All these little things (2024
First performance and commission
Composed for and dedicated to Mary Hubbell
Premiere: Alice Jones and Mary Hubbell, UMass Amherst, Bezanson Recital Hall, March 23, 2025
Instrumentation
soprano
piccolo/flute/alto flute
Duration
13 minutes
Perusal score
Coming soon
Composed for and dedicated to Mary Hubbell
Premiere: Alice Jones and Mary Hubbell, UMass Amherst, Bezanson Recital Hall, March 23, 2025
Instrumentation
soprano
piccolo/flute/alto flute
Duration
13 minutes
Perusal score
Coming soon
Program note
For this set I selected poems by late 19th-century Black American women whose published oeuvre consists of poems about freedom, Blackness, pro-American nationalism, and religion. These particular excerpts zoom way, way in, instead focusing on pensive moments inspired by the details right in front of a woman in her domestic life: the sound of rain on her window, the sounds of the natural world settling into nighttime, a grain of sand. These seemingly narrow, small moments of quiet observation are where they indulge in the joy of private thought and allow themselves to be transported anywhere their imagination might take them, defying any limitations of law, social norms, or physics. I love that these women so boldly dare to lay claim to the right to use all the powers of their observation and intellect—the very qualities that can take an average day and transform it, connecting us to infinite possibilities, to exhilaration, to gentleness, to hope, and to the patterns that animate our entire human history. The tiny details of our lives allow us to create context out of chaos, if we take the time to explore the depths they contain. I love this feeling of uncovering the magic in the mundane, where the process of discovery is as delightful as it is empowering. I hope these pieces capture a feeling of wonderous gratitude and joy, with the musical structure of each movement propelled forward by the emergence of patterns whose presence is felt before they are heard.
I. Retrospect / Thought
Excerpted from Josephine Heard, Morning Glories, “Retrospect” (1890)
I sat alone at my window,
While the pattering raindrops brought
Along with their music upon the roof,
A lengthy train of thought.
I stepped aboard of it quickly,
And rapidly on I sped,
Excerpted from Alice Moore Dunbar-Nelson, Violets and Other Tales, “Impressions: Thought” (1892)
A swift, successive chain of things,
That flash, kaleidoscope-like, now in, now out,
Now straight, now eddying in wild rings,
No order, neither law, compels their moves,
But endless, constant, always swiftly roves.
II. Serenade
From Mary Weston Fordham, Magnolia Leaves, “Serenade” (1897)
Sleep, love sleep,
The night winds sigh,
In soft lullaby.
The Lark is at rest
With the dew on her breast.
So close those dear eyes,
That borrowed their hue
From the heavens so blue,
Sleep, love sleep.
Sleep, love sleep,
The pale moon looks down
On the valleys around,
The Glow Moth is flying,
The South wind is sighing,
And I am low lying,
With lute deftly strung,
To pour out my song,
Sleep, love sleep.
III. A grain of sand
Excerpted from Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, Poems, “A grain of sand” (1896)
Do you see this grain of sand
Lying loosely in my hand?
Do you know to me it brought
Just a simple loving thought?
On the glorious stars of light,
When one gazes night by night
Oh how little seems the span
Measured round the life of man.
IV. Legend of the newspaper
Excerpted from Alice Moore Dunbar-Nelson, Violets and Other Tales, “Legend of the Newspaper” (1892)
Poets sing and fables tell us,
Or old folk lore whispers low,
Of the origin of all things,
Of the spring from whence they came,
How love came, and how old earth,
Freed from chaos, grew for us,
To a green and wondrous spheroid,
To a home for things alive;
How fierce fire and iron cold,
How the snow and how the frost,--
All these things the old rhymes ring,
All these things the old tales tell.
For this set I selected poems by late 19th-century Black American women whose published oeuvre consists of poems about freedom, Blackness, pro-American nationalism, and religion. These particular excerpts zoom way, way in, instead focusing on pensive moments inspired by the details right in front of a woman in her domestic life: the sound of rain on her window, the sounds of the natural world settling into nighttime, a grain of sand. These seemingly narrow, small moments of quiet observation are where they indulge in the joy of private thought and allow themselves to be transported anywhere their imagination might take them, defying any limitations of law, social norms, or physics. I love that these women so boldly dare to lay claim to the right to use all the powers of their observation and intellect—the very qualities that can take an average day and transform it, connecting us to infinite possibilities, to exhilaration, to gentleness, to hope, and to the patterns that animate our entire human history. The tiny details of our lives allow us to create context out of chaos, if we take the time to explore the depths they contain. I love this feeling of uncovering the magic in the mundane, where the process of discovery is as delightful as it is empowering. I hope these pieces capture a feeling of wonderous gratitude and joy, with the musical structure of each movement propelled forward by the emergence of patterns whose presence is felt before they are heard.
I. Retrospect / Thought
Excerpted from Josephine Heard, Morning Glories, “Retrospect” (1890)
I sat alone at my window,
While the pattering raindrops brought
Along with their music upon the roof,
A lengthy train of thought.
I stepped aboard of it quickly,
And rapidly on I sped,
Excerpted from Alice Moore Dunbar-Nelson, Violets and Other Tales, “Impressions: Thought” (1892)
A swift, successive chain of things,
That flash, kaleidoscope-like, now in, now out,
Now straight, now eddying in wild rings,
No order, neither law, compels their moves,
But endless, constant, always swiftly roves.
II. Serenade
From Mary Weston Fordham, Magnolia Leaves, “Serenade” (1897)
Sleep, love sleep,
The night winds sigh,
In soft lullaby.
The Lark is at rest
With the dew on her breast.
So close those dear eyes,
That borrowed their hue
From the heavens so blue,
Sleep, love sleep.
Sleep, love sleep,
The pale moon looks down
On the valleys around,
The Glow Moth is flying,
The South wind is sighing,
And I am low lying,
With lute deftly strung,
To pour out my song,
Sleep, love sleep.
III. A grain of sand
Excerpted from Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, Poems, “A grain of sand” (1896)
Do you see this grain of sand
Lying loosely in my hand?
Do you know to me it brought
Just a simple loving thought?
On the glorious stars of light,
When one gazes night by night
Oh how little seems the span
Measured round the life of man.
IV. Legend of the newspaper
Excerpted from Alice Moore Dunbar-Nelson, Violets and Other Tales, “Legend of the Newspaper” (1892)
Poets sing and fables tell us,
Or old folk lore whispers low,
Of the origin of all things,
Of the spring from whence they came,
How love came, and how old earth,
Freed from chaos, grew for us,
To a green and wondrous spheroid,
To a home for things alive;
How fierce fire and iron cold,
How the snow and how the frost,--
All these things the old rhymes ring,
All these things the old tales tell.
