Return To The Dead Sea

My composition, Return To The Dead Sea, was featured in the Oregon Literary Review in the 2006 Fall-Winter edition.  The Oregon Literary Review is an online journal which features creative media including: Music, Poetry, Fiction, Creative Non Fiction, Art and Hypermedia (Photo Journalism, Landscape Poetry, Multi-Media, etc..).  I saw an advertisement on American Composers Forum, posting for a "Call for Scores" for various works to compete for selection.  I then submitted my score and recording, and some weeks later, my piece was selected for that season.

My inspiration for this piece came from my trip to Israel in 1997, where my brother and I visited the Dead Sea on an unforgettable excursion.  I had never seen anything, anywhere like it.  The title of the piece is also a bit of a play on its words - the idea of returning to something that is called Dead is somewhat of an oxymoron.  Also, the idea of the return, is the one I reference of Israel, since I had not been before to the location of the Dead Sea.  The title also symbolizes a return to this place on a future trip to Israel.  I would like to share the experience with my husband and children as well, when we travel together as a family for the first time.  If you ever plan to travel to Israel, the Dead Sea is not to be missed!

Return to the Dead Sea - Movement I -  original manuscript

Return To The Dead Sea is scored for saxophone (interchanging soprano and alto) and two percussion stations.  The first movement is scored for solo soprano saxophone, and can stand on its own and be performed as a solo piece.  It is followed by the second and third movements in the full ensemble.  I also had a conductor for rehearsals and performance.  The first movement, with solo soprano saxophone is presented with the intent of capturing the setting of the sand and salt pillars of the Dead Sea, set in one timbre.

I faced different challenges in writing the first movement for the solo instrument, versus the other movements of the full ensemble scoring.  Since I was already interchanging soprano and alto saxophones within the movements, I could have done so as well in the solo movement.  I did not do this however, because my intent was to capture a certain intensity that I believe could have only been achieved through the sound of one piece of brass.

The additional challenge of writing for a solo instrument, versus the whole ensemble, is that because I couldn't rely on different sounds to appear new to the listener, I really had to rely on my compositional chops - developing the motive in a way that captivates the ear and pulls the listener in, just as in telling a story.  Telling a story without the use of song - without the use of words, is always something that I keep in mind in any of my creations.  Without a story, we end up with one dimension.  I am interested in a multidimensional scope within my creative process.

Score done on Finale notation

Adding the percussion would then be an integral part of developing the way that the saxophone is utilized in this ensemble.  In the second movement, the saxophonist is initiated into the percussion mix as well, by playing the wind chimes.  In the third movement, he continues to be infused with the percussion when not playing saxophone, by performing: foot stomps, hand claps, and finger snaps, that are interwoven throughout the movement.  In one contrasting section that is driven by rhythm only, no one plays their instrument and only performs the stomps, snaps and claps.  I wanted to utilize the saxophonist in this way, in order to break out of the traditional solo role.  This carries the percussive thread between all three performers, and therefore, provides a tightly knit compositional fabric.  See this rhythmic section bellow:

Movement III - percussive section for all 3 performers - no instruments.

I love to use descriptive titles that allude to titles of paintings, because this is a travel - inspired piece, and its imagery is vividly lasting.  It is also a piece that is composed with a specific place in mind, so it is only fitting, that it is conceived as a Character Piece (with specific descriptive titles), and not given generic movement titles, such as Sonata, Rhapsody, or Interlude, for example.  See the cover page of the score bellow:

Cover page to the score

I dedicated the piece to my friend, Chris Walker, who is a saxophonist and music educator.  At the time, he performed the work both at my doctoral composition recital as well as his own doctoral saxophone performance recital.  I like to compose music while having a specific performer in mind, as this makes the process more personal to both performer and composer alike. 

When you click on the web link, you will be able to view the music score, as well as listen to a recording that I have provided for the piece, from my Doctoral composition recital, back in the year, 2000.  It was performed at the University of Oregon, in Eugene, Oregon. 

