I love being outside, and all that entails -- more than just about any other thing in life. And while I love rocks, and trees, and mountains, and animals, and plants, it is not any one of these things in particular that makes me love nature. It is the entire package. I love the way the stars interact with the river. The way the deer live and interact with the other woodland creatures, sometimes in harmony, sometimes not. I find music in the rustling of the wind through the trees, the rush of water over the rocks, the songs of birds, and the sound of my own footsteps as I traverse a trail.
As I look at the music we are performing in this fall’s concert, CoroAllegro gets to step into a 900 year repertoire of music that expresses a full emotional scope, from extreme joy to intense sorrow, from the tenants of deep faith, to the marvel of the created world, to the joy of music itself.
As a composer in the 21st century there is much opportunity for us to create, to collaborate, and to express our artistic ideas through many outlets. But with this openness also comes a feeling of great responsibility to prove that we are unique; that our voice should shout out above everyone else’s to create an experience unlike any experienced before.
Most of us have that one song. The one we can't help but listen to when it comes on, the one we seek out when it's been a rough day, the one that makes us either dance or cry - but never anything in between.
Throughout history, women have been writing beautiful music. The issue is, hardly anybody has ever gotten to hear it because publishers wouldn't publish it and directors wouldn't program it. Just like with so many other facets of life, men have dominated the composition world.