Category: Creativity

Creating something every day for 365 days

Summer Countdown: Day 16

Posted on by Dale

I took a stab at Rondo. I got one fragment done. (I’ve decided I’m going to work in fragments then sew them all together.) This one is quite cute, although I’m not sure how it’s going to fit into my plan of having the music go astray. More work is required.

I revamped this blog to include the material generally found over on my “real” website: all my music, the Arts Speech, the Invocation, and my translation of Marriage of Figaro. You might want to check it out over there on the left. There’s probably music you haven’t heard before. In fact, I still need to provide mp3s for a lot of the church choir music. That can be a distraction for another day.

Finally, I picked up the labyrinth after the storm. Lots and lots of tiny twigs all over the place. I’m now ready for a fire, if I ever have time to be back there any time soon. We leave for Valdosta this afternoon through Sunday , so no countdown days until I get back.

Summer Countdown: Day 17

Posted on by Dale

Not very productive at all yesterday. I wasn’t feeling well, so I just moped about.

I did a concerted search for a hard copy of “Children of the Heavenly Father,” but I cannot find one. I don’t know why I’m obsessing about this particular piece. I think that if I found it I would find that it was not that good to begin with.

In rummaging through the attic boxes, I did come across a handwritten score for a Gloria I wrote many many years ago, before 1980 at least. I know this because it ended up in the Street Scene in Christmas Carol: “Isn’t it cold today? Weather fine for Christmas day!” I think Marc wrote those lyrics.

Perhaps I should reconstruct Christmas Carol instead?

In other news, Craig’s daughter Kathryn has accepted some of my raw paint-sketches for the ELP for an exhibit at her gallery. The show is called “If a Body Catch a Body,” and opens August 7. I’ll keep you posted.

Summer Countdown: Day 18

Posted on by Dale

I finished Prelude (no fugue) No. 2. How’s that for productive? Actually, I started work on it, decided it was too pretty, and started over.

Prelude (no fugue) No. 2: score | mp3

It’s actually more vigorous than I originally planned for it to be. The original idea was for a more gentle, gracioso, melodious thing, to become between the outrageous faux-counterpoint of No. 1 and the hyper-Romantic No. 3. Oh well. Now everyone has to wait until No. 4 to take a break. Because Nos. 5 & 6 are going to be tough for everybody.

I got bored waiting for our yard man to show up, so I devised a cover for Pieces for Bassoon & String Quartet.

It occurred to me that I don’t really have a page for my instrumental music. Over on my “real” webpage, I have a page for my choral stuff, and not even my newest of that. I’m thinking of making the blog my web page, period, and adding a page for all my music. Because of course the only reason we haven’t heard more performances of Pieces for Bassoon & String Quartet is that people haven’t had a page upon which to find it.

Come to think of it, we haven’t heard any performances of PB&SQ. Michael Giel, what is wrong with you?

I’ve had on my to-do app, for days now, to reconstruct “Children of the Heavenly Father,” the ill-fated hymn arrangement that should have warned me off composing years ago. Why “reconstruct,” you ask, as well you might? Because it got left behind on hard drives gone by, on musical software so quaint that the young folk marvel that we could do more than bang the rocks together.

I tried half-heartedly to find a physical copy yesterday, but if the music exists —and I know it does, I just know it —it’s in a box of all the stuff I wrote for the Presbyterian choir, in the attic. Too hot, too icky. Much easier to find the computer file, I thought.

Right. You know those geeks who still have every computer they ever owned? That’s me. Almost. I did give my 7500 (is that right?) to the theatre, and I had even revved up the chip to a G4, baby. But I still have my SE/30, my PowerBook 190 (oh yeah, I had a laptop), my blue-and-white G3/G4. I would have my old MacBook Pro, but it was stolen last November.

So I sought out “Children of the Heavenly Father” on both the old PowerBook 190 and the SE/30. Neither would even come on. Well, to be fair, the SE/30 is over 20 years old, and the last time it even ran I had to give it a whack on the side to get the solenoid started. But still. It was heartbreaking.