The editor's abstract on my piece: 

"This piece uses the simple combination of Saxophone and Percussion to evoke the mystique of the Israeli landscape.

The First Movement, entitled Sand and Salt Pillars at the Heat of Day, is scored for solo Saxophone. It uses a scale, which sounds reminiscent of a Middle Eastern mode. The atmosphere is that of one looking over a desert from the banks of the Sea.

The Second Movement, Moon Reflections over Dark Water, adds the Percussion to the mix. Note the way the timbres of the various percussion instruments create the mood of the Moon reflecting over the water at night. The Saxophone enters on a haunting motif, and the reflection shimmers as we gaze upon it.

The Third Movement, Coast of Israel, Jordon on the Horizon, is almost a scherzo in its sound, but it creates an image of the land rising out of the water as one looks across the Dead Sea toward the distant shores".

-- J.D.N. 

Oregon Literary Review, Editor. 

Web link to view and listen to Return To The Dead Sea:

http://orelitrev.startlogic.com/v1n2/OLR-rose.htm

Enjoy your visit to the Dead Sea through my eyes and ears, for now!

B'Shalom ~ with peace,

Creationlily

Waiting

In Waiting, I fuse the element of the still image character, with the moving smoke, that spirals upwards and fills the room with the character's anticipation.  I enjoy creating this type of contrast - the still image, versus an element of motion.  I also like to play with coupling motifs: the condensation on the window, partnered with the character's anticipation, and the smoke that seeps through the cracks in the wall, to find the character's beloved.  Similarly, I play with aspects of shading that enable me to have a softer smudged look, in contrast to a pointed and more focused line: the highlighted smoke, versus the harder edged umbrella.  I weave a personal motif  from our family life with autism into this piece (our six year old son lives with autism): the element of not being able to look directly at someones face, and the sensory processing difficulty, which the character experiences with the jumble of music, voices, and smoke.  Ever since I had originally created this drawing, I've had elements of a story cycling through my head.  This week, I put it down "on paper;" giving closure to this round of creation.  I wait no more!  The character is left suspended there, indefinitely waiting.  His experience of waiting, is tied into and reflected by the readers, who are being left with a question mark, thus also experiencing their own waiting. 

Waiting

Overlooking the Mediterranean Sea, perched high up on a cliff, lays an old rustic pub.   Inside, I position myself on an uneven wooden stool, leisurely nursing a spirit from the bar.  The balancing midpoint of the rocking of my seat, hooks me into the swaying motion of the sea water, way down bellow the cliff.  I can barely tell whether I'm on dry land, or out at sea.  Being far up above sea level provides me with some clarity of just how far I have traveled.

With my raincoat still on, I am only slightly warmer from the dampness of the rain and the draft from which I just came.  My umbrella, amongst other dark ones in the corner, drapes over a slanted coat rack.  The uneven texture of the rust colored brick wall, juxtaposes a backdrop to little consecutive drops of remaining rain water.  They descend from the umbrella trunk onto the floor, smoothly sliding down at their convenience.  The drops crackle down in a repetitive fashion onto the increasingly glistening wet surface.  With each downwards glissando, my pulse rises.  It loops in rhythmic thumps, just like the rain drops, almost audibly.

A dull ache continues to fill my chest with anxiety.  I attempt to focus on my breathing, just to slow down, to moderate some sense of composure.  Sweat beads form on my brow and smudge the glass of my lenses, leaving me all the more mindful of my own thoughts.  I remain adrift, much like the boat which I had just departed, far from coming into a satisfying focus.  Still, I sit there, waiting in the dampness of this room.

Condensation forms on the inside of an arched triangular window that overlooks the ocean bellow.  It layers onto the cold glass, as if consumed in its own anticipation.  It partners with that of my very own.  I wonder how long it would take for it to completely evaporate; perhaps as long as my own anticipation were to finally dissipate.

Still, I wait.

