Posts that talk about one particular genre (or subgenre) of music.
Hello, everyone! It’s been awhile. I hope everyone’s summer has been safe and temperate. I’ve moved regions, the cats have settled into the new place, and though there’s a lot of active change in my life, it’s largely for the better. (Besides, it’s not 120 outside every day!)
As we pivot back to school for the fall semester, I’m thrilled to announce my very first wind ensemble consortium: a grade 2-2.5 piece called neverending rain. Stepping on board with me as consortium lead for this project is Nathan Witte, a dear friend and middle school band director currently teaching in Georgia. I’ve been talking to him about this project for months, and after the successful run of my consortium for go to the garden earlier this year, now feels like the right time to tackle a large ensemble. Because wind ensembles were a formative part of my own music education, returning to the instrumentation this year means a lot to me—it’s a chance to engage with musicians of all ages and experience levels and explore some fun, friendly ways we can make noise together. I’m excited!
Like many of my works, neverending rain has its roots in the real world. As I create this piece, I’ll be reflecting on the myriad ways our relationships change as each of us discovers and redefines who we are. Though this has been an area of deep thought for me for the past couple years for more pointed identity reasons, it’s something we all navigate as part of life: whether it’s entering adulthood through college or in the workforce, moving away from home and our families, starting a new chapter through marriage or a partnership of some kind, adjusting to the demands of a career, or something else entirely, in many respects, reassessing and readjusting our relationships can be a near-constant force in our lives.
Sometimes that’s a great feeling—somebody wonderful enters our world, or someone we’ve known for a long time becomes important to us in a new and fulfilling way—but sometimes it’s sad. Sometimes, the growth we naturally experience over the course of our lives drives us away from people we thought (or hoped) would be there for the long haul. Sometimes that growth doesn’t come fast enough to save a strained relationship. Sometimes a beloved friendship turns incompatible. And, though not always, a lot of the time that change is out of our direct control.
Hello, friends, and happy 2022! As we venture forth into a new year, I’m really excited to announce that I’m launching my first-ever consortium today with the help of my dear friend and collaborator Ashley Killam. I’ve wanted to run consortia for awhile, and this year, I finally have the space and creative energy to do so—and I’m hoping to shoot for at least three this calendar year! As I build this practice, I hope to create opportunities for more people to engage with my music and be directly involved with the creation of a new work without breaking the bank. Funding pieces through consortia will allow me to keep buy-ins low and interface more directly with performers as I move through the creative process, both of which are supremely important to me as I continue to grow as an artist.
Ashley is my consortium lead for this first project, meaning she’s providing a lot of really important support as I get this piece up and running—she’s been my sounding board as we honed the core concepts of this piece, she’s handling a great deal of outreach, and for day-to-day questions surrounding logistics and support, she’s the first point of contact. She’ll also be giving the official world premiere of the piece this April or May (exact date forthcoming), as my thank-you for her assistance throughout this project.
Thanks to Ashley’s help and my own creative resurgence as 2021 has come to a close, I’m excited to present the concept for this first consortium, which I’ve entitled go to the garden. It’ll be scored for trumpet (B-flat or C) and fixed media, and I’ll actually be creating three different durations, all of which will be presented to consortium members upon completion. Depending on your programming and technique needs, you’ll be able to program a version of go to the garden that’s approximately 3, 6, or 9 minutes long! I’ve included some of the most important information about the piece in the graphic immediately following this paragraph (thanks to Ashley’s design wizardry), and you can read in more depth about it—and sign up—below that.
Hi again, everyone. Thank you all so, so much for the love and support you’ve given me over the past few days. I’m extraordinarily lucky to be in community with so many who respond to a new name with joy and affirmation. A bunch of you also extended that enthusiasm toward my release of The Dead Scar, and I’m excited to continue sharing the From the Ashes pieces with you in 2022. As we approach the end of 2021, I’m looking forward to what’s ahead, and though this is later than I’d normally announce (because I didn’t want to put out feelers pre-name change), I’m pleased to formally let everyone know I’m now accepting commissions for 2022 and 2023.
