I've been in Sweden since Friday and I'm still recovering from jet lag. I screwed the pooch on getting acclimated, was a bit ill over the weekend (something I ate while traveling), and haven't been able to break the funk since. However, today was a day I wasn't going to miss because of my stomach nor my head.
Kaija Saariaho is the recipient of a Polar Prize this year, and tonight was a concert of her music to kick off the festivities. The concert was an hour long with four pieces, three of which featured cellist Anssi Karttunen. If you're familiar with Saariaho's work, you'll probably recognize that name: most of her cello works are written for Karttunen.
I was excited for the concert. Bill Brunson had let me know over the weekend it was happening, so I marked it on my mental calendar. I walked the 15 minutes to the tunnelbana (metro, subway, tube), and headed into downtown Stockholm from my suburban abode in Bromma/Sundbyberg. The T is very easy to navigate in Stockholm county, so getting around is cake. The bus system is equally good, and much nicer than any other city I've been in. MUCH nicer. But getting to the konserthuset is easy--T to T-Centralen, walk a couple blocks.
An hour before the show, I picked up the ticket and a latte. The ticket was acceptably expensive (180 SEK or about $25-28 depending on the exchange). The latte wasn't very good, but I haven't had coffee since I got to Stockholm, so it was worth it. After finishing, I decided to walk the block and ran into Bill and his wife, completely unplanned. I knew he was going, but I wasn't out looking for him.
Enough about the day to day of Stockholm. Onto the concert.
I sat down about 10 of, and a crowd started forming quickly to my side. I glanced over and saw Saariaho. So, after she shook many hands, I hopped up and said a quick congrats and hello. Saariaho seemed pretty shy, and there was a crowd, so I wasn't going to draw her into a deep discussion. But, yes, I did "meet" her, though I doubt she'll remember my name (with all the hellos, names, and handshakes occurring).
The show began with a quick chat with Saariaho about the four pieces. The pieces were Sept papillos for cello, Serenatas for cello, percussion, and piano, Duft for clarinet, and Je sens un deuxieme coeur for viola, cello, and piano. Karttunen played the cello throughout, while members of Norrbotten NEO, Robert Ek (clarinet), Kim Hellgren (viola), Marten Landstrom (piano), and Daniel Saur (percussion) made up the rest of the players.
Saariaho explained the pieces simply: Sept papillons was written during rehearsal for L'amour de loins, her opera about Jaufre Rudel's possible (fictional?) love of the countess of Tripoli. She described it as her escape from all the drama, craziness, and huge amount of people. Serenatas was written using music that had been kicking around since sketching Sept papillons. They are a series of Serenades that can be played in any order. Duft for solo clarinet is based on music from an orchestral piece about the sense. Duft is German for smell, and it's her musical idea of the linking of smell and sound. Finally Je sens un deuxieme coeur (I feel a second heart) was inspired by Saariaho's second pregnancy, when she started thinking about how there was a second heart beating inside of her, beating very fast and slowing over 9 months. She mentioned polyrhythms as well as the programmatic aspect of the work.
I won't embark on a piece by piece analysis or discussion. Instead, here are some general remarks about Saariaho's music. First off, three of the pieces had some sort of programmatic aspect. These aspects, if I had not been told about them in the first place, would not have come through in the music at all. In fact, even listening with the "insider information" straight from Saariaho, I did not hear any of the programmatic elements. Nothing in Duft made me think of smell, and nothing in Je sens un deuxieme coeur made me think of feeling two heartbeats during pregnancy. And, while these were impetuses and muses for Saariaho, I do not think I was supposed to hear anything overtly programmatic. Instead of listening for little signs, trying to tease out the program, I felt as though I was supposed to just relax and experience the music. And that is exactly what I did, letting the music wash over me.
All of Saariaho's music takes a high level of virtuosity, especially the two solo works. Karttunen and Ek did fabulously on their ends, performing at high technical and musical levels. Saariaho's music favors the delicate over the raucous, though she is not afraid to put together a forceful section. However, it was the moments of relaxation that intrigued me the most.
Sadly, as the concert went on, I started hearing the same motives over and over again. I've always enjoyed Saariaho's music, though I was introduced to it fairly late in the game. I did notice in L'Amour de loin that long passages of time, an hour or so, would sit in nearly the same musical area, even as the action moved around the stage. In the opera, this created an odd sense of stasis along with movement. In an hours worth of chamber music, it didn't create such an intriguing effect. Instead, I was left thinking "What else can Saariaho do?" As passages died down, Saariaho would turn to trills between harmonics. If she wanted to keep energy going but pull back the sound, it'd be harmonic arpeggios. All the material seemed woven into the same large rich tapestry.
While I love that tapestry--it's colourful yet subtle, harmonically and motivically interesting--it is the one tapestry. When I hear Saariaho break out the most is when she uses electronics. For instance, Lonh, a beautiful piece for voice and electronics (performed beautifully by Dawn Upshaw on a recording available from Naive or Ondine...and streaming on Naxos).
This piece, to me, is Saariaho at her finest. But her style is so distinct, so incredibly tight and structured, that it seems like her pieces are coalescing into one piece.
