A Thousand Mountains, A Million Streams
|Awards||Grawemeyer Award for Music Composition (2021)|
|Duration||ca. 33 - 35’|
This piece is in two parts: Part I “A Thousand Mountains” (mm.1-338), and Part II “A Million Streams” (mm.339-end), preferably performed without a break.
|Commission||Commissioned by the Boston Modern Orchestra Project and Artistic Director Gil Rose; made possible by a generous grant from the Jebediah Foundation New Music Commissions.|
Dedicated to Robert Amory and to the memory of Jung Ying Tsao.
|Premiere||April 21, 2018; Jordan Hall, Boston, Massachusetts; Boston Modern Orchestra Project • Gil Rose, conductor|
|Instrumentation||2 Flutes (1st doubling piccolo; 2nd doubling alto flute)|
2 Clarinets in Bb (1st doubling detached mouthpiece; 2nd doubling Bass Clarinet)
2 Horns in F
2 Trumpets in C (with straight mute and Harmon mute)
Tenor Trombone (with straight mute and Harmon mute)
Bass Trombone (with mute)
3 Percussionists (see preview pages for full details)
Violin I (10)
Violin II (10)
Double Bass (6)
|Rental||Performance materials are available for order:|
Winner of the 2021 University of Louisville Grawemeyer Award for Music Composition
I always wanted to create music as if painting with a sonic brush. I think in terms of curves and lines, light and shadows, distances, the speed of the brush, textures, gestures, movements and stillness, layering, blurring, coloring, the inter-penetration of ink, brushstrokes, energy, breath, spatial resonance, spiritual vitality, void and emptiness.
A Thousand Mountains, A Million Streams meditates on the loss of landscapes of cultural and spiritual dimensions. The work implies an intention to preserve and resurrect parallel landscapes - both spiritual and physical – and sustain a place where we and our children can belong.
Using a sonic brush, I paint an inner journey: A landscape emerges out of darkness, illuminated by an artist’s inner vision; distant contours, shapes, hints of color, and emptiness. As the viewer draws closer and closer to the landscape, lines and human presence begin to emerge, sounds to resonate, until we become one with each of its brush-strokes and ink splashes, with its every breath. The mountains are breathing, singing and roaring. The landscape vibrates, pulsates and dances; it takes flight; it stirs, swells, rises, grinds, surges, stretches and blooms; trembling, jolting, and collapsing, it breaks into fragments. ... Rain – drops and drops of rain – returns, to heal the landscape in ruin. A prayer, a resurrection, the rain brings life back to the landscapes, and it regains its gentle heartbeat.
– Lei Liang