one of the consequences of this itinerant existence at the moment is that sometimes my other blog takes over when i'm in boston. there are some cross-fertilizations between these two things of course. the bmop blog is all about my activities as composer-in-residence with the boston modern orchestra project, and this blog is a record of my research and creative process for 'chance encounter.' but of course these trips back and forth between nyc & boston provide so much of the fodder for this piece, even though i do interrupt my actual composing work on 'chance encounter' while i am there.
these interruptions are necessary because i'm writing short pieces (one for each week i spend in boston) for the bmop players - called 'synopses' - and i've decided to give each of them a six-word subtitle. the most recent one is 'i think we should tell her' for solo flute. yes, i overheard that, on the red line in boston. it could be either sinister or kind, yes? i couldn't tell which, in the moment.
in keeping with the idea of collected/collective texts, my friend robert kirzinger recommended david markson's 'this is not a novel' to me. although i am finding markson's obsession with Deaths of Artists slightly macabre, and his obsession with the Regard (or lack thereof) of Artists for Each Other decidedly anxiety-ridden in a harold bloomian sense, i am nonetheless enjoying it very much. i sometimes wonder if, because i am a woman and, moreover, a composer (there has been a longer and more celebrated tradition of women novelists, historically, than women composers), i don't feel so much of this kind of anxiety about self-assessment in comparison to and/or in context of other artists, in my own time and others. or is it generational?
in any case, the things i am really enjoying are moments like these, in which markson 'finds' poetic tension in sheer historical data:
"At least two people were drowned in the Seine because of the crush along the route of Victor Hugo's funeral."