This isn't necessarily a problem. As I said before, if all the pieces are woven into one tapestry, it is a beautiful, subtle, wonderful tapestry. But something happens when you hear four pieces that sound so incredibly close together. The music got less interesting, lines blurred, and I found myself slipping.
My experience is incredibly personal. I know other people that with such a program would be able to drift more fully into the music, experience the parallels, ride the waves of sound, and be quite happy. Maybe I am still a product of my generation, one that grows impatient with too much of the same. It's why writing a 25 minute drone piece was the hardest thing I've ever done (yes, worse than 2 operas), and why even during my favourite symphonies, I can start getting antsy halfway through a movement.
That being said, I am excited for the Kungliga Filharmonikerna concert in October with Saariaho's Laterna Magica, Chopin's 2nd Piano Concert, and Schumann's 4th symphony. Funny, I just brought that symphony up in my last post. Heh.
And I'm still quite happy I went to this concert. I had never gotten a chance to hear Saariaho's music live, and honestly the music didn't disappoint me. I think I disappointed myself. Instead of being able to just relax, and get washed away by the music, my mind instantly started analyzing all the similarities between the pieces. I couldn't even concentrate on the differences, just the similarities. So, now I've identified what I see to be a weakness in myself.
Because music is about the experience of the moment, not to over think it.
I listened to Lohn tonight when I got home after eating a giant smorgorsar (accents missing) and drinking an Orangina. In the quiet of my room, I was able to relax more and just let Saariaho's beautifully nuanced music flow over me. Hopefully, this mode of listening can stay with me--attentive, but not to the details, just to the music.
Showing posts with label challenges. Show all posts
Showing posts with label challenges. Show all posts
3/16/13
Limbo
There's an odd sense in our house these days. It's a house with three doctoral and one masters student. All composition. One doctoral is doing his defense this semester. Another defends next spring. The other may as well. The masters student also really only has one year left.
I'm done with coursework after this semester. Comps are finished. Dissertation is not yet completed, but depending on the situation, could be done as early as the fall.
And that's the kicker, for all of us: "...depending on the situation."
I've had uncertainty many times before. After DePauw, I had no direction other than "Apply for grad schools" and found myself on the beach in Jersey. It worked out. But there weren't any opportunities when I graduated, i made them.
After Brooklyn, similar situation. Job in Jersey disappeared with the economy. I applied for whatever I could, but a Masters degree is a tricky thing in my field. It's not the terminal degree, so teaching positions are incredibly difficult to find, beyond the occasional adjunct work. But much of the rest of the world sees you as horribly overqualified. So, I started a dark period in Indiana, begging for work for 3 months before getting hired at a music store making practically nothing.
Then I got into a Doctoral program. It was, somewhat, in desperation. But it was one of the schools I was interested in...I just didn't do the usual process and check out the schools.
So, there was a lot of unknown after my Masters, but, again, it was an unknown with no possibilities over my head.
Now, I'm finishing my doctorate. I've gotten one awesome opportunity for the fall already, and I'm hoping to be there. But, there's still so much over my head...
There's this Fulbright business. I will hear anytime between now and June 1. Sooner is much better, whether positive or negative. I have a preference for a "come on out to Sweden," but knowing is much better than not knowing.
There are job opportunities. Should I apply? I'll be ABD. I could be ABD with a "just waiting for the semester to end to get the diploma, but he defended in August." I could be ABD till May 2014. And then there's the fact, I could apply for the job, and get the Fulbright AND the job? What then? I'm guessing I'd turn down the job, but how will that affect future applications. My advisor has assured me that no one begrudges a Fulbright winner for taking off. I'll hold onto that.
And what if neither happen? Will I continue to work on this full length opera, or bang out a second short and turn in a set of two for my dissertation? I could be done, again, by August, or take my sweet ole time then and work on the craft and editing. I could definitely go to the opportunity in the fall, which would be effing awesome. I could do more in Kansas City, set-up events, maybe stage a couple more productions. Could edit what I have now, make it even tighter. Do a string quartet version of Cake finally.
And what exactly is my dissertation? Is it a full-length? Is it an "evening of short operas" with two 15-20 minute operas?
I've been feeling stuck in this Limbo. When there are no ready options, the world is open to you. You can take any opportunity that pops up, float around, skip town and move across the country. You spend your days searching. It's a different Limbo, a different stress. There's still a sense of unknown, but it's total unknown. The mind has difficulty processing the idea of "all options and no options are available."
But when you're sitting, waiting, with some distinct possibilities in place, it's different. You're waiting for that domino to drop that sets off the chain reaction. You're small ripples in a pond from water dripping off a leaf...It could continue, it could become a downpour and all those little ripples become a wave, or someone could throw a stone into the pond. Or a boulder.
Or possibly the entire world.
And then your original little ripples are consumed.
Trying to be tranquil in this sea of troubles is not more forte.
I'm done with coursework after this semester. Comps are finished. Dissertation is not yet completed, but depending on the situation, could be done as early as the fall.
And that's the kicker, for all of us: "...depending on the situation."
