ok, enough of you have asked me this, and of course it is always hard to step outside of it when one has been living inside of it for so long. but here are a few thoughts, for those of you who are asking me this question, in your minds (or in real life!):

composing a piece for soprano and 12 instruments to be performed outside in fresh air, using two groups of instruments at a fair distance from one another without amplification, has been a wonderful challenge. although it presented some new problems, and required a more rigorous level of sonic imagination than i've ever exercised, it does follow naturally from others of my recent pieces, which use spatial aspects and/or different aleatoric textures. moving music outside from a Concert Hall adds two new elements: listeners can move around as they choose in the space between the two groups of musicians, so they can design their own listening experiences to some degree; and players in the two different groups cannot always hear each other. this second element has been compositionally very rewarding, because i am able to create textures that would be very difficult to play if the players COULD hear each other better. the performance of the piece expects, and may even be dependent on, a very limited line of communication, in the acoustic outdoor world. only certain frequencies above certain volumes can be heard across the courtyard (thank you to colin, eric, anthony and lance! - four of the players who helped me figure this out...) - these narrow parameters determined the complex system of cueing in the piece. listeners in the park will be able to hear as much of each group as they decide to hear, and balance and blend to their whims/curiosity/taste. clarity and bold lines are features of the harmonic, melodic and gestural language of the piece because it must participate in the bold landscape of urban sound. but as such these qualities do still remain in my own language - these challenges simply encouraged me to find new articulations of harmony, melody and gesture that will, i'm sure, prove to have diversified my own compositional activity into the future.

it's funny - i just relocated up to cambridge, where i will be spending my schoolyear as a radcliffe fellow. so now i have an apartment right near harvard square. but of course i am putting in long hours proofreading the parts for 'chance encounter' now, since our first rehearsal is in just over a week. it's a strange way to get to know the new neighborhood, because my apartment is on the first floor, with windows opening right out onto the courtyard, where people are moving in for the schoolyear. there's even a bench right outside my window, where people have been sitting having conversations about various things all day. because i have my shutters closed (otherwise people could see right into my apartment), nobody is aware that i can hear everything they say. suddenly i realized, i suppose because of my strange, almost irrepressible urge to suggest things to say to whomever is standing closest to my window (in a loud stage whisper, for example), that this surreptitious eavesdropping habit i have developed has an odd transposition in the figure of cyrano de bergerac. what is the relationship between saying things without one knowing i am saying them, and hearing things without one knowing i am hearing them?

a series of meetings "in" (at?) (on?) the performance space the last week or so. susan and i decided exactly where each player will enter and leave seward park during the performance of 'chance encounter,' and which ones will emerge from taxis, which from the east side diner across the street, etc. then there was the meeting with the archivists - both photo and video - who spent much of their energies trying to find stake-outs either within the library or around the park from which they could capture the changing spatial landscape of the piece. now i am deep in parts preparation, making sure that each player's individual part gives only the information and instructions that she/he needs - no more no less. the entire spectacle will unfold somewhat like a rube goldberg design, or one of those huge domino concoctions i used to see on 'sesame street.' each instrumentalist, then, is like one domino at any given moment. their part must simply tell them "when domino behind you falls and hits you, fall down." of course, the process of creating and proofreading such parts makes my brain hurt, but in a good way...

...who provided an interesting foil or at least a contrast to durrell:

"Jet engines would tear me from the ground at two thousand miles per hour but where was I going, and what for? The reasons for this terrific speed remained unclear."

"By means of music a man affirmed that the logically unanswerable was, in a different form, answerable. Sounds without determinate meaning became more and more pertinent, the greater the music."

this guy is the master of the pithy phrase. little gems like these by bellow sharpened my ear, helped me catch some of the most miniature overheard items:

"Certain flowers persist."

"I avenged myself by making progress."

and one of my favorite quotes ever:

"Naturally he died a Failure. What else can result from the capitalization of such nouns?"

switching gears now from composition to production, setting up rehearsal schedules, tackling such lofty questions as 'what kind of music stands are best to use outdoors?' and 'where will the players leave their cases?'

also enjoying archiving the drafts and sketches, and remembering the powerful influence i felt from various writers as we first began this project a year ago. here are some quotes i underlined in lawrence durrell's alexandria quartet, which i was reading when i starting writing 'chance encounter.' an additional excerpt is on the chance page, but there are so many others! his spirit - a tenderness for humanity that found its particular poetry in public, urban life; his radical relativism (a quality that i hope i might be accused of sharing), the pace and scope of his powers of observation - these things were so inspiring to me. i realize now that his spirit permeates the whole piece. here he is:

"a city becomes a world when one loves one of its inhabitants."