I have general information on what to expect available on my Commission Information and Consortium Information pages, but because it’s been awhile, I’d like to give y’all some specifics on projects I know I’d love to work on this year. If your idea doesn’t match what I’ve listed here, that’s totally fine, and I’d still love to talk to you about it! The ideas I’ve listed below are by no means exhaustive. They’re just areas of strong interest that I’d love to adapt into creative output. (If you already have an idea or know you want to work with me, scroll down to the bottom and fill out the form. I’ll send you a scheduling link after I look through your submission!)
[A note from 2023 Eris: As my writing about the Institute for Composer Diversity (unfortunately) continues to expand, I’ve given up and created an entire blog category for these analyses. You can now find all my posts focusing on ICD by clicking here. Posts that mention them in passing but do not focus on their actions specifically will still be tagged, but you’ll need to search “ICD” in the bar at the bottom of the page—and likely scroll a little—to find those. Thanks!]
Welcome back! Today we’re wrapping up our multi-day adventure through the ICD review. If you haven’t read the previous installments, I recommend checking out Part 1 and Part 2. After we conclude our point-by-point walkthrough, I’m going to mention some major concerns I didn’t get to talk about previously. As always, thanks for being here! I would’ve given up at Point 10 without y’all.
[A note from 2023 Eris: As my writing about the Institute for Composer Diversity (unfortunately) continues to expand, I’ve given up and created an entire blog category for these analyses. You can now find all my posts focusing on ICD by clicking here. Posts that mention them in passing but do not focus on their actions specifically will still be tagged, but you’ll need to search “ICD” in the bar at the bottom of the page—and likely scroll a little—to find those. Thanks!]
Greetings, one and all, and welcome back to our multi-day escapade through the ICD internal review. If you’re new here, fear not! You can go back and read Part 1 to catch up on what we’ve discussed previously. Today, we’re finishing our look at ICD’s communications breakdown; we’ll also discuss ICD’s impact on composers, touch briefly on tokenism, and begin the long slog through the leadership review. I can’t say any one part of the report is the review’s darkest hour, but today’s chunk is certainly a contender. Let’s dive in.
[A note from 2023 Eris: As my writing about the Institute for Composer Diversity (unfortunately) continues to expand, I’ve given up and created an entire blog category for these analyses. You can now find all my posts focusing on ICD by clicking here. Posts that mention them in passing but do not focus on their actions specifically will still be tagged, but you’ll need to search “ICD” in the bar at the bottom of the page—and likely scroll a little—to find those. Thanks!]
Good evening, folks, and welcome to my analysis of the 2020 ICD Internal Review. After spending months systematically failing the marginalized composers they claim to advocate for, the Institute for Composer Diversity has finally taken time to stop making non-apologies and engage in some institutional introspection. While this internal review should’ve been external, this document is the most comprehensive look we’ve ever gotten at ICD’s policies, goals, and priorities. On the surface, it looks good; they grapple with many criticisms from the past year, and they make some effective changes. However, a deeper dive reveals a heavily-plagiarized document that hides major issues while further stigmatizing the composers in its care.
Overall, the review reflects the legacy of performative activism ICD has grown into. I believe the review team did their best, but the Institute doesn’t walk the walk. This hamstrings their efforts—particularly while Director Rob Deemer refuses to relinquish control.
That sucks, because I wanted better. I used to be listed in the database; Rob informally recruited me to be a data-entry lackey when I met him at the International Women’s Brass Conference in 2019. Hell, I loaned ICD one of my blog posts last spring before realizing the full extent of their harm! I want to believe this organization that gets mentions in the New York Times is doing intersectional, antiracist work to tangibly better the lives of marginalized composers. I want to believe I don’t need to warn my band director friends every time I hear they’re looking for a new batch of ensembles to recruit. But I can’t believe in ICD when they have the chance to do something right yet squander it with linguistic carelessness and inconsistent policy decisions.
It’s important that we analyze both ICD’s sweeping policy choices and the little wording decisions they make along the way. Many of ICD’s (and Rob’s) mistakes in the past year relate to concepts many of us learn over time. As a major organization dedicated to representing marginalized populations, it’s their responsibility to already know better, and I’m going to point that out a lot. When others have made the critiques publicly before, I’ll link to those posts.
But the knowledge I’m sharing here is for you, too—because with the right tools, you are capable of being a powerful force for change. And I’m really glad you’re here.
