When I first sat down to write this piece, life was in shambles. It was less than six months after September 11: the USA PATRIOT act had been passed almost unanimously, thousands of immigrants were being detained without charge, hundreds of anti-Asian/Muslim/Middle-Eastern hate crimes had occurred nationally over the course of a few months, and our country had just finished bombing Afghanistan. It was a profound period of loss and emotion for me, as well as for the whole country. My mother’s death only intensified my renewed consciousness around the fragility of humanity, and the impact of one life on another. These “strangers” that I witnessed on television and heard over the radio were also mothers and daughter and fathers and brothers.

My creative process began as a muse on “blurring,” and the connections between ambiguity of meaning and ambiguity of placement. I wanted to explore how ambiguity and misinterpretation of meaning can be dangerous and lethal (such as loose interpretations of the constitution while creating the so-called Department of Homeland Security). At the same time, ambiguity of displacement, of childhood and “unbelonging” are conversely poignant, intimate and utterly disarming. It was not until I scrapped several sketches that I started acknowledging a war in which I was embedded. As the war in Iraq was brewing, I witnessed countless anti-war rallies and protests, along with various student groups calling an end to not only war but also racism. I found that I lived in an invisible war that was becoming increasingly violent and visceral. This was a different type of internal conflict. It was not just race warfare or class warfare, but it was also a war of one, a battle that I found happening inside my psyche, eating away at my soul. War, I realized, is what happens right now, in my country, at my front door.

What I ended up with were three very different reactions to this war. “blur” is what remains of my original musings. I try to explore the metaphorical connections between the various manifestations of ambiguity with the “beats” that occur when two sound sources are not quite in unison. “clockwork” is a quasi Marxist interpretation of an ideology behind war. Much like the mundane, yet impossible, repetition in Rzewski’s “Les Moutons de Panurge,” I wanted to find a connection between the repetitive musical patterns of the political machine and social injustice. “hymn” is a free-form, open score that is meant to guide the performer to explore these themes of war, death, and silence. It is intended emulate a kind of emancipation, both within the compositional technique, as well as in society.

I would like to thank the PatsyLu Fund in making this piece possible, as well as Monique Buzzarte for her expertise, advice and patience during my work on this score and for trusting a young and inexperienced composer like myself. This piece is dedicated to my partner, Kimberly Alidio whose political, aesthetic and emotional support guide and inspire my creativity in work and life.

Listen to "Three Meditations on War at Home."