So here’s a bit on that.

I have always respected the way my daughters have handled their relationships. At a certain point this has to become a person’s own responsibility. In both cases, my daughters currently have partners who are delightful people to whom they both seem committed and who are committed to them. That’s quite an accomplishment. Many people who marry never come close to this wonderful experience.

A few in my extended family and in-laws have had a bit of trouble with the way my daughters have chosen to live. I, on the other hand, am totally proud of them. I have gently indicated to those who disapprove of Sarah and Elizabeth how much I approve and love them.

Elizabeth and Jeremy have been together for around ten years. The turning point in their relationship as described on the phone ten years ago by Elizabeth was that she had discerned she was in love with Jeremy. I think they got married now because it was the sensible thing to do and was probably largely influence by the quagmire that awaits any American who wants to reside permanently in China.

Gay people know only too well the roadblocks unmarried couples can run into in ERs and insurance. This is also solved by just getting married. Unfortunately gay men and women don’t always have that option.

I would love to somehow show my love and approval of Elizabeth and Jeremy through a gift, but they have asked their family and friends not to give them more stuff especially as they shedding so much in preparation for moving to Beijing.

Instead they have charmingly asked people to do what they did and photograph themselves eating cake in honor of the occasion. So that’s what we’ll do.

Theirs is the first marriage I have heard of with its own FAQ.

Very cool.

The composition is neatly divided into 16 sections one of which is called “Instructions” which utilizes the text which seems to have influenced the form of the piece.

In each section, Jon would repeat phrases over and over after having read several other lines. The poem actually tells a story of sorts. I heard it as a kind of sci-fi tale. One reviewer says that it is a “story told by a stutterer” and that it tells “what happens when seven trees fall on the highway.” That’s as good a description as any.

I was left with visions of future beings, cyber beings, obnoxious and/or charming current sentient beings talking about an incident from several points of view.

The music enhanced and set this text almost like movie music at times.

John Gibson, the composer, describes his own doctoral dissertation about repetition in Reich, Feldman, Andriessen, and the duo Autechre, this way: “The essay engages issues such as the disorienting effect of repetition, the role of repetition in shaping large-scale continuity, and the surprising fact that literally repeating patterns may sound different as they continue.”

This could describe much of what I heard last night. But it falls short of what was for me a charming and interesting experience. At times Oni played very carefully with the recorded sounds, at one point punctuating jazzy/dissonant chords over an invisible recorded bass sound emanating from the speakers hooked up the computer. At other times she moved the music stand on the piano to allow her to reach in and make sounds by plucking and rubbing the strings.

These sounds seemed to be then picked up by mics running from the piano to the computer and then utilized in good old fashioned echoplex like ways.

At this point it felt very much like a techno concert where the sounds were being used and reused much like the words in the poem would be repeated and repeated and take on a new life from this repetition.

I didn’t follow the sections of the poem until they reached what I suspected (correctly it turns out) was no. 12. This section began with a long piano piece which was drew heavily on Beethoven’s slow movement of the Pathetique Sonata. But Gibson did not merely quote it. He transformed the material and made it his own in a breathless quiet beautiful way suddenly utilizing the harmonic language of tonal music and making a bit of beauty.

In this way, he captured something about Woodward’s work itself which alternates with the familiar mind-numbing repetition of early avant-guard (Hello John Cage and Karl Stockhausen) and then blossoms suddenly into interesting images and ideas.

A good time was had by all.

We were privileged to be included in the after concert meal with the artists and students. I bought a book each of their poetry and had a martini as I listened and chatted with people around me. It continues to amaze me when shit like this happens here in provincial Holland Michigan at such a bleak intellectual time in our nation. It gives me hope and delight. I’m still processing the work and reading the poetry. Life is good.