Juilliard School's guitar department professor's office.
Professor Sharon Isbin frowned at the sunlight pouring through the window, drew the curtains, and switched on the European-style stand lamp on the table. The warm orange glow made the antique office even cozier. After briefly surveying the office with satisfaction, Sharon picked up the topmost sheet of music on her cluttered desk and settled into the dark, comfortable-looking chair.
After studying the sheet music for a while, Sharon brushed her bangs aside and spoke to herself.
"As expected, the most popular one is 'Suite Espanola No1. Op 47.' It's renowned, and although it's not too fast-paced, I hadn't anticipated that most students would choose it."
Sharon picked up the next sheet of music and flipped through it.
"Is there no one sticking to the original piece? They've all rearranged it, altering the direction of the piece. Have they interpreted the music before rearranging it? How pitiful."
After scanning through some more sheets, her expressions ranged from wide-eyed surprise to gradually morphing into disappointment as she moved further, sometimes wrinkling her brows upon the first glance at a sheet and swiftly pushing it aside.
"Hmm, the standard of new students has notably declined over the past two years. What we need is a blank canvas, not notebooks filled with scribbles. It's not just about a lower level; many students have fundamentally learned incorrectly."
Leaving only one sheet of music behind, Sharon momentarily left her seat and brewed coffee from the espresso machine tucked in a corner, lost in thought.
"Was it too much for students who've only played the guitar? Just like Professor Corigliano mentioned."
With a cup of steaming coffee in hand, Sharon returned to her seat, picking up the last piece of music.
"I've been waiting for a performer who would become a subject of long contemplation, but it's genuinely hard to find. Hmm, this student selected the piece I performed, but what's this? Why are there four layers of staff lines?"
With minimal expectations, Sharon examined additional staff lines beneath the original musical notation.
"A tablature? For electric and bass guitars, even drums? Is this student aiming for rock music?"
Sharon chuckled, flipping through the sheets one by one, and her eyes widened gradually, prompting her to suddenly rise from her seat.
"What?? They've altered the original? How audacious!"
With her face still glued to the music sheets, the sound of paper flipping echoed through the quiet room. Sharon read through every note meticulously, then glanced back at the first sheet. Her eyes trembled slightly, an indescribable expression crossing her face, as she hastily grabbed her classical guitar placed beneath the curtain.
Reading the classical guitar notation atop the staff lines while looking at the music sheets, Sharon began playing, and the room soon filled with a serene Spanish-themed melody. Immersed in her performance, Sharon closed her eyes, picturing various landscapes in her mind.
A stone arched bridge nestled within a small valley, a bubbling stream, and lush green mountains in the distance. Tiny houses with green roofs clustered at the foot of the mountains.
Unintentionally, a smile crept onto Sharon's lips. She could keenly sense the beauty of Asturias that Albéniz portrayed. However, as she played a section, she abruptly stopped.
With her eyes closed and tears on her eyelashes, Sharon abruptly picked up the music sheets again.
"This... this is it. The missing piece of Albéniz I've been searching for so desperately!"
Indeed, Sharon Isbin, despite receiving worldwide acclaim for playing this piece during her tour concerts, had never been satisfied herself. Though successful in conveying the beauty of Asturias painted by Albéniz, she always felt something was missing.
Unable to inquire from the deceased Albéniz himself, she was perpetually troubled, eventually concluding her tour performances with an unfinished rendition of the masterpiece, Asturias, on her guitar. And now, the perfect guitar version's sheet music lay before her.
Trembling hands caressed the music sheets as Sharon began playing again. Midway through her performance, tears welled up in her eyes, and by the end, tears streamed down her face, washing away her makeup.
As Sharon concluded the lengthy, over-seven-minute performance, she couldn't remove her hands from the guitar, and tears continued to flow down her face, her eyes still shut. She cradled her face, crying for an extended period.
Suddenly, applause resounded.
Startled, Sharon, with her tear-stained face, looked up to see a short, elderly man in his late seventies with short white hair and black-rimmed glasses standing at the open door, clapping. He wore a black polo neck sweater and brown pants, his face beaming with joy.
"Congratulations, Professor Sharon Isbin. You've finally fulfilled your wish."
Wiping her face with tissues from the desk, Sharon quickly responded, "Please, come in, Professor John Corigliano."
Professor Corigliano entered the room, taking a seat on the sofa near Sharon's desk, smiling.
"Although you sought my help, it seems you've solved the problem yourself. It's a delight to witness. Pardon my intrusion; I couldn't resist hearing the guitar sound drifting through the corridor."
