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I recently got back from a successful trip to Wellington to attend the 2022 NZ Composer Sessions where nine orchestral works by Kiwi composers were recorded by the NZSO. This is an annual project run by the SOUNZ Centre for New Zealand Music, NZSO and RNZ Concert. There were five rehearsal sessions over three days, leading up to the concert on Friday evening where all nine works were filmed and recorded in front of an audience of invited guests, conducted by Benjamin Northey. My work marble, bark, silver was inspired by a series of poems by a Kiwi poet now based in Australia, Deborah Norrie-Jones (I’ll put the poems at the bottom of this post). I contacted her when I first found her poems to ask permission to use the text in the title of the piece and it’s three movements, and we had kept in touch since then. I was honoured that she travelled over to attend the concert and hear the work and it was lovely to meet her! My Mum also came over from Nelson for the event and it was great to share the experience with her.

I had my first experience with the NZSO in 2018 when they recorded my piece the wilds as part of the NZSO Todd Corporation Young Composer Awards. It was special to be able to have a similar experience four years later after growing so much as a composer and musician. I found it really valuable watching the other eight works in rehearsal, seeing how the composers interacted with the conductor and orchestra to bring their visions to life throughout the rehearsal process. There was so much diversity across the nine selected works which made for a really interesting (and entertaining) listening experience. Feeling so grateful to have been involved with this project – definitely a career milestone! Massive thank you to SOUNZ, NZSO and RNZ Concert for coming together to provide this invaluable opportunity for NZ composers each year.

The video will be released sometime next year so I look forward to being able to share it with you.

It is not like marble 

It is a fine arrow

shooting from a glass turret.

It will slice through you

as silver, until

you are breathless

strung high.

You will cry out but

there will be

no mercy. You will flail,

and those around you

shrink back, but you will return,

tear to shreds

the silken arrow

caught between your ribs,

scatter its fine fragments,

bare your face

to the wind

and the mountains.

It is not like bark 

It is a soft emerald cloth

that will bind you.

It is not fallen, it is shredded.

It is scratched red and fine

on the edges of tomorrow.

It will bleed, though

you place soft fabric on it,

 to hold, to stay the flow.

Eventually, you will let it run

freely. The ground beneath you will be red.

Though you run,

it will pursue you through

the valleys of the world.

Eventually, you must cup

your hands and drink.

It is not like silver 

It is the smile

of a sun god

behind a

turquoise post.

You will need to slip

quietly past and search for

your emeralds

elsewhere

They will be hidden

along the road. One tucked

in a child’s bodice edged

with embroidery and animals.

Another you will find as

you stand defiant at the door

of a home where a dog

is being whipped.

There will be more.

You may need to scratch

 a tar sealed surface

and listen to which

gum tree calls loudest

in the breeze.