The Fabric of Sound

by Kari Kraakevik

The Fabric of Sound is a sensory journey. This piece outlines reactions to the synthesis of sound and textile touch. I was not diagnosed with low impact autism and sensory disorder until late into college. In my youth, I would have visceral reactions to different textiles. Different fabrics would make me cry, rage, or conversely they would calm and soothe me. Ironically, this piece was originally eight movements, yet even as a mature adult I could not bring myself to touch “Meriden Wool,” the envisioned eighth movement. Thus, it remains a seven movement work!

I. Melon Tulle

I love romanticized “olden day” stories and have always embraced classic books like Emma, My Antonia and Anne of Green Gables. From a very young age, I wished to be in those eras full of tea times, crochet and afternoon walks. I remember the first time I saw Georges Seurat’s “A Sunday on La Grande Jatte.” I stared at the large painting forever— big bustling dresses in pastel colors amidst parasols and top hats. Melon Tulle is based on my obsession with that pastel palette. I bought my first melon colored vintage dress with my babysitting money in fifth grade, a lovely A-frame as if it would be worn to a fancy picnic. I loved the color, as it reminded me of Seurat’s painting. Being a slight individual, vintage clothing always fit me perfectly, so I ran home excitedly with my new purchase. Unfortunately, the minute I finally got all the little buttons up the dress was so unbelievably scratchy I started crying. I was so disappointed that something so pretty would be so desperately awful to wear!

This piece reflects the wistfulness of another time, the realization of the reality (and sometimes discomfort) of that time, and the dance we do as people, respecting the past but moving forward with the future. I did manage to borrow my mother’s silk full-length slip to wear under my dress for a couple outings, and that success made me so happy! One beautiful Melon Tulle dress still hangs in my closet today - not to be touched, but always to be remembered.

II. Midnight Fleece

This piece evokes the simplicity of touch and comfort. The color, a deep midnight blue, is one I find both calming and ominous, as I do its title. Crouched up in a fleece blanket by the fire would be a common place to find me after being “over-sensorized” by the day or just over-socialized. I would rock, not extremely, just slightly, back and forth like a boat. As the tempo marking “like the ocean” portrays, this rocking, wrapped in a fleece of darkness and pendulating back and forth until the rocking matches my heartbeat and clarity finally presides, hearkens me back to my childhood days of seeking comfort when I was overwhelmed.

Midnight Fleece is a deceptively simple two-part piece; the two characters heard by the cello in lower registers can be seen as characters together or alone, on their own journeys of self-soothing and comfort.

III. Cognac Leather

For better or worse, this is simply a cowboy song. I moved from Chicago to Carefree, Arizona in the middle of my high school career. It was the culture shock of a lifetime. Classically, I wore a plaid mini skirt and perfectly matching soft cotton top as my armor for the first day, which was clearly not the style of Arizona, so I was already feeling out of place. New high school, mid-semester, I walked into the weird outdoor campuses where there were literally lizards running across outdoor lockers to my first class, AP US History. This very tan, large hand opened the door above me, and I looked up with the sun glaring in my face to see the outline of a massive cowboy, complete with hat and leather pants. (Like, for horses?) As he opened the door for me, I said nothing, so overwhelmed by the entire situation at hand I couldn't even function. At lunch, during which I walked the perimeter of the campus to calm myself down, I analyzed the situation. Different social groups were less differentiated than in the Midwest, but there was this new group I had never seen... cowboys! Like, real cowboys. They sat in a very well-spaced circle and played simple songs, like in the movies, while they ate sandwiches out of tinfoil wrappings. I was so intrigued. I must have stared a bit too long because I was caught, and the friendly/well-mannered/tall cowboy from AP US history asked if I wanted to sit with him. I nodded. Soon the bell rang, and he asked if I wanted to meet his horse. I looked at him, completely puzzled. “You want me to meet your horse - now? Between classes?” I responded. He said, “Of course, he’s tied up front. I rode him to school. His name is Cognac - you will love him.”

To this day, I can't see that particular color of leather and not think of this dutiful horse waiting for his owner to be done with classes. It was such a strange experience of such a different culture and it still brings a smile to my face; the cowboy songs at lunch, the leather chaps, my first friends, Andrew the Cowboy and his brown horse “Cognac.”

