Standard caveat applies here, that proofreading and editing takes away from the spontaneity and honesty of whatever it is I am trying to say, so this is probably less coherent than it should be.
I had discussed the process behind this particular work a few weeks ago in class (a study in aleotoric composition) and in some ways I am pleased with how things turned out, but there are many shortcomings. I think it's important to state that despite the amount of rigor that was involved in the precompositional process, it did not exert nearly as much control over the music as I thought it would.
The problems that exist in this work are problems that also exist in almost all of my music for piano, with the exception of a sonata movement I wrote 6 years ago.
First, it is about as far from idiomatic for the piano as is possible. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but in my case, I think it is limiting my progress regarding exploring the intrument, even though I am a pianist. It seems that the sounds that interest (slow, quiet, the focus on what happens "after the note" or attack ((the construction of complex sonorities through ubiquitous pedal)) me the most when I am composing would be more suited to a realization by a small string orchestra.
Duration has always been an issue as well, I think. There are many times when I am working on a composition where I come to an event, or after reach a certain point, that this particular utterance feels complete, that there is nothing left to say. Again, this doesn't have to be a negative thing, but in this case, it is. By stepping away from the music completely like that, I deprive myself of the experience of applying compositional techniques that will benefit myself and my later work.
Lastly (for now, at least), though the processes of #1 and #3 are in a way opposites (total control/lack of control) the end result is too similar (something that Dr. Ross brought up in class earlier this semester, though not directed towards my writing specifically) which goes against the spirit of this assignment. I have experimented with another sketch using fast but static perpetual motion-esque figurations and harmonic development in an almost minimalist style, but that was less than successful. The contrast in process and result would have been much better though, I think. The way things turned out, it seems less and less apparent that my language is consistent, but more apparent that in terms of composition I am a one trick pony.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
This isn't really specific to any piece that I am working on, just a few things I have been comtemplating.
I have been thinking a lot (moreso than usual) recently about my growth as a composer. I'm choosing to ignore the pieces I wrote for violin when I was a child (6-9, I think?) as well as the acoustic guitar pieces I wrote as a teenager, and my earliest piano pieces. I have just been considering the music I have written since I started music school. My language has changed over this time, but I have been mostly concerned with how my approach to writing has changed on a deeper level.
Composition once seemed like purely an act of creation. As if you are giving something ephemeral that existed only within your mind a tangible form, albeit the abstract construct of the medium of pitch and silence and time. Whether or not this shows in my music or not, it feels like this is an idea that I have slowly moved away from.
Composing (to me, at least) is an act of discovery and exploration. Sometimes to the point where taking ownership of an idea seems artificial. The dimension that exists when an element of control is surrendered can be an amazing experience.
This idea may have always existed in some way in the back of my head, but one very specific event really sparked my interest in pursuing it further. It was a few years ago, during a student recital for comp 3100, which Dr. Ross taught as well. It was a set 3 violin and piano pieces I had written.
as for the performance, it went for the most part as well as i could have hoped. the performers were very talented, but time was very limited. given that constraint, expecting perfection was meaningless. and i am glad for this. if the performers were as well prepared as i may have initially hoped for, i would have missed out something meaningful. (the first 2 pieces serve as a prelude to the third, which makes up the core of the work, so that will be the only one i comment on). there is a moment in the third piece that i did not intend to happen. i did not write it down. i did not compose it. it was a "mistake" on the part of the performers. but this moment becomes the raison d'etre of the entire piece, of the entire set. the music is defined by this musical event that i did not conceive of, it is defined by the motion towards this inevitability, and the motion away from it. epiphany is too strong a word, and i do not like its connotations, but this had a great impact on how i view composing. it was an important experience for me, and one that sparked a new path for my own approach to writing.
Even ideas that I (we?) come up with, the fact that they are inevitably tinkered with and "worked out" seems to have more in common with an act of exploration of the potential inherent to that idea that one of invention. It almost seems that I explore possibilities that already exist within ideas. Which is a weird way of thinking. That within an idea there already exists certain elements that are then to be discovered.
I wonder if this will end up being coherent at all. It wasn't written in one sitting, nor was it really thought out. I felt that I would be able to communicate far more if I actually just forced myself to write it in this rambling sort of way, because every time I tried to plan it out in my head I would realize that I don't really have anything to say.
I have been thinking a lot (moreso than usual) recently about my growth as a composer. I'm choosing to ignore the pieces I wrote for violin when I was a child (6-9, I think?) as well as the acoustic guitar pieces I wrote as a teenager, and my earliest piano pieces. I have just been considering the music I have written since I started music school. My language has changed over this time, but I have been mostly concerned with how my approach to writing has changed on a deeper level.
Composition once seemed like purely an act of creation. As if you are giving something ephemeral that existed only within your mind a tangible form, albeit the abstract construct of the medium of pitch and silence and time. Whether or not this shows in my music or not, it feels like this is an idea that I have slowly moved away from.
Composing (to me, at least) is an act of discovery and exploration. Sometimes to the point where taking ownership of an idea seems artificial. The dimension that exists when an element of control is surrendered can be an amazing experience.
This idea may have always existed in some way in the back of my head, but one very specific event really sparked my interest in pursuing it further. It was a few years ago, during a student recital for comp 3100, which Dr. Ross taught as well. It was a set 3 violin and piano pieces I had written.
as for the performance, it went for the most part as well as i could have hoped. the performers were very talented, but time was very limited. given that constraint, expecting perfection was meaningless. and i am glad for this. if the performers were as well prepared as i may have initially hoped for, i would have missed out something meaningful. (the first 2 pieces serve as a prelude to the third, which makes up the core of the work, so that will be the only one i comment on). there is a moment in the third piece that i did not intend to happen. i did not write it down. i did not compose it. it was a "mistake" on the part of the performers. but this moment becomes the raison d'etre of the entire piece, of the entire set. the music is defined by this musical event that i did not conceive of, it is defined by the motion towards this inevitability, and the motion away from it. epiphany is too strong a word, and i do not like its connotations, but this had a great impact on how i view composing. it was an important experience for me, and one that sparked a new path for my own approach to writing.
Even ideas that I (we?) come up with, the fact that they are inevitably tinkered with and "worked out" seems to have more in common with an act of exploration of the potential inherent to that idea that one of invention. It almost seems that I explore possibilities that already exist within ideas. Which is a weird way of thinking. That within an idea there already exists certain elements that are then to be discovered.
I wonder if this will end up being coherent at all. It wasn't written in one sitting, nor was it really thought out. I felt that I would be able to communicate far more if I actually just forced myself to write it in this rambling sort of way, because every time I tried to plan it out in my head I would realize that I don't really have anything to say.
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