“I wonder whether you or one of your colleagues can help?” WholeNote reader Anita Kern wrote to me, on July 15 this year. “I had a copy made long ago of a tape of The Great Gathering. It was in 1987 – the Toronto Symphony and LOTS of major performers. The ‘fête’ for Homburger. Sadly, I can’t seem to find it now – possibly I gave it away to a music-teacher fan in Belgium!

Sadly, too, the TV station discarded its tape. Such an important concert!  It’s incomprehensible. I wonder whether you have a copy, or anyone you know.”

Ten days later, on July 25 came the announcement that Walter Homburger had died.

A great gathering it must have been indeed! It took place at Roy Thomson Hall on March 9 1987, to honour Homburger, musical impresario and administrator, on the occasion of his retirement, after 25 years, as managing director of the TSO. A typed list of the performers on the program, along with the TSO itself, speaks volumes: Ozawa, Yo-Yo Ma; Stern, Rampal, Zuckerman; Perahia; Forrester; Iseler, the Mendelssohns; Midori; Lortie; Slava.

Meanwhile I went digging back through our own archives for this: Walter Homburger in his own words, interviewed via an email exchange, in February 2004. (I forget what I asked to get the ball rolling.)

Homburger: I created the International Artists Concert Agency in 1947, presenting concerts and recitals by international and Canadian artists mainly in Massey Hall. Among the many greats were Artur Rubinstein, Fritz Kreisler, Vladimir Horowitz, Slava Rostropovich, Luciano Pavarotti, Joan Sutherland, Leontyne Price, Glenn Gould, etc. In 1945, I [had] discovered Glenn Gould at a Kiwanis Festival and managed his concert career for 20 years until his retirement from active concertizing. Among the other artists I managed were Victor Braun, Jan Rubeš, Louis Lortie, Donald Bell, Rohan de Saram, and Alfred Brendel on his first two North American tours. In 1987 I made a co-presentation arrangement with the TSO.

I became the manager of the National Ballet from 1951 (its inception) to 1955. In 1962, I became the managing director of the Toronto Symphony and managed that organization for 25 years until my retirement in 1987. Since 1993, I have managed the career of violinist James Ehnes worldwide, who had won the Women’s Musical Club of Toronto Career Development Competition. My next project is the presentation of an all-Beethoven recital on April 13 [2004] at the George Weston Recital Hall with James Ehnes and Louis Lortie playing the “Spring” and “Kreutzer” Sonatas for Violin and Piano as well as the “Les Adieux” Sonata for solo piano.

David Perlman: There are three areas I want to ask further about. First, regarding spotting Glenn Gould in 1945 at a Kiwanis festival; that would have made him 13 and you, at 21, not that much older! I read another account somewhere which said you “spotted” him performing the Beethoven 4th with the Toronto Symphony orchestra at age 14. My question is whether you played a part in getting him from Kiwanis to TSO in such short order. I’m also a bit in awe, in part that you recognized his artistry, but even more that, young as you were, you could see clearly your own role in nurturing it. Was piano your own instrument? And were music and the business of music already your milieu?

Second, I want to ask about your association with the TSO. You managed it for 25 years, up to 1987, and then came forward, along with Bob Rae, to provide helmsmanship again during the sticky transition of the past couple of years [early 2000s]. In what ways are the challenges ahead of them now most different from those during your time at the helm?

Third, the year you decided to “come out of retirement” and take on the management of James Ehnes, 1993, was also the year that you were involved, as an interviewee, in the film 32 Short Films About Glenn Gould. Does the coincidence have any particular significance or was it just one of those things?

WH: I don’t recall whether I was responsible for the 1946 TSO engagement for Glenn. However I presented him in a recital at the Eaton Auditorium – I believe in the fall of 1947. I have no musical training – but in my early teens I did get some piano lessons and was exposed to classical recordings, concerts, and opera on radio – such as from La Scala in Milan.

Like everyone I react favourably or otherwise to music or musicians whom I hear – so when I first heard Glenn it affected me deeply. At that time, I was thinking of establishing a company to present concerts in Toronto, and it occurred to me that if I wanted to present an artist in Toronto who was managed not by a New York agency – which was the norm in those days – I would have to trace the management. By the same token, I assumed that if Glenn was as wonderful as I thought, potential presenters throughout the world would soon find out where he was managed and contact me. Fortunately, this happened.