Even I had been able to get either of them running, what then? None of the cables would feed into anything I have in the house, needless to say. And where would I have found a 3.5” floppy? And then how would I have gotten it onto my MacBook Pro?

And finally it dawned on me—even if I find the file—it’s from some music software so quaint that the young folk marvel that we could do more than bang the rocks together.

I drove to Sam Flax in Atlanta— and trust me, I only do that when nothing local will serve—to pick up my gallon of White Absorbent Ground that they had ordered for me. I also got a color wheel (thanks, Diane!), a tube of raw sienna (mine had completely dried up on me), and a palette knife. I used to have one—I probably could put my hands on it if I had to (ah, but I was wrong about where I thought it was)—but it was never as elegant or precise or as flexible as this lovely thing is.

Then back to Newnan, where I charmingly thought that perhaps a light rainfall —perhaps—might intrude on the evening, so I went ahead and set up candles and the makings of a fire in the labyrinth. Then upstairs I went to check on mail while dinner was in the microwave, and then back downstairs to find the deluge upon us.

I dashed outside to grab all the candles and cover the firepit. Modesty must draw a curtain over the state in which I finished my labors. I sat awhile in the torrents of water, luxuriating in that unrepentant sense of being completely wet when you have no reason not to be dry, until I realized that all that lightning was occurring right over my head. I tiptoed back up to the house, stripped off what remained, and toweled dry.

I actually repeated this, believing the storm to be past, although I was more sensible than to get a fresh change of clothes drenched. After the second rain-soaked reverie, however, I was done.

Throughout all of this, I completely forgot about our bedspread, freshly washed and hanging out to dry on the deck.

Summer Countdown: Day 19

Posted on by Dale

Yesterday I got up at an ungodly hour to make the two-and-a-half-hour drive to Clarkesville, GA, for my One Day Art Camp.

For those who are coming to this late, here’s what the deal is. Forty years ago, in the summer of 1970, I spent eight weeks on the campus of Wesleyan College in Macon as an art major in the Governor’s Honors Program. Although art majors all had to cycle at one point through all three of the components— painting/drawing, sculpture, and textiles (hey, it was the 70s)—we could focus on one. I chose painting/drawing with the ever-wonderful B. Diane Mize.

The woman was amazing. She opened my eyes not only to new ways of thinking about art , and I famously say that while GHP taught me I was not an artist—which she disputes—she taught me that the creative process was at the root of everything we do. For that matter, she showed me what the creative process is.

I had not seen Diane since May of 1976, when in one of those scenes that you would disbelieve as too contrived if it were in a movie, I bumped into her in the bookstore at UGA one month before I graduated with a BFA in theatre. On the final night of GHP, six years earlier, I had performed with my theatre minor group to such acclaim that Diane had asked me if I had considered theatre instead of art as a major. Smart woman.

Three or four years ago, I was in my dorm apartment at GHP and somehow I thought of Diane. I googled her and for some reason found her Amazon wish list. I sent her a CD in gratitude for everything she did for me—you know, change my life forever, that kind of thing—and we re-established contact. This spring, I suggested that since I have the summer off, I should visit her and let her teach me all the things I failed to learn forty years ago.

And that’s what I did yesterday.

Once again, she has changed my life. She looked through my sketchbooks. She took notes on what my goals were and what my problems were. She showed me ways of looking at color—and mixing color —that render those tubes of Flesh Tint largely irrelevant. She set up an exercise in color mixing that will take me the rest of the summer to get halfway through. (As she puts it, a musician has to learn scales and etudes; why haven’t artists been trained the same way?)

She showed me a few tricks of the trade in drawing and gave me the title of a book—another book—that I need. She had me mixing paint and matching colors. (Jeff, did you know that part of you is lilac? No, not that part.) She looked over all my paintings and agreed with me on the good ones.

