Miracles in Five

Two of my oldest friends live on and run a vineyard on the Delaware River in New Jersey called Villa Milagro.  I have delighted in watching Steve's and Audrey's modest slice of paradise grow and green over the last two decades.  Although they don't entertain overnight guests from the public, they frequently have friends and family by; such a stay at the Miracle House is a retreat into repletion and quietude, one that I seem never to take advantage of as often as I'd like.  The proprietors, however, are almost ceaselessly active in their efforts to care for their vines and their workers, refine their product, expand their business, and enrich their quality of life.  To visit their farm is like taking a summer afternoon nap beneath a hive of benevolent and generous honeybees:  the hum of productivity floats through your dreams, carrying you gently off like a magic carpet.  This piece is dedicated to my restlessly loving friends.



This was initially conceived during my last stay with Steve and Audrey, sitting up late in their dining room while the rest of the house was asleep.  While I love asymmetrical time signatures, I often struggle to write for them in ways that sound natural; I was very pleased with how perfectly this 5/4 time expressed the sense of graceful busyness that I often feel at Villa Milagro.  The piece was constructed on four five-note runs, introduced and repeated by the piano.  I used them a little like tone rows, where each run defined the allowed notes in the four measure section in which it plays.  Given that the runs have only five pitches, building chords was challenging and provided opportunity for some fun experimentation. 

The instrumentation arose organically as well, but possibly more intuitively; I selected the sounds I heard in my mind as I wrote.  I have not written exclusively for non-electronic ensemble in quite a while, so the fully "acoustic" voices surprised me, even as it seemed right.  Indeed, as I was tweaking the final mix, I found myself visualizing the musicians on stage, with the piano and glockenspiel on the left, alto flute and oboe on the right, and the women's choir centered behind, an image that supported the balance I tried to strike. 

I am still in the midst of a larger project -- a collection of works for viola -- that I've been struggling with somewhat and this piece initially seemed like a distraction from that.  In fact, I think it was, but one that turned out to be as welcome as it was unexpected:  I feel reconnected to the juice of inspiration and play that is both the source of and reason for my music making.  And, while my productivity overall has been slowed by our current shared stressor, I can feel myself re-engaging in the viola project like returning home after a renewing visit with friends.