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Timeless

On Good Friday I left the big city behind, and travelled to my parents’ place, passing through a fantastic icy world; each towering pine tree clad in a Christening gown; every branch covered in brilliant, wintry jewels. When I came through their door, the egg painting ritual was just beginning, and we sat quietly drawing flowers and stars, stripes, polka dots and Latin mottos, decorating and dipping in aqua, magenta, ochre and puce. My mother brings out the quilt she’s been patching together, and we scratch our heads over the geometric problem of turning diamonds into squares. Our evening pilgrimage… Read More »Timeless

BABEL – the poem by Cori Martin

Thanks so much for your thoughtful responses to my last post. Your overwhelming kindness and support humbles me. Many of you have requested to read the poem “Babel” by Cori Martin in advance of the performance. You’ll need to print out all 4 pages and sit down with a cup of coffee and devote some time to this. The body of the poem runs alongside marginalia taken from diverse, existing poetry in many languages. Keep the notes on page 4 handy – you’ll be looking up classical verse, German poetry, Dante, Milton and the Bible etc. etc. Actually you might even want… Read More »BABEL – the poem by Cori Martin

An open letter to students boycotting my work

Rehearsals are underway for the first performance of my choral symphony at Wilfrid Laurier University in Waterloo. I am saddened to hear that some students are boycotting my work since they consider it “blasphemous.” I believe a Canadian university must be a safe place to discuss controversial topics and respect differences – a haven for critical thinking, experiment and inquiry – and I hope every student pouring their hard work and musicianship into this project can feel safe and proud performing my piece. I post this open letter not to judge, but to invite reflection and reconciliation. Dear Students, Love… Read More »An open letter to students boycotting my work

Scribe

Stephanus and Maximus on Art

Maximus: Wake up Stephanus. It’s your move! Stephanus: Gosh. Sorry. Am I white or black? Maximus: Oh for heaven’s sake Stephanus… and by the way, my knight has just taken your Queen so you’d better be a little more careful on your next move. What’s wrong with you tonight? Stephanus: I apologize Maximus. I’m distracted, and the candlelight lulls me into a brooding sort of mood. Maximus: Pray do tell. (Takes a draught of ale from his tankard.) Stephanus: Well, I’m thinking about my students once again. (Sighs heavily.) Maximus: What is it this time? Stephanus: They argue about Art… Read More »Stephanus and Maximus on Art

The Garden City

On the Compositions page of my website I periodically rotate some free scores and recordings for you. I’ve just posted The Garden City, a little piano piece that honours the town of St. Catharines in Ontario wine country. The piece was premiered by Karin Di Bella, head of piano music at Brock University, at the opening of the new recital hall at their beautiful new downtown campus. You can download this for free, play it, give it to your students, whatever you like. There’s an MP3 recording posted as well, played by a machine, so probably better if you just… Read More »The Garden City

Unexpected Art

On a winter walk, I’m bored with rhythmic trudging On the boulevard.   I can’t stop to look Or idly gaze on cattails In the icy park!   Seven thousand steps: That’s my daily requirement, So my phone declares.   But ’round the next bend, My eyes suddenly perceive Unexpected art.   On a crumbling wall Colours, lines and shapes create A weird gallery:   Bones, skulls, animals, And a misfit sailing ship Delight my sad eyes.   Now, all that I see Becomes ready canvas for Nature’s graffiti.   Magestic towers Stretch magic threads. Ice and snow Become diamonds.… Read More »Unexpected Art

In memoriam Brian Bedford: The haymaking

Summer on the farm in my youth involved making hay. Lots and lots of hay. To city folks, that might sound delightful, pleasantly Arcadian, perhaps vaguely erotic, but I am telling you. It was plain hard work. The whole family pitched in, each with their appointed task; first cutting down the green, maiden grass, then raking and turning it toward the sun, transforming the upright crop into brittle filigree. Then binding it up with twine, forming it into square bales, transferring it to lofty red wagons, driving it steeply up to the mow, unloading the wagon-full onto an ‘elevator’ and… Read More »In memoriam Brian Bedford: The haymaking

Alma Mater

40th anniversary celebrations are starting to roll out for Wilfrid Laurier University’s music faculty where I studied from 1980 – 84. In late January there will be a new music festival and the Penderecki String Quartet are playing a short excerpt of my music! In April is the big show where the Laurier choirs and orchestras will play my choral symphony, Babel. (check out my upcoming events for details) These events make me nostalgic for that simpler, student time, living sparsely in one room with a desk and a bed and a roommate; studying, practicing, practicing, practicing, discovering beer, practicing,… Read More »Alma Mater

The Gift

“No gifts this year” seemed the rational proclamation, since all of us acknowledged we had every necessity in excess; much more than we required, and everything we wanted beyond what we needed. This yearly policy was clearly stated, and yearly the rule was ignored or broken, the gifts wrapped, and placed under the tree bound up with its sparkling bobbles and chains. But this Christmas our privilege seemed more pronounced, and the needs of others seemed more keen – so many without house or home, and we with so much. The holiday mantra was therefore revised: “only re-gifted items please… Read More »The Gift

New prince, new pomp

New prince, new pomp (Robert Southwell, 1605) Behold, a silly tender babe In freezing winter night In homely manger trembling lies,— Alas, a piteous sight! The inns are full, no man will yield This little pilgrim bed, But forced he is with silly beasts In crib to shroud his head. Despise him not for lying there, First, what he is enquire, An orient pearl is often found In depth of dirty mire. Weigh not his crib, his wooden dish, Nor beasts that by him feed; Weigh not his mother’s poor attire Nor Joseph’s simple weed. This stable is a prince’s… Read More »New prince, new pomp