|
via GIFER
From time to time (ok, pre-grandchildren) we used to do the odd jigsaw puzzle. It would sit on the table for a week or two, to distract us when we were on our way to do something more important but less relaxing. And there were strict rules: no sneakily dropping in pieces when nobody else was around; after a certain point, no putting down a piece once picked up, other than into its place; no looking at the picture on the box. Not that that last thing helped much anyway, since our favourites were Wasgijs. If you’re not familiar with them, these are puzzles which throw an unexpected twist: the picture on the puzzle is not the same as the one displayed on the box but rather the same scene in the future, or maybe from a particular character's perspective. So the box could be a clue to what the puzzle picture might be, but also a bit of a red herring.
On my recent trip to the UK to visit close family friends whom I hadn’t seen since before Covid, I visited some choirs in Cornwall. As I mentioned a few posts ago, in trying to understand my own personal puzzle, I’ve been looking into my family history - not with any great assiduity, but enough to get a better sense of where I came from. And it turns out that quite a bit of me came from Cornwall. So although I went with the intention of gathering some more choir ideas and perspectives, I also wanted to explore this newly-discovered part of my (very ordinary) heritage.
As I traipsed through the damp graveyards, rain trickling down my neck (yes, it was midsummer), trying to trace family surnames on impossibly-overgrown and eroded headstones, I experienced a profound sense of connection. Not to any specific individual - I did find some family names, but no actual ancestors. But to the sense of place, the feeling of shared history. Perhaps I stood where they had once stood. Some of these were buildings and villages that had been familiar to my forebears. One or more of the churches I visited had been the scene of family baptisms in previous centuries.
Visiting the different choirs was a bit like that too. Cornwall has a rich tradition of choirs - mostly separate men’s and women’s choirs apparently. Our New Zealand choral tradition is inherited from this and many other places in Europe, and we’ve all developed in different directions in the couple of centuries since my ancestors started to make their way to this side of the world. So there were similarities and differences, and I learned so much. Some of it has already found its way into small tweaks in our All Together Now practice, and some more of it will unfold here and also in my ongoing research.
I have lots of questions about why our community choral singing has developed here the way that it has, and why it feels less part of the community in general than it appears to in the UK and elsewhere. But the love of singing and the huge value placed on community - the people - these things are golden threads that are easy to trace through our singing gatherings here and everywhere else I’ve been. People who sang in these choirs welcomed me as an instant friend, and were curious about the members of my choirs, and how we did things in New Zealand. Leaders of these groups were astonishingly generous with their time, and with sharing their experiences and their knowledge, and with allowing me into their rehearsals.
Something about the human connection and the extraordinary joy of singing together makes us all feel more similar than different. Just as with our choirs, the choirs I visited were about people coming together, transcending the mundane and creating something of beauty, musically and as a community. About creating a space where every individual could contribute to the harmony, yet find their own voice within it.
Some of the new ideas and relationships we find in choir might not be an obvious fit - they might need a bit of turning over and around to find their exact place in our big choir wasgij, but they all contribute to the unexpected picture that emerges.
And the most recent new piece of our particular puzzle is also the reason that this post is so long overdue - our lovely new website. If you’re reading this on the old website, please take a few minutes to look at our new All Together Now website here.
This is what I’ve been busy with since returning from my trip, but it wouldn’t have been possible without the contribution of someone who has been supporting us behind the scenes, and whom we will probably never meet face to face. Mark Virtue, of Virtual Creations Website Development, created the empty framework on which our new website is built, and has guided me every step of the way with the patience of a saint. He’s a singer too - as passionate about choirs as we are - so he was able to help us make something which truly reflects and serves our choirs. Another of those golden threads!
|