I've had uncertainty many times before. After DePauw, I had no direction other than "Apply for grad schools" and found myself on the beach in Jersey. It worked out. But there weren't any opportunities when I graduated, i made them.
After Brooklyn, similar situation. Job in Jersey disappeared with the economy. I applied for whatever I could, but a Masters degree is a tricky thing in my field. It's not the terminal degree, so teaching positions are incredibly difficult to find, beyond the occasional adjunct work. But much of the rest of the world sees you as horribly overqualified. So, I started a dark period in Indiana, begging for work for 3 months before getting hired at a music store making practically nothing.
Then I got into a Doctoral program. It was, somewhat, in desperation. But it was one of the schools I was interested in...I just didn't do the usual process and check out the schools.
So, there was a lot of unknown after my Masters, but, again, it was an unknown with no possibilities over my head.
Now, I'm finishing my doctorate. I've gotten one awesome opportunity for the fall already, and I'm hoping to be there. But, there's still so much over my head...
There's this Fulbright business. I will hear anytime between now and June 1. Sooner is much better, whether positive or negative. I have a preference for a "come on out to Sweden," but knowing is much better than not knowing.
There are job opportunities. Should I apply? I'll be ABD. I could be ABD with a "just waiting for the semester to end to get the diploma, but he defended in August." I could be ABD till May 2014. And then there's the fact, I could apply for the job, and get the Fulbright AND the job? What then? I'm guessing I'd turn down the job, but how will that affect future applications. My advisor has assured me that no one begrudges a Fulbright winner for taking off. I'll hold onto that.
And what if neither happen? Will I continue to work on this full length opera, or bang out a second short and turn in a set of two for my dissertation? I could be done, again, by August, or take my sweet ole time then and work on the craft and editing. I could definitely go to the opportunity in the fall, which would be effing awesome. I could do more in Kansas City, set-up events, maybe stage a couple more productions. Could edit what I have now, make it even tighter. Do a string quartet version of Cake finally.
And what exactly is my dissertation? Is it a full-length? Is it an "evening of short operas" with two 15-20 minute operas?
I've been feeling stuck in this Limbo. When there are no ready options, the world is open to you. You can take any opportunity that pops up, float around, skip town and move across the country. You spend your days searching. It's a different Limbo, a different stress. There's still a sense of unknown, but it's total unknown. The mind has difficulty processing the idea of "all options and no options are available."
But when you're sitting, waiting, with some distinct possibilities in place, it's different. You're waiting for that domino to drop that sets off the chain reaction. You're small ripples in a pond from water dripping off a leaf...It could continue, it could become a downpour and all those little ripples become a wave, or someone could throw a stone into the pond. Or a boulder.
Or possibly the entire world.
And then your original little ripples are consumed.
Trying to be tranquil in this sea of troubles is not more forte.
11/27/12
Event 3- when the birds flew into town
I've done the production manager thing before. Contacted venues, gotten gear lists together, driven a 24' box truck, gone to rehearsals, heck i've even judged competitions before.
But nothing compared to when eighth blackbird came to town.
For those not in the know, check out the about on their page and catch the part where they've won a couple Grammy's (no. 73, a couple down the list, for 2012). They are the premier chamber ensemble in the nation, possibly world. Complete beasts.
I mean their playing. They're all delightful people. I had several great conversations with various members, including a fairly long one with Lisa Kaplan as I showed her cross campus.
Oh, the event! right. Through the Barr Institute at UMKC, eighth blackbird presented various masterclasses for the past year, a concert of music of their choice, and then one other project. The other project was put out as a submission to the conservatory at large. Groups, or individuals, could write proposals.
When eighth blackbird had come to town in April, I was talking to a local museum about hosting a series of concerts through the conservatory. We were in the final stages of putting together quite the idea- a commissioning project where each semester 5 students would be chosen to compose site specific pieces based upon art on display. And the goal was to have a "resident ensemble," maybe start with the university new music ensemble, Musica Nova, then see who would be game. Pretty frackin' cool right? Well, this idea got brought up during a large conversation with 8bb that somehow became them asking questions about what the composers organization on campus did. They loved the idea, the novel concept, the cultural link, and Matthew Duvall said "that's the kind of concert that if someone pitched it to us, we'd consider it." Being an opportunist, I said "Hey, so, we've got this concert we're planning in the fall, and I heard you'd be around..." It was a good laugh.
The this project proposal came around.
And I was flat out told "John, you have to submit that project. but spruce it up a bit." So I did. Instead of just 8bb playing the pieces, I pitched it as a "side-by-side" where UMKC student performers would get to work with 8bb, prepare brand new music submitted by composition students, and we'd hold a concert at the museum. Dance was even added in collaboration, so they get to say they've worked with 8bb (though I'm not sure how important that is to dance. Hopefully really important).
It was accepted. and I thought "woo! venue is already in! I won't have to do anything for this at all. Maybe they'll have me collect the scores or something."
Oh man...was I wrong.
