creative process

“The only thing I know is that I paint because I need to, and I paint whatever passes through my head without any other consideration.”—Frida Kahlo

“Every production of an artist should be the expression of an adventure of his soul.”—W. Somerset Maugham

A Conversation With Composer Alexandra du Bois,
Rendering the World’s Chaos, Beauty Into Sonic Storms

For the uninitiated, and perhaps even in the minds of some casual listeners, classical music might seem like the province of the dead and dying—music written by long-dead composers, enjoyed today by predominantly elderly listeners. I can understand, to some extent, why that misconception persists. Neither expert nor neophyte, I first fell in love with classical music a decade ago when introduced to Bach’s Unaccompanied Cello Suites. And as my interest in and passion for classical music has grown, so too has my iTunes library (or vice versa). That collection—as is probably the case for many typical fans of the genre—consists mostly of centuries-old giants: Bach and Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven, Mahler and Dvorák. These are also the names, among other similarly popular composers, that seem to be performed most regularly. I’ve had the opportunity to enjoy numerous concerts over the last several years, at venues ranging from Lincoln Center to a Savannah cathedral, standing out on each occasion for my lack of gray hair.

Alexandra du Bois shatters that stereotype of classical music, the notion that it’s old music for old people.

This under-30 New York City-based composer has already established a remarkably impressive résumé. A graduate of Indiana University’s Jacobs School of Music with a master’s degree in composition from The Juilliard School, du Bois has been commissioned by the likes of the Kronos Quartet and Menahem Pressler’s Beaux Arts Trio. She’s been praised (deservedly so) by Mark Swed of the Los Angeles Times, Alex Ross in the New Yorker, and a couple of New York  Times critics. She was even named as one of three “Faces to Watch in 2010” in the music category by the L.A. Times. The quality of Du Bois’s music is matched only by its quantity; her output already spans many forms, from solo works and sonatas to various trios, string quartets and orchestral works. Her compositions have been performed by world-class musicians at venues around the world: Alaska, New York, Vietnam, Los Angeles, Amsterdam, San Francisco, Australia, and many other cities across Europe and the U.S.

I discovered du Bois at the Savannah Music Festival in March of 2009—my first time attending the spectacular two-week event, which I had been looking forward to since moving here the previous summer. After purchasing tickets to more concerts than any financial advisor would have recommended, I knew I spent wisely following the first two nights: both chamber music concerts in the perfect chamber music setting (the rotunda at the Telfair Academy of Arts & Sciences in the historic district of downtown Savannah). The names on the programs those nights were fairly familiar: Beethoven, Schulhoff, Barber, Dvorák, Janácek, and Smetana. And I was hooked. So much so that upon leaving the Prazak Quartet’s performance Saturday evening, I opened my wallet and added another concert to the calendar—the next day.

Perhaps I was compelled to pull the trigger by the unfamiliar name of the composer that led the lineup for the Sunday afternoon performance, or the atypical year of birth that accompanied the composer’s name in the program, or the fact that this would be the world premier of the composer’s piece. Whatever the reason, I’m glad fate has its ways, I thought at the time, sitting a few rows from the stage as two violinists (the accomplished Daniel Hope and Lorenza Borrani, a young rising star from Italy) moved their way from opposite ends to meet in the middle, a palpable passion transmitted through their instruments. Perfectly suited to share the bill with Rachmaninoff and Schubert, the piece—titled Chanson d’orage (translated as Storm of Song) by Alexandra du Bois—was, simply put, captivating. Writing in Gramophone Magazine, critic Robert Hilferty said:

“The 10-minute folie a deux begins with the violin lines tightly intertwined. The instruments seamlessly switch roles as accompanist and melody-messenger. They frequently converge, wrestle, caress, capitulate. Entanglement is the name of the game, with moments of singing lyricism. It’s a virtue that du Bois’s music is simple without being simplistic, maintaining a buoyant intensity that doesn’t wear you out.”

Inspired by the sounds of nature and provoked by current events, du Bois’s music is perhaps best described as diverse—both sonically and emotionally. From the peace of a gentle ocean to the impassioned pleas of a peace movement, from the anticipation of an approaching storm to the discontent caused by an impending war, du Bois evokes scenes and sentiments in vivid, unexpected and provocative ways. Often allowing seeming contradictions to surface at various points in a single piece, her compositions consist of a wide range of qualities: lush but simple; soothing and haunting; raw yet delicate; heartbreaking but inspiring; frenetic and meditative; complex yet accessible. A couple of things are certain: du Bois’s music is consistently beautiful and speaks to all—regardless of age, young or old.

It is hard to imagine a scenario in which du Bois is not a household name in short order. Thankfully, more of du Bois’s work will soon be available to a wider audience, as she expects two pieces (including the aforementioned Chanson d’orage) to be recorded and released in the upcoming year. And luckily for Savannahians and others in the Southeast, du Bois will be returning to the Savannah Music Festival in 2012 with another world premiere.

