For years, I’ve wanted to create something that would capture the sense of helplessness I feel in the face of horrific onscreen images, the kinds of clips that 24-hour news programming seems to specialize in. Over and over I have had the experience of watching something I couldn’t bear seeing, powerless to intervene, and it struck me that I was just one of millions observing the same events, unable to do anything to stop them. This seems like a very recent and potent experience for humanity, an experience we have not yet really come to terms with.
I’ve just completed a trio for soprano, flute and piano called We saw her fall. Using just seven words to describe an ambiguous image — one that could be physical, emotional, or metaphorical; a scenario that could be life-threatening or a simple stumble – I let the music slow the passage of time to a standstill, locking the listener into the moment of observation.
Over the course of six minutes, the text — we saw her fall, her arms extended — is looped and fragmented, with the piano and flute creating a shimmering halo effect around the soprano line. The last syllable is heard only once; other repetitions end with “n,” the last syllable being the word that cannot be said.
I have some friends who are investigating a possible premiere – how lucky I am to have such friends! – which frees me to move on to the next composition. I used to have to expend a lot of energy on that end of things, and I still do occasionally, but fortunately less and less. Here’s hoping they find success.
This sentiment relates to how I feel about “The Girl In the Photograph”, composed in 2010 after watching a searing account of the My Lai Massacre on public television, subsequently finding online a photograph of an image from the documentary that especially haunted me. It is one of the famous My Lai photographs showing a small group of young and old women together with children moments before they were shot to death. The expression on the face of the young girl on the right of the photograph shows simultaneous disbelief, bewilderment and terror. There was no time even for her innocence to die before she was murdered. She looks like a child I might see here in Los Angeles or Hawaii on any given day. I wrote in the liner notes: “Music for the young girl on the right together with the other victims. A reactive urge to bring her and her family back to life and defeat this unimaginable form of horror forever.”