Settled in for a prime view, my gaze hypnotically locks onto the entryway.  I gradually forget about my little ails, as the effect of my drink now blurs them into a milder haze.  I am transfixed.  A dim light from a ceiling lantern hanging over the doorway, forms a cozy rendezvous for petite night bugs' delight.  Voices jumble in polyphony coincide with background music.  Phasing in and out, they become increasingly distant in their fading counterpoint.  Here and there, I am sobered into reality by someones staccato laugh.  Voices interlace with music, and music interweaves with voices, in a swirl which leaves me questioning if my senses are acutely heightened, versus further intoxication.  An overlay of smoke and the faint sent of alcohol in the air, ties this all into one confusing concoction.  I attempt to refocus on my breathing, to regain some sense of clarity.

Shadowed images pass by in my periphery, as if coasting beside me in slow motion.  I do not turn my gaze away to look at their faces, nonetheless.  I am not one who's comfortable with direct gazes, as I've been told that "the eyes are the windows to someones soul."   Growing up, I took that meaning too literally.  Until this day, it frightens me.  Only one face will capture my eye.  I will know it when it is time; I will recognize this particular silhouette.

Time seems to have suspended indefinitely.  It is in no hurry to appease my unswerving intent.  My eyes fixate on the antique metal keyhole on the arched wooden door.  If only the stroke of a single key turn were to conjure up the one I await.  Several times, I think that I see the door nob turning, but then, no one enters; my mind plays tricks at my own expense.

Still, I want.  Still, I hope.

Puff, inhale slowly, then exhale, and another breath, and another puff.  I sit there alone, in the scattered crowd, waiting.  Waiting is the only real thing over which I posses any sort of control.  Single strands of smoke from my cigarette float upwards and onwards, interlocking in their graceful assent, getting drawn to some mysterious sway.  They accept the lantern's subliminal invitation, becoming encapsulated by its magnetic glow.   Smoke elevates and thickens, smoldering with each of my passing breaths.  With each slow exhale, it spirals up, voluminously filling out the space of the increasingly clouded tavern.

With each exhale, the room expands with my anticipation.  Smoke escapes out through the cracks and into the cold air, to find the one that I await.  I am becoming part of the fixtures of this room; it knows of my desire.  The cracks on the walls mirror my journey.  Much like the sturdiness of the brick which they affect, nonetheless, they do not affect my resolve.  My spirit remains uncrackable.

I will not move from this one spot, as I had promised.  I will not betray.  Paralyzed by my own impassioned state; I do not dare part from this uneven stool.  I have waited already this long.  Maybe she is held up just a bit longer?  I am tormented by my trepidation, by my longing for her.  I want, but I do not know for certain what is yet to follow.  I remain suspended there, on a cliff, waiting.

Still, I love.  Still, I wait.

2 Black Keys

Piano, my oldest friend, I have known you since my seventh year.  My first instrument loaned from a neighbor's, while they were far overseas.  I used to go to their home and treat myself to your black and white keys, as if you were a candy treat.  I chose you, my oldest friend, but little did I know that this was going to be a life long friendship, like the 2-colors of your ivory keys.  Or maybe, it was you that chose to help me find my path: to help me express things without having to find words, without labels, without making things fit into boxes.  Not even needing to see pictures in my mind, I only need to hear your resonating sound, and my spirit is ever uplifted.

How could I not share music with my kids?   

Growing up, I always thought that when I have kids, I would of course teach them to play the piano.  Having taught piano lessons for over twenty years (hard to believe how fast those twenty years have flown), it seemed even more natural for me to want to do that.  With Jake's autism however, it wasn't going to be that straight forward, as nothing usually is with autism.  Even teaching the basic recognition of the two different colors of the keys, and that the black keys were grouped in alternating groups of twos and threes, was not so simple as it typically was when teaching others' kids.   If I ever encountered behavioral challenges of young kids, it was mostly because they didn't want to sit through a lesson.  With Jake's autism, it wasn't an issue of him not wanting to be there.  It was the challenge of finding a new unfamiliar way, that would work for him, to teach him what I have taught for years.

