A semi-productive day. I began arranging the Allegro gracioso from the Symphony in G for the Ayrshire Fiddle Orchestra. That sounds very productive, but I will confess that all I did was copy and paste the parts for the first and second violins, the celli and basses, and the percussion. I was very lazy and did not address the viola part and how I was going to transfer that to a group that doesn’t have violas, nor exactly where the piano would fill in some of the gaps left by the winds and brass instruments in the original.

I also painted a birthday card for Nancy Willard, whose birthday is Saturday, the same as Grayson’s. I’m going to count that because it was a painting of the labyrinth, and I actually did a good job with it. Consider it a study for the ELP, which naturally is set in the labyrinth.

The fear that you’re only pretending to do art is the (readily predictable) consequence of doubting your own artistic credentials. [p. 24]

Impostor syndrome, anyone?

Longtime readers of this blog will recall my incessant whining about my lack of formal training in music, despite the fact that I can create works like William Blake’s Inn or Pieces for Bassoon & String Quartet or “Sir Christémas.” I don’t do that whining any more, even though I know I am entirely outclassed in the music theory department by every “real” musician I know. Why worry about it? I’ve decided that if I’m ever sitting in on a rehearsal of one of my works, and the conductor turns to ask, “Did you really mean to write a G minor 13th chord here?”, I will cheerfully and honestly reply, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. It sounds like I want it to sound, though.” Or perhaps, like Anton Bruckner, just happily agree to let him “fix” it.

As the authors of Art & Fear go on to say, “After all, someone has to do your work, and you’re the closest person around.” If I’m able to get it out the door, why should I care that I don’t have the training that any music undergrad (or garage band songwriter, for that matter) has? He didn’t write the piece, I did. My only gripe about my lack of training is that I would be a lot faster at what I do if I had that knowledge, but even that, I’ve decided, is irrelevant.

In recent discussions with my friend/guru Craig, the idea of Asking Permission has surfaced repeatedly. He keeps asking what I mean by that, and I have to confess I’m not really sure why this keeps nagging at me. As Craig asks, “Asking Permission of whom? And for what?”

I think it may be related to this concept of Pretending, the idea that I’m not really supposed to be doing any of the things I do. As a “composer,” I used to feel very strongly that people who had made music the focus of their lives were at best tolerating my presence in their temple, and at worst sniffing, “Who let him in?” I’m all better now, thank you, but clearly that sense of needing permission to be there is still rattling around in there somewhere.

This is enormously ironic, because my role in the arts community in Newnan has always been that of the Permission Giver. I was the one who gave everyone else Permission to try anything they wanted, either in explicit terms (“Or course you can direct Godot, Jeff. Why not?”) or implicitly: as Jen, the Equity actress who played Hermione in Winter’s Tale said to me at the cast party, surveying all those happy amateurs, “They don’t know they’re not supposed to be able to do this, do they?”

The answers to Craig’s questions, of course, must be, “Of myself. And for whatever it is I want to do.” More work is required.

Productive, that’s what I was.

I established a page on this blog as a repository for permanent material related to my piece for the Ayrshire Fiddle Orchestra, and posted the two sketches I had already created, Vibes and The Labyrinth in Snow.

Then I turned around and created two new fragmentary sketches: Resignation and Rondo Mobile.

Resignation is based on the hymn tune most commonly associated with “My Shepherd Will Supply My Need.” I’ve always loved Virgil Thomson’s choral arrangement of the hymn, and in casting about for something that would come close to Wallace Galbraith’s suggestion that I write “music with its roots in your part of the world,” I was reminded of it.

It’s a gorgeous melody, and all I really need to do is voice it. But I’m going to try to gild the lily by taking it into interesting variations and harmonies. We’ll see.

The Rondo Mobile came about as I tried to come up with something that was close to the AFO’s “house style,” which is largely traditional Scottish/Celtic folk/dance music: stolid harmonies, “fiddly” arpeggiations, etc. I didn’t want to write a dance, but something more “arty” that used skills they already had. A rondo, of course, is a piece with a theme that repeatedly returns after contrasting themes, ABACADA, etc. Mine has a perpetuum mobile ‘A’ theme, and my plan is to send it off the rails, further and further each time, before returning to its simple-minded patter.

I want to do one more sketch before turning them over to Wallace for evaluation. What does everyone think about trying to arrange the third movement, the Allegro gracioso of the Symphony in G? I’d probably have to include a piano with this one to fill in some of the non-string textures, and it would be better if we could have a bass drum and tympani on the side.

Oh, and I also squeezed out two or three more drawings.