A Child’s Secret Treasure Chest
This is the child’s secret treasure chest. A box of wonder. Fragile. Precious. This suite of 12 Preludes for 12 Pianists for solo piano is an intensely personal set of pieces inspired by, and dedicated to: Childhood. Each of the ideas I have kept safe for a very long time, only now letting them see the light of day. Throughout the collection we explore wonder, innocence, freedom, serenity, love, discovery, beauty, delight, perfection, the feeling of genuine aliveness, ecstasy, and the end of innocence. Each musical idea was gifted to me from afar and, although I am just the intermediary and it is so easy to get in the way, a delicate dance must take place. The ever-painstaking work of the composer is often to know how to get out of the way and let the music be what it wants to be. In each piece, my intention was to make sure that the inherent quality of each musical idea is cherished with integrity.
12 Preludes for 12 Pianists
Blending the worlds of Classical, Contemporary & Traditional Irish Piano, 12 Preludes for 12 Pianists is an attempt at creating something special. This set of pieces was composed for twelve pianists who have inspired me along my journey, six from Ireland and six from abroad. Each prelude was written especially for the pianist to whom it is dedicated, with their individual playing style and personal character in mind. My cherished treasure chest of ideas, collected over many years, has been bonded to each of these pianists: Vicky Chow, Nathalia Milstein, Finghin Collins, Hugh Tinney, Izumi Kimura, Eliza McCarthy, Cormac McCarthy, Ryan Molloy, Isabelle O’Connell, Máire Carroll, Fiachra Garvey & James McVinnie.
Serving The Idea
I really do feel that these pieces were more received than composed solely with individual intention alone. One has to learn how music works: counterpoint, harmony, rhythm, melody, articulation, dynamics, register, texture, timbre, tempo, proportion, structure, orchestration, observation, psychology, acoustics, the list is endless. But at a certain point you must consciously put all this to the side, to once again feel music as you did before the loss of innocence. If you succeed at putting all that to the side after having genuinely done your best, then you might have a shot at creating something sincere and honest. I have been composing for over 30 years, and over the last ten trips around the sun I have become more adept at working with an idea, uncompromisingly working with it. This means sticking with the idea, committing to it, entrusting yourself to the structure, to the will of the idea. It means listening fastidiously to where the idea wants to go, both structurally and inspirationally speaking. In doing so, you serve the idea best.
Emotion
The emotional sincerity that has been poured into these twelve preludes should not be underestimated. My own emotional self-observation as well as certain meetings I had with the pianists made this clear. A year and a half of emotional honesty was given to these twelve works. I usually always try to learn something while working and it was a very fruitful learning experience working on these pieces. I had to be very intentional about when I chose to work on them. It was essential to choose the right moment, not only in terms of the preservation of each individual idea, but also in terms of preserving my own personal balance. This is something I do not really hear talked about. From a very young age, I always felt that composing is very much about “creating the right conditions for an idea to flourish”. This therefore would indicate that what we do, as composers, off-table so to speak is just as important as what we do when we are in the act of writing. Throughout this year and a half of composing these twelve preludes (along with working on many other pieces elsewhere), I aimed in a holistic way in my life to create the right conditions for these ideas to flourish, while also preserving my own creative equilibrium. I did however have difficult moments along the way in which I wanted to, just as an example, finish one of them only to find that it was not the right moment. Deciding to stop writing until it is the right moment is incredibly important. Juggling the composition of these twelve preludes was, I felt, an exquisitely enjoyable balancing act.
Input From The Twelve Pianists
Firstly, I should say that each of the twelve chosen pianists did not know who the other ones were! Being in contact with the pianists was a joy and helped to keep me grounded. I was over the moon that the twelve pianists that I had initially asked to be part of this endeavour all said yes. After each prelude was complete, I sent each prelude to its pianist for them to proofread and suggest any potential revisions, however subtle. The subtlety that was woven into the revision process was everything I had been hoping for. It was truly and sincerely fascinating hearing from the twelve pianists each with, for example, their own perspectives and subtle shades of understanding when it comes to pedalling in a score. Having taken on board these different perspectives, there was a more coherent whole to the set, albeit while leaving a certain amount of interpretational freedom where necessary. The pedalling example is a good one, though it could equally apply to other subtleties such as articulation and texts used in the scores.
Pedalling
Lastly, I must mention something about pedalling. As I am, and always have been, so pedantic about the use of sustain pedal in my piano playing, I really had to think very carefully about how much detail to put into the scores in relation to this subject. Pedalling is such an intrinsic and key element of many of the musical ideas which form this set of preludes. As my pedalling tends to be so precise, it can often be seen as being overly pedantic. What can happen in this situation is that the composer simplifies the pedalling, often for example at the beginning of the score, and then leaves things open to interpretation, or similar. While this is perfectly acceptable in certain pieces, for others it can potentially lead to the deforming of the inherent musical idea. What I learned from working with the twelve pianists, when taken as a whole, is to be more sure of myself in the notation of my intended pedalling. This is therefore what I did in the scores and I could not be happier with the result. I hope you enjoy!
Titles
The titles of the twelve preludes come from the following writers, poets, people and sources: Sophie Strand (Numbers 4, 8 and 11), Paul Kingsnorth (Numbers 3, 9 and 10), Saint Patrick’s Breastplate (Numbers 1 and 7), and Thich Nhat Hanh (Number 2). I give my gratitude, inspiration and love to the above for their artistry. I myself (Sam Perkin) wrote the titles for the rest (Numbers 5, 6 and 12).
Supported by The Arts Council of Ireland Music Bursary Award
© Sam Perkin Composer 2026