 

 Piano For Autism

I decided that I wanted music to be a part of Jake's ABA therapy.  I have his therapist use a toy baby grand piano as well as our upright acoustic piano, to have him repeat short basic rhythmic patterns that she plays.  This develops pattern recognition and aural skills.  Through his therapy and music being taught in an ABA manner (Applied Behavioral Analysis is the most common autism therapy that instructs with lots of short repetitions) I figured that he would build some tolerance to eventually sit through a real half hour long lesson with me.  I also did a bunch of experimenting, to see how long of an attention span I could get from him.


I did a lot of hand over hand instruction, so that he could feel the keys move under his fingers; tapping into potential muscle memory.  I tried to not speak a whole lot, since his attention span was short already.  When I did speak, I would do so in a consistent rhythmic pattern.  For example, I took the pattern of short-short-long while simultaneously saying "2 black keys" at least two times in a row.  I positioned his index and third fingers to make a V shape/peace sign, and with hand over hand did the "2 black keys" exercise with him.  He eventually followed along and started chanting those words in that short-short-long rhythmic pattern.  Since then, he has on several occasions, sat on his own at the piano, and did this pattern by himself while using his words.

I used the same type of teaching with the twins, even though they are not living with autism.  Using ABA teaching techniques can be used to teach anyone.  Kids living with autism will benefit from it the most, because they don't pick up on many things as naturally as their neuro-typically developed piers, especially social things (but that's saved for another blog post).  The teaching style of breaking a task down into several smaller/shorter steps with many many repetitions, is what gets optimal results.  

The twins are only three years old, so their attention span is not very long.  They just mostly want to play on the piano for a few minutes and move on to somethings else.  I don't push it on them or Jake.  I want to expose them to music and have them take interest by seeing me playing the piano.  I then have them play at their request and just interject brief spurts of teaching moments.  The other day, they were both fighting over playing the piano.  They both wanted to show me that they can do the "2 black keys" in rhythm.  So far, they have not differentiated between the groups of 2s and 3s, so they chant "2 black keys" while playing on the 3 black key group with an open hand.  Forget that peace sign Mom.  I don't force correcting them very much, because they want to be independent so much.


For now my old friend, I'll keep exposing the kids to your two-toned steps, and as their attention and tolerance develops, more teaching will take place for the musical Roses.  A moment of reflection puts things into new perspective for this one student.  Just as the two black piano keys repetitively resonate for my kids and unlock a world of possibilities; with one key turn I wave goodbye to my childhood piano lessons.  The second key turns, unlocking a door to a hope with new possibilities.  Once again, I am ever uplifted.

Musical Strings

Music ~ acrylics

Listening to Andras Schiff performing some of Bach's Prelude and Fugues on my drive home from the base today brought up some emotions to the surface for me - the main one being gratitude.  The genius of Bach never ceases to amaze me.  His musical thread initially starts out with direct sincerity, as if it were as simple as black and white, and then before we know it, a multitude of colors spin out majestically, leaving us at awe of what had just transpired.  They unravel multi dimensions of emotional depth.  Each layer pealed back, reveals gratitude for all of the little intricate details that connect our life's fabric.  A single spool spins out one seamless piece of string.  As it unravels, it unfolds for each one of us, our individual life's path.  

A man who had lived his life not being appreciated for his gifts yet, is only later appreciated and glorified after his passing - much too late.  As we reflect on what we not knowingly let slip through our hands through the cracks of music history, we ought to not let that happen with the little intricate details of our daily lives.  Some of the challenges that spin out our inner struggles, not yet capturing the lessons to be learned from their journey, may only seem black and white to us now.  However, if we let them slip through the cracks of every day's burdens, we may miss the later multitude of splendid color that would spin out too swiftly for us to appreciate.  Once the string completely escapes the grasp of its spool, there would only be a shadow left behind - only an afterthought.  It is with this mindset, that we'd only appreciate things after they are gone - much too late.

Clefony ~ charcoal pencils

Hold on to that piece of thread and take note of every unraveling rotation of that spool, because once the colors start flowing, it's hard to appreciate all of the detailed intricacies that turn that one piece of thread into our personal life's path.  Hold on to the little details with gratitude while they present themselves, and not after they spin right by you.  