For as long as I can remember, it was always a balancing act to keep the TSO in financial shape every year. Perhaps it is more difficult today because the percentage of support from governments has not kept pace with the ever-increasing costs of operating a not-for-profit arts institution.

It was just a coincidence that the Glenn Gould film and the beginning of my management of James Ehnes happened around the same time. You are the first one who pointed it out to me!

DP: A couple more questions: I saw a list of photos autographed to you, now at the [US] National Archives: along with the classical greats Karel Ančerl, Marian Anderson, Leonard Bernstein, Maria Callas, Kathleen Ferrier, Tito Gobbi, Marilyn Horne, Vladimir Horowitz, Birgit Nilsson, Itzhak Perlman, Leontyne Price, Artur Rubinstein and Herbert von Karajan are also names like Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington and Mahalia Jackson. Was jazz a particular love of yours along with classical? And you said earlier that “like everyone” you react favourably or otherwise to music or musicians. But not everyone can spot a winner. What is it that you hear in James Ehnes and Louis Lortie, for instance - the two artists you are presenting here in April - that made you say, “Yes, they are worth MY commitment.”?

WH: My philosophy was and is to present the best artists of the day whose performances would be enjoyed by a large audience - they could be classical or jazz as you can see. I just brought anyone who was considered tops. As far as Ehnes and Lortie are concerned, they are simply two of the finest classical artists this country has produced, and it is a unique opportunity to hear both of them play solo and combine their talents.

Anita Kern, by the way, found her copy of The Great Gathering and made me a copy of it (for research purposes only, of course). It sits on my desk, waiting for the right moment. I suspect what I will find, when I view it, is that it will be, triumphantly, as Walter Homburger himself was, all about the music.

David Perlman can be reached at publisher@thewholenote.com

Sometimes unexpected sad news sweeps through a community like a sharply drawn inbreath, collectively held while the news is absorbed, then individually released as, one by one, people respond to what they have heard. Such was the case at the end of June when news of the death of pianist Peter Longworth, at age 53, from kidney cancer was announced.

Among the first to respond, on June 29, was music writer Hye Won Cecilia Lee, in a post for the musical blog Ludwig van Toronto which not only gave details of his musical life and spoke to his role in the community, but also reposted from social media the responses of a range of individuals in the music community whose lives have been shaped by their interactions with Longworth, as collaborator, colleague, mentor, teacher and friend over the course of Longworth’s almost three decades of teaching at Toronto’s Royal Conservatory of Music, and his active life as a musician, as soloist and as a chamber player.

It was one of that circle of musicians, pianist Richard Herriott, who called to tell me that Sunday October 7 at 4pm, in Mazzoleni Hall at the Royal Conservatory, there will be a concert for Peter Longworth, celebrating his life. This way, Herriott said, WholeNote readers who knew him, personally or through his music, would hear about the event in time to be there if they want to.

As Peter Longworth’s wife, violinist/violist Sheila Jaffé explained it to me, the event will consist mostly of music, “as the best way to express Peter’s effect on his community, and for the musicians who will be participating to expressing his effect on us.”

How many people will want to attend is impossible to gauge. Since Mazzoleni Hall seats only 237 people, an Eventbrite page has been set up where up to 200 people can “buy” a free ticket to be assured a chair. “I am not sure what the policy is on standing room yet,” Jaffé says, “but I would encourage people to come even if there is no more room. I intend to try to provide screens in the lobby in case there are too many people.”

The choice of Mazzoleni Hall is apt. “Peter performed in Mazzoleni Hall a great deal,” Jaffé says. “He spent most of his time at the Royal Conservatory, having worked there for so long. The hall is intimate and ideal for chamber music. Peter loved chamber music deeply. He and I shared that. I can speak for him with confidence about his love for it. We both loved nothing better than sharing the music we love with the people we love. At our wedding, we played music instead of dancing! So music is the best way to celebrate his life and mourn his untimely death.”

