Showing posts with label Klaus Döring. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Klaus Döring. Show all posts

Friday, May 15, 2026

7 of the Largest Pianos Ever Built

  

While most concert halls are designed for instruments around nine feet long, a handful of piano makers have pushed far beyond those limits.

These largest and longest pianos in history were built for many reasons: to expand tonal range, replicate the power of an organ, commemorate royal jubilees, or simply to push boundaries.

Today, we’re counting down seven of the biggest pianos ever built, from extended concert grands to colossal one-of-a-kind instruments that border on architectural installations.

#7: Bösendorfer Imperial Concert Grand

Bösendorfer Imperial Concert Grand

Bösendorfer Imperial Concert Grand       

In the late nineteenth century, composer and pianist Ferruccio Busoni transcribed Bach‘s organ works for piano. He dreamed about having a piano with an increased range that would better replicate the range of an organ.

To realise those dreams, the Bösendorfer piano building company came up with the Imperial Concert Grand piano design. This model consists of eight octaves over 97 keys, and it is 9 feet, 6 inches long (2.9 meters).

As the official Bösendorfer website points out, there are works by Bartók, Debussy, and Ravel that can employ these newly available pitches.

It’s unclear whether those composers expected – or even wanted – those notes to be physically played, but it’s interesting trivia to know that this instrument can handle them.

#6: Fazioli F-308

Fazioli F-308

Fazioli F-308   

Fazioli is a high-end Italian piano company founded in 1981 and based in Sacile, Italy. They are well known for building only 140 pianos a year.

Their F-308 model is 10 feet, 2 inches (3.1 meters) long and weighs a whopping 1550 pounds (or 703 kilograms).

Interestingly, it also has a fourth pedal in addition to the traditional three. That pedal is used to create a pianissimo effect.

Fazioli claims that the F-308 is the largest piano in production. Over the years, only twenty have been made.

#5 and #4: Charles H. Challen Grand Pianos

Charles H. Challen Grand Piano

Charles H. Challen Grand Piano

Charles H. Challen and Sons was an English piano manufacturing firm founded in 1804.

In 1935, they constructed the world’s largest grand piano to honour the Silver Jubilee of King George V and Queen Mary (Queen Elizabeth II’s grandparents).

The company built two big instruments for the big event. Each one measured 11 feet, 8 inches (3.6 meters) long.

The first one made its debut at the British Industries Fair, the most visited attraction in England at the time, where it made a big splash.

For a while after the Fair ended, it kept popping up in various exhibitions, as well as posh department stores like Selfridges and Harrods.

Sadly, this giant appears to have met its demise in 1959, when it was purportedly brought to a garden party, left outdoors, and left to sink into the dirt. However, that story has never been officially confirmed, and apparently, nobody knows for sure where this landmark instrument ended up.

Its twin was far luckier. “Piano-2” also popped up at a variety of venues, including the British Industries Fair.

It found a permanent home in 1969, when it was bought by the owners of Gwrych Castle in Wales. It was later sold again and ended up in France.

In 2020, piano restorer Andrew Giller brought it back to the United Kingdom, and he and his team spent two years restoring it.

#3: Rubenstein R-371

Rubenstein R-371

Rubenstein R-371   This piano was built by American David Rubenstein, owner of Rubenstein Pianos in El Segundo, California. He had never built a piano before attempting to build this one.

As he said in a 2009 interview, “I built it ‘just because.’ It was a highly organised, well-thought-out whim.”

Rubenstein said of the process of building the piano: “Sometimes I was happy and sometimes I was miserable. When you’re making something this big, you forget its final use – the fact that you can play this – and only think about the thing in front of you right now. At the end, it dawns on you that you’ve done something.”

One pianist who played it reported, “You would think a bigger piano would sound louder, but that is not the case. This piano has been built with such refinement that it is very responsive to touch and allows hundreds of gradations of loud and soft.”

This model is 12 feet, 2 inches (3.7 meters) long. Like the Bösendorfer Imperial, it has 97 keys.

