Duration: 11'
When I was approached by my colleague, Tamara Dworetz, Director of the Georgia State University Symphony Orchestra, to compose a new work for her group, our early discussions concerned the parameters of the piece. Specifically, its instrumentation, duration, and importantly, the programmatic elements this new work would be built upon. We soon agreed that a composition featuring Greek music would be something relatively unique in the orchestral repertoire and something both of us were interested in exploring.
I knew I wanted to include elements of both Greek folk dance music as well as the beauty of Byzantine Chant. In thinking about how I might go about presenting these two very disparate styles within one piece, the word anamnesis crept into my mind. Anamnesis is a word that St. Paul uses for “remembrance” when he relates Christ’s injunction at the Last Supper to “do this in remembrance of Me” (1 Cor. 11:24). It comes from the Greek word amnesia, meaning “loss of memory,” plus the prefix “an-,” meaning “not.” Therefore, the distinction being made by St. Paul is that we are not only to “remember” Christ’s admonition at the Last Supper, but we are actively “not-forgetting” it. I believe there is a significant difference between remembering and “not-forgetting.” To “not-forget” is more imperative than casually remembering a past event or person. The term anamnesis not only serves as a focal point for organizing the music in this piece, but also allows for me to explore very personal focal points within my own life.
As a second-generation child of immigrants from Greece, the culture of Greece has always been very important to me. My family, like many Greek families – and many immigrant families from all over the world for that matter – has tenaciously held on to the culture of our homeland. Amidst the dizzying energy found in the United States, Greeks have always made it a point to “not-forget” their roots. This is something that was instilled to me from my earliest memories as a child. To represent the importance of “not-forgetting” my culture, the music in this piece employs somewhat abstracted Greek folk rhythms and freely composed melodies deeply inspired by the Greek folk dance tradition. The predominant rhythm in much of the work is taken from the kalamatiano, a traditional dance in 7/8-meter originating from Kalamata, Greece, a city in the Peloponnesian region of the country that also happens to be where my paternal grandfather was born.
The concept of “not-forgetting” also has ramifications in terms of grief. After the loss of my wife Maria in 2019, the concept of “not-forgetting” was woven tightly into the fabric of my life. After much work in the grieving process over many years, I have finally begun to move forward in my life again. In addition to much of the joy simply inherent in Greek dance, the joyful nature of the music also celebrates my finding new love and a renewed sense of optimism for the remainder of my life. However, I know that as I move forward, I will “not-forget” Maria. The remembrance of a loved one is perfectly captured in the hauntingly beautiful Byzantine hymn, Eonia I Mnimi (Memory Eternal) chanted at funeral and memorial services within the Greek Orthodox Christian Tradition. While the outer two sections of this orchestral work try to capture the joy and energy of Greek dance and culture as well as my own renewed personal happiness, the middle contrasting section of the work is a setting of Eonia I Mnimi and is devoted to not only “not-forgetting” Maria, but to not-forgetting my beloved parents, grand-parents, relatives, and friends who have fallen asleep in the Lord. May their memories be eternal, and may we all “not-forget,” everyday, those whom we love and all those things that give our lives meaning.