French composer Henri Dutilleux lived for decades in a small studio apartment on Île Saint-Louis in Paris, France. When time allowed, a promising young conductor, Ludovic Morlot, who is now Seattle Symphony’s music director, would call up the old composer in the afternoon in hopes of arranging a visit.
“Maître, I’m in town for a few days and I would love to see you!” Morlot would say.
“Oh, I’m too tired, Ludo, but why don’t you drop by for a few minutes? If you’re here, I want to see you. But I can only do a few moments,” Dutilleux would reply.
“Of course,” Morlot would say. “But I’d be happy to ask you a few things about a piece I’m working on…”
A few hours later, the two would still be drinking martinis or glasses of porto and talking about music, literature (especially the poems of Baudelaire), visual art, and life. At this point, Dutilleux was in his late 80s and early 90s, a living legend of French impressionist music, elegantly dressed in a crisp button-up shirt, jacket and silk scarf, with slicked-back hair—reserved, but passionate once he got going on a topic.