So, long story made medium, the original venue had some issues. There was some turn over, all our efforts were lost in the shuffle, and come August, no venue. Well, shit. We were hell bent on the concert being off campus, so I set to work. Sadly, I couldn't find a "free" place, but I got a decent deal on a space for an all day rental (we had no idea at the time of booking how much time, so i said quote all day, we'll pay all day, and you'll prolly come out ahead. Fast way to get a yes). Alright, great...then came me being the middle man to get everything paid for. If you've never had to deal with that in a university (or other really large company) then I pray you never do. If it wasn't for great administrators, and certain higher ups covering my ass, I would have lost it
Ok, ok, we've got a venue! it's booked! Reception? uh uh uh...ok, held off as long as we could...No! We'll just go to a bar afterwards. we'll all be tired anyway, and we will need to get everything put away. Ok, great. Piano? SHIT, PIANO! WE NEED A PIANO!!!! WHY IS IT IN FOUR WEEKS AND I FORGOT TO EVEN GET A PIANO?!?!?!?!
To be fair, by this time about 5 people were involved in various fashions with ordering, coordinating, etc, and none of us remembered piano. Ok, no big deal, piano received. Great, how do we get equipment to the place? I suggested a 14' truck. Oh, good, someone else is driving...
Wait, what, he can't drive? Ok, fine, that's fine. OH, it's a 24' truck? well...shit...at least it's automatic. one less thing to worry about.
So here I am, night before, tired as balls, can't sleep. Have to be up at 7 to be at rehearsal (just in case, I was at almost all the rehearsals). Get there, drinking coffee, ok, I'll get the truck, load it...
And then the day went normally. Loaded a truck, drove it downtown, set-up stuff, drove truck back, got some lunch. The, uh, normal people in the venue complained about the noise...yeah, Stamos' piece is hella loud after all. But we did SAY from the beginning "rehearsals start at 2, show at 5:30." Guess that didn't make it throughout the company. Alright, fun. We're here, we paid, not much can be done.
Show is beyond packed. Standing room only, and we're in there like sardines. John Corigliano is in the audience, in town to begin his Barr Laureate status. And here I am, hopping up in front of everyone. Little sleep, only a couple weeks after comps, during which I was dealing with every pitfall possible in getting this concert to happen. I'm sure I looked like hell.
Then the concert happened. It was fantastic. 8bb and all the conservatory students played the hell out of the pieces.
In the aftermath, even more great news. Hey, remember that $4K you asked for, and proposed that since it's a project effecting at least 4 different student groups, that'd only be $1K a piece? Yeah, we decided it's really only for 1 group, and we're giving you a total of $1780. Oh, no no no, not for this one project...for the year. Yep, you're actually getting less than every other year. Have a great year!
But, ya know what? the concert was awesome. 8bb was awesome. The food afterwards was delicious
And, I learned I can still back a 24' box truck down a narrow alley without trying
But nothing compared to when eighth blackbird came to town.
For those not in the know, check out the about on their page and catch the part where they've won a couple Grammy's (no. 73, a couple down the list, for 2012). They are the premier chamber ensemble in the nation, possibly world. Complete beasts.
I mean their playing. They're all delightful people. I had several great conversations with various members, including a fairly long one with Lisa Kaplan as I showed her cross campus.
Oh, the event! right. Through the Barr Institute at UMKC, eighth blackbird presented various masterclasses for the past year, a concert of music of their choice, and then one other project. The other project was put out as a submission to the conservatory at large. Groups, or individuals, could write proposals.
When eighth blackbird had come to town in April, I was talking to a local museum about hosting a series of concerts through the conservatory. We were in the final stages of putting together quite the idea- a commissioning project where each semester 5 students would be chosen to compose site specific pieces based upon art on display. And the goal was to have a "resident ensemble," maybe start with the university new music ensemble, Musica Nova, then see who would be game. Pretty frackin' cool right? Well, this idea got brought up during a large conversation with 8bb that somehow became them asking questions about what the composers organization on campus did. They loved the idea, the novel concept, the cultural link, and Matthew Duvall said "that's the kind of concert that if someone pitched it to us, we'd consider it." Being an opportunist, I said "Hey, so, we've got this concert we're planning in the fall, and I heard you'd be around..." It was a good laugh.
The this project proposal came around.
And I was flat out told "John, you have to submit that project. but spruce it up a bit." So I did. Instead of just 8bb playing the pieces, I pitched it as a "side-by-side" where UMKC student performers would get to work with 8bb, prepare brand new music submitted by composition students, and we'd hold a concert at the museum. Dance was even added in collaboration, so they get to say they've worked with 8bb (though I'm not sure how important that is to dance. Hopefully really important).
It was accepted. and I thought "woo! venue is already in! I won't have to do anything for this at all. Maybe they'll have me collect the scores or something."
Oh man...was I wrong.
