Wallitner Weekly 7
Hello everyone! I know I am a day late, Im sorry! I got caught up with writing and totally forgot to write the Wallitner Weekly, but better late than never!
A lot of productive things happened this past week.
I have decided to submit several of my pieces for publishing! Right now I am in the process of looking at publishers and compiling my catalogue of pieces that I’d like to submit. I originally was going to go the self published route, but I think that if I can get a few pieces published then I will be able to get my name out easier.
Im still keeping up with the theory videos, I have been working a lot on the members page specifically. I will try to do better about posting on social media and non member content, but I wanted to get a strong foundation on this members page first.
I have a lot planned for next week too!
I was recently commissioned to write a song of hope for a local choir. I am particularly excited because there are three other composers who were commissioned as well. Two of whom are mentors of mine, so I am very excited to share the stage with them! I had an idea yesterday for said commission (A big reason for why I failed to post this Wallitner Weekly on time). I hope to send the first sketches of it to the director soon, and then if he likes it I will share that idea with all of you.
Hope is a fickle thing.
I am writing a song about hope. And when you write a song about hope you need to have something to fear. You need to have a challenge to hope to overcome. A darkness to then look for the light. In my life I’ve noticed that the darkness is always the same. It’s always some combination of fear, stress, anxiety, dissonance, questions, loss, the list goes on. It’s a feeling of aloneness.
And then there’s hope.
On the surface hope is always the same. It’s the antithesis of fear, stress, anxiety, dissonance, questions, loss, the list goes on. But in trying to write this piece of music I’ve learned something. Hope is more complex than that. Hope is different every time and presents itself in a different way to everyone.
Hope is tomorrow. And if it’s not tomorrow it’s the day after.
I am going to tell a sad story now. There is this piece of music I have been studying written by Eric Whitacre. It is called The Sacred Veil, and it is about Charles Anthony Silvestri and his wife Julie. Specifically it tells the story of their relationship from when they first started dating, to getting married, to having kids, to her getting diagnosed with cancer, dying, and him being left behind. It is a 53 minute, 12 movement long work that is heartbreaking to listen to and yet I believe everyone needs to listen to it.
One of the greatest examples of hope I have ever encountered is in this piece of music. The tenth movement of the work is called Dear Friends. The text for this movement is from a blog post that Julie had posted. She shares her diagnosis “…my doctor says this meant I most likely have about two months to live” she then goes on to say “I am asking you to pray as you have never prayed before. Please don’t pray that I will have a peaceful death. Please don’t feel pity for me. Just pray hard. Pray that I will be healed in a miraculous super natural way. Just pray hard. Pray that God will give me wisdom as to what to do next. Please pray hard. Fight with me. Don’t give up on me.”
Cancer is one of the darkest darknesses. I remember weeping when I listened to this piece the first time. Weeping uncontrollably. And even as I write its lyrics for you to read I feel myself getting choked up. And yet… I smiled during this piece of music. The eighth movement is called “Delicious Times”. Its text is another blog post from Julie. It talks about when her hair started to fall out. It tells the story of how her kids reacted. “At bedtime, when my little one plays with my hair, she just stroked my head and said ‘its so soft and clean!’ She says, ‘Mommy, your hair went bye-bye but it’ll be back soon!’ I was most worried about her because she loves my hair so much, but she is just fine!”
We find hope in the strangest places. In the strangest ways. But it is always there. Waiting to be found. Whether that’s an extra penny on the ground or a child’s reaction to a situation they don’t understand. Hope is fickle, but we always find it.
