When There Was Nothing, There Was Music

comments Comments Off
By Kathryn, November 1, 2009 7:16 am

When there was nothing, there was music.

Sometimes I wonder how this can be. But I never question that it is. To me, where there is emptiness, it doesn’t really mean emptiness, it means something waiting. For some, it means a thought rushes in, welcomed in the open space of quiet. For some, it means that the simplest situation can offer the most profound impact.

I sat in a temple in Delhi, India, where the only sound was the faint jingling of women’s bangles as they circled the room. And it took a moment of convincing myself that what I heard was jewelry, because it sounded to me like a pure, faint melody. And then I stopped trying to convince myself of anything, and I just let myself listen. Music is everywhere. I can hear a conversation between bassoons in what others hear as car horns. I could turn the soft clicking of camel hooves on pavement into a rhythmic foundation. Music can sound like a waterfall, it can be felt as a sunrise, it can be smelled in blooming flowers. Or, a waterfall can sound like a cascading melody, a sunrise can be felt as the exposition of a sonata, flowers can smell like a rhapsody.

Loneliness. This is a form of nothing, right? It can be mistaken for insecurity and fear. But I believe it runs deeper than insecurities, deeper than moments of fear, awarding it the frightening capacity to envelop one in a state of being. Loneliness is a rare feeling, a real feeling.

Maybe I need nothing to make music. Nothing can be found in almost everything, I am finding. The embedded ambiguity in such a thought is both lovely to me, and unnerving to me.

I told my mom that I’m not sure what I understand about the world right now. She said, “But it sounds like you are understanding the meaning of home.”

A World Premiere and a World Premier

comments Comments Off
By Kathryn, September 30, 2009 5:23 pm

September 13, 2009 marked the world premiere of a solo violin piece called “Panorama,” which I wrote for violinist Peter Sheppard Skaerved. The piece was performed at Wilton’s Music Hall in London. Like every other concert in this series, the evening began not with a song, but with words. Each concert is preceded by a brief “Pre-Concert Talk” given by Peter, which, next to the incredible artistry and vivacity of the performers, is perhaps the distinctive feature of concerts in the series at Wilton’s. These talks concern nothing relating to theory or conceptual analysis of the music within the program, but address larger themes present in society, politics, aesthetics, philosophy, art, and history during the time when the music was written. The audience, an eclectic mix of students, scholars, and supporters, is therefore prepared for each concert without being told what to think about the music, and the frequently-missing element of artist-audience connection is reinvigorated. Of course, for those who already know Peter, this type of interaction and infectious energy is routine. Which is largely the reason people continue to return. And for newcomers, this is an invitation to become part of a world that is unconcerned with hierarchically-organized frameworks, a world which extends beyond musical principles and reaches into the panoramic spectrum of art and its interwoven relationship with science, society, politics, history, and ideas. I find this type of world much more conducive to meaningful exchange. Because in my mind, as opposed to cherishing sectionalized spheres of knowledge whose boundaries never touch, making new connections and drawing parallels between realms of thought is how we will propel music, art, and ideas forward. For all of us, this series at Wilton’s offers a glimpse into what the musical-artistic world can be—dare I say, what it should be.

The First International Contemporary Music Festival, or, Some Necessary Revelations

By Kathryn, September 3, 2009 8:22 am

Last week, I attended the First International Contemporary Music Festival in Nicosia, Cyprus, which was directed by Peter Sheppard-Skaerved, violinist; Aaron Shorr, pianist; and Evis Sammoutis, composer. The festival was a huge success, drawing large crowds every evening for concerts held at what used to be a shoe factory in the city. I hope to see this festival blossom into an annual tradition, and was privileged to be involved in the inaugural week of concerts, workshops, and masterclasses.

Now a private home, the acoustics of the Shoe Factory were absolutely pristine, and the architecture, decorations, and interior design almost surreal. With a shaded pool in behind a wall of windows, a rooftop terrace with reflection pools and lounging pillows, and contemporary art adorning the walls, entering the Shoe Factory was almost like a momentary escape from reality. It was definitely an escape from the reality of much of the surroundings in Nicosia, which looked somewhat like a wartime film set, complete with border patrol policemen in cages with huge weapons and partially-destroyed buildings around the corner.

