Portfolio OF worK
This portfolio features works from 2019-2022. I’ve composed the music and written the text for all the songs below, with the exception of The Lydian Gale Parr, for which Karinne Keithley Syers wrote the libretto.
Each section includes project descriptions, cue points for media and scores, followed by performance credits and lyrics. Click on the + sign to expand each project.
SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR AT THE MUSEUM, A CHAMBER OPERA
Ramsès dans son harem, painted by Jean-Jules-Antoine Lecomte du Nuoÿ
Photography of the picture was taken while visiting Musée D’Orsay in 2020
Simone de Beauvoir at the Museum is a chamber opera that follows the story of Evelyn, an aspiring writer in Brooklyn who is struggling with her life and PTSD from sexual assault. Evelyn goes on a trip to Paris with her two best friends, Amelia and Rose and the three visit the musée d’Orsay, where they see the painting Ramses dans son Harem. The painting inspires a conversation about how the feminist movement has progressed since 1949, the year Simone de Beauvoir’s book The Second Sex was published. In so doing, they summon a feminist vampire named Gustave who lives with a republic of vampires beneath the museum, ruled by Queen-elect Simone de Beauvoir.
At its core, Simone de Beauvoir at the Museum is a fantastical tragedy about the cycle of violence and violence against women, and what one woman chooses to do with her own history. In writing the opera, I was inspired by Hannah Arendt’s quote, “What I propose, therefore, is very simple: it is nothing more than to think about what we are doing,” as well as Igor Stravinsky’s Rake’s Progress, which Stravinsky decided to write after seeing William Horgath’s 8 paintings, which follow the Faustian decline and fall of Tom Rakewell.
My project is in its early stages of development. Below are four selected arias, which I wrote as character studies: Gioir (Amelia), The Queen of the Museum (Simone de Beauvoir), You May Only Ask (Evelyn), The Sun Rises (Gustave). In listening, imagine woodwinds, strings, a drumkit with a typewriter, sprinkles of electronics for heightened drama, and arrangements evocative of early 20th-century jazz.
Justine Aronson, Soprano, Amelia
Mila Henry, Music Director & Pianist
Amelia is not pleased with this image of women waiting in attendance. Nor is she pleased with the general eroticized genre of Odalisque paintings, wherein a "nominally Eastern woman lies on her side on display." Another famous example of this is the anatomically inaccurate La Grande Odalisque by Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres (1814), which is at the Louvre.
“At Musée D’Orsay, have you been to the Oriental Wing?
Palmed-filled paintings of gorgeous women
Pale-skinned and nude, save for their impractical golden belts
And menagerie of exotic blue silks
Have you been to the Oriental Wing at Musée D’Orsay?
Its scenes of feminine-body-as-object
Draw a straight line to modern-day odalisques
I will not be that for anyone
I once pulled the diamond-fronded plant of my life by the root
I gave it to someone else. Now, I have a gaping hole
I have a gaping hole and it’s taken everything I have to learn not to give everything
It's taken everything I have not to give everything
Draw a straight line
After a messy day, with my hands in the soil of my work
I just want to come home to a clean apartment and a bouquet of flowers
And of myself rejoice
Of myself rejoice”
Sophie Delphis, Mezzo-soprano, as Simone de Beauvoir, Queen of the Vampires
Alaina Ferris, Composer & Pianist
Winner of the Sparks & Wiry Cries for the 2022 songSLAM Festival.
This aria is a character study of writer and philosopher, Simone de Beauvoir. The lyrics are cutups from her journal entries from (mostly) fall of 1929, her final year finishing her Philosophy Masters at The Sorbonne. She is singing to the deceased Jean-Paul Sartre, searching eternity for another “incomparable friend of my thought.”
”I went into my lair of private suffering
To gather strength to face this
My lair became a world of continual gathering
I grow strong in the shadows, I grow weak
My double life is charming
This museum brings those who come to art for pleasure —
The intimacy of a painting in a room
Invites other intimacies
But love is not an abstract picture, it is an act
I watch impatiently for new incomparable friends** who can see that
Lying with you in your hospital bed, after your last breath
I calmly wait for the great happiness that will be your return —
Playing Japanese billiards, nights at the theater,
Poetry in the courtyard à l’École-Normale Supérieure —
You will not return
All the wisdom of the universe in this leader of an army
With the naive innocence of a little girl struggling
I flail and drown, I become truly catoboryx***
A frail and mythic body trying to breathe life
Into everything it touches
My joy and pain come from myself — cynical, yet sincere
All the rest are motifs — songs of my own making”
* Composed of appropriations from Simone de Beauvoir’s Journals, Fall 1929
** To Sartre, to whom she referred as “The incomparable friend of my thought”
*** From “Mémoires d’une jeune fille rangée,” “Il me montra aussi les portraits des principaux animaux métaphysiques : le catoblépas, qui se mange les pieds ; le catoboryx qui s'exprime par borborygmes”
Augusta Caso, Mezzo-soprano, as Evelyn
Mila Henry, Music Director and Pianist
This aria is from the perspective of Evelyn, and it is performed early in the opera. Evelyn is having lunch with her boyfriend, Claude, in Brooklyn. The two are talking about the subtly nefarious ways that sexism still exists in modern-day work places, which leads them to talking about Evelyn’s history of assault. When Claude begins to say, “If you didn’t want [...] to happen to you, why didn’t you just…” She stops him mid-sentence to sing this aria. She ends up alienating Claude by being “too didactic,” meanwhile he has hurt her with his lack of sensitivity.