So, long story made medium, the original venue had some issues. There was some turn over, all our efforts were lost in the shuffle, and come August, no venue. Well, shit. We were hell bent on the concert being off campus, so I set to work. Sadly, I couldn't find a "free" place, but I got a decent deal on a space for an all day rental (we had no idea at the time of booking how much time, so i said quote all day, we'll pay all day, and you'll prolly come out ahead. Fast way to get a yes). Alright, great...then came me being the middle man to get everything paid for. If you've never had to deal with that in a university (or other really large company) then I pray you never do. If it wasn't for great administrators, and certain higher ups covering my ass, I would have lost it
Ok, ok, we've got a venue! it's booked! Reception? uh uh uh...ok, held off as long as we could...No! We'll just go to a bar afterwards. we'll all be tired anyway, and we will need to get everything put away. Ok, great. Piano? SHIT, PIANO! WE NEED A PIANO!!!! WHY IS IT IN FOUR WEEKS AND I FORGOT TO EVEN GET A PIANO?!?!?!?!
To be fair, by this time about 5 people were involved in various fashions with ordering, coordinating, etc, and none of us remembered piano. Ok, no big deal, piano received. Great, how do we get equipment to the place? I suggested a 14' truck. Oh, good, someone else is driving...
Wait, what, he can't drive? Ok, fine, that's fine. OH, it's a 24' truck? well...shit...at least it's automatic. one less thing to worry about.
So here I am, night before, tired as balls, can't sleep. Have to be up at 7 to be at rehearsal (just in case, I was at almost all the rehearsals). Get there, drinking coffee, ok, I'll get the truck, load it...
And then the day went normally. Loaded a truck, drove it downtown, set-up stuff, drove truck back, got some lunch. The, uh, normal people in the venue complained about the noise...yeah, Stamos' piece is hella loud after all. But we did SAY from the beginning "rehearsals start at 2, show at 5:30." Guess that didn't make it throughout the company. Alright, fun. We're here, we paid, not much can be done.
Show is beyond packed. Standing room only, and we're in there like sardines. John Corigliano is in the audience, in town to begin his Barr Laureate status. And here I am, hopping up in front of everyone. Little sleep, only a couple weeks after comps, during which I was dealing with every pitfall possible in getting this concert to happen. I'm sure I looked like hell.
Then the concert happened. It was fantastic. 8bb and all the conservatory students played the hell out of the pieces.
In the aftermath, even more great news. Hey, remember that $4K you asked for, and proposed that since it's a project effecting at least 4 different student groups, that'd only be $1K a piece? Yeah, we decided it's really only for 1 group, and we're giving you a total of $1780. Oh, no no no, not for this one project...for the year. Yep, you're actually getting less than every other year. Have a great year!
But, ya know what? the concert was awesome. 8bb was awesome. The food afterwards was delicious
And, I learned I can still back a 24' box truck down a narrow alley without trying
11/23/12
Event 2- The Art of Revision
At 28, I've written more than a few papers. Short essays, long research papers, reviews, fiction, plays, poems; you name it and I've probably dabbled in it. I'm fairly competent; my grammar is generally acceptable, spelling pretty good, my research is top notch, and I try to be at least somewhat interesting. Good enough to "High Pass" my comprehensive exams research essay. Good enough to present at conferences, and maybe get published. Not so good as to get a book picked up by a publisher.
Editing, however, has always been a weak point. It's been a main area of focus over the last two years. It's an art. David Mamet answered the question "what do you do?" with "I shave syllables." In essence, that's what most writers do. Not so much the case with me until about a year ago, when I did 5 revisions on a 12 page research paper. This was completely unheard of at the time.
But nothing touched doing my Fulbright application. The process really started going in August, ramping up through September till crunch time in October. From the end of August till I submitted the app in mid-October, editing my Fulbright essays was a nightly endeavor.
The total writing was 3 pages.
My personal essay was alright from the beginning. I still managed 8 revisions. There was shaving to be done, phrases to tighten, words to cut, and always the small grammar errors here and there. But the story was there and somewhat compelling, if one could call my life compelling.
The research proposal was another matter. 2 pages that would grab the reader, give them all the pertinent information, list a methodology, and layout a timeline. Alright, I can do the last three, but grabbing the attention of the reader? I figured the idea would be enough for that: Travel to Sweden, interview heavy metal and death metal musicians specifically about the use of folklore and folk melodies, and any connections to political and social messages in the music. Use that info to help write an opera, all the while using the resources at the Royal College of Music in Stockholm. Sounds interesting, right?
I revised that puppy 12 times by the end. This was easily a record for me. Even by the end, I wasn't all that confident in my work. It's a beastly amount of work, finding that balance between interesting and "academic." I feel like I had a more free style younger in life, but was forced into a more academic style of writing. And here I am applying for a prestigious academic fellowship, and I'm being told "Be more interesting! You sound too academic!" Who would have thought?
But it was an amazing process. I'm not expecting good news on the Fulbright. If I don't receive one, it doesn't diminish what I took away in the process: learning to juggle edits from multiple sources, examining the nuance caused by simple grammar changes, learning the style dictated by grants and fellowships, and seeing the massive amount of support needed to succeed in such an endeavor.
Whether I get one or not, the process was definitely worth the time
And all this was made all the more challenging considering I turned it in during my comprehensive exam, while also planning a concert with eighth blackbird. Easy to concentrate.
Editing, however, has always been a weak point. It's been a main area of focus over the last two years. It's an art. David Mamet answered the question "what do you do?" with "I shave syllables." In essence, that's what most writers do. Not so much the case with me until about a year ago, when I did 5 revisions on a 12 page research paper. This was completely unheard of at the time.