#2: Alexander Piano

The Alexander Piano

The Alexander Piano

In 2004, Adrian Alexander Mann was a fourteen-year-old piano student in New Zealand.

He learned from his teacher about how copper wires are wrapped around modern pianos’ lower strings, giving them a deeper tone without necessitating excessive length.

Mann asked his teacher how long a theoretical piano would have to be to not need the copper wire. His teacher wasn’t sure, so Mann ran some experiments and started building his own in a neighbour’s empty garage.

Five years later, at the age of twenty, he emerged with the Alexander Piano. The end product was a staggering 18 feet, 9 inches (5.7 meters) long.

Mann dubbed his creation the “Alexander Piano” in honour of his grandfather. The Alexander Piano has become a destination for curious pianists traveling through New Zealand, and Mann is always at hand to document his visitors’ music-making.

Not surprisingly, Mann grew up to become a piano technician. After sending his jaw-dropping invention to various showcases around the world, he brought it home.

In 2017, he told Atlas Obscura that he wants to build another one.

#1 Stolëmowi Klawér (“Giant Piano”)

Stolëmowi Klawér ("Giant Piano")

Stolëmowi Klawér (“Giant Piano”)   The Stolëmowi Klawér (“Giant Piano” in Polish) pushes the concept of a piano to its absolute extreme. It was built by Daniel Czapiewski in Poland in honour of the bicentenary of Chopin‘s birth in 2010.

Huge doesn’t begin to describe this instrument:

  • It is nineteen feet, eleven inches (6.1 meters) long.
  • It is six feet (1.8 meters) tall and requires a special raised area for the pianist to place their bench on.
  • It has 156 keys – and two keyboards.

Czapiewski died in 2013, but he certainly left a massive legacy in the piano building world.

Conclusion

Many of these giants are impractical for everyday performance, and some were never meant to be widely replicated. All have quirky origin stories. Yet they’ve left a lasting imprint on music history.

Even if they’re rarely played, their sheer existence has reshaped how we think about resonance, scale, and the piano’s potential. All seven of these largest pianos ever built stand as inspiring monuments to pianistic creativity and craftsmanship.

Salvador Dalí (Born on May 11, 1904): The Excesses of Life

  

Carl van Vechten: Salvador Dalí, 1939 (Library of Congress: cph.3c16608)

Carl van Vechten: Salvador Dalí, 1939 (Library of Congress: cph.3c16608)

His art may have been surreal, but it was backed by technical skill and precise craftsmanship. Although he started his work in the late 1920s, it wasn’t until 1940, when he moved to the US, that he started to achieve commercial success. It wasn’t until 1948, after the war, that he returned to Spain.

Name any field in the arts, and Dalí was there: painting, sculpture, film, graphic arts, animation, fashion, and photography saw his efforts. He also wrote fiction, poetry, essays, and criticism. In both art and writing, he saw himself as a subject, through self-portraits (the first in 1919) and autobiographies. Often, his ostentatious public behaviour was more famous than his artwork, such as when he took his anteater for a walk in Paris.

Dalí walks his anteater in Paris, 1969

Dalí walks his anteater in Paris, 1969

He made his first trip to Paris in 1925, when he met one of his artistic heroes, Pablo Picasso. The Catalan painter Joan Miró had mentioned Picasso to him and introduced him to the idea of Surrealism. Even as Dalí developed his own style, he made visual reference to both Picasso and Miró in his work.

He grew his first moustache in the mid-1920s (as seen above), but later, his moustache grew to magnificent proportions, almost becoming an icon of the icon. Dalí referred to this version as his ‘very aggressive’ moustache.

Roger Higgins: Salvador Dalí and his ocelot Babou, 1965 (Library of Congress: cph.3c14985)

Roger Higgins: Salvador Dalí and his ocelot Babou, 1965 (Library of Congress: cph.3c14985)

His most famous work, The Persistence of Memory, was completed in 1931 but seems new for each generation. The melting watches get us to think about the rigidity of time and whether it’s real. Behind the focus on the watches, the landscape expands out to sea.

