Musings...
...some thoughts & observations about composing.
The View From Dorland Mountain
Among the greatest of experiences I've had as a composer, is a six-week, idyllic residency at the Dorland Mountain Arts Colony, near San Diego, California. The time spent there composing my orchestral suite, UKIYO-E!, made a lasting impression upon me and a tremendous impact on my music and the way I write. So as to share with you my feelings at the time, I offer, below, two letters which were printed as "open" letters in the Tampa Bay Composers' Forum Newsletter (December and January 1994.
I'm writing to you from the Dorland Mountain Arts Colony, where I am well into my second week of residency as a composing fellow. First, let me say that I wish each and every one of you could experience a place like Dorland. In the short time I have been here, I have become open to aspects and facets of music (and myself) for which I have searched a lifetime. Furthermore, I feel that this residency will have a profound and lasting effect on my work! How so, you may ask.
Let me sketch, briefly, the Dorland I see. The colony is situated on a 300 acre Nature Conservancy, away from city and highways, in the foothills of the San Jacinto mountains. Isolated among groves of oak and sage-covered hills are the artists' cottages. There are no TVs here, or phones, or even electricity! (Before coming here, I had never seen a propane-powered refrigerator.) Just now, I am the only composer at Dorland. The others currently in residence are: a novelist, two architects, a painter, and two writers (poetry, etc.).
Privacy is paramount, and no one interrupts another artist's work. In fact, from my cottage it is almost impossible to see any of the others. The fundamental working philosophy here is one of isolation and simplicity.
By the time I arrived at Dorland, on November 2nd, the sun had long since departed. With the aid of a flashlight (now my constant companion), I was shoen to my cottage by resident manager, Robert Willis (himself a proze-winning author of children's books, and a watercolorist). Nearly total pitch-blackness shrouded the low redwood structure, its front door hidden under an ancient vine-twisted arbor. Once inside, I became terribly excited by the dominant feature of the place: a magnificent 9 ft. Steinway which had once been owned, Robert told me, by Rachmaninov! As we lit several oil lamps, the interior of the cottage came into focus; the wood-burning pot-bellied stove, the broad work-table under a floor-to-ceiling wall of windowglass, bookshelves laden with volumes, old and new, on music and musicians, eight filing cabinets of music for the piano! I learned that this cottage is called "Ellen's Studio" because it was where Ellen Dorland, founder of the colony, came to practice and teach. She was famous for her chamber music performances, and students came from far and wide to learn from her. Now, it seemed, she would be sharing it all with me... a composer's dream come true. One former resident had said, "I was reminded of how lonely it is to have a mind free to itself; and lonliness is a strange friend." When it gets dark at Dorland, about 6:30 PM, I read a little and go to bed. At first light, say 4:30-5:00 AM, I'm up with ideas to develop! I do my best work early in the day, and I have all
day, every day. With my project, the second movement (of five) is already behind me, and I am into the third. When things slow down I step outside and walk one of the mountain trails for thirty minutes or so; or, for a different kind of spiritual infusion, I may pull out one of the French Suites from Ellen's library to read through. There is no distraction here to interrupt the creative process. I am reminded now of what Paul Hindemith admonished in his A Composer's World: How much more sense that makes to me today!! Best regards, Vernon
Dear Friends;
This is my second letter to you from the Dorland Mountain Arts Colony. I am writing it at the conclusion of my six-week residency here. Even as I mailed the first letter, I felt a second correspondence would surely be a necessity as the passage of time would certainly deepen my reflections and effect my evolving perceptions of this marvelous place! To remind you briefly: Dorland is "a primitive retreat for creative people. Working in a natural setting without distractions and interruptions, residents can tap into their inner resources. Without electricity, residents find a new, natural rhythm for their work." I would like to share with you the discoveries I made while living and working in this transcendental setting.
Over the past six weeks I have been able to glimpse special moments of the others at work; to virtually see a piece of art, or literature, or an actual architectural structure take shape and become tangible... not to mention my own musical impulses and ideas taking on a living form and growing into something with which I am pleased, and even in some cases, surprised by! It is typical that artists who come to the colony from around the world "continue to fall in love with the land and amaze themselves with their output in this place of beauty and solitude."
For me personally, a most important by-product of the total experience is the gradual awareness I came to know of my own processes of composition; and something more valuable: awareness of the various "rituals" surrounding almost every step of the way to my actual composing method. I see those rituals now, however, more as regimens of self-discipline and preparedness, much like something I learned in Japan when I had the opportunity to study black-ink brush painting (known there as Sumi-e). Before the actual painting begins, the artist must "travel" towards his first brush-stroke through a process which is both physical and spiritual. Picking up the stick of carbon ink in his right hand, the artist "grinds" it with slow counterclockwise motions in a small pool of water caught in the shallow well of his suzuri, the ink-making stone. A form of Zen meditation accompanies this simple activity - a visualization of the elements and gestures which will eventually produce the brushings with which the artist will express himself.
In much the same way, a preparatory ritual began to take shape each morning as I started my daily work. This may seem rather far-fetched to those of you who don't compose at all the way I do, but I am convinced that it has helped me to access possibilities which, heretofore, have remained out of my reach! To begin with, I compose on staff-paper (which I have made myself) with simple tools: a dark-leaded pencil, a gum eraser, and a 4-inch plastic ruler. To Dorland, I brought with me, nine new pencils. Since I like to begin with sharp points, my ritual begins with the sharpening of these pencils. I use a small, hand-held sharpener in my left hand, and with the other I turn each pencil slowly and carefully, replicating, as much as possible, the ink-stick on the suzuri
. During this process (five or six minutes long), I focus my thoughts on the materials of the composition upon which I will be working. I draw from within the various motives and thematic elements. None of this would have come my way, I strongly believe, had I not lived this experience of Dorland. I so needed to shed all the hectic trapping I've come to accept, and to enter this world of utter simplicity in order to allow the universe to touch my work.
But there is something else here at Dorland which, it seems, is not simple; or perhaps it is ever so simply
evasive! It is something I want very much for all of you in the composers' Forum, so I will pass my observations on to you. Every Thursday evening the resident fellows gather for a time of sharing whatever gifts the creative muses have delivered over the past week. It is not important in what style, mode, or medium each of us has chosen to convey our own selves in expression. There is, surrounding the presentations, an atmosphere of total respect, acceptance, and SUPPORT. Each artwork is viewed by the others as a gift, which indeed it is! Consequently there is, virtually, a glow of creative energy present, the light of which empowers each artist to produce something he or she has not known to be within his or her scope. It is a most wonderful revelation, and one I know you can manifest within your own circle of creativity!
I believe that any, and all, of you can find what I experienced at Dorland...
... All my best, Vernon
Letter I
Dear friends;
January (Letter II)
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