There are many lessons to be learned from the life and artistry of one man who was too precious to be recognized during his life's spool of thread.  He was a visionary - ahead of his time.  If we had only known back then what we know now...imagine all the possibilities....all the musical strings yet to be played.

Creations

Clefony a made up word for a symphony of clefs
charcoal pencils



The Rose
charcoal pencils

  Seaweed
Acrylic 

Solitude
Pastels

Music

Acrylic

 

Waiting

Charcoal pencils

Musical plate

Blue
paint on tile

 Hummingbird
colored pencils

At the beach
charcoal pencils

 Deployment

The Kingfisher bird
colored pencils

Who knows what’s next.... 

A Scott And Zelda Fitzgerald Kind of Day

I recently visited the Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald Museum, located on 919 Felder Avenue, in Montgomery, Alabama.  Our Air Force family has been stationed over the past year and a half in Montgomery, and I have only recently found out about this museum.  It is in no doubt, a local gem!  One of Montgomery's little hints that led me to this discovery was that there is a Zelda Road in town.  This made me wonder whether there was an association of the name of the road to this place.

A street sign outside the museum - One side quotes a work of Scott and this side is of Zelda.

My folks came in from Seattle for a two week visit, and my father, being a Ph.D. in Literature, was only too delighted to learn of this spot.  Out we went on our little excursion on that Monday - or so we thought.  When we arrived at our destination, the museum was closed, and we turned back home in disappointment.   We tried coming back a second time, and a very polite little note on the door informed us of an early closing for the day.   At that point, I thought that we would just try again at another visit down the road.  My father, however, had his heart set on it, and mom and I were determined that the third time would be a charm.  And so it was - we were so glad that we didn't give up on the idea.

Letters of correspondence between Scott and Zelda

Letters of correspondence between Scott and Zelda

The director of the museum was cordial, personable and incredibly knowledgeable on the Fitzgerald's life.  He shared with us all sorts of tidbits of interesting morsels that he had picked up over the years of research as well as from conversations with Fitzgerald buffs that visit the museum, eager to share what they've acquired from their own studies of the family and their literary works.

Photos of Zelda

I was intrigued to learn more about Zelda.  Up until that point, I had only known that she was creative and that she dabbled in art.  I learned from that visit that she was multifaceted.  She pursued ballet dancing, wrote short stories, plays and novels; Scott supported her with her creative endeavors.  From early on in their relationship, she clearly became his muse.  Several weeks ago, I saw a painting of Zelda's which she donated to Montgomery Museum of Fine Art.  I then wanted to see more of her artwork. I looked forward to have the opportunity to do so at our following visit of the Fitzgerald Montgomery home.

Bellow is Zelda's painting of cotton, Hope

displayed at the Montgomery Museum of Fine art.

Two of Zelda's paintings are displayed at the Fitzgerald home. 

Zelda's family was from Montgomery.  Scott met Zelda Sayre when he was stationed as an army lieutenant, in Camp Sheridan near Montgomery, in 1918.  The couple met at a country club ball and were married in 1920.  Zelda was known to be very outgoing, and to speak her mind.  She was also credited for embodying the spirit of the flappers and the Jazz age.  She liked to say things just to get a reaction out of people.  In general, she really enjoyed that sort of playful interaction.  They lived and traveled all over the world and resided with their daughter, Scottie, in Montgomery from 1931-1932.  That house was turned into a museum in 1987.  It is the only place worldwide that commemorates the literary couple, right here, in Zelda's home town.  Much of the first floor of the house serves as the museum, while the other areas and floors have been turned into apartments.  During the year that the Fitzgeralds resided there however, they had the entire house to themselves.  The house is located in the historic district of Cloverdale, and it is the last home that the family lived in together.

If you plan to visit the museum, here is the schedule of the hours of business.  Also, plan to bring some cash with you (see on the sign) for suggested donations, which help with the upkeep of the museum. 