The image reverses reality: hard objects lie limply curved, ants are attracted to a metal watch case, and yet in the background are the very realistic cliffs from Dalí’s native Catalonia coast. The figure draped along the ground isn’t a horse but rather Dalí’s own face in profile, with his long eyelashes carefully presented.

Dalí: The Persistence of Memory, 1931 (New York: Museum of Modern Art)

Dalí: The Persistence of Memory, 1931 (New York: Museum of Modern Art)

This painting, in turn, has inspired many different composers. Spanish composer Javi Lobe has woven a melancholic story in his piano piece.  

English composer Richard Causton, on the other hand, uses the imagery of Dalí in combination with a memory of a strange sound phenomenon he encountered in India. Ill and confined to bed, he heard the sounds of the world around him but in a strange and altered timescape. Workers on the rooftops of factories around his room would strike the hours by banging on slats and pieces of metal. As the composer drifted in and out of wakefulness, time expanded and contracted – did 4 am really come before 2 am, or was that the fever bending time? 

Composer and pianist Jeffrey Jacob focuses on musical memory in his work, noting that it explores the impact of the past upon the present through the juxtaposition and combination of older and contemporary musical styles. Set in a haunted landscape that seems quite close to Dalí’s imagined setting, he alternated between the past and the present. Each movement starts us in a different world.  

The second movement takes us through three different periods of musical time. We start with the percussive drive of Bartok, before wandering back in time to Schubert. The composer has taken an accompaniment pattern from a Schubert song and created a ‘misterioso’ piano sonority around it. Finally, we’re in the late 19th century, experimenting with Impressionism with a soaring melody. In each section, melody is the driving element.  

That’s only one of the many paintings and works that Dalí created that were an inspiration for the composer. The database of Music based on Pictures (Musik nach Bildern) lists dozens of works based on Dalí’s images. Not many have been recorded, but it gives a view of how popular and inspirational his surrealism has been in the imagination of composers everywhere.

The Finnish composer Uljas Pulkkis (b.1975) put together three Dalí works in his 2002 work, Symphonic Dalí: Three paintings for orchestra. Dali’s 1954 painting The Colossus of Rhodes was behind the first movement. The Colossus of Rhodes was one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. The tallest statue of the ancient world was a statue 33 m (108 feet) high of the sun god Helios that stood in the city of Rhodes. Built in 280 BC, it collapsed in the earthquake of 226 BC; after the collapse, although parts of the statue were preserved, it was never rebuilt, and the final remains were destroyed in AD 653.

Dalí: The Colossus of Rhodes, 1954 (Bern: Kunstmuseum)

Dalí: The Colossus of Rhodes, 1954 (Bern: Kunstmuseum)

The second movement was inspired by Shades of Night Descending, from 1931. It seems to be set in the same landscape as The Persistence of Memory.

Dalí: Shades of Night Descending, 1931(St. Petersburg, FL Salvador Dali Museum)

Dalí: Shades of Night Descending, 1931(St. Petersburg, FL Salvador Dali Museum)

The third movement, Dawn, is an explosion of colour, literally, because Dalí loaded a gun with snail shells filled with ink and fired them at his lithography stone.

Dalí: Dawn from Pages Choisies de Don Quichotte de la Mancha, 1957

Dalí: Dawn from Pages Choisies de Don Quichotte de la Mancha, 1957


The Polish composer Joanna Bruzdowicz (b. 1943) made her own pictures at an exhibition, but based them on an exhibition of the works of Dalí. Her selection included many different styles of Dalí’s works, ranging from his early works of 1927 to 1970. She, of course, did a movement on The Persistence of Memory, but let’s look instead at his 1929 painting Portrait de Paul Élouard

Portrait de Paul Élouard, 1929 (Figueres, Spain: Dalí Theatre and Museum)

Portrait de Paul Élouard, 1929 (Figueres, Spain: Dalí Theatre and Museum)

This surrealist portrait of French surrealist poet Paul Éluard, who was married to Helena Diakonova, aka Gala, who left him in 1929 for Salvador Dali, marrying him in 1934. In the portrait, the poet is ‘dissected’ by the painter – the Zeppelin may indicate modernism as does the fact that everything in the painting is in the same plane. It’s a dreamscape with many different elements juxtaposed.