The festival showcased contemporary music, almost none of which was written before 1900. For me, being a musician whose training focused primarily on music and composers from the 16th through the 19th centuries, this was a wonderful introduction to music I had not spent much time listening to or studying thoroughly. Although I did spend some time in school learning serial and other twentieth-century compositional techniques, and philosophically debating the merits (and demerits) of certain music from the so-called contemporary period, I was slightly shocked to realize how narrow my physical exposure and my auditory experiences truly were when I attended the festival in Cyprus. Many pieces on the program I had never heard live before, or was unfamiliar with altogether. So, I gained a tremendous amount of valuable absorption time there. I was able to listen and reflect upon music that was new to me, and as a result I began pondering things in a different way, thinking about new things and coming up with new questions to challenge myself with.

The questions, thoughts and challenges, while their conception lay somewhere in the midst of Greek salads, glimpses of premodern churches, salty beaches, and interactions with artists and locals in Cyprus, have actually taken clearer shape upon my return from the festival. After five days of contemporary music concerts that featured eighteen pieces by composers who are still alive today; five days of intense rehearsals and massive concerts, I found it inevitable to stop and consider how far music has come, how new it can be despite its own age and the age of our instruments, and how far music can go from here. How music can be contemplated, experienced, and reflected upon, and how important it is to realize and simultaneously challenge—or sometimes deny altogether—classifications and labels in music. Because music is constantly moving, progressing forward and being propelled by forward-thinking artists, I find it unnecessary and quite cumbersome to adapt labels that aren’t also fluid and flexible. Music being written today is, by definition, contemporary. That is not a helpful label, but simply a relative description. And the baggage that people commonly associate with contemporary or modern music, the assumption that it will inevitably be harsh or disrespectfully different from the classics, that it will be noisy and cacophonous and ugly, is already getting old to me. Beyond the “can you believe that piece didn’t end with a V-I progression?” or “the composer did what with the violin?!” I am saddened by the general attitude towards new music, by the hesitation to give all music proper forums across the world, by the refusal to give contemporary music a chance.

Sadly, however, I think there is good reason behind many arguments against contemporary music. I can see how, after certain composers did certain things and passed off particular pieces as musical genius and innovation, people are disheartened by the progression of music within specific circles. The music often considered useful for study within music institutions is not interesting to me, and is part of the reason even I have fallen into the trap, the automatic reversion to thinking that most contemporary music is “ugly.” Because most students’ exposure to contemporary music is limited, sweeping generalizations are made about all music of the modern era, and quite misguidedly so. I’d like to provide direct evidence that I, an artist whose own conviction that the potential for beauty and interest within music of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries is relatively low, was turned upside down by my recent trip to Cyprus for a contemporary music festival in which I heard music that was innovative, different, delightful…and, yes, some music that I was not so fond of. But I realized that there is a lot of music I don’t know, and that it is unfair of me to have made my own classifications prematurely. And I might not have come to that realization for a long time, had I not traveled to the festival and immersed myself in the music there. It is my sincere hope that festivals such as this one in Cyprus proliferate to reach students of varying backgrounds throughout the world, because contemporary music festivals today are unfortunately rare and incredibly localized.

An interesting statement was presented to me after I returned, addressing the classification of music—is it an intellectual pursuit, an art, or a craft? (See the tab “Finding Fusions” under the “Ponderings” page for more on this). To me, music is an art, inevitably, necessarily. Music should also be a craft, though sometimes it is unfairly denied this vital qualification. And it should not be—no, it is not possible for music to be—an academic pursuit. The composer, performer, ensemble, or conductor, is responsible for creatively expressing the art of music. As soon as music becomes an intellectual or academic pursuit, it has lost the designation of music in my mind, which automatically denies its being an art. Being an artist means creatively applying one’s skill, not academically explicating possibilities. As a composer, my job is to present musicians with material that reflects my ideas, and simultaneously to present them with material that allows the expression of their own ideas.

I am not interested in non-expressive iterations of sound, in pieces of ‘music’ that do no more than create mathematical problems to be solved. I am not interested in a piece made to be so difficult that trying to unpack the piece is the piece itself. I know this with certainty, I have heard pieces like this and I have begun establishing my own parameters for my taste in music. But that taste is my own, and no one else’s. So instead of seeing others blindly accept the critics’ reviews and the textbooks’ generalizations, I would love to see people begin to explore the world of music and decide for themselves what is interesting or boring, worthwhile or tedious. Music’s beauty is entirely subjective, its value is inherently personal. Classifications should, therefore, be avoided wherever possible. Music is a malleable art, with significant (and, in some cases, solely) abstract qualities. Music will evolve and change as it progresses, while labels and classifications, by definition, are completely opposite in function, seeking to systematize and freeze their subjects. I think there are many people in the music world quite clearly at cross-purposes with themselves here. And to them, I say, can we stop talking about music for a minute and actually listen to it for a while?