“Do you think I want to be this angry, Claude?
Stop telling me how to survive.
Decide for yourself how to be an agent against predatory behavior.
I am tired of having to bear the weight of assault
while having to sooth the guilt of men.
I am not your ingénue waiting to be formed.
Your misplaced authority blinds you, binds me.
I was born to a darker experience.
My shadows are the walls of my stronghold.
My shadows, the citadel I’ve built
after being followed one too many times
by a stranger down a known road
in a stairwell or by gunpoint
after saying “No, thank you, I would not like a drink.”
Do not hint that the fault was my own.
I am not a vessel to be filled
with your wisdom.
There is no legitimate violent act.
And when it comes to speaking about assault
You may only ask, you may only listen
You may only ask.”
Timothy Stoddard, Tenor, as Gustave
Ellen Fast, Pianist
This aria is Gustave the Vampire’s ars poetica. Once a king, Gustave is the embodiment of mankind’s repressed subconcious thoughts. He is not only immortal, but wields the power of time travel. Because he has lived so long, he is master of his desires — whether base or virtuous — because they have long since lost their novelty. He is very gentle, thoughtful, at times mischievous, and sometimes lonely. What interests him most in this mortal sphere is the gray space between “good" and “evil”, the dusk-light of ambiguous spaces. He is part of Simone de Beauvoir’s republic of vampires living underneath the Musée D’Orsay.
”Oh great summoner, the changing light
When choice has yet to be made
She’s a heiroglyph with two sides —
Her gaze both force and grace
A great balancing act, this mind
What is, what was, what could be
Beautiful, terrible, dangerous
Each path a species to study
Marbled with ambiguity
I am the poet’s friend
I am your metaphor for the "other,"
Lover, unrequited fool, or monster
Whatever suits you best
I am but one man
Both your beggar, your king
The fracture, the light
The shadow you run to
The arms that hold you
The eyes that watch you leave
The sun rises, the sun falls
It’s exquisitely warm
Then painfully cold
I’m caught in an infinite loop
Crowned for guilty excess
Hung in my monk’s robe
Beautiful, terrible, gentle
Many things at once
Natural depravity
is usually matched by ardent virtue*
both in one man, yes in one man
The sun rises, the sun falls
Caught in an infinite loop”
*a reference to Baudelaire's The Poem of Hashish
PROJECT HistorY
2019-2021
Fellowship with the American Opera Project, where I began the opera with support from their Composers and the Voice program.
September 2021
American Opera Project’s Scene and Heard Performance in Fort Green Park, Brooklyn, as a culmination of my fellowship with The American Opera Project.
Summer 2022
Awarded artistic residency at Cité Internationale des Arts to further develop the opera.
March 2022
Awarded a Creator Development Fund grant by New Music USA to support my time at Cité and document a workshop.
July 2022
Open Studio at Cité International des Arts
October 2022
Workshop recording at Opera America with the support of New Music USA
Photos from an informal presentation at Cité InternationalE des Arts, August 2022
THE BLIND, AN IMMERSIVE AUDIO PLAY
These two chorales were written for Mia Rovegno and Jeanette Yew's adaptation of Maurice Maeterlinck's 19th-century play, The Blind. It virtually premiered at HERE Arts Center on December 4th, 2020, and remained part of their #stillhere programming through February 4th, 2021. The Blind follows a group of sightless people on an island. They are out on their daily walk on the island's forest, but today, their guide, their priest, has died on the walk. They struggle to find a way to get back to their monastery, not knowing the day, time, or season. An early symbolist play, The Blind is a fable of social passivity.
Note: These songs were recorded by actor-muscians remotely in their closet setups during the pandemic.
QUEL SON FONT LES ÉTOILES (What sound do the stars make?)
AUDIO CUE: 0:00-2:22 (2:22 total)
Angel Lin, Mezzo-soprano
Alaina Ferris, Alto, Lyrics and Music
Aviva Jaye, Contralto
Leah Shaw, Bassoon & Mixing
The harmonic approach of this piece was inspired by a recording that director Mia Rovegno took of women chanting in Hanoi, Vietnam. In the play, this song is sung by a group of women praying in the forest. The music features “Young Girl theme,” which is the opening melody of the song and appears throughout the story — it is meant to be innocent and ominous. There is a subtle hint of bassoon to add some forest magic.