But nothing touched doing my Fulbright application. The process really started going in August, ramping up through September till crunch time in October. From the end of August till I submitted the app in mid-October, editing my Fulbright essays was a nightly endeavor.
The total writing was 3 pages.
My personal essay was alright from the beginning. I still managed 8 revisions. There was shaving to be done, phrases to tighten, words to cut, and always the small grammar errors here and there. But the story was there and somewhat compelling, if one could call my life compelling.
The research proposal was another matter. 2 pages that would grab the reader, give them all the pertinent information, list a methodology, and layout a timeline. Alright, I can do the last three, but grabbing the attention of the reader? I figured the idea would be enough for that: Travel to Sweden, interview heavy metal and death metal musicians specifically about the use of folklore and folk melodies, and any connections to political and social messages in the music. Use that info to help write an opera, all the while using the resources at the Royal College of Music in Stockholm. Sounds interesting, right?
I revised that puppy 12 times by the end. This was easily a record for me. Even by the end, I wasn't all that confident in my work. It's a beastly amount of work, finding that balance between interesting and "academic." I feel like I had a more free style younger in life, but was forced into a more academic style of writing. And here I am applying for a prestigious academic fellowship, and I'm being told "Be more interesting! You sound too academic!" Who would have thought?
But it was an amazing process. I'm not expecting good news on the Fulbright. If I don't receive one, it doesn't diminish what I took away in the process: learning to juggle edits from multiple sources, examining the nuance caused by simple grammar changes, learning the style dictated by grants and fellowships, and seeing the massive amount of support needed to succeed in such an endeavor.
Whether I get one or not, the process was definitely worth the time
And all this was made all the more challenging considering I turned it in during my comprehensive exam, while also planning a concert with eighth blackbird. Easy to concentrate.
8/23/12
two quotes from distinctly different lands
Today I ran across two quotes that seemed to sum up two of my great feelings in life:The first was a sign off shout from GOOMF! If you don't know GOOMF!, it's an Onion Sports Network parody of Face-Off from ESPN. And it's magical. Really magical. The cast off shout of record:
Talk about magical wisdom. It's true, isn't it? It's all about how we listen, what we listen for in a conversation. We all perceive things differently, and are willing to toss out anything that doesn't go along with our preconceived ideas.
The other quote I grabbed from Ethan Iverson giving a great discussion of why competitions aren't great for art: especially a performance competition of Jazz.
Man, he just really nailed that one on the head, didn't he. Iverson also tosses in a little dig against competitions in the classical world, at least in sense that they don't work well.
The largest truth comes in the idea of writing or playing for someone else. You know so-and-so is a judge. S/he likes this particular style. If I do that well, I have a better chance of winning. In the classical world, you can browse winners of competitions and see the aesthetic leanings of the competition, be it traditional, complexity, post-minimalist, whatever. Maybe that means "only submit to competitions where your style fits." Of course, if you're pushing for your own path, it's hard to find that competition.
So what's that mean? Well it means quote 1 sticks into quote 2. A lot of people tell you that you have to be successful. Success is dictated in many ways. I've gotten advice lately that while my CV is strong, it's lacking one big thing- a named award. If I listen to all the wrong parts of what I'm being told, it means I compromise the idea of quote 2- I write for a judge. I look to see winners, and say "well, I can write in a really complex style. If it gets me an award, then it's worth it." Will winning that award suddenly make me "successful?" Will I now, undoubtedly, get a job wherever I want? N'ah, it'll make some nice introductions, give me a couple more opportunities, but I can do that without the competition.
That's listening to the wrong part. Listen to the part that says "Write the best music you can, get a nice recording, and send it out. Everywhere." And still submit. Because you never really know what'll happen. Music is highly subjective, and if you resonate with just one person, all of a sudden you've got an award.
And because if you start listening to all the wrong parts of sentences, you'll start to lose yourself, and when you lose yourself, you've lost a deep connection to what you're doing. Then creation halts.
So listen to the whole sentence, and work for your love of what you do.
"Your parents either told you horrible lies, or you chose to listen to all the wrong parts of sentences."
Talk about magical wisdom. It's true, isn't it? It's all about how we listen, what we listen for in a conversation. We all perceive things differently, and are willing to toss out anything that doesn't go along with our preconceived ideas.
The other quote I grabbed from Ethan Iverson giving a great discussion of why competitions aren't great for art: especially a performance competition of Jazz.
"We need more audience for jazz, and the way to get that audience is not to play jazz correctly. The way to get that audience is to make essential new music."
Man, he just really nailed that one on the head, didn't he. Iverson also tosses in a little dig against competitions in the classical world, at least in sense that they don't work well.
The largest truth comes in the idea of writing or playing for someone else. You know so-and-so is a judge. S/he likes this particular style. If I do that well, I have a better chance of winning. In the classical world, you can browse winners of competitions and see the aesthetic leanings of the competition, be it traditional, complexity, post-minimalist, whatever. Maybe that means "only submit to competitions where your style fits." Of course, if you're pushing for your own path, it's hard to find that competition.