The nature of the event and the way it has come together speak to the place that Longworth occupied in his musical community — in his various capacities. “He was open, curious and eloquent as a person and as a pianist” Jaffé says. “His powerful drive as a musician attracted those who had the opportunity to work and perform with him and I think many of his collaborators would agree that he ‘carried’ the performance in a way that made his colleagues feel safe and free. As a teacher, he was attentive, curious, respectful, direct and ever learning. The way his career built itself over the years was a testament to his talents and nature. He led the way musically, unerringly — where a phrase goes, where the beat is, where a tune sits. Those who worked with him all know that. I think that with his passing, we are losing a great musical mind and heart. As a pianist and teacher, his colleagues and students depended on him greatly for guidance and inspiration. I think we will all feel his absence in our musical lives in the years to come, and realize what a large place he had in the community as a musical leader. His friends and family who are performing at the memorial will all be trying to communicate this and do justice to his musical expression in every way we can.

With limited time available, it will be impossible to let everyone play who wants to, she says, “so I tried to make a good enough selection without upsetting too many people. It is not easy and I hope no one will be insulted! Peter felt a great affinity for Brahms, so, safe to say, there will be Brahms on the program.”

Among the personal reflections compiled in the blog by Hye Won Cecilia Lee cited at the beginning of this piece of writing, violinist Mark Fewer wrote this:

“Peter Longworth was as great a friend as you could ever hope for. I was blessed to have known him for 31 years, during many of which he was indeed my best friend. He was like a brother and I loved him.

“We both arrived in Toronto in 1987 — he from Chicago and I from St. John’s. In December of that year (I was 15, he was 23) he was recommended to me as an ‘accompanist’ for an audition I was taking. He was a far better pianist than I was a violinist, and his presence at the piano helped me that day – and in days and years to come – to succeed. Six years later we joined forces with cellist Thomas Wiebe and formed the Duke Piano Trio, which stayed intact until Peter’s passing. We were three very different people from three very different backgrounds. But music brought us together, and over the years our friendships deepened to the point where we felt (and behaved!) like family.

“As a musician, he was a fully engaged human. Every ounce of his being went into the notes he played. In rehearsing together, he loved discovering things in the score and seeing how they would sound. Sharing that delight with audiences was his greatest desire. Chamber music may have been his first musical love, but he was also a formidable soloist, with credits that included performances with the Chicago Symphony, the Vancouver Symphony, the Kitchener-Waterloo Symphony and countless others. The fact that he was best known as a collaborator is something I interpret symbolically as a reflection of his skills in friendship.

“If Peter experienced something he wished you to experience as well, he would say ‘I recommend it, highly.’ Thank you, my dear friend for sharing your immense gift with us. Our hearts are broken, but from what you gave, we are better for it. For those who want to hear you again, your Brahms recording will give us your voice that we know so well. I recommend it, highly.”

It has been two months since Dmitri Hvorostovsky is no longer with us, but it still hasn’t sunk in. It is just too hard to accept when a man of such physical and spiritual power and an instant smile on his face has left this world. The whole world knows him as an artist, but I was fortunate enough to know him as a human being and I want to share my thoughts and memories of him in that regard.

I have just returned from NYC, attending a special gathering organized by the Met Opera chair, Ann Ziff, for the artists, chorus members, stage hands, cleaners, ushers … basically everyone who works at the Met and wanted to come and raise a glass in Dima’s memory. The place was packed. And once again it reminded me how much Dima was loved by people, not just by his colleagues or opera connoisseurs but by the general public. He could connect with anyone … and he respected everyone, no matter their level of importance.

We first met in 2007 when I presented him in the War Songs project. I was trembling. He was a huge star already and I didn’t know what to expect. Also back then, I didn’t have much mileage dealing with stars of such calibre. But he made it so easy for me … it was a great first experience!

I remember how he wore a Maple Leaf jersey with his name on it, given to him by a friend the night before. He brought the jersey to the concert and tacked it near the stage. When I saw it and asked what it was for, he smiled and replied, “That’s my stage costume for tonight.” And he actually put it on for the encore! The audience went WILD!

It happened that the Toronto concert was the last one on a long 40-city world tour, and we took everyone, including the choir and orchestra, to a restaurant. In the middle of dinner, all the members of the choir and orchestra got up and sang to Dima – Mnogie Leta, a traditional Russian folk song that wishes someone a long life – Dima was so touched. I caught a tear on his face. He was a very humble man.

Now I understand that he crushed all the stereotypes of being a “star”. He was a truly deep, kind man, and he became quite philosophical towards to the end of his life … always thankful for everything he was able to achieve.

