I always look forward to the explosion of one hundred different kinds of daffodils (yes!) we have planted in our field. They are sturdy, little miracles of subtle scents, whites, yellows, frills and bells. They announce love, no matter what. It’s a nice break to go outside, away from the intensive preparations for my composition […]
Compositions
Undone
Corn Field, Ercourt, France – Tessa Brinckman This summer I spent a two week residency at Centre Pompadour, a neo-feministe haven, where I wrote the first nine minutes of music, Box | Grown Men Sing. Endless hours of being buried in loops of electronics and bass flute necessitated walks around the farmlands in this part […]
When Words are Woggins
The US is both distant and omnipresent, as I write from Paris (from a poetry slam, pictured above) in last-minute preparation for my concert tomorrow. Immersed in words and music, I’m often lost for words, literally between French and English. They are like woggins, wending their way through various states of (non)recognition and (un)meaning. Losing your […]
