Big Hopes, Small Fry
I recently announced a performance date, which is the result of two years of email correspondence and eight years of composing. The announcing of the date feels like an immense achievement in and of itself though, of course, it remains to be seen whether the culminating concert will be anything to write home about. I know, even though I shouldn't, I will also measure the success of this date in "work it generates". In other words, I very much hope the concert will result in interest from other festivals or venues and the programme will be performed again. I've worked so hard for this single date that I will be mightily miffed should the composition itself not do some heavy lifting for me after I've lugged it uphill to this point. It's only fair, no?
It's a helluva thing to emerge from a pandemic in general. Everyone is having a rough time of it. It's a particularly unfortunate, frenzied climate in which to be pitching a new contemporary classical programme, as an unknown, to venues that have already, understandably, filled in their calendars with all the artists they had to cancel in 2020/2021. It feels near impossible that Trilogy will manage to find more performance opportunities after the Biennale premiere. However, I am hopeful. And, gosh knows, I never thought I'd be on a festival lineup featuring artists like the Attacca Quartet and composers like Caroline Shaw. So maybe hoping is not as futile as I think. Or, at the very least, if you send out 50 000 emails, the odds of getting somewhere tip ever so slightly in your favour... If more opportunities are not meant to be, "we'll always have...ahem...Amsterdam".