Compositions

The following illustrations are by the incomparable, Jihee Hwang.

Composed in 2017. Recording here.
Inspired by some false dichotomies that I’ve encountered in my life, I wrote this piece in effort to sort out my own understanding of binaries and why they might exist. A double fugue seemed the best way to do this because it allows the musical material to pave its own journey, rather than the composer dictating its every move.
The two subjects were composed to be diametrically opposed to each other –via rhythm, contour, and other musical characteristics. The dramatic irony is that they are both born from the same 9-note scale, or in another sense, these subjects are character foils to each other. The process of the fugue allowed me to see how these opposing forces converse and how their relationships may change over time.

Composed in 2018, recording here.
Delmira Agustini’s poetry shone through a male-dominated space in 20th century Latin America. At age 21, this Uruguayan poet published her first book, El libro blanco (Frágil),which was very well received by other important poets of the time. Unfortunately at 27 years old her life was tragically cut short, but her accomplishments can be seen as kindling for the feminist movements that would follow.
One of her most famous poems from her first book, “Explosión”, has always been particularly striking to me. Its multivalent use of time elicits a heightened sense of healing, and demonstrates the speaker's journey towards exuberance. In this piece, I strive to comment further on her interweaving of the past and present, yet emphasize the timelessness of Agustini’s words—ones that remind me of wisdom that has been passed down to me. Because of my ancestors’ resilience, hope, love, and strength, I am able to both overcome the adversities of the present and bask in its glory, and I look forward to passing on this legacy to future generations. I honor these often unsung heroes with this piece today.

Composed in 2018, recording here.
I have many memories of growing up playing with kaleidoscopes, or creating them if I couldn’t find one. I always found so much beauty in the temporal unfolding of the patterns, how they were always changing, and never the same. When I was granted the opportunity to write for Stanford’s Wind Quintet, I knew this was the perfect instrumentation to begin the first (of many, I hope) trials of creating aural kaleidoscopes.
This piece was influenced by Snell’s Law and my color associations with sound. I thought of each instrument as a particular color, corresponding to a particular motive, which is developed by reflective and/or refractive properties. The instruments go through these processes at different rates for a majority of the piece. There is an ebb and flow between the formulaic and the organic as the “colors” continue to unfold and blend.

Composed in 2017, recording here.
Something I catch myself saying a lot is: “I’m not good with words; that’s why I’m a musician.” This piece was a first, conscious attempt to help bridge my gap between language and music. I found theater to be an effective means to connect them, and a way to express urgency in a cloud of inarticulateness.
With rhetoric ruled by musical models instead of grammar, I wrote the score as if it was a script. The audience, however, only hears one character’s dialogue in this story. I invite the listener to imagine what may provoke the protagonist’s speech and articulation, and to reflect on how that dialogue may resonate with them.

Composed in 2018, recording here.
After some experimenting with my radio and science communication experience, I was led to something I call a “podcomp:” a work that’s both a podcast and composition. My first podcomp (“Who Are You? Who Am I?”) connected interviews of famous African-American figures from different decades, revealing a plethora of perspectives on what it means to be black in America. I wrote the music as a means to empathize with each speaker, and to document my own reflections and discoveries.
One of the lessons I’ve learned from journalism is that it’s impossible to be truly unbiased, especially when there’s overwhelming amounts of information. After I completed this story, I realized that my moral compass shaped the podcomp’s structure very similarly to the stages of grief. For this piece, I wanted to expand upon this particular theme from the podcomp. Much like the process of grieving, the musical material does not develop linearly, but simply “feels”, and tries to make sense of itself.

Composed in 2017. Recording here.
2017 was a year, in particular, where I couldn’t turn on the news without hearing yet another tragic event and discourses contributing to many misunderstandings. Using my background in journalism and composition, I took this piece as an opportunity for me to better understand the progression of political conflict in America, and also better understand where I might stand in this long history. After merely googling “being black in America”, I chose the first four interviews I came across, and decided to see what could come out of them for this project. It was staggering to see that there were so many points of intersection, contrast, multiplicity of emotions elected from this relatively random selection of perspectives. Through sound bites, I give a historical context for the speakers, and through composition, I elaborate on the contrasts, motifs, and emotions that develop between the speakers. Hence, this is my first experiment with the idea of a “podcomp.”