Du Bois gracefully took time from her busy schedule to discuss numerous topics: her musical roots, sources of inspiration, her creative process, the future of classical music, the importance of arts and music education, some past highlights and future endeavors as a composer, and much more, sharing a few excerpts of her music* and a spectacular playlist of recommended listening with The Madness of Art. Read more…

Dressed in familiar traditional garb, a Tibetan Buddhist monk hunched over a square table in the middle of the glass-enclosed atrium of the Jepson Center for the Arts in Savannah, rubbing a metal rod he held in his right hand against the serrated surface of a long, thin metal funnel (called a chak-pur) in his left. As tourists of the historic district’s antebellum mansions entered the conspicuously contemporary structure to escape the sudden summer storm, joining those who intended to attend this event, the monk remained solely focused on task before him, despite the squeaking sneakers, increasingly audible chitchat, and camera flashes. The colored grains of sand flowed like liquid through the chak-pur (a result of the vibrations caused by the metal rod) on to the wooden platform, guided by the monk’s steady hand and concentrating mind.

After nearly 30 hours over several days, the group of lamas from the Drepung Loseling Monastery eventually completed the mandala, a remarkably intricate circular design composed of millions of grains of various colored sand. Once finished, it was destroyed. Read more…

A Conversation With John Trigonis, Sharing His View
of the World on the Page and the Screen

As a poet, John Trigonis sprinkles words on the page that produce a sensory response from anyone lucky enough to read them—in a chapbook, on a Web site, in a literary magazine. Though still mysterious and provocative, his poems are filmic scenes from some bigger, larger life. Confessional and observational, his narrators share what they see and how they see it. Like all poetry worth reading, an honesty is palpable, and without knowing it we’re swept up in some kind of quest to discover, or uncover, some kind of truth. His work has been widely published in the U.S. and U.K., and Trigonis has also published six chapbooks of his poetry.

As a filmmaker, John Trigonis creates poetry in motion. Even when quirky and off-beat, his short films seem to naturally explore some facet of the human condition, searching with stories and characters for some kind of light. Trigonis, 32, wrote his first screenplay—a feature-length film—back in 2001, which led to writing and directing five more films (as well as directing another two). His credits also include work as actor, cinematographer, and producer, along with directing and acting for the stage.

And we, readers and viewers, benefit from the fact that the poet and filmmaker are one, both of those divergent creative crafts influencing each other in subtle ways. So whether with a collection of poems or a short film, Trigonis will make you think and feel.

Trigonis, a “freelance” professor at universities throughout New Jersey, epitomizes the indie spirit of 21st century and exemplifies the DIY movement, embracing the possibilities afforded artists during this era of social media and affordable technology. He’s even pursued a fairly revolutionary method of funding his latest project. In addition to using his own money, Trigonis turned to IndieGoGo, pitching fans and complete strangers on the incentives of funding the film (perhaps a producer credit will entice you, along with several other perks). He has already reached his goal, raising $5,595 in relatively short order.

Today, thanks to all those who contributed (from small amounts to larger donations), Trigonis—along with cast and crew—starts production of his latest vision, Cerise, a short film about a former spelling bee champion who is haunted, 20 years later, by the word that took him down. Production will continue through the week, and you can follow the filming process this week by visiting Cerise on Facebook and Vimeo for constant status updates, pics and vlogs.

Trigonis recently took time from a busy schedule of rewriting scripts, holding auditions, scouting locations, and making other preparations to discuss a wide range of topics—from his artistic roots and creative process to his DIY nature and the future of “crowdfunding”—with The Madness Of Art. Read more…

“There are two men inside the artist, the poet and the craftsman. One is born a poet. One becomes a craftsman.”—Émile Zola

A Conversation With Kristen Sullivan, aka Holly The Terrible, Expressing Emotions Through Vivid Personalities

Rooted in the comics, cartoons and video games she grew up with in Florida, Kristen Sullivan’s paintings tell stories, even when many consist of only a solitary, often female, character.

Her caricatures possess a magnetic pull, each seemingly infused with a backstory that one can’t help but try to piece together. Using a rich and diverse palette of acrylics on canvas (for the most part), Holly The Terrible—Sullivan’s nom de artiste—magically renders a cast of colorful characters who speak through oversized, evocative eyes, subtle facial expressions and occasionally quirky doings. Her creations, though very often whimsical and playful, possess a strong emotive quality, depicting worlds that are simultaneously fun and somber, colorful and troubled.

Inspired by artists ranging from Frida Kahlo to Tara McPherson, this 26-year-old, now Portland-based artist has developed her own style over time, hinting at influences and combining genres, through a mix of formal training and trial-and-error experimentation. Driven by a vigorous creative spirit, Holly draws from the well of her own emotions to form the personalities of her characters and the worlds in which they live. And despite disparaging professors and other possible deterrents along the way, she has remained resolute in pursuing a career as an artist—a decision she made in high school.

Holly maintains a strong online presence, including an Etsy shop, and she has exhibited her work in galleries and at shows in Tampa and Portland. Her catalog, for a painter with less than decade of experience, is quite vast and impressive. She recently took time to discuss her artistic beginnings, her process, the origins and evolution of her style, her sources of inspiration and much more with The Madness of Art. Read more…

“To create one’s own world, in any of the arts, takes courage.”
—Georgia O’Keeffe

“You can’t wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.”
—Jack London

“You can’t use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have.”
—Maya Angelou