Still life painting was historically viewed almost akin to cataloguing and was therefore considered to be a ‘low’ form of classical art, yet many artists working with the form imbued paintings with suggestions of a meaning beyond just the recording of objects, for example by including vanitas symbols in the paintings. Still Lives presents words that observe and magnify mundane scenes and objects and pairs them with phrasings and harmonies that are reminiscent of church music. The text is stretched out and abstracted —perhaps if you don’t pay close attention it could almost sound like it's in Latin. By putting these things together, I’d like to ask if a table or a street can be imbued with a meaning, or a kind of spirituality, as an altar or a church is?

Commissioned and recorded by The Marian Consort though the ensemble’s Emerging Voices programme.

[recording to be published online sometime in Autumn] // score

A collaboration with poet Chris Redmond, the title is a quote from Chris’ poem The architect saving her city from drowning, and other stories, which is recited with the music in performance.

This piece, alongside much of Chris’ work, seeks to highlight the more positive stories of efforts made by communities across the world in responding to the climate crisis. And looks to the future, hopeful that changes already being made in industries such as agriculture and technology will topple over and instigate faster and faster development in making our societies sustainable.

Commissioned by Manchester Camerata through the orchestra’s Ruth Sutton 360° Fellowship and premiered at the RNCM’s 2024 Original Voices Festival.

score

score //  watch

A piece inspired by the concrete facade of brutalist architecture. The orchestra is used as a blunt instrument, stripped of aspirations of traditional aesthetic ideals. The music instead prioritises raw material and unbending presence in its construction.

There are four sections, each corresponding to an aspect of the architecture that engaged me:

1. Carving a monolith into the sky — the parallel lines that rise from the ground and block out the sun, giving the building shape.

2. Running hand over concrete — the kinetic sensation and sound of concrete.

3. Weighed down — the sheer presence of a hulking grey structure.

4. Looking up — a section of ambiguous musical meaning; this is my romanticised reflection on gazing up at huge buildings free of humanist design.

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Premiered by Kira Schlosser.

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The strings of the guitar are divided into two tunings of equal temperament, offset by a quarter-tone. These planes are presented first in isolation, then together, laid over a framework that highlights the microtonal tensions introduced by this setup.

Recorded by Chris Godhard.

watch  //  score

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