White and Lavender

Written in 2017, revised in 2019 for accordion [chromatic button accordion]

(13 minutes)

White and Lavender is about subtlety, pulse, and breath. The colors white and lavender are distinct when placed next to each other, maintain a similar complement, and easily blend between each other; the accordion is a beautiful instrument capable of demonstrating this effect. White and Lavender was written for Panagiotis Andreoglou in Bowling Green, Ohio while he was in town for a semester on a Fulbright.

The title of this piece comes from a Rothko painting that was held in the Toledo Museum of Art. Of course, a plethora of composers of a certain variety have looked at Rothko for inspiration. I’m not always convinced by the applications of this influence (including my own), but the thing that has always stuck with me about Rothko is the way he blends colors to transition from one section of just one color to another. While this isn’t exactly an original observation, I genuinely think there is something valuable about “organic” transformations of material over time. This idea can lead to a quality of continuous development, but it can also lead to and from refrains with more familiar ideas coming in and out seamlessly to create an continuously developing but still somewhat homogenized form. Plenty of composers do this all the time and have done this to some degree for centuries, from Ockeghem to Sibelius to Feldman to John Luther Adams, all of whom I hold extremely close to my musical heart and some of whom predate Rothko by a fair bit. Either way, the way continuous “organic” development of ideas, either linearly or with refrain has always been something I find appealing: take me on a sonic adventure, let things unfold rather than jump.

That being said, I don’t think this piece firmly grasps that’s concept at all times. There are moments of it, sure, but from time to time I lost the plot while trying to transition from one idea to another and just wanted to do something else – sometimes a clear seam felt like the right thing to do. Maybe I wasn’t quite good enough to get from one idea to another as seamlessly as I would have liked, maybe accordion is just a really hard instrument to write for? One thing I know for sure is that Panagiotis was extremely patient with me and showed me how all the “extended” techniques worked, so I was naturally quite excited to use the ones I liked whether or not I had a good idea of how to deploy them – the piercingly high register of the accordion being one of the main “goals” of the piece as well.

 To me this piece wears its influences (and it’s raw ideas) on its sleeves, but it is of a time and of a place and a very specific friendship.

 I like writing for uncommon instruments when I can, and because I have a large catalog, I get a real kick when folks jokingly ask if I have an accordion piece. Yes I do. Yes I do… and I think it’s pretty alright!

 Just as a final thought: the Toledo Museum of Art is criminally underrated and not enough people know about it. I think this is one of the best art museums in the US, so if you’re ever in the area – or even Detroit – pop down and check it out!