In her piano work, Bruzdowicz opens with a busy world, always in motion. A point of reflection quickly spins back everything into the movement of the opening section.

Spanish composer Cristóbal Halffter (b. 1930) created his work for chamber orchestra, Daliniana, on three Dalí paintings: Relojes blandos (Soft watches), El sueño (The Dream), and El nacimiento de las angustias líquidas (The birth of liquid anguish). Relojes blandos refers to the melting watches of The Persistence of Memory, while El sueño is another of the dreamscapes.

Dalí: El sueño

Dalí: El sueño

A pseudo-self-portrait set on fragile supports exists in a sleeping world (note the shadowy sky and the moon hanging on the left side). These are the kinds of poles used to support fruit trees when they’re heavily laden, and are a strong reference to the countryside. The massive head rests uneasily in space.

Halffter’s world seems equally fragile and disjointed.

The final work in the set is based on El nacimiento de las angustias líquidas, an image of instability and anxiety – a solid is converted to liquid, a common Dalí theme.

Dalí: El nacimiento de las angustias líquidas, 1932 (Figueres Fundació Gala-Salvador Dalí)

Dalí: El nacimiento de las angustias líquidas, 1932 (Figueres Fundació Gala-Salvador Dalí)

Dalí’s complex image Plaisirs illuminés (Illumined Pleasures) from 1929 is the basis for a double concerto for violin, cello, and chamber orchestra by Francesco Coll.

Created to illustrate the shooting script for Un chien andalou when it was published in the journal La Révolution surréaliste, the painting is filled with a number of shadow boxes representing the disjunctions between reality and illusion as experienced in a movie theatre. Note the two heads in the sky that also appeared in similar form in the Portrait de Paul Éluard. This collage of dreams and anxieties, both personal and universal, includes Dalí’s disembodied head in the middle box. Some very surrealist images are in each box: rows of bicyclists with lights on their heads, a hand with a bloodied knife, and an egg-like object in front of a church wall. And, at the back right, what might be another of those watches.

Dalí: <em>Plaisirs illuminés</em> (Illumined Pleasures), 1929 (New York: Museum of Modern Art)

Dalí: Plaisirs illuminés (Illumined Pleasures), 1929 (New York: Museum of Modern Art)

Francesco Coll (b. 1985) studied trombone at the Joaquín Rodrigo Conservatoire of Music in Valencia and the Madrid Royal Conservatory, graduating with honours. He then went to the Guildhall School for a degree in composition, also achieving honours. His reputation is for pushing music to its extremes, and it is known for its surrealistic juxtapositions. It was as composer-in-residence with the Camerata Bern that he wrote Les Plaisirs Illuminés, a double concerto for violin, cello and chamber orchestra, for Patricia Kopatchinskaja and Sol Gabetta as soloists.

Avant-garde French composer Igor Wakhévitch (b. 1948) worked with Dalí in 1974 on an ‘opera-poem’ entitled Être Dieu (To Be God), with a libretto by Spanish writer Manuel Vázquez Montalbán.

The music is a surrealistic mix of speaking voice, choral singing, and a little bit of everything in the world. The work, in 6 parts, ‘Dalí as God, Brigitte Bardot as an artichoke and Catherine the Great and Marilyn Monroe do a striptease’.

Dalí: Self-portrait, 1972

Dalí: Self-portrait, 1972

Dalí created a self-portrait, which was combined with ‘the famous “Mao-Marilyn” that Philippe Halsman created at Dalí’s wish’. Note Dalí’s signature in the bottom left, crowned, with an orb and cross, as if royalty…or God. In his self-portrait, his signature moustache is prominent.  