And the entire day she laughed at my feeble attempts and my frustrations, taking great joy in my revelations and my stubbornness and my acid struggles. It was enormous fun, and by the end of the day I was exhausted. I seriously wondered whether I would be able to drive home without falling asleep. But I was too exhilarated from what I learned. I flew home.

So did I get anything done yesterday? Not if you expected to see completed still lifes or portraits. But in most respects it was the most productive day of the summer.

Summer Countdown: Day 20

Posted on by Dale

After running errands and generally being distracted for much of the morning, I was finally able to settle into the labyrinth and do the first leg of the color exercise Diane had sent me.

Simplicity itself: grid of 1-inch squares, seven across, five down. Put a pure color in the top square. Put a barely tinted white in the bottom square. Devise the middle tone. Devise the second one. Devise the fourth one. Repeat.

It was of course not difficult, although the yellow ochre defied me in the upper, darker half. Alas, I didn’t have time to do more than the “lights,” and I don’t think I want to schlep all that stuff to St. Simon’s with me. I’ll have to see if I have time when I get back on Saturday.

In our Summer Countdown, we now have a break of four days. I’ll be at St. Simon’s with my lovely first wife, serving as arm candy as she swans about being important.

This is not to say that I won’t get any work done. I’m taking my sketchbook, and my goal is to fill the last 20+ pages at the beach before heading off to Diane’s house on Sunday. In fact, I’m taking my new one with me as well. I may be ambitious.

I’m also taking my laptop and graphics tablet so that if I get inspired I can work on music as well, although I really don’t see that happening. I work better with my keyboard, and I’m not taking that. Or maybe I will.

In other Lichtenbergian distractions, I bought a timer for the water in the labyrinth so that the new grass plugs can have their daily watering while I’m away. We’ll see if this keeps the grass alive and flourishing.

Summer Countdown: Day 21

Posted on by Dale

I changed the one note in Prelude (no fugue) No. 4 that I was unsure about.

I futzed around and designed an iTunes “album cover” for Six Preludes (No Fugues). I just hate to see my music in iTunes with one of those blanks. It makes me feel like some unappreciated amateur. Oh, wait…

New opportunities from the American Composers Forum:

  • 2010 Finale® National Composition Contest: score for eighth blackbird (9/15)
  • Park Avenue Christian Church: SATB (9/1)
  • Lynn University Conservatory of Music: short orchestral (9/15) [Milky Way?]
  • Austrian Composer Society: orchestral work (9/30) [Milky Way]
  • National Lutheran Choir: SATB (9/30)
  • University of New Mexico: vocal or instrumental, solor or chamber, based on themes of folk songs available online (10/1)
  • Boston Metro Opera: vocal, choral, and operatic work (10/15) [William Blake]
  • Soli fan tutti: short chamber score (10/31) [Bassoon/String quartet]
  • Imagine Music Publishing: string orchestra (11/1)
  • Renée B. Fisher Foundation and the Neighborhood Music School: short piano works for student competition (11/13) [some of the Preludes?]
  • Opera Southwest: “a short opera in English using original music as a tool for educating elementary through middle school audiences in the areas of the sciences or humanities.” (12/1)
  • City Chorus (London): SATB for amateurs, 90th anniversary celebration (12/3)
  • Orchestra of Our Time: short score for chamber ensemble (12/31) [Bassoon/String Quartet]
  • Butler County Symphony Orchestra: an original 10 minute orchestral composition on the theme of “Space Exploration.” (2/1) [Milky Way, duh]
  • Earplay New Music Ensemble: scores for 1-6 players (3/31) [Preludes]
  • Second Life Virtual Concert Hall: “Especially interested in art noise, ambient, minimalism, computer music, music influenced by popular styles.” (ongoing)
  • Opus 21: solo/chamber ensembles (ongoing) [Preludes, Bassoon/String Quartet]
  • New York Miniaturist Ensemble: works composed of 100 notes or less [ed.: I think they mean “fewer”] (ongoing)
  • Ann Arbor Cantata Singers: SATB (ongoing)

Any suggestions about any of these? Discuss in comments.

