Canadian Voices: My Mother’s Body - Stuart Beatch
Art heals all wounds.
That’s not how the phrase goes, although perhaps it should be. Over the past year, we as a society have turned overwhelmingly to art to manage the newfound stresses of living during a pandemic—whether TV, movies, books, or music. For artists, our work has become even more taxing in this stressful time, but it’s undeniable that the act of creation is profoundly cathartic in coping with trauma of all kinds.
When Michael Zaugg contacted me during the summer with this new commission, I knew I wanted to create something full of joy and life, despite the grief and anxiety we all manage on a daily basis. It was a happy coincidence then that I found Zara Neukom’s poem, “My Mother’s Body”, in an old issue of Glass Buffalo magazine. Zara faced a different challenge: she used poetry as her outlet for facing her mother’s battle with cancer.
What drew me to Zara’s poem immediately was the beautiful evocation of her mother: a “white-haired goddess on thin legs”, seemingly frozen in time, seen through her daughter’s eyes and filtered through memory. She is also challenged by distance: when we learn of her mother’s diagnosis in the poem, we’re “in a hostel / half way across the world […with] 3 minutes of Internet left”. The grief is palpable in this poem—but then, so is the joy. The poem closes with Zara watching her mother, stating “it seems impossible to believe / in bad omens. […] And for a minute laughing / feels like floating”.
As a composer, my challenge (as always) is to create a piece of music that is as meaningful as the words themselves—music which enhances, embraces, emboldens. Particularly with such powerful poetry, on a sensitive topic which has personally impacted so many people across the world, my job became even more important here. This piece, more than most that I’ve written, is unabashedly emotional, and I chose to fully embrace whole-hearted joyful harmonies. The very first musical gesture, a rising motif over a major triad, becomes a major building block across the piece—at first, imitating ravens rising in the air, and later associated with the mention of Zara’s mother.
The middle section of this piece, when we first learn of her mother’s diagnosis, is rhythmically intense and harmonically agitated, reflecting the sorrow in the words. When Zara mentions “a picture of my mother / with cloth for hair”, the music is stiff and restrained, as if trying to suppress the fear and anxiety. However, the music turns quickly back to joy as we return to the opening image of Zara’s mother, watching ravens in the snow. In the final moments of this piece, the music explodes with joy, repeating the words “laughing / feels like floating”, before ending in a moment of contented stillness.
It may surprise people to know that piece was composed in a single day. In early August, I took a brief escape to the King’s Fold Retreat Centre near Cochrane, AB. Having already received permission from Zara to set her poem to music, I awoke early on Saturday August 8th and began sketching. Over the course of the day, punctuated with walks and moments of quiet stillness in the wilderness, I completed a draft of the piece entirely by hand, with the final version submitted shortly before midnight. While it’s rare to experience such a concentrated burst of creativity, I am thankful to King’s Fold for the serenity and opportunity to focus. I have no doubt that the gorgeous views, overlooking the Ghost River at the base of the Rocky Mountains, contributed to the sense of stillness in this piece.
For now, we continue to face the challenges of COVID-19, and art is simultaneously more important and more challenging than ever before. Since writing this piece nearly four months ago, I’ve scarcely written a note, with the daily pressures and anxieties blocking out any creative drive I might’ve had. Regardless, I am immensely grateful for the tireless work of Pro Coro Canada—their singers, staff, and of course Michael Zaugg—not only for their commitment to the creation of new music, but for bringing excitement and joy to the choral community here in Alberta in this most trying time.
After all, art heals all wounds—and I sincerely hope this piece helps to heal yours.
My Mother’s Body - Stuart Beatch
My Mother’s Body
Poem by Zara Neukom
Ravens lift, weightless in the updraft
snow dusts clay like flour on a stone surface.
My mother, white-haired goddess on thin legs
watches the wind-players and laughs with them.
I watch my mother watch the birds. Her soft eyes fall
and lift again. She was sick for a year a year I wasn’t home.
When the organ of your body that is programed to give life turns
against you, how do you still say woman?
I was drinking in a hostel half way across the world. I remember I had 3 minutes of Internet left
when I opened the email with a picture of my mother with cloth for hair. My dad shaved his beard. I cried
in a room full of faces I didn’t know.
A flock of ravens is called unkindness.
I’m watching them in the lines of my mother’s body
and it seems impossible to believe
in bad omens. She steps on frozen
sage. And for a minute laughing
feels like floating