“What is this flow'r, in your hand?
Can you name it? Can you?
What sound do the stars make?
Can you hear it? Can you?
And when will my hour come, oh lord?
When will my time come, oh when?
And outside the castle walls,
is it evil? It is?
And how far is the coming storm?
How far, how far?
And when will my hour come, oh lord?
When will my time come, oh when?
Where is the gravestone?
Can you find it? Can you?”
“Quelle est cett' fleur, dans ta main ?
Peux-tu la nommer ? Peux-tu ?
Quel son font les étoiles ?
Peux-tu l'entendre ? Peux-tu ?
Quand viendra mon heure, seigneur ?
Dans combine de temps ? Combien ?
Au-delà des murs du château
Repose le mal, le mal .
À quell' distance est la tempête ?
Loin de nous ? De nous ?
Quand viendra mon heure, seigneur ?
Dans combine de temps ? Combien ?
Où est la pierre tombale ?
Peux-tu la trouver ? Peux-tu ?”
LES TOURS AU CIEL (SKY TOWERS)
AUDIO CUE: 0:00-3:52 (3:52 total), or if time is limited, 1:14-end (2:48 total)
Angel Lin, Mezzo-soprano,
Alaina Ferris, Alto, Lyrics and Music
Aviva Jaye, Contralto
Leah Shaw, Mixing
I wrote these lyrics in French, drawing from the naturalistic imagery in Maeterlinck’s original text. The women on the island begin the song by vocalizing without words, lamenting that they are lost. Their lack of words reflects their lack of vision, both literal and metaphorical. They find brief refuge in lyrical ecstasis via connecting with nature, suddenly beginning to see and speak, before returning again to their passive state of consciousness.
“When we become ancient trees,
we will gather our roots
and levitate
like sky towers
With a sudden grace
we will become the sky itself,
finally seeing the riot of birds
whose shadows we've always known
but never tried to see
At dawn, we will sing with them
At noonday, we will fly with them
At dusk, we will wrap them in our clouds
and scream like the ocean waves
whom we've always listened to,
but never spoken with”
“Quand nous deviendrons des arbres anciens,
nous rassemblerons nos racines
et léviterons
comme des tours du ciel
Avec une grâce soudaine
nous deviendrons le ciel lui-même
voyant enfin le fracas d'oiseaux
dont nous avons toujours connu l'ombre
sans pourtant chercher à la voir
À l’aube, nous chanterons avec eux
Au soleil de midi, nous volerons avec eux
Au crépuscule, nous les envelopperons dans nos nuages
et crierons comme les vagues de la mer
que nous avons toujours écoutées,
sans jamais leur parler”
THE LYDIAN GALE PARR, AN ORATORIO
A magical and surreal chamber oratorio with music composed by Alaina Ferris, libretto by Karinne Keithley Syers, The Lydian Gale Parr follows the story of a child emissary sent on a quest to give a letter to her General, but she cannot find him. She travels from ancient cities to present-day container ships and back again. Built from excerpts from Henry James’ novel The American, The Lydian Gale Parr is a manifesto of migratory community, of slipping in and out of disparate webs of belonging. Caught somewhere between speech, poetry, and song, it is scored for nine musician/performers: piano, 3 celtic harps, choir, clarinet, bass clarinet, bassoon, french horn, bells, and old radio transmissions, and features a Renaissance antimasque performed by the subversive outcast dancers from Ballez, choreographed by Katy Pyle.
Staged inside the cavernous Coffey Street Studio in Red Hook, the oratorio will emerge inside a white embroidered tent, pitched like an ancient war encampment filled with mechanical detritus and instruments – the texture is apocalyptic, enchanted, and floating out of time.
The character of Lydian Gale Parr is a role shared by all the performers and musicians, with isolated Lydians who emerge throughout. Lydian sets out from her city holding a letter and goes in search of her General. If the General cannot be found, perhaps there is hope. And if there is no hope, perhaps there is, at least, each other.
The audience will leave the performance with an illustrated chapbook of the libretto, which will serve as the program.
