Creative Work
Extended portfolio here.
Personal website here.
Glyptic Channels (2019) 36 min. for two trombones, organ, laptop ensemble, electronics, and installation space
Voices and Apparitions (2016) 7 min. for soprano and electronics
Polyptych (2020) 15 min. for voice, percussion, and electronics
That Is a Field Folded (2017) 11 min. for string quartet
Cf. (2018) 6 min. for piano and percussion
Glyptic Channels (2019) — 36 min.
A composition-installation for two trombones, organ, laptop ensemble, fixed media, and cathedral. Designed for and installed in the Princeton University Chapel through a collaboration with Facilities, the Music Department, and the Office of Religious Life. Written for and performed by a fourteen-person mixed ensemble: RAGE Thormbones, Eric Plutz, and the Princeton University Laptop Orchestra.
The audience moves freely about the space. First-person field recordings of walking through the woods are punctuated by time-warped trombone samples, close recordings of fingers on a bass drum, and phonemes arranged in semi-sung gestures. The live instruments articulate a long process of harmonic clarification from free-frequency microtonality to the vertical extension of a single fundamental F. The trombones move from the balcony to the rafters, coaxing “non-musical” elements out fo the soundscape and into the musical present.
Each member of the laptop ensemble plays a Metall’Ocean. “Glyptic Channels” has been reimagined and restaged at the Museum of Human Achievement in Austin, TX (as “Glyptic Channels II” with the Mood Illusion) and as an interactive installation at the Outhaus in Los Angeles (as “Glyptic Gardens”).
Voices and Apparitions (2016) — 7 min.
View score here.
A poem-song for soprano and fixed multichannel playback. Written for Rosie K.
This piece was written for the New Jersey Composers Guild's Milton Babbitt Centenary concert. Babbitt's "Vision and Prayer" is a soprano-and-electronics setting of Dylan Thomas's shape-poem. I was intrigued by the way a concrete poem—determined by the diamond-and-hourglass shaped stanzas—could be translated into sound. I wrote my own diamond-and-hourglass-shaped poem in response, thinking about how Babbitt's music idealizes the quantification of sound-experience, but the phenomenon of listening to it highlights all that can't be quantified, like an irrational number overspilling with decimals.
I sampled Rosie’s speak-singing voice, then created a fixed media track that explodes the consonants of the text over a ribbon of continuous vowels. Rosie's performance, which moves from speech to song and back again, is timed to loosely coincide these electronic versions of herself.
"Voices and Apparitions" can be presented as a live voice-and-electronics performance or as a multichannel fixed media piece. It has been presented at the Underwolf Festival (Los Angeles), National Sawdust (New York), and the SEAMUS 2020 conference (Charlottesville, VA and online).
Voices and Apparitions
text by Christopher Douthitt
No
Omened
Or neume-pierced
Veil, no fossils
Scattered thin across
Sunken fields, nor pitchblende-
Hidden ore, nor greenish glow
In foggy glass; no secret scrawl.
To know would be — weighted terms — to know
Past proving grounds, past atoms split,
But the sure pull of numbers
On the thing, which is there
And not, clear as air,
Unencumbered:
A closed all
Opened
On.
Apparitions in the optic nerve,
Like wreckage on sunlit waters,
Elude the earnest plotters
Of spasmed event: surge
Buckshot through blancmange!
Starlings, converge!
That such traps
Don’t snap,
See
Unfixed
Erratic
Beast-things springing
From any nested whole.
So, sudden data singing:
The floor of frozen faces
Concatenates - no, imbricates! -
Inert input - splash! - a dozen vases.
Polyptych (2020) — 15 min.
Three songs from a cycle in progress. Voice, percussion, and electronics.
View score here.
For voices, percussion, and electronics.
Polyptych is an ongoing song cycle about the future, from a loosely microscopic point of view. Each song starts as a slightly undisciplined sonnet. The songs are linked by thematic content, orchestration, and recurring bits of imagery.
Over the course of the project, the songs have been rearranged for live ensemble performance (voices + percussion), solo performance (voice + electronics), and fixed media playback (the recordings included here). Please note that the linked score reflects a triangulation of these versions, and should not be taken as a literal representation of the sounds in the recording.
I. Organelle
pity pity organelle the sea floor kisses
constellation hawks winding upward tangle
coral tissues spiral moons dangle
spilled from foreign ballast tanks abysses
splay the mountainside as membrane glisses
glass fork tines scatter where fish tails wrangle
where once herded ocean tires now strangle
flocks of simple eyes in foaming fields salt hisses
O tendril’s augur O obsidian’s
inhaler O long toothed polyp whipping
rock drawn wind drift now blissful organelle
phosphoresce littoral meridians
shorebirds are together ripping
a crushed galaxy pity this leaky shell
II. MUL.APIN
Calcareous nibbling. Rain on rock faces.
(Future graffito snaps iris, scans palm.)
Scratched lens of summit. Mineral traces.
(Future graffito taps heart rate to calm.)
Future graffito, whose inscape erases—
(Aeolian etchings. Scar of scarp-column.)
Graffito’s future, via tablet, replaces.
(Tooth-pile of talus. Regolith slalom.)
Styluses of the anthro-chimera
Inscribing (via stylized lions and link-
Bearded bulls) all weather compendia upcoming.
MUL.APIN consulted, scribbled on sclera
(Via mountain-eyes-heaven; via blink
Of graffito)—ephemera, unsheltered, summing.
III. Two Twins
Two twins twisted in the stomach of a tick.
Low winds tumbling a crow that's stumbled sick.
Swimming pools are stagnant. Rabbit fevers
Jump to dogs. Lumps will savage true believers
Who then win seraphim icons from the clique.
Two twins twisted in a self-infecting lick.
Blood lust hounds immunity achievers.
Pigs catch it, too: now a sudden run on cleavers.
Two twins twisted in: a galaxy shot through
And spongy-thin, the amyloid clots blot,
The animals spin, the plasma vial sours.
Shot through two twisted twins: swaths of sinew
With unraveled ends, the telomere sunspot
That split the skin, the zoonotic zodiac flowers.
That Is a Field Folded (2017) — 11 min.
String quartet.
For string quartet. Written for JACK.
Inspired by Robert Duncan's poem, "Often I Am Permitted to Return to a Meadow," which envisions a an ever-opening field, both real and imaginary, where memory, language, and nature are continuously folded over.
The piece begins with a stable pitch "opening" into upper partials, then rupturing, finding solid ground, and ascending as a heterophonic canon. As the melody climbs, the just-intonation pitch field is altered by a sequence of changing fundamentals.
Cf. (2018) — 6 min.
Piano and percussion.
For piano and percussion. Written for Lisa Kaplan and Matthew Duvall of eighth blackbird.
Complex, semi-random harmonies and timbres clash against loping, semi-repetitive grooves. A tongue-tied voice, struggling to learn its lines, is continually deflected elsewhere.