seeing clouds reflecting in the lake (string quartet) (2017)
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Not quite sundown.
The other fishermen have headed home,
but his father always stays longer.
He waits with him,
watching the water,
watching his father—
He tries to speak.
Few words are returned,
as if they spoke two different languages.
He rows with him,
boat wood strikes dock wood,
his father ties the boat down—
- Dylan Trần
All scores are on a sliding scale. Please contact me for alternative pricing.
Not quite sundown.
The other fishermen have headed home,
but his father always stays longer.
He waits with him,
watching the water,
watching his father—
He tries to speak.
Few words are returned,
as if they spoke two different languages.
He rows with him,
boat wood strikes dock wood,
his father ties the boat down—
- Dylan Trần
All scores are on a sliding scale. Please contact me for alternative pricing.
Not quite sundown.
The other fishermen have headed home,
but his father always stays longer.
He waits with him,
watching the water,
watching his father—
He tries to speak.
Few words are returned,
as if they spoke two different languages.
He rows with him,
boat wood strikes dock wood,
his father ties the boat down—
- Dylan Trần
Program Notes
“seeing clouds...” is about many things. It is about the connection and disconnection between
1 st Generation Americans and their immigrant ancestors. It is about the peace created amidst the struggle, one of necessity, to soothe unseen wounds of inherited traumas. It is about my non-existent relationship with my late father, whose language I was forbidden to learn, whose history I was forbidden to know, whose scent to this day conjures a deep-seated feeling I have never been able to form into words. “seeing clouds...” is the surface of the water into which I first dived in efforts to discover my father, my heritage, and myself.
The piece begins with aleatoric improvisation, a common introduction in traditional Vietnamese music, evoking the piece’s setting: a small boat in the middle of a calm lake occupied by a child and parent. The first section’s melody is inspired by a traditional Vietnamese piece by đàn bầu player Phạm Đức Thành, later contrasted with a second melody inspired by the Vietnamese-American singer-songwriter Benvolio. These two melodies represent the mother country and her diasporic progeny, respectively, cohabitating in this moment. The piece’s post-minimalist influence (tonal harmony, frequent pauses between material, and repeated gestures) is not only evocative and meditative but also illustrates the communication barrier between generations, literally and figuratively. The piece ends with a melody in the lowest strings, accompanied by gentle waves above. For a time, I believed this ending was a happy one, with the low strings representing the steadfast love that perseveres despite communicative shortcomings. Now, I wonder if it represents the complacency of tradition, a tradition from which we inherit both the crosses we carry and the nails we used to build them.