Dalí, of course, has the last word on his work in the world. Often viewed as a madman for his images, he calmly noted that ‘The difference between a madman and me is that I am not mad’.

Allan Warren: Salvador Dalí, 1972

Allan Warren: Salvador Dalí, 1972

The excesses in his images, be it of liquid watches or giant figures from the past or even of himself, can only drive our own imaginations forward.

Friday, April 17, 2026

Which Composers Were Gay? (And How Do We Know?)

  

And yet. Looking at the historical record, it is clear that many great composers had emotionally and/or physically intimate relationships that didn’t fit into a traditional heterosexual mold, and it feels safe to categorize many of them as falling under the LGBTQ+ umbrella.

So here is a list of 27 composers who may have been queer, gay, or otherwise non-heterosexual.

Queer composers

© wfmt.com

Jean-Baptiste Lully (1632-1687)   

Lully was an Italian-born composer who worked at the extravagant court of Louis XIV. He was a renowned violinist, guitarist, and even dancer.

Lully had romantic relationships with both men and women. He and his wife had six children, and he had a mistress. But he also was attracted to men and became involved with a page at Versailles.

Same-sex relationships were grudgingly permitted at the Palace, as Louis’s brother Philippe, Duke of Orléans, openly preferred the company of men. But Lully’s affair did cause the King to distance himself from him, and the page was imprisoned.

Arcangelo Corelli (1653-1713)  

Arcangelo Corelli was famous for his groundbreaking violin technique, as well as his hugely influential compositions.

In 1683 Corelli met a violinist named Matteo Fornari, and the two were inseparable for nearly twenty years.

One of their mutual composer friends actually dedicated two trio sonatas to the couple, and Fornari oversaw the publication of Corelli’s work after Corelli’s death.

George Frideric Handel (1685-1759)   

Handel was one of the best-known composers of the Baroque era, especially famous for his smash-hit oratorios like The Messiah.

Some modern-day musicologists consider him to be LGBTQ+. However, unlike with some composers who never officially came out, we don’t have any record at all of who he might have had a relationship with. It’s possible that he was asexual – or merely deeply preoccupied with his work.

Franz Schubert (1797-1828) 

Schubert was an incredibly prolific composer of piano sonatas, chamber works, and symphonies. When he was alive, he labored away in sickness, poverty, and obscurity. He was only fully appreciated after his death.

In 1989, musicologist Maynard Solomon advanced a theory that Schubert was not straight. The very idea caused a tumult.

However, Solomon might have had a point. Schubert wrote heated affectionate letters to several male friends, roomed with likely-queer friend and poet-collaborator Johann Mayrhofer, and spent most of his time in bohemian, male-centric social circles.

But the most recent research suggests that his queerness is not as clear-cut as with other composers.

Frédéric Chopin (1810-1849)  

Chopin’s moody, melancholy music for piano has resonated with audiences for generations.

Chopin famously had a romantic relationship with authoress George Sand in the late 1830s and early 1840s. She was famous for challenging gender roles and assumptions about sexuality; she dressed like a man and had romantic relationships with both men and women.

Tytus Woyciechowski

Tytus Woyciechowski © Wikipedia

However, the fact that Chopin dated George Sand doesn’t erase the fact that he also wrote passionate letters to several male friends, including the Polish activist Titus Woyciechowski, who boarded with the Chopin family as a young man.

Chopin wrote to him about kissing him and about “dirty” or “nasty” dreams that Woyciechowski inspired. For his part, Woyciechoewski named one of his children after Chopin.

If nothing else, the two clearly had a very deep emotional connection, and there’s certainly a homoerotic element to it.

Camille Saint-Saëns (1835-1921)     

Saint-Saëns was one of the most famous figures in nineteenth-century French music and one of the most impressive musical child prodigies who ever lived.

When he was 40, he married a 19-year-old woman named Marie-Laure Truffot. They had two sons who died young. After their deaths, he walked out and never talked to his wife again.