So what's that mean? Well it means quote 1 sticks into quote 2. A lot of people tell you that you have to be successful. Success is dictated in many ways. I've gotten advice lately that while my CV is strong, it's lacking one big thing- a named award. If I listen to all the wrong parts of what I'm being told, it means I compromise the idea of quote 2- I write for a judge. I look to see winners, and say "well, I can write in a really complex style. If it gets me an award, then it's worth it." Will winning that award suddenly make me "successful?" Will I now, undoubtedly, get a job wherever I want? N'ah, it'll make some nice introductions, give me a couple more opportunities, but I can do that without the competition.
That's listening to the wrong part. Listen to the part that says "Write the best music you can, get a nice recording, and send it out. Everywhere." And still submit. Because you never really know what'll happen. Music is highly subjective, and if you resonate with just one person, all of a sudden you've got an award.
And because if you start listening to all the wrong parts of sentences, you'll start to lose yourself, and when you lose yourself, you've lost a deep connection to what you're doing. Then creation halts.
So listen to the whole sentence, and work for your love of what you do.
3/1/10
take it easy, you're on the right track!
Ah, young composers, and their amazingly long lines and fantastic ideas. wait...i'm one of those composers. lol
Had another meeting with my mentee. Man, this guy has quite the staggering mind. Honestly, anyway that takes on reading ancient philosophy (partly for class and partly because he wants to) and doing "a series of exercises using all 5 forms of species counterpoint, for multiple voices" without being in a theory class is quite astounding. I never had that kind of drive. prolly never will. lol.
Anyway, we were discussing his latest assignment, a clever piece of orchestrational fun. He is to take 4 different percussion parts, two of which must used pitched instruments at some point, and create some sort of theme. Then, develop the theme not through various pitch or rhythmic invention, but through timbre. Ah, orchestration.
Oh course, he came to me with big ideas. "he's my rhythmic ideas. i think i'l use just one." there were three, and, from my basic guess, each one was about 6 or 7 measures long. Yeah a bit long. He drew out his ideas for the melody and accompanying gestures graphically (a fun way to work, i think). and went to elaborate on his ideas.
After awhile, a smile crept over my face. How many times have i done this exact thing! Here's my idea, here are 20 other ideas, each one quite long. and wonderful. and, i will say, his patterns were quite interesting. and his ideas on the melody were interesting...but...
When is there too much? it's a big question i think. I tried to lead him toward making a decision on one line to follow. Then, i offered the simple advice "do a bit less, work within the confines of the idea, and keep it simple."
I think one of the biggest challenges in composition is limiting oneself. It's easy to come up with great ideas...well...easier to come up with great ideas than start with one and turn it into something more. This invention, this development of idea is what separates the greats, ranging through time, from the wannabes. It's why we remember Mozart, Beethoven, Brahms, Schoenberg. they new how to do more with a little.
And it's something i struggle with everyday i composer. My last piece, 6 Pieces After Basho, was a giant exercise in restraint. I had limited resources (not quite a full band instrumentation), limited abilities (it was for a HS band playing right around grade 3 literature, not a "dream group."), and decided to limit myself in time (each movement being 1 minute, except the last which went 2, but it's really in two 1 minute parts) and in content (working mainly with 0 2 5, 0 1 5, and 0 2 7 trichords, mostly in inversion). and, honestly, i'm not sure each movement does stand alone perfectly. However, as a whole, the piece, i think, is pretty successful. Maybe not a masterwork, but a pretty good piece. Restraint does wonderful things. And figuring out invention using limited materials can really lead to great things.
My mentee is a quick learner...I pointed out that his first rhythmic idea can really be broken down into two separate ideas, and the rest of it is based almost fully on it. He wasn't sure what i meant, but i illustrated that the first two groupings (3 3 2 and 3 2 2) really made up the whole line (i believe it was 3 3 2 3 2 2 2 3 3 3 2 2 2, though this was about 8 hours ago he showed it to me). So, take the basic units, 3+3+2 and 3+2+2 and create the ideas out of that.
Then, we came to the big part. The professor had given two pages of a piece he had written for percussion quartet as an illustration. I pointed out one other thing. "ya know, it seems like you're thinking of continuous rhythm and lines...what about silence?" we started talking about this and that, and he told me a story about his marching band days when, while playing in the pit (he plays bassoon, which is conducive to marching band. i should tell him about the bassoon solo i once saw in a marching band competition...). they were doing music from Wizard of Oz and the first song was Over the Rainbow (of course). afterwards there was silence, then...BOOM, the percussion erupt into the tornado! He said everyone was surprised and he got a reputation for being the guy that leapt into the air at the gong and really beat the heck outta it.
