Composer’s Notes
In Sideribus Domi  - At Home In The Stars 

When I first visited the Clay Center I was impressed with the way the arts and sciences had been brought together under one, very beautiful, roof. I was reminded of the glorious days at The Cathedral of St. John the Divine in NYC when James Lovelock’s exposition of the “Gaia Hypothesis” led to the creation of a new setting of the Mass, the “Missa Gaia”. Lovelock’s hypothesis is essentially a scientific restatement of the ancient religious perspective on the inter-connectedness of life throughout the universe, and this contemporary Mass brought science and art together in marvelous celebration of an essentially religious idea.

Through Continental Harmony, I was commissioned to write a piece for the Clay Center on the themes of Creativity, Discovery and the Arts and Sciences. As an artist and an avid reader in the sciences I was very taken with these themes, but was stumped as to how I would turn them into a piece of music. For starters, what would I use for a text? It took months to find suitable material and even then, none of the final choices seemed to say precisely what I wanted to say. There is an astonishing lack of verse on these subjects. Most poets, especially the more contemporary ones, aren’t great fans of science. They feel science has taken over and stolen their thunder, that all the mystery of life has been carefully analyzed, dissected and discarded. Of course nothing could be further from the truth. The universe continues to become more fascinating, beautiful, terrifying and wondrous with each new discovery.

At this point, while on tour with Chorus Angelicus and visiting singer/songwriter Susan Osborn and her husband, painter and poet, David Densmore, at their home on Orcas Island, WA, I shared my anxiety about ever finding the right text for this commission. The night before I left the island, I found on my bedside table the poem that became the fulcrum of this work. Entitled “Discovery”, it is the center around which the other texts orbit. The opening line of David’s poem seemed appropriate in more ways than one: “Discovery belongs to those who are willing to be lost.” The closing lines informed the quality and feel of the whole piece: “The goal of the arts and sciences? To make us better dancers.” Dancers are held in the dance by attractive forces that are invisible, like gravity. The human dance is a comprehensible form of the cosmic dance. Solar systems and galaxies are very large dances. We are all caught up in the same dance of attraction which can be exhilarating and frightening, creative and destructive. Who is the choreographer of these wondrous and overlapping dances? I believe it is God.

For me religion is where art and science meet; it is the profound mystery inherent in both practices. Everywhere you look in the sciences you’re contemplating the infinite, whether at the sub-atomic level or the cosmic level. In the face of new discoveries, scientists are constantly having to change their perspectives and discard their prejudices. This strikes me as a very healthy approach, particularly in matters of the soul.  Each day I find myself unexpectedly turned around, “converted”, by God, surprised in ways that are exciting and hopeful. Religious belief, if it’s worth its salt, should broaden our horizons – improve our perspective. Religion and narrow-mindedness are contradictory approaches to life.

How did I come up with the title? When I visited the Clay Center it “happened” to be the day of the new show at the planetarium. With all these ideas banging around in my head I watched the “performance” and knew the piece had to be about the stars and the people who “discover” them, who travel back in time to the point when we were all stardust. When I look at the night sky, at first I experience an overwhelming sense of awe and mystery. Sometimes I get an uncomfortable feeling of coldness and isolation. There is so much darkness and the points of light are so pale and distant. But then my eyes adjust, my night vision improves and I reach for the binoculars. Now, with a new perspective I see endless, spectacular beauty – fields of gorgeous light and energy – and I feel the attraction. I feel at home. 
                                                                                                                                                                                                                     - Paul Halley, September 2003