Within two years we had our next project here with Dima – Verdi arias with Sondra Radvanovsky. And there I saw the other side of him. We hired an orchestra from Montreal to accompany the tour (I am specifically not giving the name of the orchestra here) and when soloists arrived for the first rehearsal, the orchestra was not ready at all. Half of the scores were missing, as were some of the musicians. Dima stormed out of the room and said that either we find another orchestra or they have to get to work. Well… with having a first concert in three days and union musicians, it was not an easy time for me. I had to get into a lot of fights with the orchestra management in order to make things right (besides being totally embarrassed in front of my soloists). But Dmitri was absolutely right in his professional demands. He was a total perfectionist at his job.

Not everyone knows, but he practised EVERY DAY while he was sick and in treatment, and didn’t give up until almost his last days. He also pushed himself to exercise pretty much until the time he couldn’t walk anymore.

Incredible willpower prolonged his stage life for at least another year compared with his prognosis. He took every opportunity to be on stage during his illness whenever he could physically be there.

I recall him saying to me here in Toronto back in April 2017, “I don’t care if I am on stage in a wheelchair as long as I can sing. The moment I can’t, I am no longer interested in life.”

He also told me something which I will never forget, which was related to his last concert here in Toronto. He said, “You brought me back to life. Thank you.” Again, not many people know but Dima was in ICU for almost a month in December 2016. It happened in St. Petersburg. After his concert, he was taken to hospital with a terrible, very dangerous form of pneumonia. He had a huge hole in his lungs. Doctors were in awe that he was able to beat it, but he couldn’t sing for almost four months, and only started to sing a few weeks before his Toronto concert in April. One can only imagine what we went through as no one knew or could predict if Dima would be able to perform or not. We were all very nervous including Anna and Yusif and Mark Hildrew (Dima’s manager) … Everyone… But the internal power of this man was above and beyond any imagination.

He flew here with the whole family – Florence, Max, Nina and Illi (his mother-in-law), but he was already in a wheelchair.

Next day was the first rehearsal. He was nervous but he sounded beautiful! After the third aria, once he felt comfortable with the orchestra and his voice, he said “I am sorry we are done now – this is my first time singing after a four-month break and I need to be cautious.” One cannot imagine how much effort he put into going on stage that night … and it was a triumph!

Lots of people were here from all over the world including the top people from the Met. After such success in Toronto, Peter Gelb spoke to Dima and decided that he would go to NYC to participate in the Met gala two weeks later. He made a surprise appearance and the audience went wild!

Unfortunately, after that, things went downhill pretty quickly.

I went to see Dima on his birthday on October 16 … I was at his house and it was the last time. It was apparent that he was struggling with his speech and couldn’t walk at all. But despite all, he was extremely happy to see everyone. He smiled and looked satisfied. He spent about two hours with us – as long as he could. It was clear that this was goodbye.

Then it was the funeral in Moscow.

It was a very emotional and dramatic experience overall. I am sure many people watched the ceremony online. I tried to prepare myself mentally but I crashed at the very end. I lost it when thousands of people started clapping and screaming bravo.

The ceremony was held at Tchaikovsky Hall and a number of political figures and famous artists were making speeches while a huge line of Dima’s fans was entering the hall and stopping by the stage to say a final goodbye – tens of thousands of people in an endless line-up, with tons of flowers in the best of Russian traditions.

It was very quiet in the hall except for Dima’s voice in the background and occasional songs by the choir. So at the very end when they announced the service was over, everyone got up and started to clap. That lasted for over 30 minutes. While that was happening, the coffin was taken outside, where 10,000 people had gathered and created a corridor, throwing flowers on the pavement where men were carrying the coffin to the hearse.

That was truly heartbreaking and simply showed how much Dima was loved by his people. At the cemetery the next day, an old woman approached me. She was dressed very simply and cried all the time – she was such a big fan. She gave me 2,000 rubles (which I think might have been her full pension), asking me to wire this money to the National Hospital of Neurology and Neurosurgery in London, where Dima had been taking treatment. She said she didn’t have a computer and didn’t know how to do this but she wanted to do it in Dima’s name. That’s the impact he made on people’s lives. 

I can’t even begin to tell you how gratifying it is for me that I had a chance to work with him and be instrumental in presenting him in Canada.

I think he will remain with us for a long time before it will start to sink in that he is gone.

Despite how difficult it is for all of us – his friends and colleagues – to absorb this loss, it is totally unbearable for his family – kids, wife and of course his parents. It is simply unimaginable.

But his voice and his smile are here for eternity. He lived like a hero, fought like a hero and died like one.

