Although the memories I speak of might only make actual sense to me and to my family, I know that when translated into music, the meaning become something entirely different for someone who is purely listening to the music itself.  Ultimately, no one even needs to know what inspired a musical composition to be created, in order to feel something.  And this is what is so wonderful and amazingly powerful about music: It can stand on its own and is able to convey many emotions, detached from everything else. 

LONG: 
ALBUM DE RETRATOS (Family Portraits) is based on my grandmother’s family photo album, as well as framed prints of family members, which hang throughout her house.  The piece begins with a movement called “Faded Photos” and tells the journey of my great-grandfather Jorge Assad from his original country, Lebanon, to a small town in the state of São Paulo, called São João da Boa Vista.  When he first arrived in the town, there was not much happening there.  Although the town has grown exponentially by now, there is still a street named after him. 
This movement is named for him simply because he was a man of few words.  I do know enough to have been inspired to write music about him:  he was physically strong and tough.  Ironically, he disliked music altogether and did not allow my grandfather to pursue it.  (He played the mandolin] all the same, though, to such a degree that all of his offspring dedicated their lives to music.)  I wouldn’t be here today writing this if it were not for him.  
 My great-grandfather never returned to Lebanon.  He started his life anew.  He said the reason he never went back was because the trip was so rough on him that he would think twice about ever boarding a ship again.  My musical composition begins with his arrival in Brazil.  Allusions to ocean waves and foghorns are made and then we’re introduced to the sounds of a type of music called “moda de viola,” which is associated with the region he would call home for the rest of his life.  The entire movement focuses on the idea of big changes, the passage of time, the difficulty of adapting to a new culture.  There is a bittersweet quality to it but Faded Photos concludes with a happy ending; sign of good things to come.   

            The second movement, “Courtship,” is inspired by a framed photograph of him with my great-grandmother, Francisca.  It is a formal, black-and-white restored headshot that almost looks like a painting.  I always wondered what these days of courtship were like.  My grandmother Ica told me that meeting your husband-to-be was a very different story back then.  There was almost no physical contact between the lovers and 'touching' was only accepted if a couple was dancing.  The dance was, naturally, quite proper and ceremonious.  This movement portrays the courtship between Jorge and Francisca, featuring Middle Eastern scales and a dance waltz in 4/4 time, which, to me, symbolizes the awkward formality that dating was like at that time. 
 
            “Picture Collage,” the third and final movement, is a juxtaposition of photos spanning three generations, told through the eyes and the memories of a child, i.e., myself.  The collage features many motifs, collages, citations and fragments of compositions I heard as a youngster:  memories of my grandfather strumming his mandolin relentlessly as he performed one of his favorite song, a chorinho called “Enigmatica”; allusions to my first trip to France to be with my father, during a time when he was arranging Milhaud’s “Scaramouche,” coupled with a movement from Mussorgsky’s “Pictures at an Exhibition” called “Limoges.”  There are also references to a Brazilian folk tune “Escravos de Jó,” which represents childhood games that I played by myself and also with my brother and cousins.  The citation I hold most dearly to my heart is a song that my grandfather and grandmother used to sing together as a duet.  
 
            What inspired me to write this work was the death of my grandfather.  When he passed away in June of 2011, I was hit by an enormous sense of loss.  For the weeks that followed, I carried with me several pictures of him.  These photos had been taken at different times in our lives, and I could see clearly how much we had changed throughout the years; how time had done its insatiable job.  Photos have a way of freezing thousands of memories and moments, which we recall in a split second from looking at a single print.  But a picture is just a picture.  More important are the memories and the events that took place when a picture was taken.  But what happens when too much time goes by and following generations can no longer remember or identify whom the person in the photo is?  I myself have looked at pictures of unrecognizable faces of people who were related to me, but because I don’t know much about them, their images and stories will eventually fade into oblivion. This thought, and the fact that this piece was written for two very special members of my family--my father and uncle Sergio & Odair Assad--led me to the idea of preserving some of these memories in form of music. 
Although the memories I speak of might only make actual sense to me and to my family, I know that when translated into music, the meaning become something entirely different for someone who is purely listening to the music itself.  Ultimately, no one even needs to know what inspired a musical composition to be created, in order to feel something.  And this is what is so wonderful and amazingly powerful about music: It can stand on its own and is able to convey many emotions, detached from everything else.