Ephemeral Travelers
SKU:
CVM-009-CS
$49.00
$49.00
per item
Composer: Cynthia Van Maanen
Duration: 10:00
Scoring: flute, alto saxophone, and piano
Materials: Score and Set of Parts (8.5x11)
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Are you interested in a digital version of this title?
Duration: 10:00
Scoring: flute, alto saxophone, and piano
Materials: Score and Set of Parts (8.5x11)
————--
Are you interested in a digital version of this title?
Program Note
Ephemeral Travelers is a commission from Pamela Youngblood, Roy Allen, and Ted Powell of the Texas Woman’s University Trio.
This piece was inspired by the imagery of an interstellar comet. The path of a comet with a hyperbolic trajectory, or orbit, is one that is moving around a central body (i.e. our sun) with enough speed to escape that objects gravitational pull. Dust and gas trails are formed when pressure from sunlight and magnetic forces from solar wind essentially push the dust and gases out. I reached out to Dr. Michael Cushing of Toledo University for the information on comets in general and interstellar comets specifically. My thanks to him for his time and help with the scientific ideas that sparked this piece. Overall the work is an image of this comet entering our galaxy, our anticipation of seeing it for a brief moment of time, and then watching it depart.
The work is also meant to convey the imagery of how people come into and out of our lives.
Within a week of receiving the information from Dr. Cushing, Henry Spafford reached out to me. Henry is a friend and we had spoken in the past about working together on a composition. He shared a personal story about his family with me and I realized that the imagery I had of the interstellar comet was nearly identical to his personal story.
The two topics: the interstellar comet movement into and out of our galaxy, and the idea of someone very dear to us coming into our lives and departing so fleetingly is the imagery for this work. I used the flute to represent the comet and Henry’s sister, Vahn. Many of its musical gestures are representative of a hyperbola shape with dust trails. The saxophone was all of us—on earth—but also specifically Henry. The chords in the piano at the opening were inspired by the idea of deep space and distance, and in the faster sections the repetitive figures are both the gravitational pull and the solar wind. The saxophone and flute only align with one another for a brief period of time at the climax of the piece.
Henry, Roy, and I all went to Baylor University together. It has been a joy and privilege to compose this work for not only the fabulous trio who commissioned it, but also for dear friends.
With gratitude and permission from my friend Henry Spafford, I share his story.
Henry’s mother came to the U.S. when she was 20 years old leaving Vietnam, her family, and the war all behind her. She carried one suitcase and Henry who was 5 months old at the time. Henry’s father returned to the U.S. and sent money so that she and the baby could join him in safety and a new country.
After his mother’s death, Henry and his three younger brothers discovered stacks of letters written in Vietnamese. Once translated they learned they had an older sister, Vahn, who was left behind in Saigon. The plan had been to bring Vahn to the U.S. as well, but upon reaching the airport, officials told Henry’s mother that she was a traitor to her country and had to leave—but that she could only take one of her children with her. She was unable to leave the baby, so she left Vahn with her family—still in Saigon—with the intention of bringing Vahn to the U.S. soon. Vahn was 4 years old when this happened.
The war intensified. Some of the family passed away and others joined the army. Vahn ended up in an orphanage.
Vahn was aware of her family because she corresponded with their mother until 2002—which was the last letter found and translated. She received school, prom, and wedding pictures of her U.S. family but the brothers knew nothing about her. Many of these letters were pleas for money to help with medicine for malaria. She would write that she hoped to see them all again.
From 2006—2012 Henry and his family searched for Vahn.
In 2013 one of Henry’s brothers took his family to Vietnam. On Christmas Eve Henry received a text saying they had found their sister. She looked like their mother. They gave her their mother’s jade bracelet—something that is passed down through generations in Vietnamese culture. They felt as though their mother had returned to them.
Henry was not sure how Vahn would receive him. He was the one with the privileged life, not left behind. She welcomed him with an open heart and was all smiles.
A year later Henry and his husband traveled to Vietnam to meet his sister in person. He was anxious because he knew how native LGBTQ+ people were treated and Henry was born in Vietnam. He knew the Vietnamese government still considered him a citizen of Vietnam. He made sure to have people with him—witnesses—and, indeed, he was singled out. He was separated and questioned although he understood none of the language. After approximately 20 minutes he was allowed to rejoin his group.
Henry grew up in America wishing he were not Vietnamese, not different. On returning to Vietnam he was accepted by his family and able to find a sense of pride for his Vietnamese heritage. He also had a profound sense of sadness for what he had missed with them and this culture.
