Can music be a “still life” like those of the Rembrandt school? It seems contradictory—music unfolds in time, while a painting is grasped at once. As Josef Albers observed, we perceive music through past, present, and anticipation. Still, a fixed image can serve as a point of departure.
I use “still life” in this triptych to suggest a pictorial scene for contemplation while performing or listening. In abstract music, it offers a way into the experience. My titles present simple, tangible situations, but they ask not just what is there, but what is happening.
Green Chair at a Train Station
A quiet opening suggests solitude; a forceful progression evokes arrival. The chair is empty—was it recently occupied? By whom, and in what state? The train, too, carries possibilities: escape, reunion, disruption. In America, trains can feel nostalgic, recalling a “better” past amid today’s restless mobility. Yet that nostalgia may reflect a desire to retreat from the present. After waiting, what carries us forward—and to where?
Listen to a performance by Carson Cooman
Coffee in a Dollar Shop
A dollar once sufficed; now it barely tips. I recall simple meals from childhood—modest, complete, and comforting. Today’s post-pandemic economy feels strained, prompting longing for a past that was never truly simple. How did things become so disproportionate? The music reflects this tension: nostalgia, unease, and fragments of café music beneath everyday noise.
Listen to a performance by Carson Cooman
Newspaper in the Dooryard
A peaceful scene—a cottage, a garden, a morning paper—quickly darkens. The newspaper, bearer of “news,” disrupts innocence. Then as now, headlines demand endurance and perspective. The music wrestles with this: attempts to distance, to rationalize, to hope for better. Yet the underlying tension persists. We may look away, but inevitably we return, trying to reconcile unsettling realities with moments of quiet beauty.
Listen to a performance by Carson Cooman