Written notes on notes I have written

In my concept of my own music I hear a more robust, muscular sonority from the strings. At first rehearsal, I am usually surprised by the shy sound that we produce together at the first read.
I cannot lay blame for this on the players. In other, better music, especially Haydn and Mozart, I most frequently use the term “finesse” to evoke a joyfully measured forte. “Excitement, not anger,” I will say. “In Haydn, ‘f’ means ‘finesse.’”
So I present them with a 21st Century piece written by a conductor who is trying to somehow pay his musical dues to the orchestra by contributing a composition – since the only instrument I play well at all is the orchestra itself – and suddenly I want the strings to sound not as sober or sweet, but maybe a little drunk and brash.
In rehearsal of “Indication for Strings,” I admonished them to “punk it out,” and play what we all agreed was “dirty strings.”
Even in the current work we are rehearsing, “Emendation,” we need to come to terms with this shy sound and be done with it. The music needs more horsehair in it, with about 90 percent of the bow in play.

And attitude.

Presently, the sound is afraid of the notes. I would love to reverse this and make the notes afraid of the sound.
If my players were Olympian athletes, I would want all discus throwers. Rhythm, finesse, speed and strength meet, and the disc is hurled as far afield as possible. In this way, a mezzo-piano whole note should smack the back row between the eyes such that they momentarily live the sound.