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Here lies a paradox: from figuration to abstraction in Chopin there is but the blink
of an eye. But all the same, it took three years for the Polonaises to shift from
representation to introspection. In 1845, Chopin was at the height of his Parisian
glory, still at least nominally in his complex relationship, as fruitful as it was
frustrating, with George Sand, and happy with the serene environment afforded
by his apartment at 9 place d’Orléans; but his father’s death in May 1844 in the end
had a greater effect on his works than on his mood. Moreover, the tumult of Paris,
the salons, the pupils, the social life, literally prevented him from composing: he
could only find hismelodies and his harmonies at Nohant. George Sand observes in
L’Histoire de ma vie
that a single page of music ‘made him tear his hair out’.
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