I just realized I never posted this open letter like I meant to back in July. This will be at the beginning of my new published piece, "The Lake Isle of Innisfree," which comes out at the end of the month. I just proofed the score and it looks wonderful! :) An open letter to all involved with the Choral Institute at Oxford, 2013. Dear friends, I am writing to you all from Presque Isle, on the southern shore of Lake Superior not far from my home in Marquette, Michigan. It has now been ten days since I said my farewells to most of you at The Cape of Good Hope in Oxford, and if you are anything like me you have probably spent the elapsed time in a bit of a “funk.” I for one have been suffering from an immense spiritual and intellectual hangover that has resulted in much pacing, staring at inanimate objects, and snapping at family members and close friends for no good reason. I feel this is natural following an incredible experience such as we all had, but it has nonetheless been an unpleasant week and a half. A few days ago I decided that enough was enough, and so I began channeling almost all of my energy into completing the piece that you now hold in its final form. The origins of this piece are in all honesty somewhat murky. I know that some of the musical material has existed for several years now, flitting around in my mind with no real drive or direction to speak of. Finding an appropriate text for this music was an entirely different issue. About once a year I half-heartedly attempted to search for words that might fit the emotional arch of these musical lines, each time coming away more and more disappointed and disheartened. I have never been a subscriber to the outdated belief that choral composers must always follow the compositional pattern of “text first - music second.” Two years of working with a talented librettist has taught me that the best work often comes when the music waits for the right words. And so this music waited… and waited. It wasn’t until the Oxford experience, when in a rush I was exposed to the many profound things that each of you has to offer musically and personally, that everything came into focus. It started with my flight from Aberdeen to London. As I looked out to the west from 30,000 feet I could just make out the Isle of Man and Northern Ireland across the Irish Sea. I remember feeling an unbelievable sense of excitement and peace at the thought of just being with all of you and making music. This connected feeling, which is at the core of why I have made music my life’s pursuit, for me became the frame of reference for the eight days that we spent together. Upon landing I knew that I had to try to capture that feeling in some small way, and it was then that I stumbled upon “The Lake Isle of Innisfree” by William Butler Yeats. This poem is one of the most beloved texts in the English language, and although it comes from a solitary place there is no doubt that every human being can relate to the desire for peace that Yeats speaks of. Somehow in my mind the connection was made between the poem, that soaring peace I felt on the plane, and the elusive nature of the music I had as of yet been unable to finish. I knew that this was the right time and place and the right people around which to compose the piece. Unfortunately, there was no time to compose, but in all honesty I didn’t care. At the time I was much more interested in witnessing the personal journeys of the people surrounding me to pay much attention to my own work. At night in St. Stephen’s House, I would sit in the silence of the chapel or the cloister, armed with thoughts of your daily progress, forming ideas out of your triumphs. I cannot begin to tell you how much it has meant to me to know each of you and how proud I am of your development, including those of you who I have just met. Though I did very little actual composing in Oxford, the emotional arch of the week for all of us is contained in this piece. It is my gift to you as friends, colleagues, and profoundly musical people. It is ironic that the conclusion of our time together has only fueled my desire to continue the work that we have all started. Now that this piece is finished I am officially out of my “funk” and ready to face the next chapter of my life with all of you in my heart. Thank you to James Whitbourn for being ever-inspiring as a composer, conductor, and human being. Thank you to the CIO participants and presenters for changing my life. Thank you to Williamson Voices for always, always being a wonderful family and for giving a voice to my music that I never dreamed could exist. And lastly thank you to James Jordan for opening the door to an infinitely better life, for being one of greatest inspirations to us all, and for being a good friend. With love and admiration, Thomas LaVoy - July 25th, 2013
Posted on: Wed, 18 Sep 2013 19:32:23 +0000
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