Collaboration leads to musical composition that tells a story without words.
Some would say that music and poetry are inextricably intertwined—that lyrics are the work of poets who call themselves songwriters, setting their words in the context of a melody. But what about having the poetry inspire the melody itself, with no words in the mix? Can instrumental music convey the feeling and meaning of a poem?
Sidney Boquiren, PhD, professor in the Department of Music at Adelphi University, set out to explore this idea. In his new work, “Three Meditations,” written for Hub New Music, instead of setting poems to be sung in performance, he created a piece that consists of instrumental reflections, responses and “sonic paintings” of poetry by Jan-Henry Gray, assistant professor in the Department of English and faculty member in the MFA in Creative Writing program, and former faculty member Maya Marshall. Both are award-winning published poets.
“Three Meditations” continues Dr. Boquiren’s practice of engaging with the creative work of Adelphi University colleagues and friends. “I was very much interested in continuing to collaborate with my Adelphi colleagues and thought of reaching out to Maya and Jan-Henry about using their poems to write this piece for Hub New Music,” he said. “The three of us had worked together in the fall of 2023 for the Fall Arts Festival, with live performances of music and readings of poems by our students—so I thought of this as an opportunity for us to collaborate and for me to explore how words and music can interact in a purely instrumental context.”
Expressing the Meaning of Home Through Music
The poems at the heart of this piece, “Missing Document” by Gray (from his book Documents, published by BOA Editions in 2019) and “Nest” and “Everyday” by Marshall, dwell on meanings of family and home, the anxiety of displacement, and love and hope. The three sections of the piece are performed by a mixed quartet of flute, clarinet, violin and cello without break, creating a quasi narrative progression from one to the next. When describing the piece as a “sonic painting,” Dr. Boquiren explained that this conveys the idea of music as visual art—paintings—depicted through sound—sonic—that unfolds through time. Similarly, he says the timbre is referred to as the “color” of sounds.
Using this multisensory approach to composition, Dr. Boquiren said he tried to evoke the complexities of family life and what “home” means in this music. “There are moments that are nervous and anxious, as well as moments of deep sadness, and ultimately acceptance.”
Dr. Boquiren grew up in the Philippines and Saudi Arabia, spending most of his adult life in the United States. His works are often informed, influenced and shaped by contemporary social justice issues, his Catholic faith and his Philippine identity. Most recently, his music has been premiered by the Ciompi Quartet (Durham, North Carolina) and NOISE (La Jolla, California), and upcoming projects include a new work for the Grammy-nominated Palaver Strings. A MacDowell Fellow, Dr. Boquiren teaches courses in music theory and composition, and directs the Improvisation Ensemble at Adelphi University, where he served in the past as chair of the Department of Music. He sings with The Ignatian Schola as well as the choir of The Church of St. Francis Xavier in Manhattan in New York City.
“Tremendous thanks to Hub New Music for how they made this piece come to life with such conviction,” Dr. Boquiren added. “It was a deeply meaningful piece to me and it couldn’t have been in better hands. And heartfelt gratitude to Maya and Jan-Henry for allowing me to respond to their work.”
“Three Meditations” and the Poetry That Inspired It
Listen to “Three Meditations” here and read Marshall’s and Gray’s poetry:
in a corner of a covered
porch outside a house
that never belonged to us
hung a dung-gum
dangling palace
dual bodies hummed
inside my parents’ marriage
a dry corn cob
the whole husk rattlehiss
in the spring hornets buzzed
never slick with anything
sweet like honey
February 1984/ Quezon City/ Philippines
Documents: copies of I-94 (missing)
Supporting Information: flight number/ date of departure/ seat numbers of the family members (missing)
“tell the story of somewhere else”
ISBN 978-1-56689-173
“I had a taste for ambiguity
& arrival”
ISBN 978-1-56478-184
her hand did not wave/ her hand was ice/ ice set to the temperature of the air/ the air between the sand pressed to make the glass/ the glass window she stood behind/ next to the door/ the wood door/ the heavy wood door that I can’t say for sure was oak/ but am certain was
heavy/ oiled/ ridged/ with a gold doorknob that looked like what we were told gold looked like/ gold the color not the ore/ not Au or $ or what fills the vaults in the movies my mother’s father watches on a Sunday/ awake in the 6am 5am 4am dark/ his cigarette burning/ a kind of dying/ orange/ sunrise/ light/
her hand/ her hand against the glass/ my mother’s sisters’ hands/ or maybe they were Maya Deren’s hands/ something’s getting in the way/ can’t say/ for certain/ my mother’s name is Rebecca// focus// tell us about her hand// what do you see// ground us// in the work// the details/ go there/ really take us somewhere
Today’s nothing fancy: my mother lives,
a simple pleasure. My cat made biscuits
on my knee. A woman I desire
giggled with me, invited me to touch
a whale. I fell for a man I barely know,
his delicious disdain, his persistent smile,
flaking skin and mane.
He said “chartreuse.” I said, “lime, lime, lime.”
Cheshire. Enough.
Everyone I love is enough today.
Me and you, we’re at a precipice.
The rain is falling down, each drop
turning, plummeting, down
like balloons and splaying.
Pow. Pow. Pow.
My beloved tells me that in 1 to 300 days
two black holes will collide.
The astronomers are aiming their scopes,
readying their tools for this first
glimpse of what, unseen,
may well have happened before,
somewhere in the infinitude
of space and time. Today is nothing short
of extraordinary. My mother lives.
I fall in love each separate way only once
in all this space and time.