"...all ideas seem equally good to me; the fact of their existence proves that someone is creating. does it matter whether they are objectively right or wrong? they could never remain so for long."

"man is only an extension of the spirit of place."

"does not everything depend on our interpretation of the silence around us?"

"our view of reality is conditioned by our position in space and time - not by our personalities as we like to think. thus every interpretation of reality is based upon a unique position. two paces east or west and the whole picture is changed."

wow that was a whole month! i was, in fact, in compositional lockdown, finishing the score to 'chance encounter.' a month ago i was working around 12 hours a day, taking a break early on to run a couple of miles. three weeks ago i was working 14 hours a day but still cooking food at home. two weeks ago i was working 16-17 hours a day, ordering indian food, not answering the phone, never leaving the apartment. my friend ellen saved me from myself for four days at the very end, hosting me in her beautiful pennsylvania home replete with food grown in the garden, and kindnesses of every sort from both her and her lovely husband nick. they made me feel totally comfortable taking over their living room and working all day all day all day. but there i could take a break and have nature! human company! beautiful food! thank you guys!!

so - the score is 75 pages long, a half-hour total, with four topical sections and instrumental solos in between. shall i share some of it here? let's start with the words. at certain points in the score things have been left open so newly-found text can be sung, but here are the ones that are etched in laser-ink. i'll post again soon - after a few forays into the real world, re-acquainting myself with the gym and the grocery store :)

CHANCE ENCOUNTER TEXTS (All overheard in transient public spaces)

Topos Nostalgia

They never plant trees on this street, and if they do they’re dead within a week.
I used to live on this street, but everything is gone.

Do you ever go to your old apartment?
Where are all the things that I remember?
Remember? It was snowing horribly, and she was holding the dog?
Your old neighborhood, right? You always go back.

I used to live on this street.
We used to have a house there, but my father lost his job.
I never go there now.

There were rowers on the river, and we walked.
What kind of place are you looking for?
Do you have friends here from home?
Remember these?
Remember them?

Drama/Self-Pity

No, no, no – you just can’t get there at this time of day.
You’ve missed the last train.
I just can’t wait any longer; I’m starving to death.
It’s not my problem.
How come we’re not moving?

Like I said, I try not to complain.

They used to give you a paper bag with a sandwich and an apple, and that was the beginning of the end.
If we were in India right now, we’d be sinking.
Do you solve everything by crying?
That would be worse than you not caring.

Always on the weekends the trains are screwed up.
I’m always on the wrong side.
It’s not my fault.
I missed the announcement.
Oh no!

People don’t know what we went through. People today just don’t understand.

Nothing

You don’t know me.
I’ve never been here before.
I might be doing scientific things.
I was asleep when we took off.

I won’t be staying long.
I’m about to go back underground.
It doesn’t matter.

I have done nothing. Nothing has happened, nothing will happen.
As much as things change, they really don’t.

Are you by yourself?
You’re sitting there looking at people like you cannot understand.
Where you want to get to has to be more desirable than where you are.

What do I keep on saying? What do I keep on saying?
I have done nothing. Nothing has happened, nothing will happen.
You don’t know me.

Aimlessness Song

Where are we?
Is this the right way?
Where’s the guy with the directions?

This is East. You want to go West.
Maybe we should all relocate.

Do you know how many blocks it is from here?
Ten blocks seems like a journey to me now.
You’ve missed the last train.
I think I should take a day off.
I already waited in this line.
I hope they know what they’re doing.

It’s on my desk, waiting to be signed.
Where are we?
Now we’re gonna miss the movie.
Maybe they missed their connection.
So then I was back in line and now I’ve been rerouted.
Do you need an appointment or can you just walk in?

I thought of five hundred ways not to make this trip.
We both headed for the same guy.
He thought we were talking German.
We gotta move around a lot. That’s how it is in the resistance.

We need to know where the party is.
No one had any idea what I was talking about.
I don’t remember where this conversation was going.
I don’t do anything to it – it just comes out like this.

I’m trying to catch my breath.
I hope they know what they’re doing.

I found a place where we can sit together.