Yesterday evening I was fortunate enough to have a friend transport me over to the Chapel of the Chimes in Oakland for the resumption of the annual Garden of Memory performance event to mark the summer solstice. This is not so much a concert in any traditional sense of the word as it is an experience in the spirit of what John Cage liked to call a Musicircus. This usually involves multiple performers and groups in a large space, creating an environment of listening experiences in which the listener is free to choose where to direct his/her/their attention. As might be guessed, Garden of Memory events had to be cancelled during pandemic conditions; but, to pull a moderately annoying play on words, the circus is back in town.
Consisting of three floors, the Chapel of the Chimes is a vast space. Much of the structure was designed by architect Julia Morgan; and the space is a visual feast, extended over three floors. Yesterday, 24 different performances were spread out over that space. Those situated in chapels provided audience seating. Other areas were available for the listener to wander in, explore, and remain to listen for as long as he/she/they saw fit.
For as long as I can remember, Sarah Cahill has been involved in planning these events; and yesterday she prepared a “sit-down-and-listen” program for a chapel setting, which she performed multiple times. The program began with “Movement Deep in my Heart,” composed in Ingram Marshall, who died this past May 31. The first word of the title referred to an elegant fabric of rhythmic textures into which were woven fragments of the Civil Rights song “We Shall Overcome,” accounting for the remaining words in the title. The remainder of the program continued Cahill’s The Future is Female project of recitals and recordings. The composers she presented on this occasion were Mary Watkins, Arlene Sierra, and Ann Southam.
Cahill’s set was followed by an uninterrupted piano solo by Dylan Mattingly. There was no indication whether this was improvisation or a through-composed score. The music itself began as a wall of aggressive dissonance. However, as the performance proceeded, the attentive listener became more and more aware of distinctive features emerging from that dissonance.
Since I listened to this music only once, any observations about structure are hypothetical. Nevertheless, that underlying concept of emergent shape suggests that Mattingly may have been exploring new approaches to sonata form. If this was an improvisation, it was clearly scrupulously managed. If it was a composition, I would be curious to listen to several more performances to gain more familiarity. To pull out Gertrude Stein’s tired old assessment of Oakland, I came away from listening to Mattingly’s performance with a clear sense that there was a “there there!”
The other extended performance that I experienced was presented by Paul Dresher and Joel Davel. They performed the music that they had jointly composed for the Margaret Jenkins Dance Company performance of Global Moves, which took play at the Presidio Theatre Performing Arts Center at the end of last week. As usual, Davel played his Marimba Lumina, an electronic instrument that affords extensive variety in how it can be performed to elicit a rich diversity of sonorities. Dresher played his Hurdy Grande. Like its medieval ancestor, the hurdy-gurdy, it involves a rotating wheel stroking a string to provide sounds extended over a significant duration. Dresher’s instrument is about four times as large as its ancestor, and there were times that both Dresher and Davel were playing it, standing on opposite sides.
My attention to these longer performances curtailed my checking out the spaces that did not provide seating. I wandered into the space occupied by The Living Earth Show duo of guitarist Travis Andrews and percussionist Andy Meyerson. For this performance they were joined by Guillermo Galindo, working with a configuration of electronic gear. I was also drawn to a brief encounter with cellist Theresa Wong, whose imaginative instrumental sonorities, and least some of which seem to involve integer-ratio harmonics, are enhanced by her own vocalizations. Both of these encounters were engaging; but I must confess that I would have preferred both to have been sit-down-and-listen experiences!
Since I do not drive, this was my first encounter with a Garden of Memory event; hopefully, it will not be my last.
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