James Grant
Hello, friends -- I'll be coming to your class on Wed. March 21 (1st day of spring, Bach's 352nd birthday) to talk (among other things) about my "Symphonic Poem No. 1: Release," inspired by 23 platinum prints by Toronto-based photographer Elizabeth Siegfried. In preparation for that visit, I'll ask you to do the following (I've made links where appropriate):
1. Read Andrea Barrett's literary introduction to Betsy's book, "LifeLines" -- I have posted it on my website. (Andrea is a National Book Award Winner and the author of "Ship Fever" and "Voyage of the Narwhal," among others).
2. GRAB A FRIEND OR TWO IN THE CLASS and together view the 23 images of "LifeLines" on Betsy's website, in order ("LifeLines" is a sequential narrative). The above link takes you to her "LifeLines Gallery" page. Click on the thumbnail of the first image, called "White," to view its larger image on the screen -- you'll notice a link in the bottom right of that screen to move on to the next image in the sequence (and so on). First, go through the sequence quickly to get an overview; then backtrack and go through more slowly. Come up with some thoughts re: the flow, architecture and content of her narrative and ponder these questions:
- What are some recurring themes?
- What is the nature of image content?
- What emotions are displayed in the images?
- What visual rhymes, if any, do you see?
- Is there irony? humor? paradox?
- What aspects of this visual narrative might entice a composer; and how might a composer approach interpreting and translating the "meaning" of LifeLines into music?
- If there is a climax to the sequence, where is it and why; and how might a composer approach it?
3. Go to this page of my website, and read the information on "Release," paying special attention to my program notes.
See you all very soon!
-Jim
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[Previous message, from 1/31]
Hello to WP200 from James Grant in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware! I'm delighted to participate with you in this curious and wonderful weblog adventure. Please post questions or comments to me here on this page; or, if you like, email me directly at jimgrant@dmv.com. Please call me Jim.
Like you, I have little idea what will evolve here over the next 14 weeks. Something I do know is that I'll be strolling physically into your four-wall classroom on March 21, and I look forward to that.
Barbara Ganley has asked me to kick things off by posting an autobio-introduction of sorts, which is what this post is. You can read my professional bio on my website.
The following unexpurgated cyber-autobio-intro is fashioned just for you: it will be presented rapid-fire, and I promise you it will lack coherence; but you'll get some idea of who I am, what I am about, and the context within which I live my life.
For the past eight years, I have lived in this usually quiet resort town on the coast of Delaware. The full-time population here in Rehoboth swells from 1,300 in the winter to over 75,000 in the summer. Too many people, and it gets noisy.
I served on the music faculty at Middlebury from 1988-92, then left teaching (took a calculated crapshoot) to compose full-time, which I continue to do. I crowbar a modest income out of commissions, honoraria, performance royalties, and private teaching. It is not a lot of dough by today's standards; but I live alone and have no dependents, so it suits me fine. I have simple tastes and spend my money on computer equipment, health insurance, keeping my car in safe working order, high quality food, donating to public radio and television, CDs, and a superior sound system (Bose LifeStyle surround-sound). You'll notice that I did not include "books" on the above list of regular purchases - I am woefully unwell-read, I'm afraid, though I often take a symphony score or computer software manual to bed with me at night.
I am a composer who has chosen not to live in a major metropolitan center. Instead, I find that I increasingly seek a life that is simple, undramatic, and relatively slow-paced (in contrast to much of my music, which can be complex, dramatic, and fast-paced). I have a strict daily routine that I have never, ever followed exactly; but I refer to it frequently and usually manage to get everything done that needs doing on a given day, including looking after myself (vitamins, oats for breakfast, push-ups, 10 glasses of water, ample servings of fruits and vegetables, flossing teeth). Every day is different, and I love this about my life: it is fresh, I am always engaged, often in a state of wonder, and there is never a lack of projects at hand, from orchestrating a score to raking pine needles.
I once took a two-day battery of aptitude tests. Upon completion and final assessment, the psychologist who administered the tests announced, "You need to be outdoors a lot, you really shouldn't work for anyone other than yourself, and Heaven help you if you ever have to hold down a 9 to 5 job." So I now live where I hear the ocean a block away; I "do my own thing;" and I choose my own hours.
I frequently articulate my days kayaking on one of the many Delaware inland waterways. These canals, bays, rivers and marshes are seductive and sacred, teeming with water fowl and exquisite sounds.
Solitude is important to me, for my work as a composer and because of "who I am." I rarely feel lonely, and I never feel alone. My significant other is fine-art photographer Elizabeth Siegfried, whom I have known for 32 years, though we have been a significant part of each other's lives only for the past four. Elizabeth lives in Toronto, Ontario; and she, too, requires her solitude. It is my understanding that part of why I am involved with this weblog has to do with a piece of music I composed based on Elizabeth's elegant sequence of 23 photographs called "LifeLines." I'll look forward to discussing that project as the weeks tick by.
Periodically, I leave Rehoboth to attend concerts, offer master classes, or give lectures. It's always good to get away, and it's always wonderful to return: I step out of the car in my driveway, smell the salt air and gauge the mood of the ocean by what I hear.
My current projects include: revising a work for viola and string orchestra; composing a 5-minute orchestral work for a youth orchestra in Alabama; composing a short chamber work for clarinet, violin, 'cello, and piano for the Hoff-Barthelson Music School in NY; and finding the text for a large work for baritone solo, chorus and orchestra for the 185-voice Choral Arts Society of Washington, set for a Kennedy Center premiere in 2003. Presently, I lean towards American Transcendentalism as source material, specifically Walt Whitman. ("All beauty comes from beautiful blood and a beautiful brain." - from his preface to the 1855 first edition of Leaves of Grass.) In late March, right after I visit with you, I'll begin a two-month residency at Copland House in NY: I won an Aaron Copland Award this year and as such am able to spend two months composing from the former residence of this famous American composer. (Check out the Copland House website.) I'll be writing you from Copland House during April and May.
An ongoing project for me is the promotion and dissemination of my music via my website. And this is where the internet comes into play for me, bigtime - especially so, since I choose to live "away from it all." More on this hot topic later, too.
So I ask you a few probing questions: why are you concerned with "arts writing," specifically writing words about music? I compose music because there exists no appropriate verbal syntax to express what's got under my skin. How can you write significantly about music without stooping to mere description? ("First, the clarinet played a melody, then the strings came in, then a triangle sounded, and suddenly the brass went wild.") I've got a few thoughts on these topics myself.
OK - I've lobbed the ball into your court. Your turn. Tell me who you are, and let's discover what game it is we're playing.