He often disappeared for weeks at a time, giving no indication where he’d been afterward. He spent winters in Algeria, a haven for European gay men. He also dressed up in women’s clothes and gave satirical operatic performances in drag in his apartment.

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840-1893) 

Tchaikovsky wrote some of the most beloved Romantic Era masterworks of all time, and many have wondered if his death from cholera (reported to be caused by drinking an unboiled cup of water) was actually a kind of forced suicide to atone for his homosexuality.

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky and Yosif Kotek

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky and Yosif Kotek

We don’t have enough evidence to endorse the forced suicide theory, but it is very clear that Tchaikovsky was very gay. Many letters exist to his brother Modest in which he shares his various dramatic infatuations and encounters with men he’s attracted to.

After his marriage, instead of going on a honeymoon, he had a nervous breakdown and fled to Switzerland. He wrote his violin concerto while recovering…and initially wanted to dedicate it to his infatuation, the queer violinist Yosif Kotek. (He eventually decided not to.)

“When he caresses me with his hand when he lies with his head on my chest and I play with his hair and secretly kiss it, when for hours on end I hold his hand in my own and tire in the battle against the urge to fall at his feet and kiss these little feet, passion rages with me with unimaginable force, my voice shakes like that of a youth, and I speak some kind of nonsense,” he wrote to his brother.

Adela Maddison (1862-1929)   

As a young woman, British composer Adela Maddison married and had two children.

In the 1890s she fell in love with the music of Gabriel Fauré and began studying with him. She left her husband and children to study in Paris, and she may have had a romantic relationship with Fauré.

She later moved to Berlin and began a relationship with a woman named Martha Mundt, editor of a socialist journal. Historians believe that they had a lesbian relationship.

Siegfried Wagner (1869-1930)   

Siegfried Wagner was the son of Richard Wagner. His father died when he was young and he spent much of his life overshadowed by his mother’s strong personality.

Siegfried Wagner in 1896

Siegfried Wagner in 1896 © Wikipedia

His first love was gay English composer Clement Harris. While they went on a long ocean voyage, he sketched out his tone poem Sehnsucht (“Longing”). The relationship didn’t last and Harris died young. But Wagner kept a picture of Harris for the rest of his life.

Wagner used his position of power at the Bayreuth Festival to attract queer men. Fearing scandal, when he was forty-five, his mother convinced him to marry a seventeen-year-old Englishwoman named Winifred Klindworth. They had four children between 1917 and 1920.

Winifred turned out to be one of Hitler’s best friends, and after her husband’s death, helped to cement a cultural connotation between Richard Wagner and anti-Semitism that has lasted into the present day.

Reynaldo Hahn (1874-1947)

French composer Reynaldo Hahn had warm feelings of friendship for several female superstars of the French Belle Epoque, extraordinary women like Cléo de Mérode and Liane de Pougy (who he bluntly told upon her marriage: “Goodbye Lianon. I hate married people”).

However, he was romantically attracted to men and had a relationship with Proust for two years. (This despite the fact that he was scornful of homosexuality in his private letters.) The two collaborated on the work Portraits de peintres together.

Later in life, his partner was an actor and singer named Guy Ferrant.

Dame Ethel Smyth (1858-1944)   

English composer Ethel Smyth was always open about her many female crushes, an intense infatuation with Brahms’s married friend Elisabeth von Herzogenberg, and her adoration for poet Henry B. Brewster. She famously wrote to him, “I wonder why it is so much easier for me to love my own sex more passionately than yours.”

Smyth became a fixture in the British suffrage movement of the early twentieth century…and even, late in life, fell in love with Virginia Woolf!

Karol Szymanowski (1882-1937)   

Composer Karol Szymanowski was so gay that he wrote a two-volume homoerotic novel called Efebos.

