Hymns for End Times

In 2019 I was awarded a residency through the Bundanon Trust to be the Prelude Composer In Residence at Gallop House, Western Australia. I moved my family, including my newborn son, into a colonial 19th century house near the banks of the Derbarl Yerrigan during the catastrophic 2019 – 20 Australian bushfires.

While a long way from any danger, the constant smoke haze and frequent news reports served as a minute-by-minute reminder of human fragility and destruction. Smoke covered the horizon, windows were kept shut. Looking out from the house during lockdown was startling. The river became a lake – a mirror, perfectly still. No people, no boats, sound. The perfect vista for stories to emerge.

It’s difficult to do much else when nursing a baby, you have to sit, be still. You can sing or whisper or soothe. But mostly you’re forced to be still, for much longer than you normally would. With the air purifier running red, whirring to keep up, I sat and nursed and watched the heavy smoke on the horizon.

COVID-19 segued from the fires, and human fragility was amplified again. The busy year ahead became a cancelled unknown as lockdown was enforced. Theatres were closed, performance stopped.

Looking due east to the hills and desert, over an unnervingly quiet river, I pictured how things might end. Fires and viruses, floods and meteors. In a time of loneliness I imagined mass gatherings for mass burials and quiet moments of tenderness between strangers. I was standing by the same river amongst thousands, waiting for the meteor to hit. I pictured the river on fire, climbing with my baby to higher ground. Blinding light and forever darkness. I was processing fear and anxiety by dreaming up cinematography. I was processing hope and love by writing the score.

This became Hymns for End Times.