Thank you, Dima.

–Svetlana Dvoretsky

I first met Cathy Elliott back in the early summer of 2004 when I stage managed her in an experimental musical production at the Toronto Fringe Festival. The days were long and intense, yet Cathy’s spirit shone through all of the stress with her laughter-infused genuine warmth and caring for everyone in the company.

More recently, when I started to adapt and direct Shakespeare plays for the DAREArts Foundation’s summer camps our paths crossed again, as Cathy wore many hats for DA in marketing and publicity as well as her now almost legendary work with the foundation in First Nations communities in Northern Ontario. One memorable summer she came to our rescue when the artist in charge of teaching our campers about set design was called away at the last minute. Cathy was there, ideas and plans ready to implement, energy to burn and to spare, to make everything work out well.

In mid-October of this year I heard with delight that she had just completed a very successful first workshop of the new musical Starlight Tours at Sheridan College, and Facebook was full of glowing posts from the participants about the inspiration of working with her. Created by Cathy with Leslie Arden, this musical, like a lot of her most recent work, combined two central themes in her life – her brilliant talent as a musical theatre creator and her desire to honour and share her heritage as an Indigenous artist and proud member of the Mi’kmaq nation.

The next day, October 16, I was shocked to hear that she was gone, killed the night before by a car while walking near her home in Alliston, Ontario. This was even more of a shock since her career was just beginning to soar, with her acclaimed performance this year in Corey Payette’s new musical about the residential schools, Children of God, at Urban Ink in Vancouver and at the National Arts Centre in Ottawa. There was also the successful workshopping of Starlight Tours, her recent one-woman musical Moving Day, and another new musical very close to her heart, Lonecloud, about to begin its public journey at Native Earth Performing Arts’ Weesageechak Festival this week.

This past Sunday, November 19, there was a beautiful celebration of Cathy organized by her partner, Leslie Arden, and Native Earth, at their performance space at Daniel’s Spectrum in Regent Park. It was an amazing evening, not only moving but joyous, full of love and laughter, many stories from her friends and family, and performances from her musicals.

It was also a showcase of her work over the years: several songs from The Talking Stick commissioned by the Charlottetown Festival in 2011, the first all-Indigenous musical performed there; a sweet and moving solo from Silas Marner sung by the ageless Glynis Ranney; scenes from Lonecloud featuring Herbie Barnes in the title role of the Mi’kmaq medicine man who performed in Wild West shows; and excerpts from Fireweeds: Women of the Yukon from 1993, the musical she researched while performing as Diamond Tooth Gertie in the Yukon. The songs from this musical were feminist and galvanizing – why isn’t this a more widely known classic of Canadian musical theatre? The evening wrapped up with a magical rendition of “Stories Have Souls” from the in-progress Lonecloud sung by Arden, and then Cathy herself in a recorded version of From the Heart from The Talking Stick, to a final video photo montage (created by Michael Morey).

These last two songs can be seen as theme songs for Cathy, combining as they do the use of music to tell stories, the content of those stories being rooted in her Indigenous heritage and her desire to explore and share that heritage with the world – and, even if those stories begin in darkness like Starlight Tours, always looking for messages of love and hope.

These goals seem to have really begun when Cathy was the first Indigenous artist invited to join the charitable foundation DAREarts, as they headed up north to Webequie for their first time working with Indigenous youth, using arts, story and song to give confidence and inspire leadership. This was a partnership with Cathy that continued for ten years, only stopped by her passing, and would include her directing a documentary film about the experience, Fill My Hollow Bones, narrated by Graham Greene.

Marilyn Field, founder and director of DAREArts, has spoken about how that first trip for Cathy “was the beginning of her embracing and finding her Indigenous self,” that she seemed to find “her voice coming from deep inside herself.” Laura Mackinnon, lead teacher for DAREArts, who worked with Cathy for five years travelling all over the remote areas of the North (even to Tuktoyaktuk in the Arctic), put into words what many are feeling: “She taught me so much about Indigenous culture, about artistic generosity, storytelling and the power of a limitless imagination.”

Cathy leaves an immense legacy that we are lucky to have.

Sheridan College has established a Cathy Elliott Memorial Scholarship for Indigenous students: Sheridancollege.ca/giving-to-sheridan/ways-to-give/memorial-or-tribute-giving/cathy-elliott-memorial-scholarship.aspx; and DAREArts has created the Cathy Elliott Fund to Empower Indigenous Youth – darearts.com.

