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| Cycle of songs for Soprano and Piano | ![]() |
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"Bonsai Journal"Cycle of songs for Soprano and Piano![]() The cover of the score to Bonsai Journal features Mu-Xuan Lin's Watercolor that was inspired by the cycle Program Listing:Bonsai JournalMohammed Fairouz (2007)
Rachele Schmeige, Soprano Katie Reimer, Piano March 31st, 2008 Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall New York City April 8th, 2008 Jordan Hall Boston
"While experiencing Mohammed's musical compositions, I felt such astonishment
stunningly beautiful sound and visual aesthetic were truly overhwhelming.
"At the moment of writing Bonsai Journal I was interested in experimenting with and
with multiple moods and tones. I was left alone to tend my partner’s extensive
possibilities of encountering objects and experiences from multiple perspectives
bonsai collection for a week and decided to write a few poems each day responding
to individual trees. The poems were written quickly and casually as a set of
variations on a theme.
Bonsai Journal TextJudson Evans (2007)1.Each has a different way of waiting, resists personification making you guess the address of each profile. 2. In the dark, lilies like horns from an old Victrola The spool of waxed string left to stake them, the cylinder that locked to a copper trough with its crude, built-in stylus. But there’s no music. When I lean back on the steps, the summer stars are clustered around the silhouette of a maple. The stars smell like a dust of cinnamon. 3. This one the color of a storm that never gets closer the way we realize when we fly through them cloud patterns seen from earth are incomprehensible hourglass inversions. 4. The birds land like dinosaurs in their branches. They hold to a different measure. As a child climbing a tree was not a form of play. It was work and mystery and prayer. You first learned the dispossession, unearthing disclaimers of the branches. Unaccomodated by the way your weight was not assumed nor your perception. You were discommoded. A rude reorganization of the limbs. 5. With this one I feel the embarrassment of greetings, difficult gestures in a foreign tongue. The same non-recognition. Doubled. A failure of face time. 6. Lights out. The trees stay intricate and closed inside their force field. They don’t sleep, devising scenes of Caravaggian bondage. 7. Green candle with multiple wicks the architect building an island from candle wax must draw down ravens into a bell. 8. Remove the arteries and veins lay down capillaries in slow increments, until the heart is listless in its nest. The hand turned Nile of its pulse is between your fingers, its clutch of roots another, darker hand. 9. They put a bundling board between them courting, sparking, stewing, Grannie and Grampy Pine. They bound themselves in Ace bandage and afgans, hot compresses, hot toddies, poultices and salve, a capsule containing coiled information from 4-H, Oddfellows, almanacs and schedules of model trains. 10. As if an elaborate top were spun that slowing, didn’t topple out of phase, but kept composure, retrograde spin of some odd moon in the saddle of other gravity, until its drone tuned into a backward duration. I can see its castle now, its moat of motionlessness from here, its torque of sap and sawdust, and the needles in their files, the library of needles. |
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