Light and Shadow: Schubert's Sonata Form
Franz Schubert’s expressive use of sonata form is illustrated through my performance of the first movement of the "Piano Sonata in A minor, D. 784 (Allegro giusto)"
I’m exploring Franz Schubert’s use of the sonata form in his instrumental music. While this form appears across his chamber, symphonic, and piano works, I’ll focus on a single example: the first movement of the Piano Sonata in A minor, D. 784.
There are countless resources that examine the history and mechanics of the sonata form in detail, and I won’t venture too far into that territory here. Instead, I want to approach the form as I’ve always experienced it — as a fundamentally narrative structure, one that gives composers a powerful platform for expression.
At its core, sonata form is very much a product of the Enlightenment. Musical ideas became more clearly articulated and more accessible, allowing composers, performers, and listeners to share a common language. Sonata form reflects this shift beautifully. In its simplest sense, it presents two contrasting musical ideas — almost like characters — and then takes them on a journey.
These ideas may interact, evolve, resist one another, or coexist uneasily, depending on the story the composer wishes to tell. Through development, we deepen our relationship with these musical characters. By the end of a movement, they return somehow changed — and more importantly, we are changed in how we understand them. The result is the feeling that we’ve traveled somewhere meaningful.
Schubert’s A minor Sonata is a compact, classically grounded work, and it offers a particularly clear illustration of this narrative process. What makes it especially compelling is Schubert’s extraordinary handling of contrast — his movement from minor to major, from dark to light.
The first theme is stark and austere. In A Minor, both hands play in unison, creating a sense of isolation and emotional severity. Schubert explores this idea just enough to establish its character and emotional climate.
Gradually, he transitions toward a second idea, moving into E major. The melody itself is simple and graceful, but its expressive power comes from the harmony. Unlike the opening, this theme is rich and warm, supported by counterbalancing voices that create depth and resonance. Where the first theme feels solitary, this one feels expansive and human.
Schubert allows us to fully understand both ideas before leading us into the development section — a period of exploration where these themes are transformed, questioned, and deepened. This is the heart of the journey. By the time the opening ideas return, they are familiar, yet altered, shaped by what has come between.
This is one of the great strengths of sonata form. Though highly structured, it offers composers remarkable freedom. As the nineteenth century unfolds, composers begin to stretch, challenge, and reshape the form in increasingly fascinating ways.
Schubert stands at a particularly poignant crossroads. He is firmly rooted in late eighteenth-century classical sensibilities, yet he brings an unmistakably Romantic voice — lyrical, rhythmically alive, and harmonically subtle. All of this is on display in this movement.
As you listen to my performance, I invite you to notice the continual motion between darkness and light, and the way these contrasting ideas attempt to coexist and find meaning together. Despite moments of tension throughout the movement, Schubert draws everything together with a profound sense of completion — one that feels earned, reflective, and deeply human.
This video includes my performance of the first movement, Allegro giusto, from the Piano Sonata in A minor, D. 784. Enjoy.
This movement may be unfamiliar to some listeners, as it’s not among Schubert’s most frequently performed sonatas. His later works in the genre are monumental, but I’ve always had a particular affection for this one. It captures Schubert at a moment of transition — embracing classical form while infusing it with early Romantic lyricism and expressive harmonic shifts.
I encourage you to listen to the entire sonata. The remaining two movements are absolutely gorgeous. And more broadly, I encourage you to explore sonata form itself — not simply as a structural device, but as an expressive tool, capable of telling deeply human stories through sound.
–Rick Ferguson