Patricia Ann Repar

for flute, oboe, B-flat clarinet, percussion, piano, violin, violoncello, ocean drum, and voice

ca. 14'00"

There is the blue we feel

in the presence of human suffering and separateness

[stylish, solo voices, self-important melodies interrupting, competing]

And there is the blue we see from above

peaceful, swirling speck of beauty on the soul of our universe

[gentle voices reminding, connecting us to life before and beyond]

There are those who carry us from the one blue to the other.

I have written this piece in honor of them–

it is time to share in and realize their Vision of Blue

Click here to view the score.

Patricia Ann Repar

for flute, violin, cello, percussion, and piano

ca. 9'15"

"In the pampas, down a tree lined lane, live three people who once saw the names of loved ones and strangers burned out life, yet they keep those names alive in memory. They give the names of those who vanished to birds so that the sky above their estancia is always alive with flying names."

--Lawrence Thornton

Imagination, memory, and breathing, all tend to be illusive in our lives–that is–until a moment of crisis when they become more real than all the Wheels of Fortune spinning us round about in our oh-so-busy lives. In Imagining Argentina Lawrence Thornton describes one of those critical moments and how the power of memory, imagination, and human breath, recreated and transformed it–ultimately dismembering the military dictatorship of Argentina. The performers and myself offer this piece in honor of Thornton–in honor of those many Argentinians who adamantly and courageously refuse to forget their own dreams and desires for beauty–in honor of you, may you hear the birdsong, remember the names, and re-imagine the moments of your lives.

Click here to view the score.

Patricia Ann Repar

for bass marimba and piano

The percussionist is performing a character who is wholly engaged by and delighted in the sound of his or her instrument. The character seems unreachable at times, almost unreasonable – uninterested in extremes with regard to speed, volume, and various other forms of complexity. Entirely committed to every sound s/he makes, no matter how simple, his/her physical gestures may change tempo but are never dramatic or flamboyant or employ more energy than required. The pianist-percussionist is performing a character who fluctuates rapidly in feelings and behavior.

Click here to view the score.

Click here to view a performance (YouTube).

Patricia Ann Repar

for B-flat clarinet, piano, and voice

ca. 7'15"

The text of Color Prayer is comprised of excerpts from the following sources: Way of the Peaceful Warrior by Dan Millman, the Islamic Call to Prayer, Mexican folk songs as sung by Linda Ronstadt, the Ordinary of the Roman Catholic Mass, and Memoirs from the Women's Prison by Nawal El Saadawi.

The body was now a broken, twisted piece of meat. Carrion, birds, rodents, insects, and worms came to feed on the decomposing flesh [Allahu akbar] that I had once imagined to be me.  Time passed faster [Mata me cielo] and faster and the days flashed by and the sky became a rapid blinking, an alternation of light and darkness [A donde estas?] flickering faster and faster into a blur.  The seasons changed and the remains of the [Hablan me montes y valles] body began to dissolve into the soil enriching it. The frozen snows of winter preserved my [Christe eleison] bones for a [Speak to me valleys and mountains] moment in time but as the seasons flashed by in evermore rapid cycles even the bones became dust.  From the nourishment [Donde?] of my body [Lord have mercy. Gritenme piedras del campo] flowers and trees grew and died in that [A donde?] meadow. Finally even the meadow disappeared. I had become part of the carrion birds that had feasted on my flesh, part of the insects [Kyrie eleison] and rodents, and part of their predators in a great cycle of life and death.  I became their ancestor—

Hablan me montes y valles. Speak to me. Gritenme piedras del campo. Allahu Akbar. Christo. A donde? Christo. Traga me tierra. Donde? Donde? Traga me tierra. Christo.

Every morning I wait for him and I hear him. I raise my head towards the piece of shy visible through he bars. Can't see the curlew. I'm satisfied just to hear him without seeing him. Enough that I hear and that I can move my arms and legs and jump up and down on the floor of the cell, that my heart beats, the sweat pours, my body goes under and shower and the thick water falls, and that I dry my hair and light the gas..."

Click here to view the score and listen to a recording.