Um Estudo?

Um Estudo? (literally “A Study?”, with the question mark forming part of the title) is a piano piece composed in 1998. The title itself hints at the work’s subversive intent: Gilberto Mendes seems to question the very nature of the composition — is it truly a study? — thus warning the listener that this will not be an étude in the traditional sense. In practice, Um Estudo? unfolds as a collage of sharply contrasting musical phrases, flowing continuously yet without apparent connection. This fragmentary, deconstructivist approach reflects Mendes’s spirit of free experimentation in the 1990s, and his penchant for hidden citations. The score includes brief references to works by Anton Webern and Hanns Eisler, two major figures of twentieth-century European modernism (Webern for his pointillistic serialism, Eisler for his politically engaged music). The full subtitle, found in certain recordings, is Eisler e Webern caminham nos Mares do Sul (“Eisler and Webern Walk in the South Seas”) — a metaphorical allusion to Brazil’s notion of cultural anthropophagy, the idea of absorbing foreign influences to produce something new and local.

The work unfolds as a succession of short, contrasting segments. Mendes juxtaposes a densely compressed twelve-tone cell (evoking Webern) with a proletarian-style harmonised march (a nod to Eisler), followed by a sudden tonal flourish or a distorted samba fragment. These ideas follow one another abruptly, with no transitions, creating a bewildering “zapping” effect for the listener. Notably, the work begins with a strict 12-note series and its inversion — a gesture of homage to Webern — only to immediately abandon strict serialism. In doing so, Mendes offers a kind of mock-opening: “here is an atonal étude…” — and then sidesteps the expectations he has set.

In the closing bars, the piece takes an unexpected turn: Mendes concludes with what he calls a “Hawaiian cadence” — a clichéd sequence of descending consonant triads typical of popular Hawaiian music. This kitsch tonal ending stands in radical contrast to the fragmentary, dissonant material preceding it. Between these extremes (Webern at the start, Hawaii at the end), one finds a remarkable assortment of musical idioms: repeated-note figures, metronomic rhythms, isolated silences, post-tonal gestures, tonal snippets, all presented without hierarchy.

Um Estudo? is thus not an étude in the classical sense: it does not develop a single motif nor does it address one technical difficulty. Rather, it is a study in discontinuity, and in the aesthetic levelling of all musical material. As the publisher notes, it becomes “a fascinating study of utterly equal notes, all at the same metronomic pace,” as if each fragment — however dissimilar — were treated with the same neutral rhythmic delivery. This paradoxical strategy lends the piece an underlying cohesion: despite their divergence, all materials are presented within an identical, unbroken flow. Time proceeds indifferently, the musical “fragments” equalised in their status — a principle both minimalist and postmodern.

Um Estudo? stands as a quintessential example of Mendes’s playful postmodern stance. At its première in 1998, it may have puzzled some listeners — but it also provoked delighted laughter, especially when the tonal “Hawaiian” cadence erupted unexpectedly after minutes of atonality. Analysts have described the piece as a musical manifesto of Brazil’s anthropophagic aesthetic: by letting Webern and Eisler “walk in the South Seas”, Mendes symbolically acclimatises them to tropical waters, dissolving cultural hierarchies. Critics have drawn parallels with the collages of Mauricio Kagel or the biting Bagatelles of György Ligeti.

Though not technically demanding — Mendes labelled the work “easy” — it challenges the performer with its rapid stylistic shifts and need for clarity in articulation. Pianist Beatriz Alessio chose it as the opening track of her 2015 monographic album, and it is now frequently included in composition workshops, thanks to its lucid example of stylistic montage.

Far from being mere musical satire, Um Estudo? invites reflection on the very idea of linear artistic progress. In just six minutes, Mendes explodes a century of modernist seriousness in a brief firework of musical pluralism, mischievously placing a question mark over the evolving, purpose-driven étude — and over our assumptions about stylistic coherence.