Pianist Arthur Rubinstein later remembered witnessing Szymanowski’s frank discussion of his sexual awakening: “Karol had changed; I had already begun to be aware of it before the war when a wealthy friend and admirer of his invited him twice to visit Sicily. After his return, he raved about Sicily, especially Taormina. ‘There,’ he said, ‘I saw a few young men bathing who could be models for Antinous. I couldn’t take my eyes off them.’ Now he was a confirmed homosexual. He told me all this with burning eyes.”

His third symphony, subtitled Song of the Night, is viewed as particularly homoerotic.

Lord Berners (1883-1950) 

Lord Berners was an eccentric English composer, author, painter, and gentleman who was also gay.

In 1932 he fell in love with a daredevil eccentric named Robert Heber-Percy, and the two lived together at Lord Berners’s estate for decades…even, for a few years, with Heber-Percy’s wife and daughter.

Charles Tomlinson Griffes (1884-1920)  

Charles Tomlinson Griffes was an American composer who studied in Berlin and, to pay the bills, worked as a teacher in Tarrytown, New York.

Although his sister destroyed some of his papers, surviving diaries written in German candidly discuss his gay life.

In Berlin, he had a relationship with a student named Emil Joèl. After he returned to America, he had a long-term relationship with a married New York City policeman named John Meyer.

Kaikhosru Shapurji Sorabji (1892-1988)   

Sorabji is a fascinating figure: a wealthy English composer of Indian descent who was intensely private. He was one of the most prolific composers of his generation.

In 1920, while wrestling with his identity, he contacted sexuality expert Havelock Ellis, who helped him come to terms with his queerness. Sorabji dedicated his seventh piano concerto to him.

In the mid-1950s he settled down with Reginald Norman Best, the son of his mother’s friend. Sorabji called him “one of the two people on earth most precious to me”, and the couple’s ashes are buried together.

Henriëtte Bosmans (1895-1952)   

Henriëtte Bosmans was a Dutch pianist and composer who, despite her bisexuality and Jewish ancestry, survived the Nazi occupation.

Henriëtte Bosmans and Frieda Belinfante

Henriëtte Bosmans and Frieda Belinfante

She had a relationship with lesbian cellist Frieda Belinfante in the 1920s and wrote works for her.

She later became engaged to a violinist named Francis Koene, but he died before their marriage.

Her last major relationship was with a singer named Noémie Pérugia, who inspired compositions.

Henry Cowell (1897-1965)   

Henry Cowell was an exceptionally inventive American composer, but his career was interrupted by queer scandal.

In 1936 Cowell was arrested for having a sexual relationship with a 17-year-old boy. He made a full confession and was sentenced to fifteen years in prison.

Ultimately, thanks to good behavior and testimonials from his family and respected musicians, he got out four years later.

The prison experience was traumatic and seemed to suppress his earlier radical musical tendencies.

He married ethnomusicologist Sidney Robertson Cowell in 1941. She also helped to promote his musical legacy.

Francis Poulenc (1899-1963)   relationships with men.

He sent a score of his work Concert champêtre to his lover, painter Richard Chanlaire, inscribed, “You have changed my life, you are the sunshine of my thirty years, a reason for living and working.”

He tried to marry his friend Raymonde Linossier, but she turned him down and then died in her early thirties, which devastated him. In 1946, a brief relationship with a woman named Fréderique Lebedeff led to a daughter.

Aaron Copland (1900-1990)  

Aaron Copland single-handedly created a quintessentially American sound in works like Appalachian SpringRodeo, and Fanfare for the Common Man.

He kept his personal life intensely private, but those in the know were aware he had a series of younger boyfriends, usually artistically accomplished.

His deepest connection seems to have been with violin prodigy and photographer Victor Kraft. When Kraft later married and had a son, Copland became his godfather. He left a large amount of money for his godson in his will.

Samuel Barber (1910-1981)   

The prodigiously talented composer Samuel Barber was studying at the Curtis Institute of Music when he met fellow student Gian Carlo Menotti, who was a year younger than him.

