Jane Stanley's Drifting Tracer was a composition written for ACOF 2003.
...I am attracted to the Fibonacci Series (1, 1, 2, 3, 5…) for its associations with balance and natural beauty...
Drifting Tracer explores five different decorative manifestations of an underlying skeletal line. Foreground material at first traces this melodic skeleton (often heterophonically) and gradually drifts away into fleeting excursionary passages. The duration of each section corresponds to a multiple of a Fibonacci value. I am attracted to the Fibonacci Series (1, 1, 2, 3, 5…) for its associations with balance and natural beauty. However, in this work I have chosen to scramble the order of numbers used. The work's climax visits a rock-like riff, laden in raw, dirty, somatic energy replete with kit percussion such as cowbell and kick drum. My skeletal 11-note isomelos was in fact generated from permutations of this climactic 4-note gesture.
I have met with my ACOF mentor, Ian Shanahan, twice in the past few weeks. To this point we have focussed our discussions upon issues concerning the initial conception of a piece. In our most recent session Ian shared with me aspects of his experience in compositional planning and toured me through the (weighty) sketches of some of his own works.
A principal concern of my piece for ACOF will be the exploration of binary oppositions, such as textural density/sparsity, rhythmic dissonance/consonance, and pitch modality/atonality-microtonality. Number symbolism will govern structure on micro- and macro- levels, and in keeping with my postmodern handling of the aforementioned devices, quotation will be a feature.
I am keen to put to use the lessons that I learnt during the preparation of my earlier orchestral piece, Splintered Rose. I feel considerably more aware of the limits that relatively short rehearsal periods impose upon a work. Indeed, my eyes have been opened to the dire importance of expressing ideas economically - for me this particularly concerns metric organisation. I also wish to use this opportunity to expand upon some of the gestures that I first experimented with in Splintered Rose. But far from limiting my gestural palette to self-quotation, I will endeavour to incorporate into my composition a range of (external) found objects.
The foundations of my piece are now in place and I have settled upon a title: Drifting Tracer. In the last year or so I have been converted to the belief that one should have a title in mind as early as possible in the composition process (even a working title) as it helps to shape the final product. Drifting Tracer will comprise five sections, the duration of each corresponding to a multiple of a Fibonacci value. Underpinning the entire structure is a skeletal isorhythm/isomelos. Foreground material at first traces this skeleton (often heterophonically) and gradually drifts away into fleeting excursionary passages. I love the idea of slippage and symmetry-breaking. At the work's climax I intend to briefly (and almost teasingly) visit a rock-like riff, laden in raw, corporeal energy. My 11-note isomelos was in fact generated from permutations of this 4-note gesture. I am also intending to give Gary Wain a prominent solo - I love his work!
I really agree with Ian Shanahan's assertion that composition is much like the process of developing a photograph in that it is helpful to have a broad conception of one's piece and to then gradually bring the finished product into focus.
Below is a run-down of the structure of Drifting Tracer:
The ACOF workshop sessions with the Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra provided me with invaluable training in rehearsal etiquette and interaction with performers whilst allowing me the luxury to refine a number of details in my score. I similarly appreciated the opportunity to get to know the other participants - composing can at times be a lonely occupation, locked away in a room at a desk with pencil and manuscript.
Brenton Broadstock, Andrew Schultz, and Kenneth Young gave me much constructive criticism during the week. This led to my trialling different timbres on the harp, altering the registration of a climactic chord presented by the full ensemble, substituting piccolo with flute in a woodwind 'concertino' passage, and inserting a crucial point of rest in the tuba part to allow the performer to breathe thus rendering the line convincing. Attention was paid to balance through subtle alterations to dynamics, and I also had time to refine the notation of a section of my harp part. Importantly, I learned that I should avoid overloading my score and parts with unnecessary information (this is especially true for timpani and harp).
There was so much to be gleaned from carefully observing the rehearsals of all the pieces - particularly concerning issues of performance difficulty, rhythmic organisation, and clarity of texture and gesture. I have come away from our week in Hobart with a reinvigorated imagination and a plethora of practical tips.