‘Galanthus Nivalis’ is the botanical name for the European snowdrop. In early spring, in countries with plenty of snow, it is not uncommon to see snowdrops still surrounded by a landscape covered with snow. One might get the impression that the flower grew out of snow and ice, similar to the flower-like images of ice that grow on the glass of windows in below zero temperatures. Yet the Galanthus Nivalis is very different, it is a herald of spring, a herald of warmth and colour. This piece is about flowering, warmth and colour growing from glittering landscapes of snow and ice.
Gryphon, a fantastical beast with eagle’s head and wings and a lion’s body, has a vivid mythology associated with it. Sometimes it appears as an evil creature to be feared, sometimes a mighty guard of a treasure, whether evil or good. In the middle ages it became to be associated with Christ, God and man in one. The eagle is the king of the sky and the lion the king of the animal world.
It was this diversity and ambiguity of mythology that first fascinated me. I decided to focus on the aspect of duality, two almost contradictory beings or ideas combined into one. What will the union, the relationship between these two elements be like?
When we watch those kinds of fireworks that whiz through the air like a rocket, there is always a trail of light left behind. When the fire itself is gone it still lingers on for a short while and then we can observe how it gradually transforms itself into a trail of smoke. Almost as if, for a short while at least, the memory of the firework lingers on, imprinted in the sky. There is an analogy here to the attack and decay of sound, the decay sometimes also lingers on for a while after the actual attack, at times transformed or transforming. In this piece I focus on the idea of attack, decay and the memory, imprint left behind by the decay.
The graceful dance of autumn leaves as they glide, coaxed to playful pirouettes by little gusts of wind, seemingly most unwilling to land for their winter sleep, is the image that first inspired this piece.
Leaves is in three sections. The first might be seen as the dance that has been described above. The second section depicts the unwilling landing and gradually being overtaken by sleep, and the third, a dream. With memories of what has come before a new future is envisaged.
The title A donde te escondiste (‘where have you hidden’) comes from the opening line of the poem The Spiritual Canticle by St. John of the Cross (1542-1591), an exceptionally beautiful poem about the progress of love between the soul and Christ. St. John of the Cross wrote this poem during a time of inhumane imprisonment at a monastery in Toledo where he was kept due to political power struggles. It seemed incredible to me that a poem so filled with love and trust can come out of such a desperate situation. It was the juxtaposition of these two elements, the immense physical suffering and an extraordinary love for God, that inspired my piece.
Tiny pieces of sunlight, gently rocking on river's waves, constantly changing, turning, like a kaleidoscope. They grow in number with the river's increasing speed and diminish when it slows down. Until, at the waterfall, they burst into millions of fragments and with one rush celebrate until they are merged together again on gently rocking river's waves.
This is the poetic image that inspired this piece. sun sleeping on river-waves (awake at the waterfall) is an ever-changing stream of colours, sometimes growing, sometimes diminishing and, at rare times, bursting.
Dancing Winter Away
Dancing Winter Away is an imaginary ritual dance, reminiscent of the shaman who dances so his soul may take flight.
The work starts with an energetic rhythm and a wild dance-like fantasy (inspired by various Eastern European musics) that gradually disintegrates until we are lost in a strange world of solo gongs. There we contemplate the interior beauty of the gong-sounds and watch them grow, gradually, until they once again turn into the melodies of our dance and the rhythm brings us back from our flight.
Three Moons
a set of nocturnes
i – with the shadow-moon I search for you
ii – with the yellow moon I draw you beside me
iii – with the white moon I build a tent to enclose us
Three Moons is a night-time incantation to the moon,
a musical enchantment for finding love.
singing for dawn (2007) for string trio
singing for dawn is a celebration of the first rays of sunlight that appear in the early hours of morning.
walking in the glacier's wake
walking in the glacier’s wake
hearing the echo still
of that tongue pushing mountains aside
very, very slowly
to make room
for blue gentian
to grow amidst a field of stones
seven white flowers
Walking through nature I enjoy listening to the noises I hear around me. The wind going through leaves, the cracking of twigs as animals pass, the water from a brook…
seven white flowers is an imaginary journey through a forest of noise.
Gradations of Shade (inside the white tulip) (2004) for solo treble recorder
Even in something as pleasing as a tulip it is very easy simply to brush over it with the eye and completely miss the immensely intricate beauty found when examined in its smallest detail. Gradations of Shade (inside the white tulip) is an exploration, an excursion into the depths of the sound world of the recorder. Yet as discoveries are made they are not labelled and stored away but integrated, immersed into the monologue, as if each discovery were a step towards finding a new identity.
night-time ritual
(2007) for solo 19 Division Trumpet
a night-time ritual singing
in darkness
making that energy that will carry everything that is in me
to you.
Emily Dickinson’s beautiful poem uses strong imagery, vividly conjuring up two opposite poles. On one side the snowflakes, small entities of breathtakingly detailed, star-like shapes when observed from up close, and just as exquisite from afar, sparkling, dancing. On the other side is the wind, though unwillingly, it carries the flakes most tenderly to the ground, in gentle sweeps of breath.
In my setting of this poem I aimed to represent two contrasting musical ideas and explore their interaction. On one hand short, irregular notes and on the other breathy, often rather melismatic, extended lines. They stand in opposition, sometimes working against each other, sometimes joining together and at times completely taking over the other.
The text for this piece comes from the Revelations of Divine Love, an account of sixteen visions that Julian of Norwich, a 14th-century English mystic, received during three days of severe illness. The words that I chose, in their original Middle English version, depict a nightmare encounter Julian had with the devil.
Mother Julian is tempted by the Devil is a music theatre piece. The singer plays two characters, Mother Julian and a narrator. Mother Julian whispers, speaks, shouts her words and sings virtuoso, wordless cries of outrage and fear; the narrator sings his words in a detached, cool microtonal pseudo-psalm tone-like manner, both together creating a gripping atmosphere.
Five liturgical miniatures with texts from the proper of the nuptial Mass written for the composer’s own wedding. 1) entrance antiphon (trio), 2) responsorial psalm (recitative), 3) alleluia (aria), 4) communion antiphon (chant), 5) blessing of peace (trio)
Alpine wild herbs, with all their fragrance, their strength and their vitality, encloaked by morning dew...
This piece explores the vibrant inner beauty of still piano chords. I was particularly interested in the beatings that happen between the frequencies in these chords and how they change as the sound decays. I analysed the harmonic spectra as well as the temporal development of the frequencies and used them as models for harmony, rhythm as well as form, creating a piece that provides an impressionistic portrait of the sound of the piano itself.
When I look at the delicate, young sunflower plants in May I can scarcely believe what magnificent, strong plants they will become, later in the summer. Yet all that potential for strength and brightness is already inside them. These young plants simply reach out for the sun and thus, in time, become stronger and like little reflections of the sun itself. This piece is about the dream of reaching out, the dream of flowering.
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