Sharon nodded in response, saying, "No, Professor. It's alright. By the way, how did it sound to your ears, the piece I just played?"
With a smile, Professor Corigliano rested his chin on his hand. "I've also discovered what that missing piece we were searching for is."
Sharon nodded in agreement. "It seems you were thinking the same thing, Professor. Was it 'longing'?"
Corigliano slapped his thigh loudly.
"That's it! That was it. I was very curious myself, but Professor Sharon explained it so clearly. Ha-ha."
Professor Sharon lowered her head with a serious expression.
"It wasn't me, Professor."
Professor Corigliano widened his eyes and asked, "What? Are you saying it wasn't you who interpreted Albeniz's piece at your level? Then who was it? Was there another guitarist capable of interpreting Albeniz's composition at your level?"
Without a word, Professor Sharon picked up a dropped sheet of music and handed it over. Professor Corigliano accepted it, took a deep breath, and began reading the music. The room was filled with the sound of flipping pages for a while.
After a moment, as Professor Corigliano, with a serious expression, looked at the music, his eyes gradually widened. He looked back at Professor Sharon after seeing the arranger's name at the very front of the sheet.
As Professor Sharon nodded slowly while looking at Professor Corigliano, the latter pointed at the name of the arranger once again, exclaiming, "A student? Which year? Who is this genius? Is it a graduate student? Someone like this has been at our school?"
Standing up, Professor Corigliano lifted the music sheet and spoke, "This is unbelievable! Why hasn't a student capable of composing such a piece been noticed before? Mr. Kim? Geon Kim? An Eastern student?"
Looking at Professor Corigliano in silence, Professor Sharon spoke, "A freshman, Professor. And moreover, a student who has never taken a lesson from the responsible professor."
Staggering, Professor Corigliano grabbed onto the sofa and exclaimed, "Holy crap! This doesn't make sense! Why is a student capable of arranging like this in the guitar department? They should have naturally come to our composition department! Where is this student now? Where can I find them?"
Smiling, Professor Sharon raised her hand as if to calm him down, saying, "Please don't think of taking the student away, Professor. They're my student."
Excitedly, Professor Corigliano said, "If this student is like this, I also want to teach them, Professor! Even if they don't change their major, could they choose composition as a minor?"
Shrugging, Professor Sharon said, "Was Juilliard's classes so lenient? You know well it's not a place where one can easily choose composition as a minor, Professor."
With a defeated expression, Professor Corigliano let go of the sheet music, saying, "How... How can a student like this exist?"
Smiling at Professor Corigliano, Professor Sharon said, "There's a studio class this Saturday. We'll have a session where this student's piece will be performed with other students. Would you like to observe?"
As if awakened, Professor Corigliano exclaimed, "Of course! I must go! Not just me, but should I allow all our department students to attend, Professor?"
Nodding with a smile, Professor Sharon agreed, and Professor Corigliano hurriedly called the assistant.
"Hello, yeah, it's me. Gather our department students this Saturday. It's a guitar department studio class. Yeah, I'll explain why that day. Ask them to gather in Studio B on the 5th floor by 2 PM. Sorry for the sudden request. See you later."
Hanging up the phone, Professor Corigliano examined the sheet music again and asked, "There are electric guitar, bass, and drums written here. Is this for rock music?"
Shaking her head, Professor Sharon replied, "Look closely. Though they are instruments used in rock music, it's not at a level that harms the original piece. Instead, it elevates the emotion of the original."
Professor Corigliano nodded, then pointed at the text at the bottom of the second page, asking, "What about this text? Lyrics? Did you add lyrics to the instrumental piece?"
Nodding in agreement, Professor Sharon said, "It seems so. There are lyrics, but the melody line isn't written, so it's uncertain what song it will become. The lyrics seem to be from the Spanish poet Lorca."
Professor Corigliano examined the sheet music again and asked, "So, what role do you plan to assign to this student? Instrumental performance? Singing?"
Smiling subtly, Professor Sharon replied, "I intend to assign them as a producer. I and other students will handle the instrumental performance, but whether we need a female soprano or a male vocalist for the singing part, I'm yet to decide."
Nodding, Professor Corigliano said, "I see. As a producer, they'll interpret this piece properly. Great! Let's have high expectations. If Saturday's studio class brings satisfying results, I'll treat both you and the student to dinner!"
Smiling, Professor Sharon joked, "You won't treat us to those $5 tacos from Chelsea Market like last time, will you?"
Seeing Professor Sharon's face, Professor Corigliano chuckled and joined in laughter. A warm breeze of unexpected excitement blew through the Guitar Department's office.