Program Notes

I’ve always been obsessed with non-traditional instruments—particularly “found” instruments when they are used in more or less “classical” contexts. It’s so exciting to notice a set of water glasses or coffee tins written in the instrumentation for a classical work to me and I become obsessed with investigating the composer’s reasoning for placing these in a score. Using found objects as instruments exposes a layer of referentiality rather than creating rich orchestral timbres. There is something about implementing these tools that remind me of readymade collages or performance art, such as Allan Kaprow’s 18 Happenings or Martha Rosler’s Semiotics of the Kitchen, embracing levels of theatricality and ascending the plane of a singular medium.

I assembled my own personal orchestra of found instruments for this piece. Most of the instruments are artifacts from my childhood, and the sound worlds I’ve created through these “toys” echoes the excitement of playing with friends in a kindergarten classroom and rapidly learning about the world. The music activates the inner child of the audience and especially the performers, who are encouraged to treat their instruments like brand new objects they get to play with for the first time.

"the new old days" is a chronological recapitulation and reflection on the last two years of my life. 19 is a very weird age, and the past two years have been very weird. 2020 was the worst year of my life (and most people’s), but somehow, I felt so much more alive than I have since I pushed the reset button on my life and started college. Being 19 means you’ve had a brutal time trying to let go of your childhood but not wanting to be an adult. A part of me disappeared in 2020, and I have spent every waking moment since then waiting for it to come back.

Here I stand in the bright darkness of now. If that part of me disappearing was such a big deal, then how come I’m here? Because there are things that make me happy. And someday I will look back on now and miss now the way I miss that part of me that disappeared.