Pressing Pause
Looking back on these last several weeks, it’s difficult to list all that’s happened—let alone describe it. So many wonderful performances and premieres of my music (including my trumpet concerto!), a surprise bout with bed bugs, Zoom rehearsals and commission meetings, two huge performances with Resonance Ensemble, some gorgeous hikes, my first time at the Kennedy Center, too many airports, and a month’s worth of laundry finally tucked away into dressers and empty corners (though steadily creeping back into the basket via the floor…).
As the summer settles in to a slightly slower saunter, I’ve been taking time to reflect and refocus. I’ll be sharing some music in a future post, but wanted to share some of the other things I’ve been up to since I last posted in March!
An African American Requiem
From inside the Kennedy Center performance hall
Foremost on my mind right now is the recent performances with Resonance Ensemble—they premiered An African American Requiem by Damien Geter; first with the Oregon Symphony in Portland, then with the Choral Arts Society of Washington and the NEWorks Philharmonic at the Kennedy Center in Washington DC. I ended up assisting the composer, Damien, through concert week in Oregon and over the weekend of rehearsals in DC. It is truly an amazing work, and I feel so fortunate to have had the chance to get to know the piece so intimately the last few weeks. I could write forever about it (and better writers/analysts should!); the thoughtful ways Damien puts the Latin and English texts in dialogue, the dynamic and breathlessly colorful orchestration, the poignant ways themes echo throughout the work—creating not only engaging and powerful, self-contained movements, but a cohesive, ever-evolving whole that clearly communicates its questions and perspectives. Watching how the piece impacted not only the audience for each performance, but the musicians who prepared it—a true testament to the ways music can bridge, question, highlight, evoke, provoke, comfort, reveal, confront, devastate, and heal.
Inside the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall | Photo by Rachel Hadiashar (compressed for Squarespace)
It was also so invigorating to be among orchestral musicians again; I have loved my work with the choir this last year, but having lived most of my life among instrumentalists, it felt like coming back home to be in the orchestra rehearsals for this piece. Damien wasn’t able to come until sound check for the DC performances, so being entrusted to listen and give feedback during rehearsals on his behalf for several days was equally a huge honor, beautifully reinvigorating, and totally terrifying.
Onstage with Damien Geter | Photo by Rachel Hadiashar (compressed/cropped for Squarespace)
It reminded me how much I missed live rehearsals of my own work; rehearsal has always been my favorite part of the writing process—where we work together to edit, develop, shape, and grow the piece together into something more than what I scribbled at my desk. It’s here I really feel the most connected to my work and to the musicians; if the musicians are invested and engaged in the writing/rehearsal process, that energy is brought forth in the performance. Their excitement/enthusiasm is infectious, and watching it wash over listeners in the performance is a bonus reward for the hours of collaboration. To me, the heart of creation is in those rehearsal spaces.
I’ve mostly been working remotely with my commissioners—trying to engage them with questions and feedback as much as possible—so to go from collaborating over Zoom and phone calls regarding chamber music to suddenly assisting rehearsals with an 80+ voice choir and full orchestra was quite the difference! The word that keeps coming to mind is electrifying. Simply electrifying.
Catching My Breath
Once I realized it was such a big anniversary, I of course had to make some cheesecake to celebrate. Happy 10 years to me!
I recently celebrated the 10th anniversary of my first professional premiere (big thanks to the Exponential Ensemble - especially clarinetist Pascal Archer - who gave a unknown undergrad writer the chance to compose a 15-minute work for his ensemble). The intersection of this anniversary with my upcoming 30th birthday has me longing for some time to sit and evaluate some things. I’m sure everyone goes through this at different times in their lives, but something about this summer just feels pivotal in some way—that there are some things I want to change. My fantasy is to have four or five days at a little house on the beach to just exist, reflect, ponder, scheme, and daydream. While I don’t see such a retreat in my schedule happening anytime soon, I have been working out ways to carve out smaller escapes on a daily basis.
The PCT was breathtaking—in every sense!
As I write, the weather has turned an iconic PNW-grey—the view interrupted by drizzled glass, shyly hiding behind wafting curtains of fog. I’ve spent a lot of time over the pandemic gazing out my window, but more and more it has felt less intentional. I think for many people, our quiet moments have become increasingly clamorous. Recently, my partner could see the strain I’d been under, and forced us out into The Nature for a real butt-kicking hike along a segment of the PCT. It wasn’t anything substantial by serious hiking standards, but it was the longest one we’ve done together (just under 11 miles).
While I love being outside, I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to do less at the time—I was so fried and tired and on edge. While work has been hectic, I think the combined strain of 1) being busy 2) in a pandemic 3) still straining to make ends meet 4) while witnessing bigotry and horrifying policies escalate and 5) feeling powerless in the face of tumultuous climate change while 6) being disconnected from friends and family…it’s been a lot for everybody!! Is a sweaty, muddy, Darth-Vader-panting hike really going to make any of this better?? The short answer is that it doesn’t fix the world, but what it does change is my ability to refocus on what I can actually control. I may write sometime about the relationship between my time in The Nature and my time writing, but for now I’m just happy to report that it’s still a great way to sweep out the brain and remind you how much the world can hold—among all that very real bad and hurt is a lot of beauty, kindness, and hope that is just as real and strong.
More to come
My first haircut since before the pandemic!
There’s a lot to share about recent performances and premieres, some really fun projects I’m working on this summer, new music coming to The Library, and a lot of excitement about what’s planned for this fall! There are still some discounts on commissions through the end of the month (June), for those looking to collaborate in the next few months.
After taking some time to get some thinking and writing and sleeping done, I’ll be eager to dive back in and share some sheet music, recordings, sketches, and—of course—more pictures from The Nature! In the meantime, wishing all of you rest, comfort, fun, company, stability (and maybe some cheesecake?) as you need them.
