Program Information: Four Sacred Places (2014)
Evan Chambers (b.1963)
1. Grey Day at the Lake: Late Summer at Meadowbrook Marsh
2. One Leaf Falling: Autumn, Oak Savannah
3. What Have We Done?: Ice on Maumee Bay (with thoughts of Little Turtle)
4. Great Black Swamp: (What was and what should be) Spring at Forrest Woods Preserve
Program note: 556 words; 513 without movement titles.
Four Sacred Places
There are no unsacred places;
there are only sacred places
and desecrated places
Wendell Berry
The word sacred means “set apart, entitled to reverence and respect, inviolable, highly valued and important.” So much of our Earth has been torn up and turned into rectangular tracts of concrete. Few areas are left that embody a spontaneous flowering of earth, air, water, and light, of plant and animal lives in balance. A conservancy sets aside such parcels of land, dedicating them to the purpose of simply being what they are. A trust: a remnant of what was, a reminder of what should be.
Each movement of this piece was inspired by places in Northwest Ohio that have been set aside. None are utterly pristine wilderness, but instead signify our attempts to save and restore some of the native beauty and living ecology of the region.
Grey Day at the Lake: Late Summer at Meadowbrook Marsh Dark clouds, and the low rolling sweep as lines of waves move in toward the marshes. Even here, along the banks are stands of invasive reeds with their white-noise of rattling husks. This is worth lamenting. The wind picks up over the open water, then calms. Two eagles turn in the distance.
One Leaf Falling: Autumn, Oak Savannah Towering ascent of a great tree reaching into the impossible blue. Stand close and look straight up: one leaf falls through the golden light, fluttering endlessly down in a single suspended moment.
What Have We Done?: Ice on Maumee Bay (with thoughts of Little Turtle)
A sign above the drifting snow warns that last summer’s water was poisonous, unsafe to drink or even wade in. What have we done? How polluted and lifeless will we make our world before we finally leave it alone? Now the bay is frozen. One set of footprints (coyote or fox?) leads straight out from shore over the ice–follow them as far as you can before fear takes hold, and you have to turn back.
Little Turtle (Michinikqua) was a Miami war chief who turned later in his life to peace-making. His people knew how to live in harmony with the great gifts of the region, but they were forced away on a trail of tears, their crucial wisdom scattered and broken. What have we done?
Great Black Swamp: (What was and what should be) Spring at Forrest Woods Preserve Some places still live in vibrant relationship to themselves–buzzing with life, saturated and teeming. Sit still long enough and you may be visited by sacred emissaries of the place: grand crawfish, basking frogs and wriggling tadpoles, dragonflies as big as finches, or a tiny tan snake as thin as a string. Clouds of mosquitoes, and the hidden blessing of salamanders. Buttonbush and paw-paw, Solomon’s Seal, Maidenhair, Trillium and Trout-Lily. The venerable trees stand like monks around the vernal pools.
Let us hope against all odds for a global springtime, a rebirth of our care for the living Earth after a long winter of mindless extraction. May we make every place we encounter a sacred place.
This piece was commissioned by the Toledo Symphony Chamber Players, in partnership with the Black Swamp Land Conservancy, with support from the National Endowment for the Arts. Special thanks to Rob Krain for sharing his intimate knowledge of these and other sacred places.
Evan Chambers (b.1963)
1. Grey Day at the Lake: Late Summer at Meadowbrook Marsh
2. One Leaf Falling: Autumn, Oak Savannah
3. What Have We Done?: Ice on Maumee Bay (with thoughts of Little Turtle)
4. Great Black Swamp: (What was and what should be) Spring at Forrest Woods Preserve
Program note: 556 words; 513 without movement titles.
Four Sacred Places
There are no unsacred places;
there are only sacred places
and desecrated places
Wendell Berry
The word sacred means “set apart, entitled to reverence and respect, inviolable, highly valued and important.” So much of our Earth has been torn up and turned into rectangular tracts of concrete. Few areas are left that embody a spontaneous flowering of earth, air, water, and light, of plant and animal lives in balance. A conservancy sets aside such parcels of land, dedicating them to the purpose of simply being what they are. A trust: a remnant of what was, a reminder of what should be.
Each movement of this piece was inspired by places in Northwest Ohio that have been set aside. None are utterly pristine wilderness, but instead signify our attempts to save and restore some of the native beauty and living ecology of the region.
Grey Day at the Lake: Late Summer at Meadowbrook Marsh Dark clouds, and the low rolling sweep as lines of waves move in toward the marshes. Even here, along the banks are stands of invasive reeds with their white-noise of rattling husks. This is worth lamenting. The wind picks up over the open water, then calms. Two eagles turn in the distance.
One Leaf Falling: Autumn, Oak Savannah Towering ascent of a great tree reaching into the impossible blue. Stand close and look straight up: one leaf falls through the golden light, fluttering endlessly down in a single suspended moment.
What Have We Done?: Ice on Maumee Bay (with thoughts of Little Turtle)
A sign above the drifting snow warns that last summer’s water was poisonous, unsafe to drink or even wade in. What have we done? How polluted and lifeless will we make our world before we finally leave it alone? Now the bay is frozen. One set of footprints (coyote or fox?) leads straight out from shore over the ice–follow them as far as you can before fear takes hold, and you have to turn back.
Little Turtle (Michinikqua) was a Miami war chief who turned later in his life to peace-making. His people knew how to live in harmony with the great gifts of the region, but they were forced away on a trail of tears, their crucial wisdom scattered and broken. What have we done?
Great Black Swamp: (What was and what should be) Spring at Forrest Woods Preserve Some places still live in vibrant relationship to themselves–buzzing with life, saturated and teeming. Sit still long enough and you may be visited by sacred emissaries of the place: grand crawfish, basking frogs and wriggling tadpoles, dragonflies as big as finches, or a tiny tan snake as thin as a string. Clouds of mosquitoes, and the hidden blessing of salamanders. Buttonbush and paw-paw, Solomon’s Seal, Maidenhair, Trillium and Trout-Lily. The venerable trees stand like monks around the vernal pools.
Let us hope against all odds for a global springtime, a rebirth of our care for the living Earth after a long winter of mindless extraction. May we make every place we encounter a sacred place.
This piece was commissioned by the Toledo Symphony Chamber Players, in partnership with the Black Swamp Land Conservancy, with support from the National Endowment for the Arts. Special thanks to Rob Krain for sharing his intimate knowledge of these and other sacred places.