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Crafting Melodies in Words
When I was three, my mom took me to Musical Trolley classes at MacPhail Center for the Arts. I have one distinct memory—sitting on the floor with a piece of paper and watercolor paints, listening to Saint-Saens’ Carnival of the Animals, with the teacher telling us to “draw what we heard in the music.” I knew what she wanted, but I’ve never had a gift for visual arts, and my paper became one big, black, soggy mess.
I grew up with a dual artistic identity as a musician and a writer. I’m constantly searching for ways to combine these two things. Music has the power of universality; there are no language borders to cross, and it works its way into a person’s soul. Writing, on the other hand, serves to tell a specific story. When I write, I always have music playing to help move my words along, and often find my writing is affected by what’s playing.
How hard would it be, I began to think, to layer my own stories over existing pieces of classical music? I wanted the syllables on the page to match the syncopation in my ears. The music becomes its own character, dictating pace, word choices, and content. The result is more akin to choreographing a dance, rather than writing.
After a test run of a short political satire about Sarah Palin set to Ravel’s Bolero and Grieg’s In the Hall of the Mountain King, I was encouraged by the audience response. Now I’m working on a full-length piece set to a collection of works by Aaron Copland.
I’m excited about this new direction for my work. It’s unlike anything I’ve seen performed before. Although I don’t know the final outcome, I am confident it won’t be a big, black, soggy mess like my painting was all those years ago.
—Allegra Lingo is a writer and musician in Minneapolis, as well as co-founder of the Rockstar Storytellers. Follow her adventures at thetravelingmonkey.wordpress.com or through www.rockstarstorytellers.com