Filling in the Sketches for the Flute and Piano Piece ‘Glimpses’: A Composer’s Journal

February 26th, 2014

The composer fills in her sketches, including a variety of lines and melodies. A Composer’s Journal Entries: February thirteen-eighteen, 2014.

Graphic: The falls down the road from us.

Thursday, February thirteen

Some times considering that I have created in this modest notebook, or composed any songs. We have experienced more underneath zero weather, the polar vortex we are caught in continues. Walked down the street to the falls one sunny afternoon. The extensive waterfall and stream iced in excess of, water flowing beneath the ice – the power of the falls now muted and reasonably invisible driving its mask of snow and ice. Prolonged, slender ice crystals everywhere during the gorge, hanging from ledges and crannies … Young children in vibrant outfits ended up sledding in the woods close to the entrance to the gorge, experiencing their working day off from faculty, laughing and tumbling down the hill … as the extensive silent and unmoving white gorge stood viewing.

Right now another snow storm. Even now, approaching midnight, the snow carries on to tumble in the lamplight. The roadways have not been plowed today, only a handful of courageous autos have handed our property. Rather, the audio of voices strolling or sledding somewhere, on visits to friends or returning residence.

Following week need to be warmer, and then it will be less complicated to compose songs. The corner of the dwelling place in which the piano stands can get quite cold when the wind is strong and temperatures are hovering about zero – then I wrap myself in a blanket, and need to rearrange myself and the blanket in order to bring up a blank web page, or to attain the leading strains of new blank web pages. When so aware of my bodily physique and the actual physical planet, the ideas arrive slowly and gradually – or not at all.

Tonight scarcely any wind, so probably will go to the piano and publish some internet pages of flute audio… in the peace and silence of the falling snow, in the bitter chilly of February …

1 am…

Wrote a handful of web pages of music for the very first poem – with imitation among the flute and piano, passing motives and phrases and harmonies again and forth amongst the two instruments. Laughter in the woods … daylight … a beautiful summer’s afternoon … As however I am there …

Friday, February fourteen

Mid 30s, the snow is already starting to melt icicles dripping and slipping to earth with possibly a crash or a thud, relying on the place they land. A great ten inches of new mild, fluffy snow piled high all around city. Sunshine.

Wrote a number of web pages discovered a new motive, a new theme – much more than sufficient substance now for almost everything but the Dance. Will carry on sketching out webpages later on tonight. Hearing some of the piano part, will publish it down later on. For now, sufficient to publish the flute notes down on the manuscript paper as rapidly as I can, prior to they are reabsorbed back into wherever they came from. At the minute, I can hardly write quickly ample to capture them … An limitless, altering supply of pitches and rhythms and melodies flying across my head, across the empty webpage…

At these times I feel considerably like a site visitors cop at a extremely busy intersection – telling one particular melody to go there, 1 arpeggio to go there, a single motive to go there, in that direction … A flood of tips, appears, chords … Tunes almost everywhere…

Sunday, February 16

Sketched out most of every little thing help save the Dance. A gentle snow slipping, mirroring the small notes masking blank pages of manuscript paper. Expanded new motives and themes, bringing the piece to the Dance. It truly is a journey … Far more than ample materials to operate with at this position, if everything the overflow could type its own new piece…

Monday, February seventeen

Bright solar, reflecting off the snow. Back again to the starting, time to fill in my sketches. A tranquil, easy beginning. Then daylight and laughter.

It has started.

eleven:30 pm…

Even now filling in my sketches. Today, as I worked with the different motives and melodies, was all of a sudden loaded with the recognition – and this is tough to describe in words – the deep awareness and surprise that other composers had not presently used these motives and melodies, developed them, in the past. The prospects open up to the composer are infinite, but if viewed in a diverse way – they are not. Composers in the Western planet have twelve notes to select from, that is all. With all the audio that has been composed through the history of music, it does seem to be astonishing that new motives and melodies can arise – and but they effortlessly do…

This realization led me to thinking about the birds and their fixed tracks. These pitches and rhythms are, in a way, the bird’s extremely id, a track or get in touch with that distinguishes them from all the other myriad sentient beings on the earth we phone Earth. The birds follow and perfect their tunes to the greatest of their skills, we all have heard them do this … And now I ponder if their provided music is also their Code, their Creed, their Gospel – if someway encoded into their tune are all the Teachings and all the Mysteries … Just as in any provided mathematical amount we could find all the other figures – in one musical pitch all other tones…

Or possibly the birds’ phone calls, their songs, categorical and hold basically the Pleasure of Being, of getting alive below on Earth, surrounded by the myriad tracks of other sentient beings … The Joy of creating Tunes, by itself, solo – in refrain – or in symphony with all other beings … And of program, tunes for interaction, and now I question if tempo and inflection have their personal meanings for birds, if the tempo – or even essential – of their music or get in touch with can differ, dependent on the emotion and meaning to be conveyed…

Tuesday, February 18

Spent a enjoyable hour or so filling in my sketches, including bass traces, flute traces, piano chords, interior traces – and then suddenly came to a halt in excess of one flute note.

At times like this, I consider to remind myself that this piece known as Glimpseswill include countless numbers of notes one particular be aware will not destroy a piece. Even so, even as I write these phrases in my notebook, I listen to that flute melody playing continually, inwardly – both trying to solve by itself, or insisting that it is good and content just the way I wrote it, that I must go away it the way it is.

Time to costume for evening meal M. Is away in N.Y.C. and a friend and I are likely out. Unquestionably this minor melody will stick to me to and throughout our meal, and then greet me again on my return residence.

The piece actually never ever leaves me – not till I have concluded composing it, and not even then. Just as I hear snatches of Brahms or Rachmaninov or Beethoven – symphonies, operas, sonatas, from all the composers, at odd moments, understanding they have been inwardly enjoying without having my knowledge constantly … saved in the soul itself…

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