Full Circle Moments

Photo by Brendan Davis

The decisions we make, big and small, can drastically impact the course of our lives. The possibilities are infinite. There are some specific decisions I’ve made in my life that I look back on and think, “right on.”

One specific decision was joining my college cross country and track teams my senior year. I had foregone running on the teams because I wanted to be “all in” on my music studies. But when I did so, I felt like there was something missing. Once I joined the team, my professors and coaches were willing to support me and help to make it work. For example, I couldn’t make the track workout on certain weeks because of my piano studio seminar, so the assistant coach would meet me early in the morning to run and coach me through that day’s speed session.

Not everyone understood, and that’s okay. One of my music mentors said they’d given up their sport, volleyball, because it was too risky that they could break a finger. Another tried to make the argument for not running on the school teams so that I could fully devote myself to music. They asked what it is specifically that I liked about running. I replied that I liked the team aspect, and the physical aspect, and they pointed out how I can find just as much fellowship and physicality as a musician. I mean, sure. Maybe?

But, I’m glad I listened to my gut, and did what was right for me. Running opened up a whole other side of myself that I hadn’t tapped into yet. It gave me confidence I didn’t know I had, and brought out this fierce, competitive side of me that I think was bubbling underneath all along. I loved my teammates, and I loved getting outside and moving every day. It led to another 10+ years of competitive road running, marathoning, coaching, and starting a nonprofit track club.

Another game-changing decision was hiking the Appalachian Trail. While it began as an idea for “something I would like to do one day”, my preparation for this journey, and the journey itself, introduced me to long-long-LONG-distance running and backpacking, something I have since become positively addicted to. It’s led to all sorts of new adventures, connections, and community. I learned how much I’m capable of, mind and body.

Lastly, what made me think of all of these life-altering decisions, was my decision to move to Boston and go to Longy to earn a Master’s degree in music. And taking that a little bit further, my decision to stay an extra year to add a composition degree on top of my piano degree.

In my first year studying just piano, I felt excited about the repertoire I was learning, and had a ton of growth as a pianist in a short amount of time–but I felt like I was missing something. I was studying mostly classical music (new and old), art song, and opera, per the curriculum. I shared with one of my career coaches at the school that I felt like I wasn’t feeling fulfilled creatively. They pointed out that I could stretch out my creativity with my programming and interpretation of the music I was learning; that there’s still all kinds of ways to be creative as a performer and collaborator. I mean, sure. Maybe?

Then I attended one of the Longy composer concerts, featuring a bunch of new music written by Longy composers. It was a lightbulb moment. I felt so fired up and inspired after hearing what the student composers had written, and thought, “I want to do that too.” I set up a meeting with the composition department chair, Alexandra du Bois, who would become my composition studio teacher for the next two years. It reminded me of when I had set up a meeting with the cross country and track coach (Coach Patton) in my undergrad years, asking if I could join the team.

Now here I am two years later, about to graduate with two degrees: a Master’s of Music in Collaborative Piano, and another in Composition. It’s been two years of rapid growth as an artist, and one full of so many rich experiences: developing my artistic voice as a composer, learning how to effectively engrave music (being able to communicate what I want via writing and notation is very important!), then having life breathed into the music I write by the musicians that play it. I can’t fully describe the delight that brings. The process doesn’t just stop when I finish writing the music–the musician takes the baton from there. It’s a collaborative process, even if not directly. So, my career coach was completely correct in the end, about the ability to be creative as a performing artist. It just took me a roundabout way to see it.

Recently I was asked to play Rebecca Clarke’s Sonata for viola and piano on short notice. I learned and played this 25 minute, three-movement piece for my graduating recital last spring–it was a massive undertaking. It’s a gorgeous piece but complex, with parts that are dense and difficult to play and coordinate between the musicians. My first instinct was to say, “heck no” (I’ve had a lot on my plate), but then I paused. Okay, yes, it is hard. But I know the cues, I know the feeling and mood of the piece, the tempo changes, the breaths. I know not every composer will feel this way, but from my personal stance as a composer: I care more about the artist capturing the essence and feeling of what I’ve written, more than getting every note and dynamic marking exactly as written. Sometimes how I imagine something working in my head doesn’t always translate to a live performance, and I honesty appreciate when an artist takes creative liberties to make the music more effective, within reason. Ultimately, all I care about is that the artist cares. The most perfect and literal interpretations of what is written down can make a performance feel stale.

This new perspective I’ve gained as a composer has directly impacted my perspective as a pianist. I wrote back and said “yes!” to the sonata. The violist and I ran through the piece in a rehearsal, and honestly it was a total joy to play through the music again. I felt relaxed and not stressed about it, I knew which notes were the most important to bring out, and really I just did my best to support the violist, who plays the piece beautifully. I think Rebecca Clarke would understand and forgive me for my imperfection. I feel like I’m finally starting to “get it”. It feels like a treat to come back to this piece at a different stage in my growth as an artist.

I’m approaching my final week as a Longy student, which will include playing Rebecca Clarke’s sonata with my new violist collaborator Henry on May 15th, joining my friend and collaborator Daniel for his graduating voice recital on May 17th, and presenting my capstone project, my graduating composition recital, this coming Wednesday, May 14th at 11am. If you’re in the Boston area, you are welcome to attend (tix are free). It will take place in Pickman Hall at Longy School of Music, 27 Garden St. Cambridge, MA. You are also welcome to tune in via the livestream. Description and poster below!

Waypoints: Songs of Reinvention is a musical self-portrait. This Master’s composition recital traces an arc of transformation—from the artist I was before arriving in Boston to the one I’ve become: rooted in the same core, but reframed and reimagined.

The program weaves together structured musical forms—canons, inventions, and fugues—with nature-inspired art songs commissioned by Appalachian Mountain Club, indie pop–inflected works for chamber ensemble and voice, and an arrangement of Rodgers & Hammerstein’s “The Sound of Music”—a classic tune reinterpreted through my lens.

Alongside finished pieces, I’ll share fragments from the journey: voice memos captured on the trail, sketches of lyrics and melodies from earlier chapters, and personal media including a short film created with Mountain Hardwear, featuring original music I first imagined while thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail.

These artifacts offer a window into my evolving voice as a composer—grounded in classical form, nourished by wild landscapes, and stitched together by the emotional terrain of memory and reinvention.

This concert is free of admission and will take place in Pickman Hall at Longy School of Music 27 Garden St. Cambridge, MA 02138. Register for your free ticket here.

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