Directional Ambiguity

By Kathryn, August 20, 2009 3:22 pm

There have been many exciting happenings in my world since I last updated you. I have listened to a recording session of music for violin and chamber orchestra written by a fantastic contemporary composer (and extremely talented violinist), who is a new friend of mine from Macedonia. I have experienced the phenomenon of Glyndebourne by traveling to Lewes to see Donizetti’s L’Elisir d’Amore. I have attended more concerts at my favorite performance venue in London, Wilton’s Music Hall. I have improvised on piano with a fellow composer in London, listened to new music and discovered new musicians and composers and upcoming concerts, and played more than one instrument in a gamelan ensemble. I have learned how to reroute myself when London subway lines are down every weekend. I have also seen a new part of London, when I traveled to Walthamstow and learned about almshouses of the fifteenth century and saw kingpost architecture up close on a local street. I have journeyed to Brussels to stay with an incredibly talented composer and his family, and in so doing have been exposed to the delights of Europe’s political capital. I have toured the Musical Instruments Museum, the Musee de Beaux-Arts, seen the Manneken Pis and its female counterpart (that is virtually unknown to other tourists!). I have realized that I don’t dislike all beer—all I needed was to discover Belgian beer. I have tasted authentic Belgian chocolate by eating a hot sugared waffle drizzled with it, and I have stopped into famous chocolate shops and ice cream parlors to further enhance my appreciation of fine Belgian treats. I have discussed politics and music with fellow musicians and future politicians, and have been continually humbled by the multi-lingual and articulate company I have been introduced to and surrounded by in my travels. I have spent a day in Paris, posing for a photo in front of the Eiffel Tower, smiling at Mona Lisa in the Louvre, enjoying fine French cuisine, passing by Notre Dame cathedral and being swept away by the beauty of traveling and experiencing new things.

I have walked miles, through London and Brussels and Paris. My feet may be tired, but my mind is energized and engaged. My body, my whole being, has been looking forward to these adventures for a long time. Though my perception of the precise shapes and colors this journey will take were not entirely clear before beginning my travels, I have realized that part of the excitement and splendor of it all is indulging in the ambiguity within each day. As Gilda Radner said, “Some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious ambiguity…” My plans are defined, my project is structured, my goals are set and my expectations are high. But how I carry out those plans, how my project may morph and transform while I work and collaborate with others throughout the year, how I will reach my goals and transcend my own expectations, may change from day to day and take shapes I never dreamed of. Much remains deliciously ambiguous, as it must. But I am taking the liberty to modify this mantra now, as it applies to my own situation. Instead of simply referring to the deliciousness of ambiguity within each day, I will refer to it now as “directional ambiguity,” or ambiguity with direction. My eyes are focused, I know where I am going. But I won’t, I refuse, to put blinders on, like a dull, boringly beautiful show horse or something.

So, each day, with each mile I walk through a new city, with each new person I meet, with each note of music I write, I know am building upon the foundation I have set for myself in pursuing this year’s expedition. But there is no way to know, with certainty, what this intricate tapestry, the world as I see it and live it, will look like by the end of the year…or by the end of next week.

Dancing With Chains

By Kathryn, August 9, 2009 8:22 am

How can hearing a single interval between a violin and cello, or two chords on the piano that are just right, make me stop in my tracks, make things around me pause because the world knows I need to soak in what I just heard? What happens, physically and intellectually, when music ‘hits’ me, can’t quite be put into words. At least, not by me. So, while the reaction between me and music may not be scientifically mysterious, because of all our theories and understandings about music and the brain, it remains beautifully mysterious to me. And yet, it is simultaneously palpably clear. Perhaps what I am, how I can be explained, is through the thing that I can’t explain. What I am is that which explains me but can’t be explained by me. And that is music.

One of my mentors recently told me that improvising on an instrument is like dancing with chains. That you lose all the fun when the structure is not placed in front of you for you to challenge and play with. A truly gifted composer, then, will provide limits for you and then ask you to test them, and you must do so without ever exceeding them at any point.