In December of 2024 Vahn passed away. They were only in each other’s lives for 10 short years.
— Cynthia Van Maanen
This piece was inspired by the imagery of an interstellar comet. The path of a comet with a hyperbolic trajectory, or orbit, is one that is moving around a central body (i.e. our sun) with enough speed to escape that objects gravitational pull. Dust and gas trails are formed when pressure from sunlight and magnetic forces from solar wind essentially push the dust and gases out. I reached out to Dr. Michael Cushing of Toledo University for the information on comets in general and interstellar comets specifically. My thanks to him for his time and help with the scientific ideas that sparked this piece. Overall the work is an image of this comet entering our galaxy, our anticipation of seeing it for a brief moment of time, and then watching it depart.
The work is also meant to convey the imagery of how people come into and out of our lives.
Within a week of receiving the information from Dr. Cushing, Henry Spafford reached out to me. Henry is a friend and we had spoken in the past about working together on a composition. He shared a personal story about his family with me and I realized that the imagery I had of the interstellar comet was nearly identical to his personal story.
The two topics: the interstellar comet movement into and out of our galaxy, and the idea of someone very dear to us coming into our lives and departing so fleetingly is the imagery for this work. I used the flute to represent the comet and Henry’s sister, Vahn. Many of its musical gestures are representative of a hyperbola shape with dust trails. The saxophone was all of us—on earth—but also specifically Henry. The chords in the piano at the opening were inspired by the idea of deep space and distance, and in the faster sections the repetitive figures are both the gravitational pull and the solar wind. The saxophone and flute only align with one another for a brief period of time at the climax of the piece.
Henry, Roy, and I all went to Baylor University together. It has been a joy and privilege to compose this work for not only the fabulous trio who commissioned it, but also for dear friends.
With gratitude and permission from my friend Henry Spafford, I share his story.
Henry’s mother came to the U.S. when she was 20 years old leaving Vietnam, her family, and the war all behind her. She carried one suitcase and Henry who was 5 months old at the time. Henry’s father returned to the U.S. and sent money so that she and the baby could join him in safety and a new country.
After his mother’s death, Henry and his three younger brothers discovered stacks of letters written in Vietnamese. Once translated they learned they had an older sister, Vahn, who was left behind in Saigon. The plan had been to bring Vahn to the U.S. as well, but upon reaching the airport, officials told Henry’s mother that she was a traitor to her country and had to leave—but that she could only take one of her children with her. She was unable to leave the baby, so she left Vahn with her family—still in Saigon—with the intention of bringing Vahn to the U.S. soon. Vahn was 4 years old when this happened.
The war intensified. Some of the family passed away and others joined the army. Vahn ended up in an orphanage.
Vahn was aware of her family because she corresponded with their mother until 2002—which was the last letter found and translated. She received school, prom, and wedding pictures of her U.S. family but the brothers knew nothing about her. Many of these letters were pleas for money to help with medicine for malaria. She would write that she hoped to see them all again.
From 2006—2012 Henry and his family searched for Vahn.
In 2013 one of Henry’s brothers took his family to Vietnam. On Christmas Eve Henry received a text saying they had found their sister. She looked like their mother. They gave her their mother’s jade bracelet—something that is passed down through generations in Vietnamese culture. They felt as though their mother had returned to them.
Henry was not sure how Vahn would receive him. He was the one with the privileged life, not left behind. She welcomed him with an open heart and was all smiles.
A year later Henry and his husband traveled to Vietnam to meet his sister in person. He was anxious because he knew how native LGBTQ+ people were treated and Henry was born in Vietnam. He knew the Vietnamese government still considered him a citizen of Vietnam. He made sure to have people with him—witnesses—and, indeed, he was singled out. He was separated and questioned although he understood none of the language. After approximately 20 minutes he was allowed to rejoin his group.
Henry grew up in America wishing he were not Vietnamese, not different. On returning to Vietnam he was accepted by his family and able to find a sense of pride for his Vietnamese heritage. He also had a profound sense of sadness for what he had missed with them and this culture.
In December of 2024 Vahn passed away. They were only in each other’s lives for 10 short years.
— Cynthia Van Maanen
Reproduction Notice:
This program note may be freely reproduced in concert programs, provided that proper credit is given to the composer.
This program note may be freely reproduced in concert programs, provided that proper credit is given to the composer.