Samuel Barber and Gian Carlo Menotti

Samuel Barber and Gian Carlo Menotti © samuelbarberfilm.com

The two soon became inseparable. They bought a house together in Westchester County in New York, dubbing it Capricorn. It featured separate studios and a shared living and entertaining space.

They lived there together for forty years. When it was sold in 1973, Menotti decamped to Europe.

Gian Carlo Menotti (1911-2007)   

Menotti was a talented composer in his own right, as well as a librettist and playwright. Although not many of his works are played today, his opera Amahl and the Night Visitors remains a Christmas classic.

Over the decades, his romantic interest wandered, to Barber’s displeasure and even humiliation.

In 1974, he began dating the much younger actor Francis Phelan. Presumably, to camouflage the true nature of the relationship, Menotti adopted Phelan as his son.

That said, Menotti still cared for Barber and was at his bedside when he died in 1981.

John Cage (1912-1992)   

In the mid-1930s, experimental avant-garde composer John Cage met artist Xenia Kashevaroff. They married quickly and were together for ten years.

However, before his marriage, Cage had had same-sex relationships, and after his divorce, he returned to them.

He began dating choreographer Merce Cunningham, who became a creative collaborator as well as his life partner.

Benjamin Britten (1913-1976)  

British composer Benjamin Britten was aware of his queerness as a young man and spoke about it to poet W. H. Auden, who encouraged him to embrace it.

Soon afterward, he met a tenor named Peter Pears. He was entranced. From that time on, the two spent their lives in a constant creative and romantic conversation.

In 1974, two years before his death, Britten wrote to Pears, “My darling heart (perhaps an unfortunate phrase, but I can’t use any other) … I do love you so terribly, not only glorious you, but your singing. … What have I done to deserve such an artist and man to write for? … I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Remarkably, upon Britten’s death, Queen Elizabeth II sent a letter of condolence to Pears.

David Diamond (1915-2005)   

American composer David Diamond began his career as a violin prodigy.

He knew he was gay from an early age and never hid it.

He also had a tremendous temper. “I was a highly emotional young man, very honest in my behavior, and I would say things in public that would cause a scene between me and, for instance, a conductor,” he said.

His career hit a high point in the 1940s and 1950s but as modernism became more popular, he was eclipsed. Some also attribute the fading of his career to homophobia — others to his temper that made conductors disinclined to champion his work.

Lou Harrison (1917-2003)   

Lou Harrison realized he was gay when he was in high school, and came out to his family in 1934.

In 1947 he had a nervous breakdown in New York City, in part from dealing with the homophobia of his colleagues. Fellow queer composer John Cage helped him find the mental health care he needed.

After getting back on his feet, Harrison moved to the West Coast and met his lifelong partner William Colvig, an electrician and amateur musician, in San Francisco in 1967.

Colvig helped him build a set of percussion instruments they called the “American gamelan.”

Harrison stayed with Colvig throughout the latter’s struggle with dementia and was at his bedside when he died.

Leonard Bernstein (1918-1990)   

Leonard Bernstein is sometimes thought of as bisexual, given that he married actress Felicia Montealegre and had three children with her.

However, Montealegre thought differently. She wrote to him before their marriage, “You are a homosexual and may never change. I am willing to accept you as you are…”

His West Side Story colleague Arthur Laurents agreed with the terminology, calling Bernstein “a gay man who got married. He wasn’t conflicted about his sexual orientation at all. He was just gay.”

Pauline Oliveros (1932-2016)   

Composer and accordionist Pauline Oliveros was openly lesbian. She had a romantic relationship with performance artist Linda Montano.

Conclusion

Some people believe it’s unfair to label composers who never publicly “came out” as a particular queer identity.

But keeping quiet about the people they loved does history a disservice, too. It makes generations of classical music seem straighter than it really is, especially since so much history was suppressed due to prejudice. Everyone interested in music history deserves to know what the historical record shows or suggests.

Hopefully seeing how many people in classical music history were or may have been LGBTQ+ will help people to have a fuller understanding of music history, and maybe even of themselves and the queer people in their own lives.

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