The hours are ticking down, and our last moments in New Jersey are upon us.  Friends with whom I graduated are mostly gone - some colleagues are settled into new, cozy apartments in Manhattan, Queens, Brooklyn.  Others are across the country in Illinois, California, Texas.  Thank goodness for social media and the potential for reunion trips (Nashville for New Year's?!), and also for the silly amount of packing I have to do to keep my mind occupied and away from the sorrow of saying goodbye.  

In between the hours of packing (Drew - my beau, life partner, and fellow musician - is a percussionist.  This profession is anathema to moving - so many instruments!), we have been seeing some of our favorite places. One of these is Grounds for Sculpture in Hamilton, NJ; a 42 acre sculpture park and museum. It is an exhilarating to venture through the space, as secret paths appear and open into expansive courtyards or lead down paths enclosed by trees or bamboo. Visitors are encouraged to touch and interact with many of the 270 or so works, and time moves slowly to accommodate appropriate ponderings.  The curators' sense of humor is subtle and present - some of the incredibly life-like sculptures of people by J. Seward Johnson are placed to surprise (feel free to say hello to the gardener, but don't be offended if he doesn't answer, and no need to excuse yourself after tripping over the kissing couple).  

Famous paintings have been turned into sculptures, including Claude Monet's Bridge over a Pond of Water Lilies, Edvard Munch's The Scream, and Édouard Manet's Le déjeuner sur l'herbe ("The Luncheon on the Grass").  In the Manet recreation (dubbed Le déjeuner Déjà Vu), J. Seward Johnson's attention to detail is staggering, but since it is hidden from view, it must be discovered.  Johnson himself said: "I use my art to convince you of something that isn't real.  You laugh at yourself because you were taken in, and in that change of your perception, you become vulnerable to the piece and intimate with it in a a certain way." 
Johnson's depiction of Henri Rousseau's "The Dream" (Erotica Tropicallis) is another hidden treasure, found entirely enfolded in a bamboo forest (photo below).  

Some of my favorites of the day were the monolithic stone pieces, especially one called Nine Muses by Carlos Dorrien.  There was a piece of ironwork toward the entrance to the park, Passages (photo below), that reminded me of the design work that comes out of my dad's studio.  Each piece I encountered inspired memories, philosophical mutterings, personal interpretation.  When I got home to wrestle with boxes once again, the work was play because in my mind I was sculpting.  






Photos, clockwise from top left:
Urchin, Howard Kalish
Nine Muses, Carlos Dorrien
Erotica Tropicallis, J. Seward Johnson 
(Self portrait on a beautiful elevated path)
Passage, Kevin Lyles 

All of my duties to Westminster have officially concluded, and the myriad emotions are weaving vivid imaginings as I reward myself with an afternoon of extended score study. On the docket are some of the masterworks I was fortunate to experience with the Westminster Symphonic Choir - Mahler's 2nd Symphony (which we performed with Sir Simon Rattle and the Berlin Philharmonic in the spring of 2012), Brahms' Ein Deutches Requiem (with Yannick Nézet-Séguin and the Philadelphia Orchestra in the fall of 2011), and Alban Berg's Wozzeck (with Esa-Pekka Salonen and the London Philharmonic in the fall of 2012).  This menu will take me late into the evening, and I am pleased to have a purring feline and a glass of wine to accompany me.  I have been looking forward to these extended sessions, not only for increased musical knowledge but as opportunities to reflect upon my time at Westminster.  Two years was far too short a time to spend in such excellent company, but such is the nature of institutes of education.  I imagine my score study will be enhanced by a lens of tears as these remarkable masterpieces enfold me in their individual worlds of sound.  My time at Westminster increased my capacity to appreciate being still and listening with my entire being, and I know this will serve me well as I continue my studies at Florida State University. 


I am surrounded by boxes.  If there is a good word to be said for packing a life away in cardboard, it is that every item presents the opportunity to simplify.  Trim the fat, slough the excess - release old memories to make room for fresh compositions.  Non-negotiables items include music scores, my favorite fiction, and all six seasons of Northern Exposure.  Just about every other material possession has to make a case for itself, and though this high court employs a tired judge, the life I move to Florida will reflect the life I wish to build.  


But, not yet.  No more packing today.  Mahler, Brahms, and Berg are calling, and I heed.