"Serious" Tietjen

Steven: "Yes, 'Serious Tietjen,' he was my puritan grandfather."

Me: "Awesome."

Quotes

[regarding creativity and my latest composition project which has been draining my energy]

Joel: "I've found that my best work is the work that is projectile vomited from my head."

Me: "Dude, this piece is like my head exploded in a mason jar... and is now being spread on the toast of creativity."

Joel: "Hehe... sounds like something The Tick would say... except it would be 'the Toast of Justice'."

Me: "Right."

The Magic of Christmas

The value of time, i.e., patience, is the secret key to understanding any Universal Mystery.  As many of the ancient neophytes have related, the true Mysteries are enshrouded in arcane symbolism and esoteric riddles, to which there is one key to understanding, one key to decode their cypher — a key that is (if not symbolically) lost forever.

Time, in my opinion, is one of the greatest media for at least emulating that key and allowing life to return to you its own fruitful rewards.  Given time to develop, given time to mature, given the accumulation of experience over time and the greatest amount of effort put forth across a span of time, without regard to its passage.  

How does this relate to music?  Time, and patience, when coupled with the most carefully regulated degree of tenacity allow people to come to understand one's music.  First the composer's vocabulary is established, then an understanding matures of the composer's ability to mold, transform and adjust his vocabulary to suit the needs or restraints of varying degrees of ensemble.  Indeed, music and its notation (as a friend once pointed out to me) are the visual representation of the passage of time itself.

Writing music takes time.  Understanding, appreciating and hearing the profundity of a great work of art takes time to cultivate.  Just as cutting corners and stunting [personal] development leads to instant gratification in deceiving the passage of time — knowledge and understanding should be questioned in a person who enjoys or is satisfied without effort anything considered art after only their first experience with it.  In this way, a work of art should be viewed all the more critically in proportion to the amount of effort and therefore time put into its creation.

So what the hell am I talking about?  Well, I am in sort of a celestial mood this morning as I sit down to complete my setting of Hodie Christus Natus Est for choir and full orchestra.  In a fit of excitement, I have nearly finished the entire work in full score in the span of three days.  Enough time put into it to yield a satisfactory product?  Only time will tell, not to mention the success of the performance.  Time, however, has been my ally in what brought about the possibility of this work as my latest triumph comes once again from the wonderful Robert Page who has come to know and show interest in my music over the past ten years.

This past Friday, I sat down in his office to discuss my latest work for a cappella choir — the "Coptic Hymn" — delivered dutifully to John Goldsmith for the Heinz Chapel Choir's Christmas Concert.  Riding Dr. Page's positive reaction to the work, I proposed writing a short piece (about 5 minutes) for full orchestra and chorus for Carnegie Mellon's Holiday Concert.  He accepted.

The most exciting detail for me is this will be the second work in one week to be premiered (by two different ensembles) and broadcast live on PBS (Pittsburgh's WQED, which has brought us, among other things, the first live television broadcast into a classroom [in 1955] and Mister Rogers' Neighborhood).  That said, Dr. Page's acceptance of my proposal has also given me an opportunity to write for orchestra and be ensured two orchestral premieres within three months, as my official orchestra piece (a requirement for both undergrads and graduate students at CMU) will be premiered, myself conducting, on March 4, 2009.

More details to follow.  

Yes... for your information:

I am embarking down a road of insanity with my latest orchestra piece.

Attack of the Mutant Caterpillar!

Well... needless to say I wrapped up the lemonade fast and I have to say I feel fantastic.  I ended up cutting it short by a day, due to some dizziness I had been experiencing.  A point that was brought up in light of this was the possibility that I don't have as "toxic" a body as the average person who might undertake such a drastic regimen, due to the fact that my entire life my family has eaten relatively simply, and I have never drunk softdrinks or sodas nor had much of a sweet tooth.  I'm sure the "ten day minimum" is totally arbitrary, and despite my falling short by a day, I recommend fasting in principle and practice to anyone interested in hitting that metaphysical "reset" button or just looking to wring out their spiritual and physical sponge!

As part of my "get back in shape" routine, having started with the fast, I am back on solid foods I have been cooking 90% from scratch.  It's been very gratifying to make simple things like hummus, pesto, tomato and cucumber salads.  I have certainly become intensely selective on what I buy and choose to eat, though I'm sure eventually I'll cave in to some of the less healthy vices I participated in before (red wine ideally being the healthiest of them!).

I have begun jogging again and practicing Tai Chi with hopes of fully returning to Kung Fu before long.  Yesterday afternoon, while I was out on a jog along the Upper Panther Hollow Trail I encountered this terrifying creature:

I am not joking when I tell you I spotted it from at least ten yards away, and upon closer inspection found it to be at least six or seven inches in length!  It was just bumbling clumsily along the path, overturning leaves and twigs and being proud that it was the largest most frightful caterpillar I have ever encountered.  A middle-aged hippie couple strolled by a moment later (the man in a sort of bicycling suit that looked like it had been tailored out of a dashiki with thinning shoulder-length hair, the woman equally decked out in burlap with a walking stick) and jumped at the sight as I crouched over the creature observing its weird movements.  I looked up and said, "looks like something out of the Amazon, eh?"

The woman could only think to say "he's certainly been eating his Wheaties!"

Wheaties, indeed.  At home I remembered to look up the monster, finding it in a Google search by typing in "giant green caterpillar with spiny orange horns".  It is known as the Hickory Horned Devil, a fittingly Appalachian sounding title accommodating its Western Pennsylvanian discovery.  It is fairly common to the area, and after an over-winter subterranean pupation it becomes this marvelous specimen:

Better known as the Regal Moth or Citheronia Regalis it certainly peaked my newly developing interest in the Natural Sciences, though I haven't yet graduated to the level of collecting live specimens (so far my collection has halted at recently deceased cicadas I find on the sidewalk in Squirrel Hill).  I did, however, during an hour or so of tottering around the internet find this interesting website that creates custom mounted insect displays.  I guess I'll save up and start ordering custom framed bugs I encounter, I'm sure it's cheaper than a bottle of ether anyway.