A Letter to Kirk Nurock

I'm not sure etiquette of posting emails to a blog, but this is an email I just wrote to Kirk Nurock, a teacher -- and in recent years, mentor -- reflecting on the past.

Basically, Kirk was the first real composition teacher I had at school -- or really ever, as my high school teacher was not composition focused, though we did that for the last year of my lessons with him. Basically, the composition program has disbanded and I will likely be the last composer to graduate. The one composition class remaining has shifted to be about final product and not about process -- which was always what separated the composers from those who composed. (It, of course, has nothing to do with final product, as half of these guys write music that I like exponentially better than my own, but process is where the difference lies.)

Kirk was also one of the people who was there for me at the tail-end of my depression, when the art that came with depression had faded and I was worried that depression made my art better. Kirk -- a survivor -- of depression, addiction, and others -- reassured me that raw emotion is where art comes from, and that happy is an emotion, just as raw as sad.

I think the affection I have for this man is evident and the letter self-explanatory, so here it is, slightly edited:

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Hi Kirk --

So, as the school is down to its last remaining composers, Composers' Forum is, well, lacking something, say...composerly teaching.

Long story short, the class is making me long for the good ol' days with you at the helm, where compliments were hard-earned and well-deserved, and criticisms were constructive and well-received. In fact, nothing felt better than a Kirk Nurock compliment (compared to nothing emptier than a compliment now).

Basically, this is my long-winded way of saying that I've been thinking a lot about my 4 years' (and 3 weeks) experience in this place, and I realized that the best thing to ever happen to me was having you as my first Comp Forum teacher. You made me work for everything, change my
ethic, change my technique, and never let me get away with one solid week of work when it was 3 weeks since material had been shared. You prepared me well, and I wanted to say thank you.

That, and you gave me the words that keep me going whenever I hate everything I write. I came in with 6 measures of music and I said, "I've worked for 6 hours on this, and all I have to show for it is six measures I like." You looked and said, "In the entire decade of the
'70s, I have 2-and-a-half minutes of music I like. You're ahead of me." (I remember it with you addressing me as "kid" in there somewhere, but I know that's not you and it's just me turning the conversation into a black-and-white scene in a Woody Allen movie with Gershwin playing in
the background -- be it the New York Philharmonic doing "Rhapsody in Blue" or Oscar Peterson doing "It Ain't Necessarily So", the black-and-white and Gershwin is a constant...)

So this quick note turned long, but after 4 years, I'd think you'd expect that from me. :)

Hope all's well,
ay