Both Isabel Gan’s “Quadripartite Chronicle of Self Expression” and Mehreen Ahmed’s “Flamenco” show how art—whether music or dance—becomes a lifeline for personal and cultural identity. In Gan’s piece, playing the piano is about rediscovering the voice within. In Ahmed’s, flamenco dance is a fierce expression of a people’s long and painful history. Both works show that when spoken words fail, art steps in to say what must be said.
In “Quadripartite Chronicle of Self Expression,” the narrator’s journey with music starts in early childhood: “I was four when I fell in love for the first time.” This love is not for a person but for the piano — a simple wonder that once held every possibility. The narrator recalls pressing the keys “tentatively, hesitantly,” learning to understand each note’s meaning. Yet as the years pass, self-doubt creeps in. The piano stops “singing,” and the young musician turns away. Eventually, she returns and learns that playing isn’t about avoiding mistakes—it’s about pouring out one’s heart, embracing emotion over technical perfection. The narrator ultimately realizes, “It is about the discovery of voice and self-expression,” understanding that true creativity grows when we let go of fear.
Ahmed’s “Flamenco” focuses on a Romani dancer named Drina performing in a cave lit by fire. While Gan’s piece is an intimate, personal struggle, Ahmed’s story is about communal suffering and survival. “Imparting a Flamenco story was crucial for Drina—one of persecution.” Her dance gives voice to generations of Romani people who faced violence and exile. Every movement taps into old grief, turning sorrow into defiance. Even supernatural beings—like the Djinn Aggi—are moved by her performance. Drina’s flamenco is more than beautiful steps; it is a living archive of pain and resilience. She doesn’t erase the past but honors it, showing that art can carry the weight of an entire culture’s history.
Gan’s pianist and Ahmed’s dancer recover something essential through their art. In Gan’s case, music lets the narrator reclaim an inner voice long thought lost. In Ahmed’s narrative, flamenco lets Drina transform centuries of hardship into something powerful and alive. In both stories, art speaks where simple language cannot. It fights silence, self-doubt, and even the boundaries between worlds.
This merging of inner feeling and outward expression makes these pieces stand out. Gan’s piano music moves from shy whispers to a confident, heartfelt cry. Ahmed’s flamenco transforms suffering into a blazing declaration of existence. Both show that art is more than a skill or a performance—it’s a lifeline that helps people understand who they are, where they come from, and where they might go next.
Written by Kalvin M. Madsen