Summer Countdown: Day 22

Posted on by Dale

I worked more on Prelude No. 4, trying to extend the quiet, static upper melody over the simple whole note accompaniment. There were some nice things, but it wasn’t working.

I opened another file and started over with a different approach. That too had some nice bits, but it wasn’t working either.

Friday night, Craig was with me in the labyrinth, and among the many things we talked about was the reason we keep trying to create. As Craig says, he questions whether he has anything to say, or is he just making noise? That’s the trick, isn’t it? With this prelude, I keep trying to find the right notes , otherwise, I feel as if I’m lying to the audience.

I opened a third file and started over, and this time I think it’s working. I developed a chord sequence in the original file that I was going to end the piece with, and I think I’m going to use that same sequence in the new piece with the new approach. I may even retain the sequence of whole note chords as the ending.

It worked indeed. “Prelude (no fugue) No. 4” is now complete, although there’s one note I’m not sure about.

Prelude (no fugue) No. 4: score | mp3

No real work on the AFO piece.

I got a color-mixing assignment from Diane but did not start on it. It was an actual holiday, for one thing.

Summer Countdown: Day 24

Posted on by Dale

Lichtenbergian goals:

I took a stab at destroying Resignation and got one or two interesting ideas out. Here’s where I just need to sit down and crank out crap until something grows out of all the manure.

I had sent the Preludes (no fugue) No. 1 and 3 to Maila Springfield, the insanely good pianist from VSU. Today I heard back from her: she had been practicing them and wants more. In fact, she and her husband and their saxophonist friend are going to play for the jazz majors at GHP the weekend I’ll be down there, and she wants to play them as part of that gig. So there’s a deadline, which is always helpful.

I worked some on No. 4, which is a complete reversal of No. 3: completely still music, mostly fading away, barely sustainable. I like what I’ve done so far. I may have that done by the early part of next week.

Lichtenbergian distractions:

I worked a great deal in the labyrinth. I planted half a tray of St. Augustine grass plugs in the area between the firepit and the labyrinth. I’m going to see how well it grows there and what it will look like before experimenting in the labyrinth itself.

I also moved the logs left over from last fall’s tree fall. They were an attractive grouping, but they really blocked the entrance to the men’s loo.

Since I was already moving those, I decided to go ahead and set one up over at the westpoint, since that’s where it would go eventually anyway. Then I set the great stone on top of it and put the mosaic dish I already had there on top of that. So I have a new westpoint (water) station.

Summer Countdown: Day 25

Posted on by Dale

Lichtenbergian goals:

Nothing really, as befits Lichtenberg Day.

Part of the problem I’ve encountered with developing variations for Resignation is that the tune is so pure by itself that any kind of alteration feels like a violation. Anything I try to do to it degrades the music instead of adding interest.

The thing to do, obviously, is to completely destroy it.

Lichtenbergian distractions:

One of the books I brought home from school to read for the summer was Word after word after word, Patricia MacLachlan, a new book. Very short and quite lovely. I read it in one session before going to sleep the other night. Yes, MacLachlan is the author of Sarah, Plain & Tall. In this book, five 4th grade friends are in a class with a visiting author, and they learn how writing can shape their lives. As I said, it’s quite lovely.

I went to Atlanta to have lunch with my friend John Tibbetts, a young person of such life force that it’s impossible not to have a good time with him. Then I stopped by Sam Flax and picked up two tubes of gouache in colors that I do not have but apparently I need if I’m to paint portraits ever. (Really? Cadmium orange and cadmium yellow light? Really? As I said, I don’t know how to mix colors.)

Then back to Newnan, short errands, cook supper, and a languid evening with my lovely first wife. All in all, a solid Lichtenberg Day: I thought about composing, and I bought painting supplies, but I didn’t actually do any work.