I’m writing a new piece for amplified violin virtuoso Todd Reynolds, and this image keeps coming to mind every time I sit down to compose – the view looking straight up the trunk of a giant Redwood tree from its base, up into sunlight filtered through evenly dispersed branches, springy beds of fallen needles underneath my feet. I’m trying to use long, slow comb-filter sweeps and cyclical harmonies to suggest a similar feeling of quiet majesty, although I recognize–as John Steinbeck did-that “the feeling they produce is not transferable. From them comes silence and awe. It’s not only their unbelievable stature, nor the color which seems to shift and vary under your eyes, no, they are not like any trees we know, they are ambassadors from another time.” Musical imaginings aside, I am super pumped to be writing for Todd, which is truly both a pleasure and a privilege. Kinda like standing underneath Sequoioideae now that I think about it.