-e is in the garden.
‘Oh I found a pi-ne…there’s a whole pi-le!’
Just then a plane flies overhead
Cutie pi-e says, ‘There’s an airplane…I love pi-lots!’
Granny’s apple pi-e smells wonderful But granny is tired… ‘My s-pi-ne!’ She says
Suddenly
‘GRANNY HELPPP THERE’S A PI-THON NEAR MY PI-LE OF PI-NE’
Granny comes running out…
‘Oh my cutie pi-e, it’ll be alright.’ And Granny brings him back indoors
‘That pi-thon had more s-pi-ne than me’, mutters Granny
‘The pi-e is wonderful, thank you Granny’
‘Well I sure hope so. Owww my s-pi-ne…’


As part of their final A Level examination portfolios, students taking the advanced composition route have the option to write three studies exploring a compositional technique. The result has been three very interesting and distinct approaches to focusing on technique, from intervals, microtonality, and rhythm.
Gerard Coutain explores intervals in his Three Etudes – fourths, seconds, and thirds.
Kaelan Bryden-Johnson uses Clavé rhythms as a tool for temporal organization in Brazilian and Cuban music in his Three Clavé Sketches.
Tim Semenov’s Three Compositions experiment with electronics and microtonality in a unique prepared synthesised and acoustic keyboard combination.


























Under the shadow of a cypress lies the body of a sparrow. In the graveyard lie a hundred men, their corpses drilled bare by the relentless pursuit of four hundred maggots per head – yet the sparrow sleeps in his humble bed, untouched, save for a bouquet of carnations dropped by his mourning wife.
He fell from the sky like an apple drops from a tree – no pomp, no glory, no fanfare to welcome him to the land of the dead. He lived his life devoid of glamour. What was his last brave and selfless act?
There was none.
He, the sparrow, poorest of birds, of humblest origins – he, the sparrow, saved from the maggots. And why?

Why did the other men’s flowers fade and their graves wear away in the wind and the sun and the rain? Why does the sparrow, in his humble bed, sleep sweetly, under the pungent smell of the cypress tree?
His wife flies overhead twice a day. She sings, but her song is a warble that only the maggots can hear. Perhaps her grief was so great that they bowed their soft, tapered necks in shame and spared her the flesh of her husband.
The other men died honourably. They call it a war graveyard. But maggots don’t care for manly honour. The widows who kneel by the gravestones to weep are too sure that the men they pray for are somewhere else, far away in the land of the glorious. The maggots are not obliged to tell them otherwise.
The sparrow knew no glory. But he also knew no war.
Winter has come, and the widows have stopped coming. One dropped a shawl. Iced over, it lies there like a sinister shadow, the guilt of a hundred widows.
The sparrow’s wife is getting tired. The next bouquet she drops is white, but a tired white.
The cypress loses its needles. They do not prick the dead sparrow; they caress him. They keep him warm.
What did the sparrow do to deserve such treatment? He was not a nobleman, nor a soldier, nor a hero.
Yet the maggots leave him alone.
Yet needles do not pierce him.
Yet wind and rain cannot corrode him.
Spring has come, and there lies a sparrow, under the shadow of a cypress tree.








CREATED BY HANNAH LIM
Fancy your chances at winning some prizes?
Complete the ultimate Purcell-related games on the followingpages.
Send your solutions in to d.fardon@purcell-school.org.


Winners will receive prizes and a mention in the next edition of Waves, where the solutions will also be published.

Connections is a word game that challenges players to find themes between words. Players are given 16 words and must find groups of four items that share something in common, for example:
FISH: Bass, Tuna, Salmon, Trout
Each group is assigned a colour (Yellow, Green, Blue, or Purple), with Yellow being the easiest category and Purple being the trickiest.







ANSWER?




INSTRUCTIONS:


Solve each clue, some more cryptic than others. Each correct answer gives you one word in the secret phrase There are 9 clues — one for each word.
1) An article hiding in theatre’s wing.
2) Composer remix of Cruel LP
3) Educate fish in a group.
4) Lights fire and breathes deeply.
5) One who has not yet sung rhymes with.
6) Sound-makers in musical magicians.
7) Beginning of trip + oxygen element.
8) Go beyond like Microsoft.
9) Every sunrise, regularly.

