By Thomas Cole - Metropolitan Museum of Art, Public Domain
Pastorals for String Quartet
Currently working on developing a full length program for string quartet to be presented locally. I desired to explore the pastoral idea since being isolated due to the Covid pandemic and the subsequent relief found in the natural world in nearby New England state parks. Working sketches and finished recordings (midi or otherwise) for this work can be found here and on my youtube playlist.
The idea for Pastorals for String Quartet arose out of a wish to honor my love for the natural world and a wish to explore programmatic writing. Though it seems now the worst has now passed, so many of us in this pandemic have turned to hiking as an outlet for our beleaguered souls. I, as well, dived deep into the many byways we have at home here in Western Massachusetts. Herein these musical movements you’ll find me musing on some natural aspect and the associated feelings I had about these experiences.
The idea for Pastorals for String Quartet arose out of a wish to honor my love for the natural world and a wish to explore programmatic writing. Though it seems now the worst has now passed, so many of us in this pandemic have turned to hiking as an outlet for our beleaguered souls. I, as well, dived deep into the many byways we have at home here in Western Massachusetts. Herein these musical movements you’ll find me musing on some natural aspect and the associated feelings I had about these experiences.
Pastoral for String Quartet, I Eyrie House Mt Nonotuck begins at Mount Nonotuck Road and follows me up the mile or so to the ruins of Eyrie House at the summit overlooking the Oxbow on the Connecticut river. I actually veered off the old road trial onto the Metacomet -Monadnock Trail, which is much more of a hiking trail as it dips in and out of the hills and snakes around Goat’s Peak. This can be heard in the echoing voices of the strings climbing up and back from one slow line to another.
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As I reached the stone remains of the hotel that burned down over 120 years previously, rain begins to lightly fall. There is a certain faux gothic feel to the atmosphere, since the fallen walls and arched windows in stone bear a quaint resemblance to a castle of old. At least that’s what I liked to pretend. Through gaps in the trees and ruins I can see glimpses of the valley below and the meandering waters of the river. I’ve always like this perch as it reminds of Thomas Cole's the Oxbow; the Hudson Valley painting of the same scenery I am fond of. I reached my goal and its time to return.
The scenery follows me back down the old unused road, I seem unable to leave it behind. Even though I journey quick to my starting place, I’ve carried the smell, sounds and the sights back with me and a part of me remains up on high. The soul is quick to excite and slow to release.
Pastoral For String Quartet No.II: Mt Tom, Yellow Autumnal Light of Ash and Birch, played here by the Julius Quartet on February 2022, featuring violinists Hyun Jeong Helen Lee and David Do, John Batchelder on viola and Sebastian Kozub on cello.
The scenery follows me back down the old unused road, I seem unable to leave it behind. Even though I journey quick to my starting place, I’ve carried the smell, sounds and the sights back with me and a part of me remains up on high. The soul is quick to excite and slow to release.
Pastoral For String Quartet No.II: Mt Tom, Yellow Autumnal Light of Ash and Birch, played here by the Julius Quartet on February 2022, featuring violinists Hyun Jeong Helen Lee and David Do, John Batchelder on viola and Sebastian Kozub on cello.
No.II: Mt Tom, Yellow Autumnal Light of Ash and Birch follows me along the more midsection of Mt Tom State Reservation, meandering the various trails such as the Keystone Extension, Quarry Trail and the D.O.C. Trail leading to overlooks off the M-M Trail. The fall season abounds as I step into outbreaks of young ash groves turning and seasonal light playing upon dying leaves and empty space. Tiny dried leaf vortices erupt as New England breezes come and go, making a subtle dance of wind, light and fall perfume. It is still warm enough for birds and creatures to scramble with their fall time prep. It is the fool in full light at the end of his journey, packing the moment away, sustenance for the next adventure. Nothing is really sad here - though the virus rages and humans stumble and mime their way through empathy and compassion - the sun still shines, breezes still effervesce. Nature still resides. Anything is possible and glorious.
No. III: Mt Holyoke, Winter Frost and Fog. Wandering in a late winter copse of trees, I discovered that behind the cursory image of slow drifting cloudy vapor lay an undiscovered natural world. Tucked deep in the cold grip of the arms of barren branches, life wasn't quite asleep as I thought. Soft tears of melting snow drips here and there, a brief hint of warmth flits in the wind, and the subtle sound of trees creaking now and then speaks of the immediacy of the vitality present. Fog wafts over a half frozen swamp, rich with dead leaves, mocking my gothic pretense with a light feeling of hidden life. A sweetness exists. It seems almost forceful, playful, imminent.
No. IV: Whiting Peak, Vernal Pool with Red Newt. Late spring trip into Whiting Peak via Metacoment-Monadnock Trail at Mount Tom State Reservation revealed small hidden vernal pools here and there. In particular, I ran into numerous red newts or efts scattered along the trail, traipsing about the moss and cold stone. Bright bright red, with green golden spots, they are the first iteration of a life cycle that finds its way on land. In time they will change and be more fully at home in the ponds, scrounging for tidbits of food and mating amongst the pond scum. For a long time I was oblivious to this two fold life span, despite my fondness of them as pet when I was young. Their water life is so much more vigorous than their clownish dainty little life among lichen, moss and ferns. In water they become graceful, a beautiful golden radiant green and almost wise in their movement. On land they seem like they are in a surrealist play all of their own...
I sonically sought out a playfulness contrasted by an almost effortless grace. Nature moves easily from epoch to epoch. The Anthropocene may have taken its toll upon species after species, but nature moves in a manner that can easily side step our intervention. Death and drastic change is not beyond its capacity, slow or sudden nature abides, always.
I sonically sought out a playfulness contrasted by an almost effortless grace. Nature moves easily from epoch to epoch. The Anthropocene may have taken its toll upon species after species, but nature moves in a manner that can easily side step our intervention. Death and drastic change is not beyond its capacity, slow or sudden nature abides, always.
Pastoral for String Quartet, V: Seven Sisters, Pinus strobus takes its point of inspiration from the numerous stands of white pine throughout the Holyoke Range. Considered the Tree of Peace by the Haudenosaunee, white pine became a symbol of solitude among chiefs and weapons were often buried beneath one to seal a peace agreement. Their presence has always given a haunting atmosphere to a forest anytime I have been around them. Also known as the Seven Sisters for the basalt ridgeline peaks which lie between Mount Holyoke and Mount Hitcock, the Mount Holyoke Range ironically has more than seven peaks. I no longer recall exactly which peak I may have been hiking when the music for this Pastoral came to me, it could have been any one of them. The striking height of the white pine is what most impressed upon my consciousness, they exist in an almost different part of the atmosphere. It is an entirely different ecosystem at the top of a white pine tree, beetles, flies, cicadas, birds, squirrels, and other creatures living on one tree or passing from one to another in a continual stream of life. This silent stand of trees evokes time in a manner that our brief lifespans have seemed to have forgotten. They offer themselves up to a host of other life living off of their bark, pith, and cones. It is at once silent and yet teeming with small intricacies of movement.