And i smiled...and looked at him, and said "why was it effective?" and he laughed. "Oh wow, and we came back to it! Because it came from nothing!"
exactly! Silence is a large part of music, and something that is easy to forget about. There doesn't need to be constant motion. in fact, constant motion can wear down the ears. it creates expectation of sound. and music is at least in part playing with expectations. I could go on and on regarding this topic, as it's an interesting psychological/philosophical discussion in what we get out of music, but, suffice it to say, that when you know what's going to happen, every time, it can get boring. When you never know what's going to happen, you're going to stop paying attention. It's about finding the middle ground, fulfilling and denying expectation
and, on that note, i'm going to sleep. "lessons" are a lot of fun, especially since it happens in the afternoon on a day i don't have anything, so we just kinda sit around and talk till we're tired of talking. It generally seems to go a couple hours. lol. maybe not always productive time, but, i guess as long as we're both learning, then it is productive, on some level. Ah, sleep
Oh yeah, i finished my meta-sonnet. I shall post it and a discussion of it later...
Had another meeting with my mentee. Man, this guy has quite the staggering mind. Honestly, anyway that takes on reading ancient philosophy (partly for class and partly because he wants to) and doing "a series of exercises using all 5 forms of species counterpoint, for multiple voices" without being in a theory class is quite astounding. I never had that kind of drive. prolly never will. lol.
Anyway, we were discussing his latest assignment, a clever piece of orchestrational fun. He is to take 4 different percussion parts, two of which must used pitched instruments at some point, and create some sort of theme. Then, develop the theme not through various pitch or rhythmic invention, but through timbre. Ah, orchestration.
Oh course, he came to me with big ideas. "he's my rhythmic ideas. i think i'l use just one." there were three, and, from my basic guess, each one was about 6 or 7 measures long. Yeah a bit long. He drew out his ideas for the melody and accompanying gestures graphically (a fun way to work, i think). and went to elaborate on his ideas.
After awhile, a smile crept over my face. How many times have i done this exact thing! Here's my idea, here are 20 other ideas, each one quite long. and wonderful. and, i will say, his patterns were quite interesting. and his ideas on the melody were interesting...but...
When is there too much? it's a big question i think. I tried to lead him toward making a decision on one line to follow. Then, i offered the simple advice "do a bit less, work within the confines of the idea, and keep it simple."
I think one of the biggest challenges in composition is limiting oneself. It's easy to come up with great ideas...well...easier to come up with great ideas than start with one and turn it into something more. This invention, this development of idea is what separates the greats, ranging through time, from the wannabes. It's why we remember Mozart, Beethoven, Brahms, Schoenberg. they new how to do more with a little.
And it's something i struggle with everyday i composer. My last piece, 6 Pieces After Basho, was a giant exercise in restraint. I had limited resources (not quite a full band instrumentation), limited abilities (it was for a HS band playing right around grade 3 literature, not a "dream group."), and decided to limit myself in time (each movement being 1 minute, except the last which went 2, but it's really in two 1 minute parts) and in content (working mainly with 0 2 5, 0 1 5, and 0 2 7 trichords, mostly in inversion). and, honestly, i'm not sure each movement does stand alone perfectly. However, as a whole, the piece, i think, is pretty successful. Maybe not a masterwork, but a pretty good piece. Restraint does wonderful things. And figuring out invention using limited materials can really lead to great things.
My mentee is a quick learner...I pointed out that his first rhythmic idea can really be broken down into two separate ideas, and the rest of it is based almost fully on it. He wasn't sure what i meant, but i illustrated that the first two groupings (3 3 2 and 3 2 2) really made up the whole line (i believe it was 3 3 2 3 2 2 2 3 3 3 2 2 2, though this was about 8 hours ago he showed it to me). So, take the basic units, 3+3+2 and 3+2+2 and create the ideas out of that.
Then, we came to the big part. The professor had given two pages of a piece he had written for percussion quartet as an illustration. I pointed out one other thing. "ya know, it seems like you're thinking of continuous rhythm and lines...what about silence?" we started talking about this and that, and he told me a story about his marching band days when, while playing in the pit (he plays bassoon, which is conducive to marching band. i should tell him about the bassoon solo i once saw in a marching band competition...). they were doing music from Wizard of Oz and the first song was Over the Rainbow (of course). afterwards there was silence, then...BOOM, the percussion erupt into the tornado! He said everyone was surprised and he got a reputation for being the guy that leapt into the air at the gong and really beat the heck outta it.
And i smiled...and looked at him, and said "why was it effective?" and he laughed. "Oh wow, and we came back to it! Because it came from nothing!"
exactly! Silence is a large part of music, and something that is easy to forget about. There doesn't need to be constant motion. in fact, constant motion can wear down the ears. it creates expectation of sound. and music is at least in part playing with expectations. I could go on and on regarding this topic, as it's an interesting psychological/philosophical discussion in what we get out of music, but, suffice it to say, that when you know what's going to happen, every time, it can get boring. When you never know what's going to happen, you're going to stop paying attention. It's about finding the middle ground, fulfilling and denying expectation
and, on that note, i'm going to sleep. "lessons" are a lot of fun, especially since it happens in the afternoon on a day i don't have anything, so we just kinda sit around and talk till we're tired of talking. It generally seems to go a couple hours. lol. maybe not always productive time, but, i guess as long as we're both learning, then it is productive, on some level. Ah, sleep
Oh yeah, i finished my meta-sonnet. I shall post it and a discussion of it later...
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