Charles Ives is a composer I connect with in many ways of expression. I write constantly. I have been journaling since early childhood whether writing about my day or writing a song, I always had a notebook with me wherever I went. Writing was at first an escape for me. It
allowed me to dive into my own brain and sit with my emotions and thoughts without the loud world interrupting me. Now writing is a tool for processing my environment. I use it to allow me to feel and explore these feelings rather than push others away. The most intimate
thing I can do with another person is share my writing with them. Ives’ work is nostalgic and intimate similar to my own style of delivery. Most of his vocal pieces are his own texts lingering on his memories and experiences as a young child, essentially indoctrinated into the world of music. It’s been my perception that he may have never felt like his pieces
were completed because memories continue to develop as a person lives. How can I possibly encapsulate everything I need to finish a piece if I don’t have all the skills at this very moment? I struggled as solely a composition student because I felt like I could never complete my message. I don’t know everything yet, this work can’t be completed. A perfectionist mind isn’t always obvious to the one who lives with it.