IV. Lemon Chiffon

One of my elementary birthdays was a “social tea” in Adams Park, Wheaton, just outside of Chicago. I invited my entire class with one requirement - they had to dress up, as the hand-made invitations demanded. It was like a field day of sorts, without getting messy. Surprisingly, a lot of my classmates came! My favorite memory of this birthday was the lack of drama between social groups, probably because everyone was so out of place with this “tea time” and “charades” themed party that they all got along! Not just the wonderful homemade lemon chiffon cake, but my new lemon chiffon party dress (to match my cake of course), that would make a completely flow-y circle when spinning! I remember taking snapshots in my head of these moments: real china cups, all my classmates dressed up, our pin-the-donkey game, my parents making a puppet theater in the park, and a lovely cake - all of which that made this birthday. I believe it was my twelfth and pretty much the last fully innocent birthday of my childhood.

Lemon Chiffon pays homage to that memory—the feel of the chiffon as I spun around and spinning in general, looking at my classmates having fun, enjoying a tea party and picnic complete with sun hats and checkered blankets. Just a perfect birthday—an almost endless day of laughter, singing and so much twirling!

V. Red Satin

I hate crowds, parties, or basically any big social occasion, except for Christmas time! Ever since elementary school, my family has had the opportunity to attend some wonderful parties and balls. When I was younger, I would plan my dress months in advance and either my mother would make the dress herself, or we would special order it. In third grade, I decided it would be my maiden voyage to make, or at least design, my own holiday ball gown. Deciding between a deep forest green and a bright red satin was the most difficult choice of my 3rd grade year! Deep forest green was my favorite color (it still is), but the bright, cheerful red just spoke to me. And oh, the feel! It was slippery but not slimy, soft but still starched. I loved it. I ran with the bolt of red fabric to get it cut, and I just knew that this year’s holiday ball was going to be the best yet. And it was. We entered: even my brothers were behaving in their stiff plaid suits and there was a quintet of strings. Immediately, I was entranced by the music. I even forgot to take off my lace gloves or put down my holiday purse. I have no idea if we got pictures of the event that night. All I remember is holding my champagne glass of sparkling cider and twirling in my red satin dress to beautiful music for strings of all kinds.

To this day, any time I see that particular fabric or shade of red I smile and remember sipping champagne and dancing alone in my pretty holiday dress, with not a care in the world.

VI. Tartan Plaid

I attended over sixteen schools throughout my primary education, everywhere from religious schools to charter schools, Latin schools to international schools, and good old public schools. With every new school there was a dress code, some even required uniforms. How I present myself has always been important to me, not because of vanity but more because I treat what I wear like armor. This fabric, Tartan Plaid, will always remind me of a couple of pretty difficult schools for me, which required a uniform. I actually grew to love uniforms, and even when I didn’t need to wear one I found myself wearing my plaid skirt often. It made me feel strong, protected, and even fierce. The duality of a small, blonde, pig-tailed girl in a plaid miniskirt and white oxford may not have seemed fierce to anyone else, but to me it was a strength. The strength to venture out to the unknown, a new school, a new friend, a new date, a new - anything.

This piece tells a story of that armor, its militant nature but also its softness in its seemingly Dorian undertones. With threads of Celtic inferences, Tartan Plaid is complex in its simplicity.

VII. Celadon Supima

Celadon Supima is a supremely soft cotton blend, almost sage in color with a hint of turquoise. To me, this fabric evokes immediate comfort. Being “out” in the world, in every sense of the word, is quite overwhelming to someone on the spectrum; I guess maybe it is to everyone? We learn to mask quite well to fit into society, laugh when others are laughing, be solemn when others are sad, and sometimes masking is learning not to emote anything if you are confused. I am often in a confused state when people are around and it is quite formidable! Like horses, my heart races while I try to steady the unsettledness of my own pulse or a repeating melody. At last, when the dreaded socializing is done I close my door - the creak of the door and outside air nearly frightening me, but finally I am alone with my own thoughts. Night clothes on, a cup of tea in hand, I quickly learned that “alone” is not alone at all. Indeed, everything has a sound; the wind, the door, the window, the remnants of conversations. But snuggled in my soft celadon nightgown I become calm, using its softness as a conduit relaxing down my spine.

Program notes by Kari Kraakevik