Andrew Zhou
London Plane – Platanus x acerifolia
with Danny Cleave (double bass) and Hannah Gillingham (alto flute)
I observed the London Plane tree over the course of a winter.
It is a city tree, planted for humans.
I discovered that particles of pollution easily attach to the bark, but that the tree remains healthy and strong. As the bark breaks away, layers of old and layers of new are revealed.
Age rises to the surface.
On streets, they line up neatly in rows alongside the pavement. Yet above the orderly trunks, they quickly return to their natural state – uninhibited, thriving, messy.
In many ways, the trees serve us. They provide protection and shade, giving us room to breathe and rest.
Now whenever I pass a London Plane, I feel a tension between what we believe to be natural or wild and what is man-made.
White Ash – Fraxinus americana
co-composed with Jack Gionis
At several points in writing the music for the White Ash tree, we found the sounds we were recording and placing together pointed us towards some kind of ancient, mythological experience. Combinations of wooden, ceramic and metallic sounds began to evoke various elemental forms of earth, water, air and fire. Familiar sounds acquired abstract, narrative implications that led us to explore how we could transform the sense of dimension and space around a listener.
It was serendipitous, then, to discover afterwards the connection the ash tree has with folklore.
In Norse mythology, there is a mighty tree known as Yggdrasill that connected the ‘Nine Worlds’, home to all beings – living and dead. This all-encompassing tree reached high up to the heavens, across the cosmos and, with its roots, down into the underworld. Its wellbeing reflected the health of its inhabitants and the balance of the universe. It is speculated that Yggdrasill was an ash tree. Importantly, the tree was a mortal entity. So, to protect the tree was to protect life itself.