WORKSHOP AT NATIONAL SAWDUST
SEPTEMBER 2019
VIDEO CUE: 0:00-15:08 (15:08 total) or excerpt 6:50-8:50 (2:00 total)
EXCERPT IN SCORE: m. 129-157
Charlotte Mundy, Soprano
Lacy Rose, Mezzo-Soprano
Alaina Ferris, Composer, Pianist, Alto
Aviva Jaye, Contralto
Chad Goodridge, Baritone
Ned Hanlon, Bass
Johnny Gasper, Clarinet
Eamon Goodman, Bass Clarinet
Leah Shaw, Bassoon
Sam Kaseta, Assistant Music Direction
Karinne Keithley Syers, Libretto
Video and Audio Courtesy of National Sawdust
Apartment DemO
JAnuary 2019
VIDEO CUE: 6:08-end (5:13 total)
SCORE: m. 110-end (video skips m. 197-235)
Gelsey Bell, Soprano
Lacy Rose, Mezzo-Soprano
Alaina Ferris, Composer, Pianist, Alto
Aviva Jaye, Contralto
Chad Goodridge, Baritone
Ned Hanlon, Bass
Eamon Goodman, Bass Clarinet
Leah Shaw, Bassoon
Sam Kaseta, Assistant Music Direction
Karinne Keithley Syers, Libretto and Video
“A virus was ravaging it, so I did not enter. I stood outside the walls, turning away.
I felt no pity for these strangers, so I skulked away. I skulked away.
I hid in a container, ‘til the ship left port. The port gave way to the flat gray water.
I looked around my hiding place. I found others hiding.
I found junk to be sold. I found trash to burn in other poorer places.
But we had air to breath. We had water to drink. We had our solidarity. We had our hands.
With unsparing hands, we held each other. And holding, we waited.
Waiting, we crossed the water. We crossed the water.
… (skips m. 197-235)
I dream an ancient, high-walled city under excavation.
Its streets are a scatter of everyone’s idea of artifact.
Its shape a composite of everyone’s idea of origin.
It smells like sweat.
I join the digging.
A face shows in a fragment of bowl, but not a General’s face.
A face shows in a mosaic floor, but not his.
A signature shows in the lay of pipes, but not his.
I turn my hand to my face.
I turn from woman to man.
I turn from man to soldier.
I turn from civilian to consoler.
I turn from violation to failure.
I turn from failure to apology.
I turn from one who sneers to one who laughs.
I turn from one who hesitates to one who stores.
I feel a dissipation.
I feel the loss of my errand, of my focus.
Inattentive,
in division,
in solution,
in confusion,
I become a cloud.
I gather like a cloud, now,
vaguely lustrous folds around your window.
Hang in vaguely lustrous folds around your book, your body.
Hang low, obscure your television, your computer.
I obscure your energy.
I hang close to the walls that enclose you.
I hang close to the door by which you entered.
Then without transition, I go out.
Away from you now.
Both before and behind you.
I can’t know how.
I can’t know why.
Although I choose you for this story,
I will not claim you for its ending.
I don’t know where you are facing.
Or what you are seeing.
If you are resting
Or if you are looking.
Or if you are inviting.
Or if you have been calling for me.”
MEDITATIONS ON THE NEW YEAR
PART II. WHATEVER GOODNESS MIGHT MEAN
Brooklyn Youth Chorus Men’s Ensemble
Kristopher Burke, Conductor
“Meditations on the New Year” is a trio of chorales commissioned by the Brooklyn Youth chorus for the Men’s Ensemble, conducted by Kristopher Burke. The three songs explore the question of “What does it mean to be good?” in the context of: a community (Community); the individual’s relationship with themselves (Whatever Goodness Might Mean); and their relationship with the “other” (Lean In, Listen).
“Whatever Goodness Might Mean” is the second song of the trio. I was inspired by an interview I conducted with the choir leading up to the composition — when I asked them what they hope to do in life, one of the choristers said over our Zoom session, “I don’t know, but it’s gonna be somethin’ good.” The trio attempts to find beauty in liminal spaces, not defining what is “good” and “bad,” but celebrating the bravery of the question itself.
”It’s been a rough year, you know
And I’d love to break the curse
Slowly climb the rough-hewn slopes
Oh, to be undaunted by the wood
From the bright hollyhock by the stream
To the rays diving with the falcon’s wing
Maybe there on that mountaintop
I’ll stop dreaming better versions of myself and just be
It’d be nice to hear and not to judge
To have lips that plainly speak
To understand these subtle arts
That might fix my nation’s machinery
Yes, I want to change the method
I want to stop the plague of acquisition
Otherwise, after all the warplanes have stopped,
We’ll only be left with a world enhanced by fire
Seismic shifts yield new flowers
The earth tilts its head to listen
There is melismatic joy in loving
Without terms and conditions
To move on is to move through
To move on is to move through
To move on is to move through
I want to run, sing, and scream
Stay calm in my paths of peace
Do something, anything, good
Whatever goodness might mean”
PART I. COMMUNITY
PART I. LEAN IN, LISTEN (THE STORM)
Thank you for taking the time to review my portfolio.
If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me at:
alaina.ferris@gmail.com
720-272-8961
Sincerely,
Alaina J. Ferris