URL: http://fitzgeraldmuseum.net

Phone: 334.264.4222

info@fitzgeraldmuseum.net

I hope that you enjoy your visit as much as my family and I have.  You will learn something about the Fitzgerald family that you haven't yet known that will surely touch your heart.  That visit to the Fitzgerald home had left a lasting impression on my mind.  When our family moves to our new station sometime down the road, I will also take away with me the memory of that special day, where echos of Scott, Zelda and Scottie flow with the breeze and gently falling leaves in the front yard.  They bid me farewell, reminding me to keep creating and to follow my heart.

A Scott And Zelda Fitzgerald Kind of Day was shared 

on the F. Scott And Zelda Fitzgerald Museum's Facebook page on 30 January, 2013.

https://www.facebook.com/pages/F-Scott-and-Zelda-Fitzgerald-Museum/317404308615?fref=ts

Clefony

Music - inspired art

Clefony ~ charcoal pencils

  My drawings in charcoal pencils are my latest Creations.

  
 The two additional smaller drawings of Clefony, 
are a couple of the earlier stages of this piece.

 

Completed drawing

CLEFONY

The term Clefony is my made up word for a symphony of clefs.  It is an artistic-inspired word since bass and treble clefs intertwine in this abstract creation.  It is a word-play on the coupling of clef with symphony.  In Clefony, I fuse together non moving images such as the musical clefs, in contrast to moving elements, such as the small music notation.  The treble clef endings resemble bows of the string family, adding a more angular contrast to the roundness of the clefs, as if playing them like they were instruments.  The angled treble clef closest to the top spirals downward, glistening in imitation to the brass wiring of a french horn.  The hook of the top bass clef rounds-off into a pear's seed, hinting at the notion that music and art appeal to many of our senses, causing us to feel more alive.

Geisha Playing a Shamisen

Souvenir masks from Japan

A gate to a shrine in Japan shot from underneath 
to feature the ornamented decor.

The inspiration for this drawing came from my trip with my husband Alex to Japan, in the winter of 2011, where we saw several geisha in a busy street in Kyoto.  A tourist crowd formed around them as if they were celebrities, and cameras went clicking away.  Being affected by the book: Memoirs of a Geisha, I had so many images of Gion (the most exclusive and well known geisha district in Japan) already in my mind.  I couldn't wait to see the old city streets, buildings, and shrines.  Having just gone to the Tokyo museum, and learning so much about Japan's history and the relationship of the old capital of Kyoto to the new capital of Tokyo, I was eagerly awaiting the train trip to Kyoto.  I was taken back by the history and culture of Japan's old capital, and wished we could have stayed there longer then a weekend.  I bought a souvenir doll and drew it, to take something even more personal away from that unforgettable adventure.  Bellow, are some photographs from our trip, which inspired me to create this drawing, followed by the evolution of the stages of the drawing. 

Geisha Playing a Shamisen ~ charcoal pencils

The 4 photos bellow were taken in Kyoto, Japan.  

We did a walking tour of the city, and it was one of the highlights of our trip.

 

––
 

 

I took these 2 sculpture photos bellow 

at the lobby of a restaurant at the top of the Tokyo Museum, 

where we overlooked the city on a cloudy day.

 

Four wooden fortunes sold outside the Meiji Jingu, a Shinto shrine in Tokyo. Shinto: The indigenous religion of Japan, devoted to deities of natural forces and glorifying of the emperor as a descendant  of the sun goddess.

Evolution of Geisha Playing a Shamisen:

 Doll used as a model for my drawing.

Stage 1

Stage 2

 Completed drawing

At a recent visit to the Montgomery Museum of Fine Art, I revisited a kimono display made of cast glass, entitled Ojigi, by American artist, Karen LaMonte.  I revisit this display with each return to the museum.  Time after time, it captivates me, drawing me to its mystical presence.  The ethereal way in which the glass captures the light, causes me to sense both past and future.  Because the figure was made of glass, and not marble or brass, it possesses the ability to capture light, causing a timeless appeal.  Coming back to this display has given me a recapitulation, a return, with a new perspective, and a closure to my whole Japanese travel experience, and charcoal drawing of Geisha Playing a Shamisen.