In conversation with Tina Pearson

November 24 2017 will mark one year since the passing of Pauline Oliveros, a beautiful soul who brought to the world the practice of what she called Deep Listening.

To mark this occasion, there will be an event on November 28 at Array Space titled “Gratitude Listening for Pauline Oliveros” for people to gather to listen and sound in gratitude for what Pauline offered.

I spoke recently with Tina Pearson who has had a personal connection with Pauline since the late 1970s, and whose inspiration it was to have this event. Pearson was active in the new music community in Toronto during the 1970s and 80s, as a performer with the New Music Cooperative, a collaborator with TIDE (Toronto Independent Dance Enterprise) among others, and as the editor of Musicworks. Currently living in Victoria, Pearson was here this past summer as composer in residence with Contact Contemporary Music, offering an intensive workshop on Deep Listening at the Canadian Music Centre as well as a community-based Deep Listening workshop that I organized. She also facilitated the creation of a new work titled Root, Blood, Fractal, Breath for the Contact Ensemble performed at Allan Gardens. Pearson is a Deep Listening Certificate holder.

I began by asking about her first encounter with Pauline Oliveros and the impact Pauline had on her as a composer and performer

I first heard of Pauline through Jim Tenney (who taught composition at York University from 1976 to 2000), but met her in person when she came to the Music Gallery in November of 1979, where she was invited to present her Sonic Meditations. Experiencing her practice was quite powerful and validating. Suddenly the world opened up. Pauline seemed untethered from the masculine contexts of contemporary Western European art music and jazz-based free improvisation. She was a brilliant, strong, compassionate and attentive woman presenting an opportunity to everyone to listen in a complete and deep way. a

One of the remarkable things about Pauline was that she could be in the same moment so absolutely connecting personally as well as globally.

During her visit, I recorded and transcribed the interview that Andrew Timar conducted with Pauline for Musicworks. In those days [when I transcribed] I transcribed everything – every pause, nuance and emphasis. Listening so deeply to her voice and her expression while transcribing that interview was quite significant and I think some resonance of that stayed with me.

Afterwards, I kept in touch with her. Pauline was incredibly encouraging and generous with her time and support, especially of women. I started working with her Sonic Meditations, and incorporated her ideas about listening and attention in collaborations with the New Music Cooperative, with TIDE and in a project with David Mott titled Oxygen Tonic. I also started teaching Sound Studies at OCAD in 1983, and used the Sonic Meditations in those classes each year. Looking back now, I’m aware that there was an opening up in the thinking that many of us had about our approach to music which were in part influenced by Pauline’s ideas of embodied listening as performers and creators.

I was already considering the separation between audience and performer in concert music, for example, so one of the welcome revelations, among many, about Pauline’s approach was her absolute commitment to taking into account the experience of everyone: the witnesses, the audience, the participants, and the performers.”

I then asked Tina to relate these earlier experiences to her recent experiences in Toronto this past summer facilitating Deep Listening Workshops:

Facilitating the Deep Listening intensives this summer was heartening. The participants were very open and able to quickly understand and take in this practice. The capacity for listening was there, and as Pauline believed would happen it is continually growing and deepening: The more listening there is, the more listening there will be.

I then asked her to say more about the focus and intention for the upcoming “Gratitude Listening for Pauline Oliveros” event happening on November 28 at Array Space:

The idea for this free event is to acknowledge the one-year anniversary of Pauline’s passing and to give gratitude to her. The quality, depth and acuity of Pauline’s sensibility about listening is rare. There’s nobody else who has embodied a listening practice like she has. Her courageous approach to listening and attention, and letting that guide where one goes and how one approaches life and one’s work, is something that’s so essential, and quite a beacon. The deep compassion that comes when one is attending to listening is important right now – the notion that listening can be a response to anything.

There will be a performance by several local performers of Pauline Oliveros’ work Arctic Air, which includes the text The Earth Worm Also Sings, written originally for the 1992 Glenn Gould Technology and Music Symposium held in Toronto. In addition, everyone will be able to participate in two of her Sonic Meditations, and there will be an opportunity for people to speak about their memories and Pauline’s impact. And of course, everyone is welcome.

Wendalyn Bartley is a Toronto-based composer and electro-vocal sound artist. sounddreaming@gmail.com.