Three Stanzas (solo viola)
Solo viola
Duration - 20’
In this three-movement poem for unaccompanied viola, sleep is the prevailing image.
While sleep can refer to the physical-biological requirement of the body, it can also
represent a spiritual-mental state of peace and calm. As the body seeks rest and renewal,
so does the mind and spirit.
The inability to sleep as described in the first movement is the product of an anxious mind
and restless soul. The weariness here somehow does not give way to sleep. Rather, it
becomes increasingly difficult to get comfortable and quiet down. Recall the frustration of
a sleepless night spent watching the hours tick by towards the inevitable sounding of the
alarm clock which signals the beginning of another work day. Go to sleep now and you
can still rest four hours... now three hours... now two... The sleep which is found at the
end of the movement is not restful or renewing. It comes out of total depletion. The
weariness has drained us.
The second movement reflects the nature of dreaming. Disjunct narrative elements are
integrated together as a single plotline. It is a wild adventure for a mind that wanders in a
dream world with unnatural rules. It is not, however, the protected fantasy that occurs
during REM sleep. Rather, this is a kind of waking dream, synonymous with aspiration
and ambition. The struggle and frustration of striving for something but not seeing a clear
path forward. As it imagines endless hypotheticals, pitfalls, and conflicts, the mind rides a
runaway train of thought into a panic attack.
The third movement evokes the image of a mother holding her infant, steadily comforting
the restless child with her low, quiet song. It is a musical meditation on the following
questions: What does it mean to hold someone, and what does it mean to be held? Who is
there to comfort us when we've upset ourselves? When do we release ourselves to be
comforted? When do we allow ourselves to be held? Do we trust enough to be supported
by someone else and fall asleep in their arms?
Solo viola
Duration - 20’
In this three-movement poem for unaccompanied viola, sleep is the prevailing image.
While sleep can refer to the physical-biological requirement of the body, it can also
represent a spiritual-mental state of peace and calm. As the body seeks rest and renewal,
so does the mind and spirit.
The inability to sleep as described in the first movement is the product of an anxious mind
and restless soul. The weariness here somehow does not give way to sleep. Rather, it
becomes increasingly difficult to get comfortable and quiet down. Recall the frustration of
a sleepless night spent watching the hours tick by towards the inevitable sounding of the
alarm clock which signals the beginning of another work day. Go to sleep now and you
can still rest four hours... now three hours... now two... The sleep which is found at the
end of the movement is not restful or renewing. It comes out of total depletion. The
weariness has drained us.
The second movement reflects the nature of dreaming. Disjunct narrative elements are
integrated together as a single plotline. It is a wild adventure for a mind that wanders in a
dream world with unnatural rules. It is not, however, the protected fantasy that occurs
during REM sleep. Rather, this is a kind of waking dream, synonymous with aspiration
and ambition. The struggle and frustration of striving for something but not seeing a clear
path forward. As it imagines endless hypotheticals, pitfalls, and conflicts, the mind rides a
runaway train of thought into a panic attack.
The third movement evokes the image of a mother holding her infant, steadily comforting
the restless child with her low, quiet song. It is a musical meditation on the following
questions: What does it mean to hold someone, and what does it mean to be held? Who is
there to comfort us when we've upset ourselves? When do we release ourselves to be
comforted? When do we allow ourselves to be held? Do we trust enough to be supported
by someone else and fall asleep in their arms?
Solo viola
Duration - 20’
In this three-movement poem for unaccompanied viola, sleep is the prevailing image.
While sleep can refer to the physical-biological requirement of the body, it can also
represent a spiritual-mental state of peace and calm. As the body seeks rest and renewal,
so does the mind and spirit.
The inability to sleep as described in the first movement is the product of an anxious mind
and restless soul. The weariness here somehow does not give way to sleep. Rather, it
becomes increasingly difficult to get comfortable and quiet down. Recall the frustration of
a sleepless night spent watching the hours tick by towards the inevitable sounding of the
alarm clock which signals the beginning of another work day. Go to sleep now and you
can still rest four hours... now three hours... now two... The sleep which is found at the
end of the movement is not restful or renewing. It comes out of total depletion. The
weariness has drained us.
The second movement reflects the nature of dreaming. Disjunct narrative elements are
integrated together as a single plotline. It is a wild adventure for a mind that wanders in a
dream world with unnatural rules. It is not, however, the protected fantasy that occurs
during REM sleep. Rather, this is a kind of waking dream, synonymous with aspiration
and ambition. The struggle and frustration of striving for something but not seeing a clear
path forward. As it imagines endless hypotheticals, pitfalls, and conflicts, the mind rides a
runaway train of thought into a panic attack.
The third movement evokes the image of a mother holding her infant, steadily comforting
the restless child with her low, quiet song. It is a musical meditation on the following
questions: What does it mean to hold someone, and what does it mean to be held? Who is
there to comfort us when we've upset ourselves? When do we release ourselves to be
comforted? When do we allow ourselves to be held? Do we trust enough to be supported
by someone else and fall asleep in their arms?