Even though I get overwhelmed sometimes, with the pressure of performing and achieving and succeeding, I have to remind myself that the definitions of all of these words don’t have to mean for me what they mean for anyone else. That I define what it means to succeed in my life, that I have to forge onward in the direction I choose. I have to go confidently in the direction of my dreams, because I won’t accept anything less from myself. And how beautiful it is to me that while I’m on this journey, of life and self, there are a select few surrounding me, walking beside me. I’m not alone. To modify the touching adage, we all let people into our lives, but you will find that your truest friends are the ones who let you into your own. So, even though in the lifelong quest for self-discovery and the presentation of self-assured identity, we may feel for a while a set of chains drawing us back, preventing us from illustrating to others, or to ourselves, exactly what we are, you must know that you won’t ever fully understand who you are if you remain in those chains. There are limits, physical and intangible, in this world, that will never vanish. And that’s probably a good thing. Limits exist to be pressed against, played with, challenged. That is how we grow, right? And at the end of the day, you have to consciously lift the chains off of your feet. And just dance.

Art?

By Kathryn, August 7, 2009 3:29 am

August 5: Last weekend, I spent some time at Borough Market, which is located near London Bridge. It’s one of the oldest markets in the world, and its reputation for being an eclectic and comprehensive collection of fine foods, candies, cheeses, pastas, coffees, teas, offering variety and cultural flavor, remains today. I love this market. I conveniently positioned myself in between an ice cream stand and a candy stand, ate my lunch (a true English muffin–it was giant!) and read for a while. I watched people go by, taking pictures and smiling and enjoying the beautiful afternoon.

I have also spent some time at Trafalgar Square, where there is an exhibit on display by Anthony Gormley. The premise is interesting: each hour, one person stands upon a platform and can do or say anything, so long as it’s legal, until the hour is up. Then, it’s on to the next person. Gormley’s decision to do this replaced the commission’s request for him to build a statue. Is this art? Thoughts welcome, please.

Today, I will be attending a concert at Wiltons Hall. The program includes David Matthews’ String Trio No. 1, a fabulous piece that I have been fortunate to hear in rehearsals this week. I look forward to another Wiltons experience–I will never tire of the hall’s pristine acoustics and inimitable style.

Delicious Diversity

comments Comments Off
By Kathryn,

July 23: Yesterday, I participated in a gamelan ensemble at the City University in London with one of my friends and fellow composers, Rob Szymanek. It was incredible! I played the gong and also sang a traditional tune with the group, and listened as they rehearsed for an upcoming concert. Soaking in the diversity London has to offer is beautifully time-consuming, and I’m so glad I have time on my side and will be here for a while to absorb all that I possibly can. There are concerts of traditional Indonesian music, Indian music, Western classical music, popular music, and that’s just in the musical spheres of London! The artistic, cultural, and social diversity of this city is stunning. If you look hard enough, you can find almost anything here, I’m absolutely sure of it.

Check out the links I’ve just added on the “Links” tab to learn more about the concerts I’m attending, the venues I’m experiencing, and other cultural events. I’ll try to add to this page from each place I stop. London will certainly contribute a fair number of links to the page!

On to London Town

comments Comments Off
By Kathryn,

July 18: I love this city. Though I’ve only been once before, I feel immediately accustomed to the bustling and diverse city life here. My days here so far have been filled with lots of walking, great food, excellent company, music, and general excitement. I went to a concert at Wiltons Music Hall featuring Peter Sheppard Skaerved and the Kreutzer Quartet, on a program of mostly Gabriel Faure’s chamber music, and a UK premiere of a piece by Ramirez. It was a wonderful concert and I was privileged to attend the rehearsals beforehand. So far, London is treating me quite well.

Dublin: The Adventure Begins

comments Comments Off
By Kathryn,

Location: Dublin, Ireland. 7/15/09-7/18/09

What a city! Though I was only in Dublin for four days at the beginning of my year of travel, I was able to soak in a lot of the cultural and historical features of the city, including monuments in the heart of the city, famous universities, the Guinness factory, the local social scene. It was a blast! I even got to meet up with Siobhan Hogan, former Keegan Traveling Fellow from Vanderbilt, who is an expert Dubliner and showed me around the city to her favorite spots.

Got my taste of traditional Irish music, as well, in a local pub where the performers sang and played guitar, banjo, and violin. The national emblem of Ireland is a harp–apparently, Ireland is the only country to boast a musical instrument as its national emblem–and so, my task while I remain in Europe is to compose a European Suite that features the harp in at least one movement. My tribute to Ireland and the wonderful beginning of my journey!

_________________________________________________________________

Hello World!

By Kathryn, April 29, 2009 3:02 pm

Welcome to my website! Check out the tabs on the top of this home page to find out more about my project and my itinerary for the year. And feel free to browse  through photos from my world journeys!

Please keep up with my blogs (to me, these serve as diary entries) during the year, and don’t hesitate to contact me. Thank you for your support, and I look forward to updating you throughout the year!

Yours,

~Kathryn Tierney Moreadith

Panorama theme by Themocracy